Majara settles in to aid the third group, talking about the poison's effects to anyone who will listen ...
The tiefling woman also knows a bit of medicine...
The other Seekers each volunteer to check up on a group, with the two acolytes helping out. Seeing Nerissia take the lead with a group of primarily youngsters, Hannelia does her best to put the youngsters at their ease, a task she is able to perform adequately while the tiefling performs the medical checks with a brusque authority. She is pleased to be able to declare, "There's no more poison in your bodies and you should all be back to full health soon."
"Hannelia - you said you were able to get those extra antitoxins? This gentleman here could use one-- he's strong enough, but the poison has its claws in him deep," Majara says, looking around for the other woman.
Stopping the conversation she is having with a young boy, Hannelia waves at Majara as she casts around looking for her. "Yes, of course." She stands up, excusing herself and, feeling glad that she purchased all of Captain Dunham's inventory, takes an antitoxin vial around to the gnome for her to administer.
With all of the patients in good hands, and hopefully at this stage the two more urgent cases now treated, Hannelia heads through to the back room again. "Father Scantshar, may I trouble you for a moment of your time please? I know you've got your hands incredibly full in here but I was wondering if you would be able to tell me about the troll sat in the middle of the village? So far as we could see, it wasn't doing any harm, even if everybody seemed to be giving it a wide berth, but it was a surprise to encounter such a creature here, especially one marked with Abadar's symbol. How long as it been here and what brought it to Sevenecho in the first place?"
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Majara wants to go investigate the well immediately, but she's intrigued to hear the answer to Hannelia's query. "Yes.... why IS there a troll here?"
She's more blunt, obviously.
"I'm sorry, Father," Hannelia says soothingly. "I know you've been doing all you can for all the hours Erastil keeps watch." She clocks the stress and worry lining his face. "Unless I miss my mark, we're not the first to have asked - I, like many of your concerned congregation, just doubt that much that happens in Sevenecho that escapes your notice, regardless of whether it's your direct business or not." She throws in a touch of flattery as few people are immune to it, irrespective of whether they perceive it with cynical eyes or as a genuine compliment.
"Thank you, Father Scantshar," she says as the priest relays the information about the troll's appearance. "That is exceedingly helpful, if a little concerning. It's certainly a strange coincidence so it feels likely that the two events are related in some way. We'll no doubt need to speak to the Evenhands anyway. For now we will leave you and your patients in peace. You should try and get some rest, too," Hannelia adds kindly. "I think everybody is currently stable and recovering and there are plenty of hands here to help. If there's anything else that we can do, please send word."
Having worked with the rest of the Seekers for some time now, Hannelia feels that she has a pretty good grasp of their respective abilities, strengths and weaknesses, including her own. Sure, sometimes they can spring a surprise - she smiles at the recollection of Emma's fancy footwork soothing a haunt - but these don't happen too often. Much like in the temple, here she is very much taking on instructions in order to aid Majara. Not for the first time, she is happy to follow the gnome's instructions and hopes that Majara's analysis of the water fished up from the well might identify the poison. While that is obviously very useful in terms of working up an antidote, she also crosses her fingers that it might provide some kind of clue pointing towards the perpetrator.
The pint-size potion-producer is absolutely in her element. She samples, distills, examines, snifs, pours the liquid onto strips of paper treated with other chemicals, snifs again, boils, examines via bright lights, examines via no lights...
At the end of her work, she says:
"It's a variation on a poison known as Widow's Friend-- a concoction often used to, well, poison nasty husbands and the like, convenient for that sort of work. However......
"It is fascinatingly resistant to magic, such as the curative sort a priest might employ. This often happens with plants grown in the Mana Wastes- but that would be a very long way to import a poison, for one little village such as this. I'd suggest that first we consider the chances of an area with warped or dead magic locally as a likelier source for the herbs used to make this. We need a local guide, perhaps a wilderness scout, or someone who studies magic, hereabouts."
"Hmm," Hannelia mutters. Naturally she's pleased to have identified Widow's Friend as the culprit, but the magically resistant strain is intriguing. It makes sense, of course, given some of the difficulties the priests had been having, but it's not exactly reassuring. "I assume such an area would be rare, and perhaps a closely guarded secret if it can have unpredictable effects?"
"We could return to the temple and ask? Explaining the magic resistance could be useful to the priests too in preparing further cures, and Father Scantshar might know about it, or at least suggest who else might. Alternatively we and see the Evenhands, given we were probably going there anyway? Maybe we split up and do both?" she suggests.
While the group debates the next move, Hannelia reaches into her backpack and withdraws a book and a couple of journals. She flicks through some pages, finding the notes she was looking for. ”Ah yes, I remember. The two are largely what they sound like. Areas of wild magic are, as you might imagine, highly unpredictable and their effects are variable. With dead magic zones the strength of the effect varies in determining what sort of magic it will suppress. It might be all magic, it might allow certain things such as magic items to function. They are presumably easier to experiment with – and less dangerous – to determine their power compared to wild magic zones. I don’t fancy either much, if I’m honest,” she adds as an afterthought.
Hawk mulls on the story, ”Father… have the townsfolk been encroaching upon the woods – cutting down trees for lumber, foraging more, or that sort of thing? Aside from the poisoning and the troll, has anything else unusual been happening in the village with your parishioners?”
It wasn’t a certainty that the Lady of the Woods had anything to do with this matter but it couldn’t be ruled out yet. And if there was a ‘wild magic’ spot in the old forest, well, who would know about it except someone who haunted the woods?
”Well, we’ll do our best to get to the bottom of these strange occurrences. Good day, Father.”
Hawk takes his leave, adds ‘visit the Wyvern’ to his mental list, and heads out across the square to track down the Evenhands. He keeps an eye on the troll, just to be safe, but doesn’t regard it with any hostility. In fact, he raises a hand in greeting to the monster. Unless it is actively recovering from the impalement in a poorly-chosen spot, the sorcerer gambles that had the troll meant to attack, it would already be doing so… A wave tests the theory even further. If it charges, he knows he’s wrong and they will all have time to respond. He hopes it doesn’t. The idea of a morally-complex, non-bloodthirsty, troll is - frankly - quite appealing.
Feeling like she's already bothered Father Scantshar enough, Hannelia is happy to let Hawk lead the conversation. They have one possible lead to follow up on and sometimes information that nothing unusual has been noted proves to be as useful as peculiar events, and certainly the poisoning and the appearance of the troll are irregular enough as it is.
Once they have departed the temple again, the Seekers head to the Evenhands. Asking about the Lady of the Woods is added to the list of questions to follow up on, but trying to find her is probably behind visiting the peacekeepers and a trip to the tavern to pick up on the local gossip in terms of priorities.
Majara looks around with interest-- first at the troll, when Hawkren WAVES at the thing-- and then at the Evenhands' lair, so to speak.
She nods politely to the woman who seems to be the local boss, and, in short order, will, yes, ask her about the three topics at immediate hand
"We can talk to Aklar, yes? Help you figure out the situation? And I'm certainly willing to talk to that troll- how MUCH does he charge? How long has he been here? Where did he come from?"
"Understandable, that's a chunk of money no matter who you are," Majara says as if she herself hadn't spent that sort of money on batches of reagents in her time.
"Each of these were a day apart?? I see why you think it's related-- even if correlation is no guarantee of causation. So the troll just-- showed up? And I'll assume nobody's tried to attack it...? And it's just-- sat there, insisting on being paid before it will talk? That's... really very odd. Very odd. Well-- thank you for your answers."
Majara looks to the others. "I'd like to go see Aklar." Since this woman has a certain laconic quality to her... "Anyone else have more questions for Miss Mirabelle, just now?"
Hannelia listens to the clipped responses to their questions. Mirabelle Evenhand does not appear to be a woman to waste words. Her theory about Aklar seems plausible and whatever anyone else may think, she at least seems convinced he is not directly responsible, even if he might not be an innocent bystander in recent events. No doubt they have questions for him, and to check on his wellbeing, though reading between the lines she imagines he is being treated well enough, just not at liberty to leave.
For now, however, she has more questions to ask of Mirabelle. ”That’s a lot of money just to talk,” she agrees. Very Abdaran. The timing of his arrival is certainly a coincidence and, as Majara said, decidedly odd, but they’re probably never going to know more without speaking to him. She looks to the group. ”I suppose we’ll have to conjure up some funds to find out what he wants then.”
The troll is an interesting point of colour to the mystery but as a talespinner herself, however, it is perhaps unsurprising that it is the story of the Lady of the Woods that Hannelia is most drawn to. ”So assuming that the story and the Lady herself are of an age, she must be pretty old by this point. If she’s human, at least. Would you be able to give a, uh, brief version of the tale please?” she asks, doubting that their host has much capacity for the verbose based on their conversation so far. ”Before we go to the Wyvern,” she adds for clarity.
She’s also not expecting much of an answer to her next question but the Evenhands are an old family and likely know as much about the area around Sevenecho as anyone. ”Are you aware of any strange areas of magic around here?” she asks. ”Something that distort or suppress it. Any old tales or unexplained happenings along those lines?”
The fact the troll wields magic only serves to reinforce the idea that this is a singular creature. Potentially more dangerous, of course, but, in its favour, it seems only to have fought in order to defend itself rather than harm its attackers.
From Mirabelle’s account, the Lady of the Woods has all the makings of a local fairytale. Part mischief-maker, part bogeyman, tales of pranks and charms balanced against more sinister tales, to Hannelia’s mind this has the fingerprints of some kind of fey all over it. She can’t help but smile at the mention of vibrant hair colours and asks Majara mock-seriously, ”Oh, have you met her before, Majara?”
No doubt they will get some more flesh put on the bones of those stories later in the inn from older men, perhaps more prone to chat or simply in love with the sound of their own voice, but that gives them a pretty good idea of what to expect should they need to seek her out. It also sounds more likely that they may be dealing with an area of wild magic. Both have their issues but to a careful planner like Hannelia, the predictability of a dead magic zone instinctively feels preferable to something which is by its nature is changeable and erratic.
Having had her questions answered relatively satisfactorily, she says, ”I think I’m ready to see Aklar now too.”
The sorcerer listens far more than he speaks. His only reaction is a brief frown when they learn of a mob assembling to lynch a merchant for arriving in the wrong place at the wrong moment. He thought Ustalavians judged matters too quickly. It seems Isgerians are in a race to eclipse them.
Hawk doesn’t seem surprised at the news of the troll wielding magic… probably because all the accepted ‘rules’ went out the window when the creature is found sitting peaceably in the center of town, impaled by an Abadaran symbol, and it isn’t munching on locals. At that point, anything seems possible.
”Talking with this Aklar fella seems like a good next step to help unravel this knot.”
Majara looks rather wry at the mention of the blue hair-- and also at Hannelia's jesting comment.
"I don't need a fey's tricks to make my hair blue," she remarks, "but yes-- it does SOUND like a fey, doesn't it? Well-- let's go see what Aklar has to say for himself. Thank you, Mirabelle."
"Hulloah, Master Aklar - a pity to meet in such circumstances, but yes, we'll do what we can for your situation. Tell me all about what brought you here."
Majara duly looks over the ingredients list, nodding here and there, confirming to the others that nothing on the list ought to be capable of bringing about the sickness that has plagued the town. Of course, that assumes Aklar is telling the truth about his list-- but she'd find it highly unlikely he'd call her in in that case. Still.... Mirabelle's suspicion that Aklar knows more than he's saying...
Nah, seems fine to her!
"Tell me more about these two men-- have you mentioned them to the Evenhands? If not, why not?"
The gnome listens - well, another reason to go to the Wyvern, aside from the old tale. And maybe the place with valuable plants might also be a dead magic zone....?
"Do you know anything of that troll, then? Odd that it came here just as you did, more or less." Majara asks, then listens, and nods. "
I can understand not approaching it. I too like to stay out of mouth range of things that can eat me."
Though it seems unlikely Aklar, new to town, would know anything about the legend of the Woods-lady, Majara duly brings it up just to be sure. His shrug is unsuspicious, at least to the gnome.
Majara makes sure to ask for a physical description of Jarod and Krem, since names can be very mutable. Then she turns to the others.
"I think our next stop is the Wyvern-- to see if anyone remembers these two men, and ask about the old wives' tale. If we're passing the troll I'd be willing to front the price of chit-chat, however. Also I want to ask Mirabelle about these two men."
The gnome immediately suits deed to word, ducking back into the room where the Evenhands' daily leader is at work.
"Got a bit from him," she says to Mirabelle, as able to speak staccato as the next person. "Two men. Jarod and Krem. Not locals? Did he mention?"
"I needed to make sure an alchemist of skill on morals could verify my story first! Otherwise she might think I sold them the poison!"
Hannelia nods at Aklar’s explanation. ”That does make sense, and Majara is an excellent choice in that she can both confirm the nature of your purchases and come along with the rest of us in tow. It’s a smart move, I’l say that.”
The description of the two men the merchant sold the goods to is rather less helpful, but from experience Hannelia knows that people aren’t always that observant if they don’t realise it matters, and quite often even when they do. Still, even if the names are false, they have something to go on.
”I don’t suppose you saw any interaction between your customers and the troll?” she asks. It’s a long shot, and more than likely they, too, were giving the creature a wide berth, but perhaps it was their arrival that was tied to the appearance of the troll rather than that of Aklar.
He seems to know nothing of the Lady of the Woods, so, anecdotally at least, Hannelia’s working theory is that it’s a local legend rather than a traveller’s tale.
* * * * *
"Trusted you with names? Hmh." Mirabelle smiles and shakes her head, she hadn't been trusted with the men at all. But it seems she'd already been tracking them with her own investigation, and gives you a map of their tracks to and from town from the woods. "Outsiders- been tracking 'em down. Came from the woods. Old forester home near tracks, Geoffrey missing." She taps a spot on the map.
Hannelia takes the map from Mirabelle and scans it, before passing it round to the others. ”Good work,” she says, impressed, ”even if it means potentially a little less fun for our own tracker.” She flashes Nerissia a grin. Clearly at least one of the Evenhands takes their role in protecting the village seriously and is competent at it.
She raises an eyebrow at the mention of the vanishing woodsman. ”More coincidences? What can you tell us about Geoffrey? Appearance, personality, likelihood of him just happening to choose to go on a long journey to visit a relative in Almas at exactly this moment, that sort of thing. Does he live alone? And when did you learn of his disappearance?”
Hannelia listens intently to the description of Geoffrey. She’s getting used to Mirabelle’s pithy delivery and while it might be short, the woman does pack in plenty of information to her well-chosen words. ”I think it would be reasonable to assume a connection here then.” A grim expression forms on her face. ”My initial guess is that Geoffrey probably saw them but was spotted in return and they saw fit to silence him in order to cover their tracks. Presumably there's no shortage of places to dump a body in the woods either.” She pauses, reflecting on a situation that is decidedly not to her liking. Another missing man, most likely another dead man. Perhaps not everyone is a ruthless killer in the way the skulks were but anybody capable of poisoning a well is hardly too concerned about the sanctity of life.
”You called it correctly, by the way,” she says to Mirabelle. ”Aklar wasn’t lying, just made the wrong trade to the wrong people at the wrong time. And if he was directly involved it would be a pretty brazen move to hang around waiting to see the results. He’s not the type to do that either.” She looks the woman in the eye. ”So what now? Are you going to release him? I don’t think he’s holding anything back and it’s in his interest to tell us everything he can.”
Majara listens, nodding along with Hannelia's thoughts and observations.
"I've vetted the list of everything he brought and it's not likely they're poisons. Other than coincidence of timing, do you have any further reason to hold the fellow?"
Emma mulls over the various bits of information that the others have gleaned. She's remained quiet for the most part, getting used to the new locale - the others are more suited for this particular bit.
Mostly, she thinks of the troll, if it is truly a troll, and what it's purpose here is. A random troll showing up is concerning enough, let alone one that can use magic to such effect. Perhaps it is a fey, she reasons.
"Majara's very knowledgeable about reagents and ingredients," Emma puts in.
Hannelia shoots Emma a glance. Her friend has been unusually quiet when she ordinarily has perceptive questions and is the first to stick up for those in need of aid. Admittedly Aklar doesn't seem to be in any real trouble given that Mirabelle at least doesn't believe him to be guilty and they have a fair idea about what happened, up to a point, anyway. Still, she makes a mental note to check in with her once they have finished with Mirabelle and are out of the house.
Hawk doesn't offer an opinion on releasing the merchant. "I'm going to try to exchange some words with that troll; see if this is an unlikely coincidence. Cheers." He heads out into the courtyard.
"Makes sense," Majara agrees to the self-preservation aspects of Aklar staying put for now. She trots along after Hawkren, whistling off-key to herself as she goes.
"Innnteresting," the gnome mutters to the sorcerer as they approach. "If I don't totally miss my guess there's conjuration magic on that fellow's scales... probably some sort of extra dimensional storage effect? To hold his payments maybe..."
She gives the troll a guarded but not-hostile nod.
"Makaleve the Guilded - greetings. I am Majara the Pricknettle. I understand your price is ninety gold? Per question?"
Emma cocks her head after hearing Majara's comment. Innnteresting indeed.
She's happy to let Majara take point on this, watching Makaleve with furrowed brows. The whole thing is an oddity.
Still, she can't help but be a little amused by the fact that Makaleve had technically answered a question for free... even if it was only because the question had been about fees.
But why had Makaleve come here in the first place? She considers the gold in her own purse and decides that perhaps it's not that pressing of a question, though if need be, she'll pitch in some gold to help get answers they might need.
Assuming Makaleve and his answers can be trusted.
As Emma is once again strangely quiet, seeing that Majara and Hawk have this in hand and the troll - Makaleve - is engaging in conversation happily enough, Hannelia gives her a tap on the shoulder and pulls her to one side. ”Is everything alright?” she asks, scrutinising her friend for a sense of anything out of place. ”You’ve not said much, it just seems a little unusual.”
”Good to meet you, Makalevke! I am Hawkren… the Eclectic, because I have many interests.” He gives the troll a friendly wink. ”If we do have questions but not enough coin, would you be open to a trade or two?”
"Everything's fine," Emma reassures her friend. "Mostly just trying to get a sense of things. Outside of the healing, I've been content to let you all handle the talking to people. Your and Majara's talents and knowledge have been coming in handy. Although..."
She refocuses on Makalevke and reaches out her senses.
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Hannelia nods at the response. ”Ok, just checking. You’d tell me there was something though?” she asks. ”And it’s good to be on the road again, able to help.” She tosses her hair, still styled as it was after getting it cut in Absalom. It had taken a while to find the right place but the prices in Elidir were certainly more reasonable. ”Obviously in my line of work you pick up a lot of stories and rumours - goblin raiders sighted near Wolfpoint, whispers of undead in the mountains to the west, reports of some kind of political dispute over the border in Molthune that I think you need to be very involved with to truly understand, to give three examples from the last couple of weeks. Not things I can necessarily do much about, as much as I may wish to.” She smiles, a little self-deprecatingly. ”But here at least it feels like we should be able to resolve this.”
Hawk smiles, "Grand! Savvy merchants have to be flexible - not everyone carries stacks of coins. If you don't mind me asking... how did you come to this village and not somewhere else? Or have you visited other villages?"
Hannelia inclines her head slightly to acknowledge Emma's brief signal that the troll is, at least in some ways, exactly what he appears to be and harbours no general ill-intent towards them or the people of Sevenecho.
Happy to let Hawk continue with the questioning, the only other thing she would like to voice - carefully - is around the coincidental timing of Makaleve's arrival.