Silvio nods in agreement. "You missed the sermon. They're recruiting at the Ranger's Lament tonight." He tilts his head toward the smaller building in the shadow of the Razmiran temple. "We can come back here later."
Concluding his study of the temple and guards, Silvio begins shuffling back toward their meeting. Though he keeps a worried glance around out of concern that they might be followed.
As he moves away, the herald doesn't turn to face Sledge as he claims to have "some small power" from Razmir. "Oh I'm sure he did," comes the response as the herald walks away, flanked by those in gray and white robes.
Based on his initial glance, Silvio guesses that the herald--in the black robes--was the highest rank of those present. From there, the gray robes seemed to be the next, followed by the white robes. He doesn't know that for certain, nor whether there are higher or lower ranks, but the black-robed Herald mentioned being of the Eighth Step. There might be something to that.
On the way back, Silvio doesn't notice anyone following the group.
Masked priests patrol the wall tops surrounding the courtyard, watching those below on the busy streets below through their implacable, identical iron masks.
Garen tries to get close enough for his ability, granted by Iomedae, to try to concentrate on the different guards. And as he focuses on each one in turn, he detects...nothing.
So on his way back to the Forest Bounty, the paladin stops to ask several locals about what they know about the Church of Razmir. He gets a mixture of responses. Many speak about injuries that they've gotten healed, or how crime has been decreasing. But there are two darker stories that Garen hears as he walks through the streets of Tamran.
A woman who looks to be of Mwangi descent with slightly-pointed half-elven ears ushers Garen in closer after he asks his question. "Don't spread this too far," she begins, her voice low, "But I think they're all brainwashed. There's some sort of conditioning they all go through that makes them all act uniform. How else could they give up everything they own and just blindly follow this Living God?" She looks around once more and then whispers. "I hear those deemed unworthy are sent across Lake Encarthan, where Razmir...eats them."
Another person, skin weathered by the sun and with unkempt white hair, holds a sign reading REPENT! THE END IS NEAR! with a hazy image of a skull in a moon. Approaching the man, Garen asks about the Church of Razmir and the man's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull. "They're in control," he says. "Of everything. This goes straight to the top. They're paying off every city guard and they've even got Foresh Marshal Gavirk in their pocket. Don't trust anyone!"
"I'll be honest, not sure how any of this connects to what happened back home," whispers Silvio to the others. The crazy rumors they were hearing didn't feel particularly real to him.
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"It doesn't seem to be connected but they are recruiting at the Ranger's Lament and we know our invaders came from the Lament. Also, one of their number was wearing a mask (or so I think I remember). Combine that with rumors of ill intent along with the observed cultish nature of the group. I think they could very well all tie in. they could be after the treasure to help spread their religion." Garen says as they walk.
Sledge milled along behind the others, taking some time to see the sights of a big city. He was kind of a country bumpkin he knew, and normally he'd never allow himself to look like he hadn't already seen everything under the sun, but he rationalized it away by thinking, it's what my character would do.
"It is very peculiar to be sure," Charles adds. "Though I didn't see everything the three of you have, I do agree with Garen that the nature of this group is lending itself towards secrecy. Unfortunately, when dealing with groups that could be identified as cultish," he tips his hand toward Garen. "We're not certain if this is something that goes all the way to the top or just one corrupt bishop, devout, or some what up the chain a bit."
He too was taking in the sights and sounds around him, while they walked through the city. However, he is also trying to subtlety keep an eye on anyone that may be following them. While the groups antics were mostly dismissed, secretive organizations tended to keep a close eye on anything unusual and had specific people for such tasks.
Charles' eyes are sharp. He keeps an eye out for any potential tag-alongs. So far, though, it seems like the group hasn't attracted any notice, whether masked or unmasked.
Before long, they find themselves back at the Forest Bounty, in plenty of time for their meeting with Aromina Yasgon. Gurney notes their arrival and tells them that they'll be seen on time. The hall remains about as busy as it was in the morning, though the cast of characters within has mostly changed over. The serving maid Kendra is about the only person recognized within as the group makes their way to a table to wait.
About five minutes before three o'clock, Gurney walks up to the table and nods to everyone. "Aromina will see you now. Follow me."
The half-orc takes the party up a set of stairs to the second floor of the establishment. They note a surprising effect as they pass through an invisible membrane--the noise from downstairs dulls significantly after they reach a particular step. The downstairs area is still almost entirely visible, but the sound is greatly reduced. As a result, the second floor seems like it's a reasonable place to get work done regardless of how wild things get below.
Gurney leads the party down a hallway to an office, knocks on the door, and ushers you inside. Inside is a blonde half-elven woman with angular features. She is dressed in muted tones, and there is a faint scent of perfume in the air. The office is a bit cluttered, with three full floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, including one half-covering the room's only window. A trio of lanterns hang from the ceiling, giving a warm glow to the room. A bow rests on the wall opposite from where the door opens along with a few plaques and medals. A quartet of chairs waits for the party, including one with a device that Silvio recognizes as an innovation used by some halflings to get into human-sized chairs with ease--sort of like a stirrup for mounting a horse.
"Please, come in, sit" the woman says, gesturing you in. "I'm Aromina Yasgon. One of you must be Garen Williamson of Kassen. I understand your local tomb was raided and you're looking for the culprit here in Tamran. Please--tell me everything." She draws out a quill and holds it above a sheet of parchment on her desk, looking at you all.
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Garen notes Aromina's glances and says, "Our friend has taken an interest in the Razmirans. My apologies if this concerns you. As for our story..." Garen then gives a summary of their trip to the tomb, the final battle, and the evidence they found pointing to the Ranger's Lament. He includes the fact that they found a masked man, a possible Razmiran, among the raiders but does not mention the treasure but does include the stolen amulet pieces and the need to regain the third.
Aromina listens to Garen intently, her quill scratching across the parchment as he tells the tale.
"It appears," Aromina says at the conclusion of the telling, "That we may have aligning interests. First, I am sorry to hear of the deaths in your community from this incident. Your evidence does suggest that someone here in Tamran organized the raid. But before we continue further," she turns to address Sledge directly. "May I ask the precise nature of your interest in the Razmirans?"
"You might," Sledge says slowly, "You certainly might." Sledge takes off his mask, and places it gently face-up on the table.
"While their magics are genuine, I have never heard of a god since Aroden making a city their home. How old is Razmir, where did he come from? If he's a god, why does he need such heavy tithes from his followers, a powerful enough mage could make their own money, a god should be beyond that. Perhaps there is a... miscommunication between him and his clergy. Call me a reform Razmirist if you want, but I'm for a kinder, gentler Razmir." Licking his lips, Sledge continues, "And I'm going to find where that flaw lies."
One of Aromina's eyebrows arches as Sledge takes off his mask. "Hmm," she says. "I've never seen a Razmiran without their mask before. Then again, I've never seen one with a wooden mask. Nor without the robes and all."
She scrutinizes Sledge for a moment, tapping her quill on the parchment, and then nods. "Reform Razmirist." She chuckles, a faint smile crossing her face, and leans back in her chair. "All right, then. Why not? I don't know the answers to all of your questions, but I have some information, some questions of my own, and..." She looks down at Sledge's doffed mask on her desk, makes eye contact with all four men in turn, and sighs. "A request."
"For starters, Razmir himself. The story I've heard is that he passed the Test of the Starstone some fifty years ago and has since established himself quite a sizable kingdom on the other side of Lake Encarthan, often through overwhelming force. As for tithes--well, most churches take tithes of some sort from their members. Some are like Abadar and provide services for money, but others like Erastil frown on that sort of thing. Even if priests take a vow of poverty, they still have living expenses. I imagine that donations go to ensuring that they don't starve. And then if the Church runs the government, like they do in Razmiran, there's infrastructure to consider. Public services. Charity. Very few things in life are free. I'm not familiar with Razmir's teachings, but I imagine it's something like that."
Aromina shrugs. "There's a lot more than that, though. I hadn't really heard much about Razmir until about two years ago when a small band of missionaries showed up in the city. Within a few months of proselytizing, they had raised enough funds to build their temple, which was finished about a year ago. They've just been growing ever since."
"I want to believe that they're just doing good work in this city: feeding the poor, helping cut down on thievery, that sort of stuff. But...it's hard to ignore the darker rumors. Call it miscommunication, call it heresy, call it whatever you like. I don't mean to cast aspersions on an entire religion, but at least this church has been accused of some nasty things. Blackmail. Extortion. Kidnapping. Maybe more."
"I'm not responsible for the city guards--that would be Speaker Mayslen Torgun--but I asked him to increase patrols around the Temple and investigate them. He insists that he did, and the guards all deny that they've seen anything, but..."
She pauses, frowning. "About two weeks ago I heard that a cobbler near the temple was accused of stealing from the Razmirans. They dragged him inside, claiming he needed to be rehabilitated. No one has seen him since, and his shop has been empty." She shakes her head. "I asked Mayslen about their charter and whether that was permitted, and it is. I don't like it, but it's not considered kidnapping. We've apparently given the church significant leeway in dealing with theft."
Aromina clicks her tongue and sneers. "He seems enamored with them for some reason. Whenever I raise concerns, he insists that everything they're doing is above board, that they're a force for good in the city, for all of Nirmathas. It makes me wonder if they have something on him." A long sigh. "Mayslen is a good man, but I can't help but feel like he's got blinders on just because we've had to spend less on law enforcement and keeping our people fed, which means more funds can go towards fighting Molthune."
"So I don't have any concrete evidence of breaking laws or doing anything else untoward. But I've tried. I tried to get some people I trust inside. The temple is heavily guarded, and the only people allowed inside are members, so the only way to get in is to join the religion. They interview prospective faithful at the Ranger's Lament. I asked two people I used to serve with to go interview two months ago. They got in after the initial interview, but...they didn't get past the initiation. Apparently, it's grueling. They both quit before they got their masks, so I got no intel."
"But your story answers a question that I had. A few months ago, a group from the temple left to head north--on foot. It's not entirely uncommon for small groups to leave Tamran, but they usually board boats, probably to get to Razmiran. Anyway, this group returned about a month later, but there were fewer of them than had left. It's hard to prove, but that's probably the group that went to Kassen. And since you found at least one dead Razmiran, that might explain their reduction in force. When they got back, my sources tell me that they hurried back to the temple. One week later, another group left the temple and boarded a boat. They were led by someone in blue robes and a silver mask that my sources had never seen before. I think that person might be the Temple's leader, but I can't be sure."
Aromina looks very serious. "I just don't have enough information yet. If I had concrete evidence of the Church's wrongdoings, I could take it to Mayslen and confront him with the reality. Break him out of this love affair he's got going on." She takes a deep breath. "That's where I have a request. You're outsiders--unknown to the Church. And one of you is already interested in them. It feels like an opportunity dropping in my lap to have you all come into my office. I'd like you to join the Church of Razmir."
The Speaker waits for a moment to gauge the party's reactions before continuing. "Learn as much as you can about what's going on. Play along. Play the part of interested prospective adherents, even if they treat you terribly. Maybe it's all nothing and all of the rumors are unfounded. Maybe they're upstanding citizens. But I'd rather know one way or another. So for now, don't take any needless risks. There are too many cultists to just fight your way in, and I'm almost certain that the city guards would protect them if you engaged them openly."
The half-elf leans back in her chair once more and seems to be coming to the end of her speech. "Hopefully you can figure out why they cared about the amulets they stole as well, and what they're doing with them now. I don't want to commit you to this for a long time, either. Let's check in in a week and see what progress you've made. Do you have any questions?"
"Interesting," offers Silvio, sitting on the chair designated for him. He says little more, though, as he waits for the more eloquent to speak.
Charles nods his head, "It definitely does sound like they may have something on Speaker Mayslen. I would like to look into that a bit. But, I believe that would be far too conspicuous to dig into their affairs while pursuing interest in Razmir. Finding out what is going on within the temple may yield clues there as well, so it definitely seems the more prudent course," he offers with a thoughtful expression.
"Are there any other town leaders that may be... respecting the privacy of the temple's activities more than you would expect?"
Aromina tilts her head to the side in thought before answering Charles. "Please do avoid investigating Speaker Mayslen. If you aroused suspicion outside, it might jeopardize the rest of your infiltration."
"As for the others...no, Speaker Tamain is so focused on the war effort with Forest Marshal Gavirk that I doubt either of them have noticed much about this problem."
Another moment passes before she adds one more detail. "She's not a leader necessarily, but Emerald Bough is a friend. Thoroughly independent. I don't know if you noticed the druidic shrine next to the Forest Bounty , but she takes care of that. She actually helped to provide the structure of the main hall of this building--the trees around here are all alive. So if you need assistance, she's someone else to look to."
"Infiltrating the Razmirans isn't easy for some of us, Speaker." The halfling climbs down the chair and approaches Aromina. "But I've spent some time reading about Kelinahat. And I see the wisdom of doing so, even while it poses a challenge to my faith." He takes out The Dark and the Light from his bag and takes off the holy symbol of Erastil that was tucked under his chain shirt. "Would you please keep these safe? If the worst happens, Father Prasst would appreciate his book back."
He looks to Garen and nods, knowing their shared challenges. Although unlike Garen, Silvio never did take vows of the paladin.
"Kelinahat," Aromina says, the smile reappearing on her face. "She of Ebon Wings, the archon empyreal lord of spies, stealth, and the gathering of intelligence," she rattles off as though reciting some piece of trivia. She looks over the book. "I doubt I'll have much time for pleasure reading in the next few days, but it could be interesting."
The half-elven woman takes the book and the facsimile of the Erastilian bow and arrow in miniature, slipping them into her desk.
"For the greater good," she reiterates, nodding. She turns to Sledge expectantly.
Sledge looks around incredulously. "I'm already halfway to being a Razmiran. Conniving, self-serving, and holier-than-thou. You don't have to ask me twice to go join them. Ask not what you can do for your god, but rather what your god can do for you." He pauses for a second. "Maybe that's why I'm not blessed like some of the others of my friends here with divine magics." He slaps a hand over his mouth, then mumbles through it, "But you didn't hear that from me! As far as your concerned I'm a nobody who was gifted some meager power by the grace of Razmir himself!"
Aromina nods. "All right, then. I wish you all the best of luck. If there are no further questions, then I pray I'll see you in a week no worse for the wear. Good luck."
Charles agrees with the plan and expresses his desire to head on back to the Ranger's Lament.
"I'm not really one to get in to the deception. But as I've studied a variety of topics at the university, I consider this another theology course. I do look forward to learning the beliefs and practices of this group while we try to find out more."
"I'll spend a bit more time exploring before meeting at the Ranger's Lament. I think Winter and I could use a break from the town."
He'll spend a bit of time exploring the town environs ahead of their next meeting.
Aromina promises to keep the group's holy symbols and any other desired accoutrements safe and wishes them well.
Silvio sets about wandering about town. In addition to some prominent landmarks already visited (The Forest Bounty, the City Guard Headquarters, the Gar's Last Meal, and the Temple of Razmir) or heard about (the Druidic Shrine, the Ranger's Lament), there are three other places of note. The primary marketplace in Tamran is on the southern docks. The Forest Marshal has a homestead of his own on the northern side of town where he lives and from where he conducts business. And finally, on the western edge of the city is a multifunction building called The Weathered Sail: it is chiefly a Temple of Erastil that also has a small amphitheater and a few small businesses operating within.
Before entering the Ranger's Lament, he also takes a bit of time observing the comings and goings of people from the Temple of Razmir. The city guard presence here is definitely higher than in the outlying areas of town. Furthermore, he notices that members of the church leave and enter the temple regularly, though he does not notice a set schedule determining their comings and goings. Most of them travel in groups of six, with most dressed in white robes and no more than one or two per group dressed in gray or black.
Sledge, for his part, spends the day doing small miracles for the people. Perhaps his pièce de résistance is his seemingly limitless healing, for he could heal a minor injury with but a touch.
"I am afraid I cannot do more for you," he says to a man who has taken more than 1d8+3 damage, "For although Razmir gives greatly, I cannot channel the same energies as some of his higher priests. Return to the Ranger's Lament this evening, and I will see what I can do for you." He refuses all payment, instead directing it to be donated to the Razmirans tonight at the Ranger's Lament. He was going to make a splash, and going to make it harder for the Razmirans to just disappear him.
"All hail to the Living God!"
As Silvio meanders through the town, he yearns to enter the Weathered Sail but remembers his friends' warning to not seem too close. The businesses within provide an excuse to enter, though, and he and Winter step foot inside. In his mind, Silvio silently prays for a sign from Erastil of what Old Deadeye might want to do with these Razmirans who so openly scorned him and the other gods. Surely the fact that the priest channeled healing meant that Razmir was not evil, right? That's how he had always understood it.
Eventually, he finds himself reunited with the others and shares his findings about the marketplace, the Forest Marshal's home, the Weathered Sail, and the places they'd already heard or seen.
Sitting in the shadow of the Temple to Razmir, the Ranger’s Lament is a simple establishment. Made from solid wood timbers, the one-story building is comprised primarily of a large common room, with a bar and a kitchen off to one side. Although open for business, there's only one person inside at the moment: the bartender. The emptiness here may seem peculiar, as many of the other local establishments seem quite full.
A short man with thick arms, a dark black mustache, and a bald crown filled with sunspots stands behind the bar. "Welcome to the Ranger's Lament," he says. "You can take any seat in the house. I'll be over to take your orders in just a moment."
"Quiet night?" asks Silvio, as the short, powerful man invites them to take a seat. He was genuinely surprised to see the place so empty, especially compared to the crowd he'd seen during the preaching.
Silvio looks for a table that'd be the right size for the group of them and--most importantly--had a shorter distance between the seat height and the table height. It was a reflexive move coming from a lifetime of adjusting to human establishments.
Silvio finds such a table without too much difficulty, to the right of a stage where, presumably, there might be a bad on some nights. "An event night," the man says as he makes his way over to the table. "I assumed you all were recruits." He raises his eyebrow, then motions a thumb back towards the kitchen. "Can I get you anything before the meeting?"
"A nice water," Sledge rasps. His voice wasn't used to all the talking he'd been doing today. "And maybe some chicken soup if you have any."
"Just water?" the man asks, surprised. "Huh. All right. And soup." He nods, waiting for anyone else to chime in with something that they want.
"Yup. Just didn't realize it was exclusive," responds Silvio. "Leg of mutton?" he inquires. "Or whatever other meat you have handy. And some ale," he adds, wanting to not order an excessively elaborate meal.
Charles takes a seat and tries to keep Roger snuggled up in his front pocket. "I'll have an ale and whatever your specialty is." He feels Roger moving around, possibly picking up on a meal from the hungry sounds originating from Charles' stomach. "And a piece of fish on the side as well, if possible."
"On another note, are things normally this quiet on event nights? I assume you are a member as well since you allow the devout to use your facility exclusively?" he asks, hoping to find a bit more on the barkeeps invovlement.
The man shrugs at the comment of "exclusive," nodding at Silvio and Charles' orders. While he waits for Garen to make or decline an order, the tavern's door swings open and another person walks in. It's the person that was staring at Sledge earlier.
"Nah, I'm not a Razmiran. They just pay me to use my space. Y'all are early. Special tonight's boiled cabbage and ground lamb, but I got some fish for yer little friend."
The new arrival glares in Sledge's direction and purposely sits as far away from the party's table as possible, waiting for the barkeep to come over.
Across the tavern, the glaring half-elf responds to Garen in a raised voice. "Not everyone is ready to do what it takes to achieve enlightenment." He clicks his tongue and looks straight at Sledge. "Some seem to think that they're already partway there."
"Cabbage and lamb, and something for Winter sounds great," agrees Silvio. He wondered how much it costs to rent out an entire tavern and decides that the Razmirans must be doing well for themselves.
As the faraway-seated stranger enters and begins mocking them, Silvio calls out in return. "Do you have a problem with my friend, here? Because if you do, you have a problem with me!" Silvio was a little surprised to see himself close ranks with Sledge. Maybe that's just what happens after sharing multiple near-death experiences.
Sledge raises a hand, trying to emulate Holgast's descalation between his two apprentices. "It's ok Silvo. Verbal barbs have no bite to them. Let him yap. Should he escalate to violence, then we may answer him in kind."
The mask adding a level of gravitas to his words, he continues, "Would you like to escalate this sirrah? Or would you like to come to our table and discuss our problems like civilized gentle-folk. I am sure we can spare enough coin for a meal for our poor friend here."
Charles slides his chair back and stands up with his hands out, trying to calm the situation a bit. "I don't think anyone here has a desire to escalate things. But your offer is a good one, Master Sledge."
Turning towards the half-elf. "We have clearly aggravated you somehow. Would you please accept the invitation to come let us know what has irked you so severely? It definitely seems like you have very strong feelings towards the Razmirans, but I confess I can't tell if they are positive or negative."
"No fighting in my bar!" comes a voice from the kitchen.
The man at the other hand of the bar raises his eyebrows in surprise when the halfling speaks up. After the three-way call-out, he lowers his gaze, his chin descending to his shoulder and an inscrutable expression fixing his face. He sighs and shrugs. "Fine, I'll come over."
He walks wearily across the tavern and sits in an offered seat, arms crossed across his chest and refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "You mean it about buying me a meal?"
"Indeed. What do you want?"
”Sorry boss, not fighting, just talking.” Silvio is still suspicious of this new fellow, but keeps his cool as the others seem content to chat.
”Go ahead and order, he offers.
Winter starts to sniff the stranger out, on alert because Silvio is.
The bartender comes back out with the group's orders and takes the stranger's order (the special and an ale). He sits for a moment, and then looks up at Sledge. "Why're you already wearing a mask?"
"Mm not glum," the man insists as he begins stuffing his scowling face with bites of cabbage and lamb. "And he could wear another mask that didn't take earning if he was so ashamed." The last statement is said with half-stuffed cheeks muffling his words, flecks of food shooting from the man's face. The way he's eating makes it seem like he hasn't had a solid meal in a while.
"Because Razmir appeared to me," Sledge says matter of factly. "When all seemed lost, he appeared to me in a flash of light, gave me my holy mission, and imbued me with magical gifts like those of the clergy. Why shouldn't I wear his symbol as I work towards greater enlightenment?" Sledge does a minor magical trick as proof.