Bumolin thinks for a moment, then he adds: "Actually we could just go to Greyhands tavern. Maybe we'll meet those hunters there. And we can ask around for a specialist on flying batwolves. What do you think?"
Ritti is a bit goggle-eyed at Bumolin's transformation but manages a nod, "Seems like a good idea. If this is some sort of shapeshifting-demon-bat-wolf, those hunters should probably know to keep an eye on the sky as well as the ground."
The thief scans the distant witchtower suspiciously, in an almost calculating manner. Then she takes a last, wistful look at the island, muttering to herself. "Sure wish I met a real, live, druid. That woulda been somethin'."
"They can be surprisingly hard to spot...but at least concerning the Kells, I fear we have to take the boy on his word: they have probably been abducted by that flying...something. The best we can do for them is to unravel this whole mystery as quickly as possible. Let's go!"
Bumolin leaves the isle and moves towards the town.
Once the business at the temple of Abadar has been concluded, Thorfinn returns to the inn. He's still quiet, watching for the honorless sneak to try another attack, but relaxes a bit once he gets dinner.
Xylas nods, "Noted. Is there a discount on goods as well? Old Deadeye supplies me with a bit of services, but I'm still working on my spellcraft and maybe a scroll or potion with a little extra could help me help my friends here."
"Oh, indeed. Provided you have the proper documentation." The answer comes from a woman wearing white robes. The gold key holy symbol around her neck looks to be pure gold. "I am the Archbanker of this temple. I was told you were interested in a consult about a devil?"
In contrast to Talia's clean, cozy, well-lit inn, Grayhand's Tavern is a dark dive that smells heavily of pipe smoke, spilled rotgut, and depression. In the back corner is a booth filled with some rough yokels. Armed to the teeth, even in public, and reeking of cheap beer, the men eyeball the dwarf and young woman beginning the moment they enter.
Swerlo himiself is working at the bar wiping a dirty mug with an even dirtier rag. "Well, well, well, 'ello there love!" he says to Ritti leering at her in an obvious and creepy manner. "Aye, ladies' night everynight when ol' Swerlo works 'is own barback, bird." He winks at her and wipes a well-worn barstool with the filthy rag. "Just bring that sweet backside o'er 'ere and the first rounds on me, eh?"
I'm sure we can get Lady Deva to write us a note, if that works?"
"Yes, we have an imp situation: talking black bird that haunts our steps and tries to make outlandish deals like hurting ourselves for information. It escaped when we were exploring the Witch Tower. I was mostly just annoyed until your acolyte mentioned possessions. Do you have any advice on sending the little monster back to the Hells?"
While returning to town, Bumolins determined and self-assured demeanour starts to change visibly: the revelations on the isle have taken him off balance: with this otherworldly creature he is on unknown territory.
When they enter the tavern he also suddenly feels he is again in a place, where he doesn't understand the rules. A feeling that gets worse with Greyhand's comment towards Ritti. Unsure of all the implications and of what to do, he stops at the door, trying to estimate how she feels about it.
Ritti rests her hand lightly on Bumolin's shoulder as she gives the lecherous Swerlo a broad smile. Having spent the better part of the day with Red, the druid notes her smile never reaches her eyes. In fact, her eyes are distinctly cold.
In contrast, her voice is sweet, "What a gentleman, you are!" She glances back at the door briefly. "It's a bit early to drink for me... but I'm happy to take a gallantly offered seat." She heads toward the stool, the hand resting on the druid's shoulder, encouraging him to come along. She gives Swerlo a bigger smile as she places her leather-clad caboose on the stool. She adjusts to the seat while surreptitiously loosening something in one of her pockets.
She spins a bit playfully on the stool, smiling politely to any local meeting her eyes. She overlooks the table full of ruffians but her rotation on the stool stops with her back mostly to the bar and the ruffian's table being within her peripheral vision. She turns her head a bit to speak with Swerlo, giving him a wide-eyed look. "Do you own this tavern? You must be a big wheel in town."
Still a bit bewildered, but reassured by (and inwardly very thankful for) Ritti taking things in hand, Bumolin lets himself be guided towards the stools and sits down next to her. The look in her eyes gives him food for thought however and he starts to take in the room and it's occupants, somehow exspecting some kind of danger.
Both Ritti and Bumolin easily note that the armed men are openly staring at the strangers who have invaded their bar. Swerlo ignores the boondock-bumpkins and focues on the young woman. "Aye," the leering bar owner says nodding, "Big 'nuff round 'ere, aye, miss. Ain't no Baroness, but believe you me, I got names and know 'ow to find all the bodies!" He guffaws. "An' I knows you ain't 'ere to talk to me. You 'ere for 'em o'er there." He flicks his head toward the rough looking men drinking and staring. "They don't know it yet, you needs Swerlo to make the introduction?" He holds his hand, palm open, on the table in front of him and raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Well, my acolyte spoke out of turn. A small devil would actually be incapable of truly possessing someone. It could, of course, find other ways of exerting it's will. For instance, an imp is inately capable of using magic to influence others," the Archbanker proceeds to explain everything there is to know about an imp to the group.
"That's a bit of a relief that they can't possess you. I suppose if it could, it would have tried that already. Silver, ya say. Don't happen to have any silver arrows, do ya? I think I have enough to cover that. If not, we'll be back some time with a note from the Baroness regarding our authenticity so to speak. Appreciate your forthrightness, Archbanker." he nods and gives a winning grin.
"I didn't seem to make a great impression on her," Xylas notes ruefully. "Not the type for rustic charm, I s'pose. Whatsay we find the others and go see Bassy?"
Inwardly Ritti sighs… she wasn’t looking forward to what she had to do next, or what Bumolin was going to think of her for it. But two of her rules were applicable:
1. Use the best tool for the job.
2. When a mark reveals a weakness – use it.
At least she didn’t have to fake the look of confusion that crosses her face at Swerlo’s comment. She leans over the bar to speak a little more intimately with the sleazy lech... resting one of her - albeit modest - leaf-armored breasts in his open palm.
She says quietly, ”Master Swerlo, I’ve been in town for a day, and you’ve lost me. Who are those uh… gentlemen and why would I want to speak with them? If you can help me understand that… it might be worth more than what you have in your hand already.”
Swerlo blinks in shock then breaks out into a grin, "I was askin' for coin, lass, but that works too!" He throws his head back and openly guffaws. "Biton! Come 'ere! You gotta meet this lovely lady! 'Er and 'er friend 'ere went and saw Prake this morning, you ought tell 'em what you and the boys saw!"
The rough men stop staring in suspicion and mosey somewhat drunkenly over to the bar. "I reckon you might wanna put that away, miss. Swerlo here is likely to pull his short sword, if you catch my drift," says a tall human who is clearly the leader of the small band. His crass comment draws another peal of raucous laughter from Swerlo and his fellow hunters.
"Eudomas Biton. If you want to hear what's out there, and why you should stay far, far away, buy me a round. No need to flash your goodies at me, the little missus is home but she'd know somehow."
After a round is served and Biton grabs a stool at the bar beside Ritti, he launches into what starts as a fairly typical tale of a normal hunt. He lead his boys into the woods. It didn't take him long to pick up fresh tracks and Biton assumed he was going to bag him some fine wolf pelt and get drinking money for a month thanks to the bounty Prake was offering. "Things seemed normal, just regular wolf prints, see? So I sent old Blue, my hound, to flush the critters out of the bush, but Blue comes tearing out of the scrub, faster than a goblin who set his backend on fire. That's when it came out."
All of the men are deathly quiet. "It was the size of a caravan wagon and covered in matted gray fur. Looked like rocks embedded in it's hide. It coulda stuck my whole head in it's mouth. Before we got out of there I swear it looked at me. It looked at me like it was talking to me, like it was threatening me. So forget the bounty. Stay away from them wolves."
When Ritti makes her move, Bumolin matches her goggle-eyes from back on the isle. At least. Like someone who watches a strange kind of theatre that's interesting, but not totally understandable, he just keeps watching open mouthed until things start to make sense again.
During Bitons tale, he becomes focused and concentrated again. When the hunter has finished, Ritti gets the impression, that the dwarf has already heard, what he wanted to know.
Finally he says:
"You are talking wisdom, Biton. That sounds like a really dangerous creature. Do you think it was leading the other wolves or did they rather keep a distance when you met it?"
"It was the alpha, I reckon. Let us see the pack's tracks, but we never saw it's own. It didn't chase after us, either, but we heard the pack in the brush behind us for a good mile or so. It could have caught and killed us, right? It wanted to scare us. We ain't going back to the north for nothin' until it moves on."
"Eudomas Biton… No need to flash your goodies at me, the little missus is home but she'd know somehow."
Ritti chuckles at all the jokes then offers her hand and introduces herself. ”I’m Ritti. Nice to meet you, Eudomas. I should meet your missus, she sounds like a fine lady.”
”You said this thing had rocks in its skin. Do you mean like rocks or was its skin more like a rough hide? I don't mean to sound dumb... but I never seen anything like that.”
Xylas leads the way inside and his sharp eyes quickly spot his companions in the dim dive. He looks a bit confused as he approaches. "I thought y'all were heading to the outskirts. Have you been in this bar all day?"
Ritti can't resist the opportunity that Xylas presents "This bar? No, we definitely haven't been in this bar all day. We started in the dregs... and worked our way up to this top-notch tavern. I'm pretty sure Swerlo 'ere has got a pair of the Baroness' panties as a bar-rag." She finds it impossible to keep a grin off her face.
Swerlo laughs "If'n I 'ad Lady Devy's knickers, I'm pretty sure Sir Pelle would be givin' me even more guff. Lovely lady, you lot got 'ere." He leans in close to Ritti.
"Lass, you are one of a kind, and that's why I'm fittin' to share somethin' with you, because I can see you know the job, aye? Follow me?" He whispers to her, "Don't try 'ittin' Lady Tula's crypt. The ghost of 'er 'usband runs the place."
Still fuming about the blacksmith, Thorfinn keeps mum.
Ritti slides Swerlo a gold piece. ”A couple drinks for these gentlemen, yourself, and anyone else in here you think would be a good friend for me to have.” She makes a point of watching who he delivers drinks to and offers them a polite nod.
…because I can see you know the job, aye? Follow me?" He whispers to her, "Don't try 'ittin' Lady Tula's crypt. The ghost of 'er 'usband runs the place."
There were a lot of things Ritti expected Swerlo to whisper to her… but that was not on the list. She quickly re-evaluates the man across from her before speaking equally quietly and earnestly, ”Thanks. I’m not workin’ right now, but I’m glad for the advice – and any other tidbits you’d share in future.” she offers him a genuine smile and says more lightly, ”But now I’m real tempted to try to steal the Baroness’ best knickers. Check your palm, looks like somethings stuck there.”
[b]”You said this thing had rocks in its skin. Do you mean like rocks or was its skin more like a rough hide? I don't mean to sound dumb... but I never seen anything like that.”
"What I suppose this is, is called a 'direwolf' in the common tongue. And a rather big one by the sound of it. I've never seen one myself, but I heard tell that some of them look like rocks grow out of their pelt. Don't know, what this could be. Maybe some kind of boneplates?
That's actually not as bad as it could be. Don't get me wrong - they are terrifying foes. But like a normal wolf they are driven by instinct"When the saucy humor starts again his expression becomes a bit glaced again. He senses the harmlessness of it all, but he still feels like listening to a language, where he knows a lot of the individual words but gets lost, because how people use them doesn't seem to make sense.
When the others arrive he greets them warmly "Good to see you again. Finding you would have been our next step. I think we found what we could...and also a bit more than exspected. How did your shopping go?
Aleksara takes everything that happens in, watching this group’s dynamics and waiting patiently to make an actual impression on them. For now she continues to bide her time and remain on the lookout for the raven/imp while the others discuss each other’s adventure for the dsy.
"How did your shopping go?
Xylas gestures at the side of Thorfinn's face that remains discolored from half-healed bruising. "weelll, Thorfinn got a close inspection of a shield and decided it wasn't for him. Seriously, that blacksmith is awful. So no sale there. We did find that the Abadar market will give us a discount if we have a written recommendation from the Baroness. So raincheck there. Not a lot of buying today. We have maybe identified that bad bird as an imp, minor devil. So that's something, and we have an invitation to dinner. Our host seems quite free with her healing potions so I recommend accepting."
Bumolin nods "I will miss Talias stew if we are eating somewhere else this evening, but I see your point."
When everyone has settled down, Bumolin waits for a moment when Swerlo and the hunters are occupied with their own business, he tries to talk to Xylas without having the strangers listening:
"if you managed to find that out about the bird, there is probably more for your expertise about devils and suchlike..."
He fills Xylas in on the clues they found on the Druid's Isle
"...could it be that this is also the work of that 'imp-creature'? Maybe that birdshape is only one of many skins it can wear?"
Xylas sighs. "You're vastly overestimating my education, Bumolin. Father Eddrin made sure I had an education that Erastil would approve of- practical skills like hunting and planting and taking care of the horses. All I know about monsters and such came from tall tales around the Inn's hearth. It was Bassy that hinted that the mean bird could be a devil and the Abadarian that told us about using silver and blessed weapons against it." He shrugs, "From what I've heard, batwings might mean a devil, but don't they usually have hooves or reptilian feet. Not sure what pawed batmen might mean."
Ritti stands a silent witness to the discussion. Her brow furrows as she tries to organize the bits and pieces of disparate data. She steps close to Bumolin and speaks quietly in his ear, trying to avoid disrupting the conversation, ”Have you seen a boneyard in town? Did you see anything like that near the witchtower or the manor hard by it?”
Bumolin smiles "that's probably me as the blind dwarf in these matters thinking you the one eyed king. So maybe we should have another chat with this Abadarian. And then we probably have to take a closer look at this tower. Xylas, I think this boy and his sister didn't exagerate in the least: this thing is abducting people..."
Mid sentence he is interrupted by Rittis question. His worrying face changes into a confused one.
I... don't know...I suppose there must be one. We arrived yesterday and didn't have that many bodies to dispose of yet. Actually there was the one of the wizard, but Thorfinn and Xylas took care of that..."
"Actually there was the one of the wizard, but Thorfinn and Xylas took care of that..."
"Right, that wizard Hunclay. I totally forgot to ask the Abadarans about that when we were just there. Why didn't you remind me, Thorfinn? You'd think that I was the one that got bashed on the head."
Ritti mulls the few facts they have for a time silently. We need more pieces to this puzzle.
To the team, she interjects quietly, "I'm going to check something out briefly. I'll find you afterwards."
More publicly, she waves to Swerlo and the hunters. "Thanks the laughs, boys! I'll see you around." She heads out the door without a second glance.
A low stone wall, weathered and covered in bright mosses, surrounds the large graveyard. Several fresh holes have been dug into the earth. A woman wearing gray laborer clothes kneels beside several white sheets covering bodies whispering to them and patting the ground beside them. Two gravediggers lean on their shovels nearby.
The graveyard itself is rather modest and rural. Most all of the markers are plain stone monoliths, although there are a few more fancy ones and a couple of small mausoleums as well.
Seeing the funerals in progress, Ritti scraps her initial plan to locate Lady Tula’s crypt for the moment. A gut instinct tells her to join the funeral and see what - if anything - comes of it.
Red drapes her dark scarf over her head as a simple shawl and moves close enough to the ceremony to participate. She assumes a respectful and solemn pose - hands clasped in front of her - and watches the burials. While she isn’t too familiar with Pharasman rites, she does follow her Desnan death traditions, nearly silently and with little fanfare… trying to avoid clashing with the sexton/priestess conducting the official ceremony.
Bumolin looks after Ritti, still confused...then he shrugs it off.
"I wonder what got into her head so suddenly... anyway: I think we have several reasons to visit those Abadarans again - let's drink up and go!"
He proceeds to do just that himself.
The woman, a middle aged human, stands and looks with great sympathy at Ritti. "Did you...were the deceased your ancestors?" She asks in a quiet monotone motioning towards the sheets. None of them look full enough to contain whole bodies. "Or, if you were here for Mister Hunclay, I am afraid he was already buried. They wanted to perform some special rites."
The barbarian shakes his head when he hears his name, then shrugs. "He's dead, and with none here to sing of his deeds he'll soon be forgotten."
The woman, a middle aged human, stands and looks with great sympathy at Ritti. "Did you...were the deceased your ancestors?" She asks in a quiet monotone motioning towards the sheets.
Ritti shakes her head and fumbles through an explanation. ”I don’t think I know any of the deceased. I just thought… it seemed right that… someone should stand in place of their kin or friends. Sometimes we die alone but we don’t need to be buried that way.”
"Or, if you were here for Mister Hunclay, I am afraid he was already buried. They wanted to perform some special rites."
Red lets confusion play across her features. ”Special rites? Was he a follower of some god other than Pharasma? I follow Desna and we’ve got our own ways… but I wouldn’t call them ‘special’. Or is this something else? I’ve heard some talk in town about ghosts.”
"I think we have several reasons to visit those Abadarans again - let's drink up and go!"
"Sure. We'll take the scenic route to Bassy's place and stop by the Abadarans again."
Xylas waves down the acolyte they were speaking with before. "Hey. I forgot to ask about the dead body we dropped off yesterday, Hunclay. What did you all end up doing with it. No problems, I hope."
"Oh, dear, no, no ghosts. Not here at least. There are rumors about Lady Tula's crypt. It lies a few miles outside of town. No one goes there anymore." The woman stands and dusts her smock off. "No, Mister Hunclay had special rites because," she lowers her already soft funeral-voice a touch, "because the Arch-Banker was afraid..."
"To be honest, I was afraid. The rumors about Hunclay were hardly far-fetched. We took some extra precautions. The other recovered bodies are being interred this afternoon. We perform these services free of charge since they are themselves in service of the community."
"Well, I do appreciate your service to the community and the advice the Archbanker gave me earlier. Ya mind if I leave a donation in appreciation?" Xylas gives two gold coins as an offering.
Bassy's colorful, brightly painted house was built at a slightly smaller scale than the typical human home. It is surrounded by a garden made up of a riotous display of colors and flowers. Scattered about the garden are a variety of interesting objects from around Golarion: a jade statue of a rotund man from Tian, a rusted ship's anchor covered in salt from the Shackles, a d a faded tavern sign from an unknown Taldan pub are just a few of the interesting artifacts.
"Hello! Im so glad you came, and youre just in time. I jave grilled up some Chelish sausage and I'm chilling Andoran wine right now, come in!" Bassy says after answering the door and seeing the assembled explorers outside. Inside the gnome's home are yet more artifacts, stacks of book, potted plants, and nick nacks from all corners of the globe.
"So," She begins as she leads everyone into a dining room. Fortunately, the dining room has a human-sized ceiling height. "What did you discover in the Witch Tower?"
Xylas looks around with interest at Bassy's collection, but the smell of hot sausage focuses his attention. "I am feeling a bit hungry, Bassy. Much obliged. Well, other than a creepy dungeon with the restless spirits of forgotten victims and that devil bird, we found Hunclay's corpse- killed in the collapse apparently- and a pair of kobolds that reported Hunclay had hired their tribe to destroy the tower. They said the current chief made sure Hunclay was under the tower when it fell and was angling to take on the town as well. Those kobolds headed out and I think we need to have some words at least with their chief."
Thorfinn scratches his beard. "Something else there was in the way the cave-crawler spoke...what was it? It seemed something had changed for their band not long ago, but she kept her counsel on what it was."
"Hmm. A sudden change in leadership would certainly explain their sudden willingness to cross human paths." Bassy serves the sizzling meat on a hot plate and doubles back to grab some fresh vegetables. "From my garden. The private garden," she winks playfully and takes a seat after opening the first wine bottle.
"The creepy dungeon thing tracks. It was a pretty rough time in this town. Crazy psychopath in the manor." Bassy shakes her head. "And it's a shame since Lady Tula was a generous and kind woman. That's why one of her first acts after being granted her title was to grant some land to those Iroran monks. But those Canteclures were another story entirely. The "Good Baron" Sarvo Canteclure was the worst, and thankfully last, of the bloodline.
"It seems like that's when things in this town began to turn to their current state of..." She swirls her wine glass and scrunches her face while searching for the word. "Anyway, the quarry flooded and because of Sarvo's purges, there weren't enough skilled miners to clear and maintain it. That's about when the monastery seemed to just fade away. Guess the forest has reclaimed it by now."
"So devil-birds and kobolds. What's next for the young adventurers?"
At this point, quiet and unassuming previously, Aleksara speaks up.
"We go and see what we can do about the Kobolds as the Lady of the town has asked, and if nothing else, send a message they will understand in any language. At least that was my understanding..."
She casually plucks at the string on her now ever present bow, making a steady and clear thrumming noise.
"Call me crude if you like, but the town's safety is possibly at risk here. If it comes down to kobolds vs. the local population? If the kobold hive/tribe etc..is strong enough or large enough? Kobolds respect strength if I understand such things? So...we need to remind them who is stronger here, in this town."
"We have numbers, but no standing militia. I'm sure Sir Pelle and his deputies will be back in a few days, but they're not really a fighting force. In a direct confrontation, Belhaim would win, but it would be a costly victory. To be honest, it'd probably be the fatal wound for this town in the long run."
She opens another bottle of wine from a rather modern vinyard near Riddleport. "They've really never been a problem before, the kobolds. It's a shame that they're getting rowdy now after so many years of peaceful coexistance. I hope too much bloodshed isn't necessary, but you will have to do what you think is best."
As she refills glasses and offers seconds of the sausages and salad, she changes the subject some. "So what do you think of this quaint little town, anyway? By now I'm thinking you've seen past the sleepy facade. Good or bad, there is always something new going on around here."
Xylas grimaces a little. "Aside from that smith, folks have been friendly enough. We'll see if we can work things out with the kobolds. Could be as easy as a change of leadership. Hearing about the Canteclures just now, that sort of thing sounds like a problem we big folk run into as well."
"Just so I get my facts straight: Lady Tula founded the town here, then somehow the Canteclures took over and now it's the Devys running the place. How is power passed along in Belhaim? Are the Barons appointed or is it another system?"
"Oh, and Bumolin heard some stories from the folks on the northside about a flying Batman or something. You ever hear anything about that? Not sure if it's related to the giant wolf reported up there. It does sound like a lot is going on around here."
Thorfinn doesn't glance up from his rapidly-emptying plate during the conversation. Once he finishes, though, he takes a swig of wine to clear his throat and asks, "This Lady Tula--how did she come to found the town here?"
"Not sure about winged batmen. I wouldn't be surprised if they were flying around at night, what with all the weird stuff that old goat Hunclay was into."
"Lady Tula was awarded her title and land for the work her and the Slayers of Nazilli performed for the Empire during the Dragon Plague. Her last kill was an ancient blue dragon, the Great Wyrm Aeteperax."
"Sadly, none of her children would live past the age of nine. All four. It destroyed her marriage, and both her and her husband blamed themselves and each other for their children's death. When they died, the Cantleclures used their legal knowledge to petition for the lands as distant cousins of Tula. It was Sir Arkold Devy who put down Sarvo's rebellion, and the land was given to him as a reward for his service."