Ārwulf looks to Lewill, and nods sagely.
”A two-headed cow *is* definitely unsual…”
Ārwulf looks to Lewill, and nods sagely.
”A two-headed cow *is* definitely unsual…”
Lewill shudders briefly, wondering whether it indeed was a good plan to come here if there were freaks of nature littered in the village. "Well, I suppose we could pay them a visit in the morning."
Sea hags, says the large man, almost out of nowhere.
Calhoun has moved to the door so he can look in on his companions, but still keeps away from the steanch.
"Sounds like a curse to me. Maybe we should look into it for the locals...what do you say?!"
Bad milk, two headed cows, stolen babies, chickens not laying… Sea hags, he says simply as if it were matter of fact and everyone was on the same mental wavelength as him.
”Don’t forget the bent sword Woyzeck. A *bent* sword!”
Let's go now"! Darcy exclaims drowning her ale in one giant gulp... then belching loudly. I've never seen a two-headed cow... besides we've got nothing to do until the priest wakes up. Maybe this will keep us from letting the boredom of this place tempt us into trouble".
"I, too, would like to see this cow," Cordelia says with a smirk.
"Thing's dead methinks" - the man grunts, taking another swig of his ale - "Think Bron buried it out back" - he added, scratching his head - "I guess you can always ask him to dig it up Sister"
Ārwulf’s brows crease. Very hard.
”So. Bron had a cow. With two heads. That Ulruch found. Along with a bent sword. Bron buried the cow. And now he is sick. And Ulruch is also sick. Possibly Garrick is sick as well.”
He looks at Woyzeck. Frowns.
”I *don’t* think it is sea hags, chum. This could be….plague!” Ārwulf almost whispers the last word, part desire not to alarm the crowd, part desire to not have it at all be true.
The big man just looks at him blankly. Whatever was powering his thoughts seems to have stepped out for a pipe or cup of tea.
"That sounds like a possibility, but we should maybe visit this Bron fellow..and maybe Ulruch. But we must be careful...just in case it is sickness! I might be able to concoct an herbal defuser that should keep any illness from us. But I will need to see the sick man first to see what symptoms he has."
Turning to the tavern owner, he asks.
"Do you happen to have an apothecary, or herbalist local? Even a root witch would be helpful!"
He waits for a reply
"Sickness you say?" - the man widens his eyes, and even stands back a tad looking between you and Ārwulf. Calhoun notices most of the inn has now gone quieter, apart from some hushed exchanges, and most eyes seem to be intent on him - "Ya think?" - he scratches his head - "We thought Garrick had a cold or something, is all. And Bron is not sick, as far as I know. Unless he is hiding it from us?" - he looks around at the other patrons, and you seem some less than happy frowns - "Naaaaah, why would he do that?"
"Do you happen to have an apothecary, or herbalist local? Even a root witch would be helpful!"
"No such thing around here mister. Most people tend to their own the best they know how, I guess. Never heard of no root witch" - the tavernkeeper replied with a raised eyebrow - "You lot want something to eat? Seeing as there are several of you now..." - he added to the group.
Ārwulf turns a little pale, his eyes flutter a little and he begins to breathe more rapidly.
”Nothing for me, thank you kind sir.”
"Nothing for me either," the elf says while trying not to sound disgusted by the thought of food coming from such a place!
"Well I did miss breakfast... and second breakfast... so it's time for pre-lunch. What have you got? After this I'm going to go see if the priest is awake".
More beer?, rumbles Woyzeck in a manner that is either a question or a suggestion.
"I hope at least the food is halfway edible," Lewill mutters under his breath, "Yes I'll have the...stew. He finishes after a brief pause deciding on the *safest* option.
"No, thank you," Cordelia says, hoping to keep the contents of her stomach inside her, where they belong.
"Well Miss... We've got the roasted chicken with peas, the fire flaked taters, and some hard boiled or vinegar eggs" - the sweaty man answers Darcy - "And more beer to you of course sir" - he smiles at Woyzeck.
"No stew mister..." - he shakes his head at Lewill - "Boiled eggs mebbe?"
In the meantime, a few of the locals have gathered tighter and seem to be discussing some subject in hushed tones, looking at you over their shoulders every once in a while.
"I'll have two of each".
She then looks at the locals. "Well what is it? Just say it out loud and quit talking behind our backs, before my friend here gets mad".
She nods at Woyzeck.
"Who is paying miss..?" - the tavern keeper rubs his hands - "The tab is being at two sovereigns and sixteen pennies you see" - he shuffles nervously, before adding - "That with the food of course!"
She then looks at the locals. "Well what is it? Just say it out loud and quit talking behind our backs, before my friend here gets mad".
At this, the group pauses for a second, but then goes back at it.
Knowing he has no coin of his own, and any further leaning on Woyzeck stretches into “not a friend” territory, Ārwulf shakes his head.
”Nothing for me, sir.”
Mostly he hunches over the mug he does have, and peers at his friends now and again.
As long as the locals huddle amongst themselves, and not near us….
"I'll take whatever Darcy is having," Lewill replies, "And I'll cover the bill."
Ārwulf curses inwardly and nurses the dregs of his ale.
”Nothing for me…sir.” he says for the third time.
The ex sailor slaps down 2 gold coins.
Ale for all of my land mates.
Ārwulf groans…he covers his eyes as if not wanting to look and turns to the wall muttering unintelligibly.
The rotund man moves abnormally quick for his size, grabbing the two sovereigns from the table almost as fast as the big warrior puts them down - "Very well sir, right away sir" - he moves off, returning some moments later with a round of ales and all the food Darcy requested - "That'll be twenty two coppers to seal the tab sir" - this time he speaks directly to Woyzeck.
To your surprise, the food is... Adequate. And definitely better than the ale.
Lewill surprises even himself with the appetite he shows as he devours the food, which was surprisingly tasty...or maybe it was because of the fact he had been eating hardtack rations for far too long.
Once the food has been eaten and the ale drunk, Lewill stands to his feet, "I suppose we should be on our way now. Though I did see we attracted some locals' attention..."
The rotund man moves abnormally quick for his size, grabbing the two sovereigns from the table almost as fast as the big warrior puts them down - "Very well sir, right away sir" - he moves off, returning some moments later with a round of ales and all the food Darcy requested - "That'll be twenty two coppers to seal the tab sir" - this time he speaks directly to Woyzeck.
To your surprise, the food is... Adequate. And definitely better than the ale.
He digs out 3 silvers and asks for a tot or rum or similar
Darcy gobbles down all her food, and any stray bits that make their way to the tabletop or are left on any other plates. She then belches deeply again and wipes her now greasy hands on her pants.
"Well enough sitting around talking. I'm going to see if the priest is awake yet".
And if he's not I might sneak in and see what's happening with him.
"Anybody else ready to go? If he's still asleep maybe we go by and check out the other mysteries in town".
Calhoun, having been leaning on the doorstop, pushes away and nods.
"I'll come with you. I would like to talk to this priest as well...maybe he knows if there is some sort of illness running through town!"
He tosses a sovereign onto the table.
"Here, let me help out in paying for the drinks and meal."
Almost leaping to his feet, Ārwulf nods vigorously, celarly spooked by their growing “popularity” and the general talk of…sicknesses.
”Yup. All done here. Thanks for the drink Woy, next one’s on me…promise!”
The tavern owner hurriedly scoops up all the money people are throwing on the table, and soon comes back with a last round of ales and an unidentified chaser for Woyzeck - "Thank you sirs and missus - please come back soon!" - he adds with a grin which shows some yellowed teeth.
Woyzeck slams it down, heedless of the actual liquor, then follows his friends, the warm welcoming glow of alcohol starting to embrace him.
Ārwulf can’t help but wonder if all this largesse has been a good idea…
Well, if nothing else, we’ve improved the economy of the place. Either that or we’ve advertised the Good Ship Moneybags is in town…
Mostly he’s happy to be out of the tavern and on the move again.
”Darcy, if your priest is still asleep we definitely look up this dead two headed cow.”
Ārwulf’s last words are muffled as he has tied a strip of cloth across his mouth and nose “just to be sure”. It doesn’t improve his general deportment in the slightest.
As the group exits the tavern, the same patron they had engaged in conversation bids them fare well, and returns to his drinking and chatting with the others - the tone noticeably rises as you leave.
Back to the small church, this time the groups encounters a wiry, elderly man tending to the shrine - he dress in very worn simple white clothes, wearing what little hair he has tucked behind his somewhat oversized ears.
When he sees you, his eyes light up and he smiles - "Welcome friends to this modest house of Lady Freya" - he greets you - "Jossan told me of strangers in Grimmsgate looking for me - would those be you?"
As the group enter the church and speak with the priest, a lone worshiper sitting at a nearby pew, briefly lifts his head from apparent prayer.
The shadow he sits in and the man’s lank hair obscures his features, but you note his lean frame is clothed in blackened leather armour and dark clothing.
You the priest?
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You the priest?
”I am a priest” - the man nodded - ”My name is Almery. And yours?”
Woyzeck, he grumbles thoughtlessly, the reply as automatic as a jerking knee when struck just right.
Seeing as a priest in a church is “normal”, and completely missing the nuance in the reply his brain goes back to neutral and waits for events to play out.
"Lewill Deray, Master Almery," Lewill responds politely though his attention was drawn by the odd man already waiting here...He was not there before; where did he come from?
Giving the priest a quick look, the elf keeps his masked face turned towards the other figure in the nave.
"Well me to you then Woyzeck and Lewill" - he replies.
"Uh... Howdy. My names Darcy, and my Grandfather Winstrow sent me to consult with you about some ancient texts you found".
Darcy begins to brush some stray crumbs from her tunic... then realizes what she is doing and decides instead to pick them off and quickly shove them into her mouth. A particularly attractive crumb falls to the ground and in a swift unthinking move she quickly scoops it up and stuffs it in her greedy pie-hole.
"I guess I'm supposed to see what you have to say about where you found them them or see if I could translate them. These are my friends". She turns slightly to each companion pointing a rude tiny finger at each of them in turn.
"Except for him". She nods her head at the stranger. "I don't know who in the hells he is... but he looks really cool... and dangerous".