Nidal, Land of Shadows. It is aptly named, for ever since the country sold its soul to Zon-Kuthon dark clouds have blocked out the sun. You all have arrived in this grim land for different reasons: some were born here, some came by happenstance, and some were instructed to come by a higher power. Regardless of your reasons you are here now, in the port city of Nisroch. A prior employer has recommended your party to a noblewoman who requires the kind of assistance you can offer. You clutch a letter of introduction in your hands as you make your way along the dimly lit streets.
Nisroch is full of foreigners and thus also full of inquisitors looking to make sure those foreigners aren’t fomenting a rebellion. Here, even more than in other Nidalese cities, the people keep their heads down and view each other with suspicion. No music drifts along the streets, no sculptures liven dreary town squares. The Prince of Pain tolerates only one kind of beauty, and his beauty is something desired by only the most devout of his servants.
However even in Nidal the wealthy are afforded freedoms the lower classes are not. When you finally reach your destination you find yourselves in front of a luxurious manor house. A wrought iron fence has been carefully hammered into decorative shapes, making it lovely despite its austereness. The front door is made of wood that must have been shipped from Cheliax, for the warm brown color is in stark contrast to the gray that distinguishes anything coming from the Uskwood.
A butler opens the door almost before anyone can knock. ”Lady Tiberos is expecting you,” he says and ushers you all inside. As you follow him you see more evidence of wealth: delicately crafted furniture, beautiful family portraits, a library larger than many people’s homes. When you reach a drawing room he beckons you to sit on leather sofas that prove to be buttery-soft. ”I will inform her of your arrival. Would you like any refreshments while you wait?”
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Nidal was fascinating to her. It was because of their dedication to pain. The witch had always found it equal parts intriguing and horrifying. That duality was something she was never quite ready to understand. Pain was a tool, it made no sense to her to see it any other way but perhaps there was something there. Certainly she wouldn't write it off without some thought.
The black stone embedded in her neck pulsed at the stray idea. The empathic link was something that she had grown accustomed to, and it said to her that it was curious of the answer as well.
She turned to see her companions in the sitting room. Pulling down her dirty red hood, it revealed long locks of cascading white hair. Seemingly infinite in its volume. She still wasn't entirely sure how much they trusted her, but she considered that a good thing.
It shows that they have a head on their shoulder worth working with.
The shadowy fetchling, Marcus. He certainly had proven his worth in battle many times. A little reckless for her liking but he gets the job done. He did enjoy the thrill and wondered if he got the same rush that she did when the hair gripped a helpless foe.
Xanther. Some other spellcaster, though he had a completely different tradition than her. The man was rotting away but somehow managed to keep together. She was never able to quite master the spells that he used and was a little jealous, but when it came to it, he seemed to relish his gifts and using them.
The tiefling was one she hadn't quite puzzled out yet. Noctifer. He didn't trust her and she made no attempts to hide the fact that she knew. Perhaps it was due to the one time she interrogated someone a little too hard... Maybe it was due to the unnatural origin of her abilities. She would figure it out eventually.
Funny enough the other human, Jessminder was one she understood the most. A paladin to some empyrean she only heard of in passing, at first Ussaile thought that they would be at each others' throats. However the paladin was happy to discuss morality and religion and they found some common ground. You see, we both fight for someone or something. That seemed to be enough for her.
The Stain on the back of her neck echoed these thoughts, but gave some new input. I agree, they are excellent at what they do. And if you wish for me to continue onward, then I am happy to serve. She wondered what her patron had in store for the lot of them, but decided it was better to just continue without those burdens. All will be revealed in due time.
Finally turning to the butler, Ussaile looked and moved her hands through her hair to fix it, a motion that was entirely unnecessary.
"If you have some tabac and a strong drink, I would like that."
Her pale face moved into a grin, sharp lips with sharper eyes keeping watch in the room.
New clothes - new boots especially - are uncomfortable at first: you have to wear them in, and then you get used to them and then ultimately you stop noticing them; except insofar as you would be annoyed at having to replace them and start the whole thing again.
So it is with Jassminder's companions, she muses as they trudge their way beyond the austere wrought iron fence and up to the front door. It's still difficult, even after the time they've spent together now, to remember that they are actually real people; but she'd be annoyed if she had to replace any of them. It doesn't get easier, but the constant alertness to what other people might be thinking, trying to judge from their expressions and look for own cues on what's expected from her - a smile, feigned sadness or sorrow - does become second nature over time. She's definitely getting better at it. She thinks.
When the door opens, she makes a point of acknowledging the butler's existence with brief eye contact, and a nod at his question. "I would like some tea, please." That complicated social interaction successfully navigated - and no one died - she goes back to looking around, eyes darting her and there as she tries to do what every predator has done since the dawn of time: work out how best to blend in and look unthreatening.
Marcus walked in with the others, checking out the place and wondering why you would waste this much money on such ostentation. Obviously, this lady had not worked for her money. Spoiled rich kids but what are you going to do. Hopefully they had some good imported food. "I'll definitely have something there Jeeves, surprise me with something savory and a good beer." Instead of sitting, Marcus walks around the room to look at the knick-knacks. If he finds something interesting he will bring everyone's attention to it, "Hey guys, check this out."
"Ah Marcus ever the childlike curioustiy..."
Turning to Marcus the tiefling whispers, "Put that down - it's expensive! Probably worth more than our lives if you understand my meaning..."
Noctifer was used to such manor houses - almost all from the outside. Due to his nature his family hid him away in stuffy attics full of old lore and strange items from faraway lands. Learning all about the items and reading all the books gave him his start; he learned quickly that his intellect made him useful. His family couldn't abandon him completely but they weren't going to embrace him. As soon as he was old enough he was shipped off to Nidal ostensibly as part of an "exchange program" where the dark powers of each nation pooled their resources. Tieflings were subservient in Cheliax and his family couldn't tolerate one of their own being a lowly servant and just barely one step above a slave. So off to the north it was where he'd meet up with his companions...
Looking at Marcus and Xanther he saw the two individuals in the group most like himself - outcasts. Marcus because he chose to walk away from family and Xanther due to his physical ailments. Although the ailments were the price of power for the Gods never give without taking something else away. Another reason not to waste time with religion... Marcus was brave and strong and fairly reliable; Xanther had compassion for others even though few returned it.
Jassminder...another holy roller. At least she was kind and polite and not preachy enough to get them all killed. One could count on her and that was a valuable asset to have especially in a place where you could count on 9 out of 10 people selling you out in a heartbeat.
And then Ussaile...the most unsettling of his companions and that's saying something when you outrank a paladin in Nidal! He knew her type from back home. Trading favors and who knows what else in exchange for power. Useful like the others but more dangerous to them as well - a perfect match for this shadowy place. It wasn't a question of 'if' but 'when' she'd betray one or more of them for her otherworldly masters...
Nodding an acknowledgement to the butler Noctifer says, "Nothing for me thank you."
"Sure we're being hired but perhaps the payment is the antidote for whatever toxin in the food and drink? Better to be safe than sorry!"
When Xanther first heard about the land of Nidal, he was astonished that anybody would willingly worship a deity of pain. And the thought that there was an entire city devoted to this bizarre ideal was mind-boggling to him. But since following Jassminder to this dark corner of Golarion, he had found that the common folk here were not so different from those in other lands... mostly.
And as he walked through the manor, the sheer luxury and ostentatiousness of it all surprised him. It was not the veteran mercenary's first time in a wealthy home. But he had not expected to see such a place in Nidal, filled with fine furniture and art, albeit darker than most. Perhaps the rich folk here were also not so different from those in other lands as well.
Although that wasn't necessarily a good thing.
Xanther quietly shook his head at the butler's question. Eating or drinking anything would entail removing his mask. And from experience, doing so in public usually caused more trouble than it was worth. For the moment, the only people he trusted enough to show his real face to, was the small party Jassminder had gathered.
While waiting, he sat straight up in an open seat, crossed his arms, and tried his best to appear terribly mysterious. In his mercenary career, he had found that this helped inspire confidence in potential employers for some reason.
He smiled as Noctifer told Marcus to be careful... although his stern mask betrayed no hint of expression.
Jassminder smiles to herself as Noctifer admonishes Marcus, although her face remains impassive unless you know her well enough to see the slight amusement in her expression. I thought it was us holy roller types who were always telling everyone what to do.
Aloud, she just says "I wouldn't worry. A slave of his abilities would get a high price, and then there's the value of his gear. Unless what he's holding is worth more than ten thousand in gold, he should be able to cover the cost." She's probably not being entirely serious - her companions have all been around her long enough to know about the marks on her wrists where the manacles used to be - but it's hard to tell sometimes.
The butler listens to your requests with an impassive face. The only time he shows a sliver of emotion is when Marcus calls him "Jeeves." "My apologies for forgetting to introduce myself earlier. Cosca, at your service." Once everyone has replied he makes a short bow and leaves the room.
Cosca is gone for approximately five minutes before another servant comes in bearing two trays. On one is a pouch of tabac, a bottle of decent brandy, a pitcher of dark beer, another of water, and a steaming teapot (mint, from the smell). On the other is a selection of breads, cheeses, and fruits. The servant pours you all drinks with a smile, offering water to those who made no requests earlier. "Please, enjoy yourselves." As she's doing so the butler reenters the room alongside a noblewoman. It seems your hostess has arrived.
Lady Tiberos is a small, delicate woman in perhaps her mid-fifties. As is the latest fashion in Nidal she wears a sleeveless black dress that shows off the intricate patterns of scarification running up her arms. The pinky and ring fingers on her left hand have both been amputated. Her face has been left untouched and she retains an elegant beauty that must have broken countless hearts in her youth.
”Welcome, welcome, thank you all for coming. I am Lady Fabia Tiberos, but please call me Fabia. I hope you're enjoying the refreshments? The tea is particularly good; it's a unique variety we had imported from Kintargo." She takes a seat facing you all. "I do hope you'll forgive me for getting right down to business, but I'm concerned time may be of the essence. Lady Marcella is a dear friend of mine and she says your group is both professional and discreet. I am hoping to take advantage of both those qualities.”
She reaches into a small bag and pulls out a sheaf of letters. ”These are from my daughter, Anya. She was married early last year to Baron Stepan Boroi of Karpad. It was a good match and she’s always seemed quite happy. That was until a little over two months ago.” She unfolds one of the letters and shows it to you. While it’s too far away to read the writing, there is a small drawing of an infant visible. From the quality it seems to have been drawn by a talented amateur. ”My grandson, Marek. He’ll be three months old now. Anya’s letters since have been full of the things you would expect from a new mother: descriptions of the glorious pain of his birth, anecdotes about how fast he’s growing, complaints about all the sleep she’s not getting.” Fabia laughs a little at that last statement but her smile quickly fades. ”Then she started to write about Stepan. She said he seemed distant and troubled. I wrote back that it was only to be expected: fatherhood tends to change a man.”
”However the more she wrote about Stepan's behavior the more I started to agree that it seemed very strange. She said at first he was avoiding both her and their son. Then he began locking himself in his study; having meetings with people he refused to tell her about. In her last letter she wrote that he fired all their fetchling servants and accused them of some sort of nefarious plot.” Fabia looks down at the letter in her hands, staring at the portrait of her grandson. ”Anya and I have always been very close. Since moving to Karpad she’s never gone longer than a week without sending a letter. This one arrived three weeks ago and I haven’t heard from her since.”
She looks up again. ”At the moment I cannot leave Nisroch. I have a number of prior engagements and were I to cancel them people would talk. Nor do I have any justification for involving the authorities. But as a mother I feel…I know...that something is wrong. I would like to hire your group to travel to Karpad in my stead and ensure my daughter’s safety. As an upfront bonus I will give you a fully-charged healing wand to help ensure your safety should anything truly be amiss, as well as 250 gold to cover any travel expenses. Upon your return with a letter in my daughter’s hand assuring me that all is well, you will receive another thousand gold each.”
”Is this arrangement agreeable? I will answer any questions you might have to the best of my ability.”
Your impression of Fabia Tiberos is that she's even more worried than she's letting on, and far more than would be justified by such a minor delay in communication. In particular when she said that Anya's marriage was "a good match" she seemed to be trying to convince herself more than any of you.
You also recognize the town of Karpad. It's an extremely small village in northern Nidal perhaps a week's ride away from Nisroch. It seems strange that an obviously wealthy family would marry their daughter off to someone, even a baron, from such a rural area.
Jassminder notes that Fabia is considerably more concerned than she is letting on. But then, she reasons, that's understandable: she's beyond the age where she can have another child if anything should happen to this one. The things people can't replace easily are the things they tend to worry about most, she has noticed.
The talk of reward money puts her on edge slightly: she is not a mercenary at heart; she does this because she can and because she can't imagine doing anything else. Preying on bad people so that good people are safer is what she is good at. On the other hand, she's not about to turn the money down.
She sips the tea as she considers what Fabia has said. The familiar fragrance brings back memories, not all of them good; but if they bother her she doesn't show it. "You have left out some options. What if your daughter wants to write to say that all is not well? Alternatively, what if she can no longer write at all?" She is learning, she is pleased to note. A while ago, she would have bluntly just asked 'what if your daughter is dead?' And now, she has learned that people don't like questions that are that blunt - although she's still none the wiser as to why.
She asks questions that are clear, logical and aimed to provide the minimum of miscommunication and to maximise clarity. One day, maybe I'll find out why that makes ME the crazy one, she thinks to herself. But she's not optimistic about that.
"That gets to my point, madam. What do you want done with Stepan? If he's just being a butt, should we give him a good thrashing? If your daughter is injured, do the same to him?" Marcus asks.
If the lady replies with any need or desire to injure Stepan, "How well connected is this baron? Does he have a personal army of guards? Is there a Viscount somewhere who will take poorly to his mistreatment?"
Ussaile takes the tabac and lights up some of it while she drinks her brandy. With a closer inspection, one would be able to see her hair almost fan the smoke upward and away from the others. Taking a drink of the brandy she listened as the hostess came in.
"Yes, I would like some explicit instructions about how you wish to deal with any complications that may arise. Both Jessminder and Marcus are correct in that we may have to get dirty, and I hate to do so without your foreknowledge." The witch tries to remain like glass, drinking her brandy to hide the excitement bubbling up.
"If I may ask, do we know for sure if this final letter was actually written by Anya?" She looks toward Noctifer, "If anyone could tell it would be you." While she offered his services, the real subtext was more along the lines of "I do watch too you know".
Puffing some more of the tabac, she continues, "Could you tell us more about Anya? What does she look like? Does she have any distinguishing marks of Zun-Kuthon or otherwise?"
Xanther remains seated with arms crossed. "I imagine you must have sent several more letters in the past 3 weeks. Have you heard anything from the messengers?"
"Are there any details you might provide on Baron Boroi's unusual behavior?"
Finally, he tries to strike an optimistic tone. "If we do manage to meet your daughter, we will need something to earn her trust. Perhaps a letter or trinket."
Noctifer waves dismissively at Jassminder and Marcus as he addresses both them and Lady Fabia, "My friends the good Lady doesn't need to be bothered with every little detail nor does she need to hear about such unpleasant business, yes?"
Knowing full well nobility of any kind, but particularly in Nidal, have heard of, seen, and probably had far worse done in their names but will never admit it. No it's better to profess actual ignorance than try to lie one's way out of the truth.
"You mentioned Stepan fired the fetchling servants. Do they have any servants left on staff? Also, as mentioned by Ussaile and Xanther, we would like to see a portrait of Anya so we may recognize her and a letter with something distinctive so Anya will know we have her best interests at heart. Maybe who or how Anya and Stepan were introduced to one another? It must have been quite the meeting since he traveled so far from home..."
Noctifer is busily jotting notes in his journal while making sure to make sufficient eye contact with Lady Fabia to indicate he is attentive and respectful...
Fabia looks surprised at Marcus' suggestion that the party might need to "thrash" Stepan. ”I don’t believe Stepan would hurt Anya. Whatever doubts I have about him he does genuinely seem to love her; I never would have allowed the marriage otherwise. I do believe he’s gotten himself into some sort of trouble. It would fit with the odd behavior Anya mentioned. I don’t know what kind of trouble he could be in that would prevent her from writing, but that’s what I want to hire you to find out.”
”As for explicit instructions, there’s a reason I’m hiring a group of adventurers rather than a single trustworthy messenger.” Gone is the congenial demeanor Fabia has had up to this point. Her back is ramrod straight in her chair and her face could have been carved from stone. ”If everything is fine you’ll be paid very, very well to deliver a letter and admonish my daughter for worrying her mother so. If something is wrong then I expect you to talk to her, see what needs to be done in order to fix the problem, and do it. If she is in danger, escort both her and my grandson back here to Nisroch. If…if something has happened to her…” Fabia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. ”Then you’ll earn your pay by investigating. By learning how, why, and most importantly who, and getting that information back to me.”
Cosca coughs from the corner. "Madam, perhaps they might want to see the wedding portrait?"
"What? Oh, yes." Distracted from her dark thoughts Fabia nods at her butler. "Please fetch it, along with...oh that drawing I made of her when she graduated from the Academy." Cosca bows and leaves the room. Fabia manages a small smile. "The wedding portrait was professionally done. Anya and Stepan have the original for their home, but she commissioned a smaller copy for me. I'm not willing to part with it but you'll be able to see what both her and Stepan look like. The drawing I made of her I will part with; alongside a letter it will prove that you all are working for me."
She seems eager to talk about a more pleasant topic. "Stepan and Anya met at the Academy. Stepan was always a smart lad and his father thought he would do well there. He had a class with Anya and, according to her, it was love at first sight." She smiles wistfully. "I never thought anything would come of it. Stepan was the youngest of three, not expected to inherit much more than a token share of the family estate. When his father died and he moved back to Karpad I never expected to hear from him again. But a year or so later he wrote to both Anya and me informing us that his older brothers had fallen ill and died. Neither were married or had any children so Stepan ended up inheriting everything. He still loved her and, given his improved station, wanted to formally ask permission to court her. I was in the middle of arranging Anya’s marriage to Baron Rex Dentho but she begged me to consider Stepan’s proposal instead."
"I was still hesitant to allow her to move so far away. Karpad...well to be blunt it's a bit of a backwater. Baron Dentho lives here in Nisroch and would have been a much more appropriate match. But Anya loved Stepan so, and in the end I didn't have the heart to deny her." At this moment Cosca returns bearing two portraits.
The first, a well-made portrait in color, shows two people in wedding attire standing next to each other and smiling at the painter. The woman is very obviously Fabia's daughter, sharing both her small stature and delicate features. Her auburn hair curls gently over the short sleeves of her dark gown. Also like Fabia her arms show swirling patterns of scarification. The man seems to be of average height but sturdily built, with close-cropped black hair and piercing blue eyes. He doesn't bear any visible scars or other signs of dedication to the Midnight Lord. The second portrait is a smaller sketch of Anya alone, not as well-done but clearly drawn with love. Cosca offers this one to Xanther.
"Let's see, your other questions. The letters are from Anya and she hasn’t signaled that she’s writing them under duress. I wouldn’t have allowed her to go so far away without a few basic precautions. I've given you the details Anya gave me regarding Stepan's behavior. Mostly it's just that he's been acting secretive and paranoid. The only thing he's actually done was fire all the fetchlings. They do still have servants on staff, perhaps ten or so? The only one Anya wrote about in detail was Laurentiu, their majordomo. In previous letters she'd written of a maidservant that she was quite fond of, Renza, but as Renza is a fetchling she's no longer working there." She thinks for a moment. "I haven't spoken directly to any postmen who have visited Karpad. Small villages have a person who takes the mail to the nearest larger village, which has a person who takes the mail to the next town, etc., etc."
"Do you have any other questions?"
"That's good for me." Marcus says considering the various angles they may have to deal with once they get there.
Xanther stands up and politely accepts the offered sketch with both hands. "Our rough plan of action will be to approach the Baron's manor openly. We will state truthfully that we were hired by you to deliver your letter in person to your daughter. They will, of course, demand to see proof."
"If we do not hand them the letter, they may not believe us and throw us out. If we DO hand them the letter and some nefarious plot is afoot, they may simply destroy it."
"I would therefore like to request a second letter, stating our mission: To deliver your first letter in person to your daughter and nobody else, and to return with her reply."
Jassminder nods as they receive their instructions, amid a flood of superfluous information about how much people love various other people, which strikes her as irrelevant. But she's learned patience in navigating these social caltrops, and her patience is rewarded with relevant information. "Deliver the letter, fix any problems, report back to you." That seems to cover it.
"Alright. I think we can leave now."
The witch stands up and gathers her hair, "I think that covers all the information we may need. Anything else we can handle, that is why you hired us after all."
Putting her hood back up, it almost looks like it vanishes into a extradimensional space. Her companions were familiar with her magic, but she had no desire to flaunt it to regular people.
'Yep, Stepan will need a good thrashing. I can feel it in my bones." Marcus thinks to himself.
Fabia nods at Xanther’s suggestion. ”Good idea, good idea. Let me just…” She moves over to a small desk under the window and pulls out three sheets of paper. As she writes Cosca produces a small bag from…somewhere…and offers it to Jassminder. Inside is a slender wand, a coin purse with 250 gold pieces, a sealed envelope addressed to “Anya Boroi, née Tiberos,” and a basic map of Nidal with Karpad’s location circled in red ink.
The letter-writing takes only a few minutes. When she’s finished Fabia mutters under her breath and moves her hands in a practiced incantation. A glow settles over the papers before dissipating. ”Done.”
She returns and hands over two copies of a letter that states all of your names and your basic mission, ”To deliver a letter from Lady Fabia Tiberos directly to Baroness Anya Boroi, aid Baroness Boroi with whatever she might require, and return to Nisroch with her reply.” The third piece of paper is a very simple contract that lists the same information as well as the promised reward: 5,000 gold pieces upon your successful return.
”Again, thank you all very much for agreeing to help me in this matter. I’m afraid I must be going, but please feel free to stay a little longer and finish your drinks. Cosca will see you out once you're done.”
Noctifer continues jotting down notes as Lady Fabia leaves including that Lady Fabia used an Arcane Mark on the spare letter.
He then sighs and turns to Marcus, Jassminder, and Ussaile saying, "Now see how asking for details of how and what we do upsets clients? They pay, we do. The details are best left unsaid for everyone's sake. You know what they say, the devil is in the details..."
Noctifer chuckles at his own joke.
Xanther notes the Arcane Mark. "One last question, does Anya have any talent for magic?"
Noctifer continues jotting down notes as Lady Fabia leaves including that Lady Fabia used an Arcane Mark on the spare letter.
He then sighs and turns to Marcus, Jassminder, and Ussaile saying, "Now see how asking for details of how and what we do upsets clients? They pay, we do. The details are best left unsaid for everyone's sake. You know what they say, the devil is in the details..."Noctifer chuckles at his own joke.
Ussaile flatly responds back to Noctifer, "Truth doesn't change whether we acknowledge it or not. For all their talk about pain they don't take the anguish of the emotional very well." She walks past Noctifer and coolly continues, "But if we want to play pretend with wooden swords, perhaps we're in the wrong field."
Jassminder shrugs. "Better an upset client than missing information that gets us injured or worse. Besides, emotional wounds will heal faster than her fingers will grow back."
She finishes the tea, sticking her pinky finger out pointedly as she lifts the cup to her lips; although she has the sense to wait on doing this until their client has left the room. She lacks conscience, not brains.
Fabia pauses on her way out the door to answer Xanther's question. ”There’s a bit of magic that runs through our bloodline. My grandmother was a talented sorcerer, but Anya only knows a few basic spells. Neither of us have my grandmother’s strength I’m afraid. If she did I’d be much less concerned.” With that final piece of information you finish your drinks and leave Tiberos manor behind.
The journey to Karpad is a week long. As you travel through the Atteran Ranches you notice that the further away from the city you get the more Noctifer, Marcus, and to a lesser extent Xanther begin getting strange looks and whispered comments. However the people seem generally friendlier and more open, less terrified that your motley crew might be inquisitors looking for signs of rebellion.
The night before you would arrive in Karpad, near the borders of the Ombrefell, you find a small crossroads tavern with a few beds available. The owner shakes his head when he hears where you’re going. ”Good luck with that. Ain’t seen anyone come or go that way for, what do you think Gina? A month or so?”
”’Bout that, yeah,” his wife agrees. ”Last fella I saw coming from that direction was Henri, the one that usually delivers the post. Instead of stopping by here he headed south towards Pangolais and I ain’t seen him since. Doubt he’ll come back. Karpad’s a s@~+hole of a town if you ask me. Been there once and couldn’t wait to leave. There’s almost as many shades as people lurking around…er, no offense meant to you sir.” She bobs her head at Marcus.
Further questioning doesn’t reveal anything of use. No one present seems to have any idea about what might have stopped travel to and from Karpad, nor do they really care. If you try to press the matter the innkeeper just shrugs. ”This ain’t the capital. Folks keep to themselves out here. Whatever’s happening over in Karpad’s got nothing to do with us.”
The next morning you head out again down the little-used road that leads to Karpad. It’s bumpy and poorly maintained, although you can see some recent efforts have been made to fill in the worst of the potholes and fix sagging bridges. It’s about one in the afternoon when you first see smoke rising and know you’re getting close.
However as you approach you realize there’s far too much smoke to come from just a few chimneys. Sure enough when you round a final bend you see several bonfires have been lit around the edges of the town. They’re well-maintained, kept carefully far away from the wooden buildings, and each one has a townsperson or two nearby watching it. Still, even in ever-gloomy Nidal, this many fires seems dangerously excessive.
Approximately twenty feet in front of you is a crude lean-to. Inside are an adult man and a teenager apparently playing cards. Both are dressed in the livery of the town guard and both look extremely surprised to see you. Behind them is a wooden barricade blocking the road.
The older of the two guards scrambles to his feet and gestures for you to stop. ”Halt! By order of Baron Boroi, no one is to enter or leave Karpad. You all need to turn around and head back the way you came.”
Xanther left the talking to someone else and quietly surveyed the landscape. Specifically, how hard would it be to sneak into town via some other route, perhaps under the cover of night.
”Last fella I saw coming from that direction was Henri, the one that usually delivers the post. Instead of stopping by here he headed south towards Pangolais and I ain’t seen him since. Doubt he’ll come back. Karpad’s a s!&+hole of a town if you ask me. Been there once and couldn’t wait to leave. There’s almost as many shades as people lurking around…er, no offense meant to you sir.” She bobs her head at Marcus.
Jassminder turns and gives the woman a stare - the sort of look that she has, with training and experience, learned to hide. It's the look of someone devoid of conscience or remorse, or indeed of any awareness that what they are looking at even is regarded as a person. "And what exactly will you do if he - or someone else - does take offence? Killing you would be the work of a few seconds, for someone inclined to do it."
You can't, in Jassminder's experience, talk or reason someone out of their bigotry. But you can scare them into not showing it quite so blatantly.
...
Once they reach the outskirts of Karpad and the nature of the problem becomes clear, Jassminder waits for a few moments to assess the situation and give one of her companions a chance to talk with the guards.
Jassminder turns and gives the woman a stare - the sort of look that she has, with training and experience, learned to hide. It's the look of someone devoid of conscience or remorse, or indeed of any awareness that what they are looking at even is regarded as a person. "And what exactly will you do if he - or someone else - does take offence? Killing you would be the work of a few seconds, for someone inclined to do it."
You can't, in Jassminder's experience, talk or reason someone out of their bigotry. But you can scare them into not showing it quite so blatantly.
Jassminder does a very good job of scaring Gina, who mutters more apologies before fleeing into the kitchen. She doesn’t reappear for the rest of your stay.
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The townspeople nearby are also staring at you all with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Notably none of that fear is directed towards the guards. Whatever’s going on they all seem to be in on it together.
Ussaile would be lying if she wasn't a little uncomfortable with the huge bonfires and paranoia. History always seems to state that witches get burnt by such pyres, and while that may not be the case it made her uneasy.
She put her hood up a little higher, no doubt drawing more attention to herself in the process.
Giving a look to the others that said, You first, she waited for someone to have a more delicate approach than what she had in mind.
Taking the time, she instead surveyed the area and thought back to what she knew about it.
Approximately twenty feet in front of you is a crude lean-to. Inside are an adult man and a teenager apparently playing cards. Both are dressed in the livery of the town guard and both look extremely surprised to see you. Behind them is a wooden barricade blocking the road.The older of the two guards scrambles to his feet and gestures for you to stop. ”Halt! By order of Baron Boroi, no one is to enter or leave Karpad. You all need to turn around and head back the way you came.”
Standing very close to one of the fires and warming his hands Noctifer tells the guards, "What a lucky coincidence for us, we have business with the Baron. A missive from Lady Fabia Tiberos for her daughter Anya and her son-in-law the Baron and it needs to be delivered immediately. Xanther, if you would please, present these fine gentlemen the letter. We'll be sure to mention to the Baron how attentive you two are at your post and how well you're doing your job. You never know there could be a raise or a promotion in it for the both of you!"
Diplomacy = 20 + = 22
Ussaile flatly responds back to Noctifer, "Truth doesn't change whether we acknowledge it or not. For all their talk about pain they don't take the anguish of the emotional very well." She walks past Noctifer and coolly continues, "But if we want to play pretend with wooden swords, perhaps we're in the wrong field."
"The truth doesn't change but you're not understanding that certain people, particularly here and to the south, aren't interested in truth - they're interested in results. The fewer details they know the more protected they are from the the consequences of our actions. That's why the hire outsiders in the first place. I expected this sort of moralizing and naivete from Jassminder!"
A glint in his eyes indicates he enjoys the discussion/arguing/lecturing and generally teasing Ussaile.
Jassminder turns and gives the woman a stare - the sort of look that she has, with training and experience, learned to hide. It's the look of someone devoid of conscience or remorse, or indeed of any awareness that what they are looking at even is regarded as a person. "And what exactly will you do if he - or someone else - does take offence? Killing you would be the work of a few seconds, for someone inclined to do it."
You can't, in Jassminder's experience, talk or reason someone out of their bigotry. But you can scare them into not showing it quite so blatantly.
Jassminder does a very good job of scaring Gina, who mutters more apologies before fleeing into the kitchen. She doesn’t reappear for the rest of your stay.
Noctifer gives Jassminder some side-eye and mutters about "Going to get us killed with that attitude..."
Although a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth and one wonders, why is that?!?!
Xanther, if you would please, present these fine gentlemen the letter.
Xanther smoothly takes out one of the open letters from his pouch, unfolds it, and shows it to the guards, while trying to do his best impression of an important figure on official business.
Standing very close to one of the fires and warming his hands Noctifer tells the guards, "What a lucky coincidence for us, we have business with the Baron. A missive from Lady Fabia Tiberos for her daughter Anya and her son-in-law the Baron and it needs to be delivered immediately. Xanther, if you would please, present these fine gentlemen the letter. We'll be sure to mention to the Baron how attentive you two are at your post and how well you're doing your job. You never know there could be a raise or a promotion in it for the both of you!"
"A letter for Baroness Boroi?" The two guards both relax upon hearing a reasonable explanation for your presence in Karpad. The older one approaches Xanther, although only as close as he has to be in order to read the letter. "You lot seem like overkill for messengers, but I guess one can't be too careful these days. I'm sorry that we can't let you in, orders are orders, but if you give us the baroness' letter we'll make sure it's delivered to her immediately. It says here you need to wait for a reply?"
"Even if you didn't need to you should. Henri says Lady An-" The teen cuts himself off as the other guard elbows him in the ribs while hissing something about protocol. "Sorry, I meant to say Baroness Boroi. Anyway, she writes her mother all the time so she's probably got a whole stack of letters waiting."
You don't recall hearing any stories about Karpad itself. Frankly, it's too unimportant for anyone to bother talking about. However you do remember hearing about the Ombrefell. Histories say the Umbral Court once opened a permanent portal to the Shadow Plane somewhere in the center of the forest. Forest drakes, malevolent fey, and even shadow giants are all rumored to lurk beneath its boughs.
Marcus is getting impatient with all the talk. They need to see the Baroness and get gone if it's that simple or knock some heads if not. He paces, looking at the guards periodically and cracking his knuckles. He keeps his mouth shut unless it comes to the point where they want to scare the daylights out of these two. He grins at any of his compatriots who look his way.
Jassminder does a very good job of scaring Gina, who mutters more apologies before fleeing into the kitchen. She doesn’t reappear for the rest of your stay.Noctifer gives Jassminder some side-eye and mutters about "Going to get us killed with that attitude..."
Jassminder gives a one-shouldered shrug, supremely unconcerned. "Part of my duty is to protect the innocent, even from themselves - one day she might offend someone who does take offence, and this is Nidal so their retribution will most likely be painful and eventually fatal. I'm trying to protect her from that fate."
...
"You lot seem like overkill for messengers, but I guess one can't be too careful these days. I'm sorry that we can't let you in, orders are orders, but if you give us the baroness' letter we'll make sure it's delivered to her immediately. It says here you need to wait for a reply?"
Jassminder doesn't say anything, but she does her best to try and tell whether the guards will in fact give the letter to the Baroness, or whether their loyalty is predominantly to the Baron; meaning they will give it to him first, instead.
Xanther folds the letter neatly and returns it to his belt pouch. "So why has the Baron ordered Karpad be closed off?"
"A letter for Baroness Boroi?" The two guards both relax upon hearing a reasonable explanation for your presence in Karpad. The older one approaches Xanther, although only as close as he has to be in order to read the letter. "You lot seem like overkill for messengers, but I guess one can't be too careful these days. I'm sorry that we can't let you in, orders are orders, but if you give us the baroness' letter we'll make sure it's delivered to her immediately. It says here you need to wait for a reply?"
"Even if you didn't need to you should. Henri says Lady An-" The teen cuts himself off as the other guard elbows him in the ribs while hissing something about protocol. "Sorry, I meant to say Baroness Boroi. Anyway, she writes her mother all the time so she's probably got a whole stack of letters waiting."
"And normally I wouldn't dare ask a favor to let us deliver the letter ourselves but as you just said Baroness Boroi does write her mother all the time but it's been three whole, long weeks since Lady Fabia Tiberos has heard from the Baroness. That's why she hired us to hand deliver this letter and we really don't want to upset Lady Tiberos do we? I don't think the Baron would mind us delivering a very important letter to his wife since it's from his mother-in-law. And Lady Tiberos did insist to us that we see the letter into her daughter's hands, ask her why she's worried her mother so with not writing, and then to carry back a missive from the Baroness to her mother. I'm certain the Baron wouldn't want to deny that would he?"
Jassminder follows up Xanther's question with one of her own. "It looks to me more like you're trying to keep people in than you are about trying to keep people out. Unusual."
She also notices the younger guard's clear apprehension about Marcus. "Why are you so afraid of him? We're all scary."
The guard blinks in confusion when Xanther doesn't hand him the letter, then shrugs. "Plague. Tallowthroat, they're calling it." He shudders. "Nasty way to die. Master Miklos is doing his best, but the Midnight Lord only grants so many blessings in a day. Baron Boroi doesn't want to risk it spreading beyond our borders."
"We're not sick, don't worry," the teenager pipes up. "You can tell who is real easy. They can't stop sweating, their skin gets all waxy-looking, their throats swell-"
"They get the idea, Victor." The other guard glares at the teen before turning back. "Anyway, we don't know yet how the plague spreads so we're trying to be careful."
"It's the shades, everyone knows it-"
"Victor, do us all a favor and shut your mouth." The guard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sorry 'bout that, real sorry, the kid's still learning. Anyway, the quarantine is for your safety more than ours." He sighs. "Look. If you give me the letter I promise I'll deliver it to the Baroness personally. If that really isn't good enough, give me twenty minutes and I'll ask her if she's willing to make an exception for you. But even if she says to let you in, I can't promise you'll be allowed to leave again until this whole thing blows over. Understood?"
She also notices the younger guard's clear apprehension about Marcus. "Why are you so afraid of him? We're all scary."
"'Cause he's a shade and I don't want to get sick!"
With exaggerated patience the other guard enunciates "Ka-yal, or fetchling if you must. You know 'shade' isn't considered polite. And we don't know that they have anything to do with this. Baroness Boroi says they don't."
"Baron Boroi thinks they do! Why else would he fire them all?"
"That's not our business. Sorry again, I swear he's not normally this bad..."
Jassminder nods, glad to understand things a bit better. Plague is scary for most people, and it makes them do things they wouldn't otherwise - and blame any convenient scapegoats. "Marcus has been with us for a long time now: if he was infected, we would have caught it... which we haven't."
She looks at Xanther. "Let's give them the letter and wait here for a reply."
In the meantime, she thinks about what she knows of "tallowthroat" based on the symptoms being described.
The smoke from the nearby fires is starting to make her eyes water - unwilling to cough and thereby risk creating suspicion that she's ill, she moves back a bit to get out of its path. "What's with all these fires, anyway?"
Marcus pulls Jassminder aside, ”I don’t think that is a good idea. Even if you think this fellow is honest the Baron may not be. He offered to go get permission for us to be let in. I think at least one of us should follow up on that and see the Baroness for ourselves.”
Plague? Ussaile was intrigued at the situation here. What in the area could have caused such a thing? The black stone gave her a single thought.
Curiosity
She wasn't really prepared for a plague, but she did have some antiplague with her. Enough for one person, and she wasn't about to say that out loud. "I agree with Marcus, we were told to deliver it by hand and I will not upset the fair Lady."
She turns to Jessminder, "The fires seem to encompass the whole town. Less in the north, but still... I'm curious as to why."
The witch considers for a moment about the disease, was it magical or natural in nature?
”After letting half his servants go Baron Boroi demanded a bunch of bonfires be lit around the manor to “ward off the shadows.” The idea kind of spread from there. Bunch of superstitious nonsense if you ask me, but people are willing to try just about anything if it might stop the plague.” The guard shakes his head. ”And before you ask, no, the Baron never explained what he meant by “shadows.” Some people,” (he gives Victor a very pointed look), ”think he was referring to the kayal, but no one knows for sure.”
”What else could he have meant?!”
”Didn’t I just say ‘no one knows?’” He gives an exasperated sigh. ”Anyway, if you’re really determined to deliver that letter yourselves, let me…hmmm. Actually, Victor. Why don’t you go to the manor, explain what’s happening, and see what the Baroness wants us to do about it?” Thrilled to have been given an important mission Victor immediately runs off towards the southeast.
”He’s a good kid, just doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes. Shouldn't take too long. Oh, and my name’s Ponzo by the way. ”
Sure enough it only takes about fifteen minutes for Victor to come running back, huffing and puffing. ”I talked to Laurentiu who talked to Baroness Boroi who asked-”
”Final result, Victor.”
”Right.” Victor puffs out his chest. ”Baroness Boroi would like to invite you all to the manor so she can speak with you directly.”
”There you have it!” Ponzo doesn’t exactly look happy, but he does seem relieved that this whole situation is about to no longer be His Problem. ”I’ll take you there myself. Not that you can get lost really, it’s the only manor in town, but better safe than sorry.” He turns and starts walking down the main road, gesturing for you all to follow.
Knowing Jassminder, she was probably considering the implications of a plague running wild and Ussaile pulls her aside. "Whatever this is, it isn't anything I or my patron have heard about. I think we should carry on with some precaution, I have a suspicion that this won't be an easy tea at the manor." Her cloak tightens around herself, "And I will make the assumption you have nothing to share either?"
Xanther reflects on his spell availability and silently curses that he is not powerful enough to cast Remove Disease. "Very well, bring us to the Baroness."
"You know the fires aren't all that helpful in stopping us from sneaking up on you. The jumping shadows created by crackling fires makes it easier sometimes to move on humans. Let's face it, your people's eyesight is crap. I'm just sayin'" Marcus says as they walk and he peers about looking at the various fires.
"You know the fires aren't all that helpful in stopping us from sneaking up on you. The jumping shadows created by crackling fires makes it easier sometimes to move on humans. Let's face it, your people's eyesight is crap. I'm just sayin'" Marcus says as they walk and he peers about looking at the various fires.
Speaking to Marcus quietly Noctifer says,
"There are more things than us which lurk in the shadows Marcus. If it makes the people of Karpad feel more safe what harm could there be? Unless there are druids in the woods upset about the number of trees being cut down...""A disease eh? So not a poison in the food or drink but a plague in the town we're going to. So much for easy money... Still a contract is a contract; even if I weren't killed here I'd be killed at home for breaking one."
”There you have it!” Ponzo doesn’t exactly look happy, but he does seem relieved that this whole situation is about to no longer be His Problem. ”I’ll take you there myself. Not that you can get lost really, it’s the only manor in town, but better safe than sorry.” He turns and starts walking down the main road, gesturing for you all to follow.
"Excellent! I knew we could count on you Ponzo and the young Victor of course. A credit to Karpad you two are and don't worry, I won't forget to speak highly of the two of you to the Baroness."
Knowing Jassminder, she was probably considering the implications of a plague running wild and Ussaile pulls her aside. "Whatever this is, it isn't anything I or my patron have heard about. I think we should carry on with some precaution, I have a suspicion that this won't be an easy tea at the manor." Her cloak tightens around herself, "And I will make the assumption you have nothing to share either?"
Jassminder glances at Ussaile and nods, imperceptibly. "You're right. I've never heard of anything like this. Perhaps if I examined someone who has it, I would know more. Fortunately, if it's spreading this quickly, there should be plenty of opportunity to study it closely."