Willie looked on the proceedings mouth agape. Who could have anticipated this walking dog treat an exemplar of its kind?! A sidestep here, a half-pirouette there and it evaded every blow dished out by his otherwise so capable fellows. Why, the blasted thing belonged on a ballroom floor for how secure its footwork was!
Which was bally unfortunate for the young sir. Because if his compatriots couldn't put it down, there was slim chance of him doing so. It was with this in mind that a fearful Wilberforce backed away, not overly enthused at facing the monstrosity. His hands felt about the wall of the old tomb, guiding him, but not being as surefooted as the skeleton, he still nearly stumbled upon his heels meeting the stairs back up. In the near-fall, his hand landed on something in a niche. A plain stone? A loosened piece of marble? A cracked bit of pottery? Whatever it was, Willie acted out of instinct. He'd never been much good at Skittles, but where a practiced (not to mention panicked) pub crawler like himself found a ball, he flung it at the target.
"Fore!" he yelled in warning.
Willie's throw is almost perfect, but it spangs off the surprisingly adroit skeleton's shoulder as it lunges at Lita again.
This time, it manages to find purchase past her defenses and her armor. The unnatural chill in the air seeps into the Sarenrite paladin as wickedly sharp bone tears into the flesh of her arms as the leering death's-head grin of its face leans in only inches from her own.
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"The f@~*?" Dare eloquently expresses her disbelief at the skeleton's unlikely survival skills.
Seeing weapon (and rock) attacks being tricky, Dare attempts to stick to what she knows. If she is adjacent to the undead creature, she steps five feet away , and then focusing on a trick she's picked up on avoiding hitting friendlies in close quarters , she flicks her wrist and lobs a small blob of plasma out of her index finger.
She pumps her fist into the air. "And that's how you do it!"
A beat, and she looks over to the paladin. "You okay?"
"Thank you, Dare!" He says as she finishes the darned thing. Scrapeknee picks up his still shining spear, and moves to Lita, "Would you like me to heal you?"
With the roar of Dare's flames, the skeleton falls into a pile of cinders. The air warms as an oppressive weight that all of you had not realized you were feeling is lifted from your shoulders. Looking about, you find more signs of goblins, crude drawings done in mud, or at least you hope it is mud, and dirty footprints cover much of the floor and walls. In one corner of the crypt is a pile of black, rough spun fabric that turns out to be a crude robe when picked up. The most disturbing discovery, however, is the empty sarcophagus of Father Ezakien Tobyn.
The aura is faint, but still, it's hard to miss the taint of necromancy that still clings to the robe and the smoldering bones of the two skeletons that you fought. It would appear that you have discovered how the undead came to be here.
Assuming Lita is being attended to, Dare moves to looking around and indeed casts detect magic. Pulling out her sword, she picks up the robe with its tip. "Well, that answers the question about goblin necromancers. Yes there are--or they are working for a necromancer--and they've got this priest's corpse. This must be what they were after. The attack was a distraction, I reckon."
Her brow furrows as she ponders the implications. "We gotta figure out where they took him. No telling what f@~&ery they're up to."
Cailyn is frowning. While Dare is investigating the room, Conrad the footprints, and someone Lita's wounds, she is kneeling next to the burnt skeleton. "The bolt hit, right in the skull..." with another bolt she shifts the remains, hooks an eye socket, and lifts to inspect.
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While Scrapeknee waits for Lita's answer, he over hears Cailyn's confusion...
"Cailyn, the White Deer had a guest once who boasted he had taken down skeletons once. I thought at the time he was pulling my leg, but he did mention that he carried a mace as a back up weapon because ... ''Poking and a slashing ain't much use against fleshless bones walking about''. It would explain why such a perfect shot came to naught." He suggests.
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The breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding whistled out of Willie as the last grave dodger smoldered beneath Dare's fire. Thank the stars that was over with!
Ah, naivety's daffy hope. As the orcling made clear, the matter was far from settled. "His corpse is gone?" the young man repeated. This revelation had him entirely bewildered, quite a bit more so than was usual. For Willie had assumed the two skeletons to have belonged to the honorable vicar and daughter whose tomb this was! Were they instead a macabre trap left behind? And by goblin grave robbers at that? Ghastly stuff! But surely Sandpoint had better morsels to pilfer than the dusty old remains of a long dead priest? And why plan a caper after some bones when you apparently had animated ivories to spare?
Willie was no great thinker, but rarely did a quandary grow less clear the more thought he dedicated it.
"What about the other one?" he therefore queried, hoping to nail at least one question down. "The daughter, I mean - the one Zantus mentioned. Is she still enjoying her nap eternal in her coffin?"
Willie finds that none of the other graves have been disturbed, only the former high priest's.
Cailyn looked up at Scrpeknee's recollection, "Hmmm..." she worried her lip in thought, before nodding "I never understood the purpose of blunted heads, but it turns out it wasn't that they had no purpose, it was I just never bothered to understand what it was." she rises, brushing off her dress from the ash and bone dust.
"They staged an attack on a city, just to gather the bones of one man? Even with a religious figure of some renown it seems like an ill planned venture." her mind is whirling and wondering, caught too much into the story of it all.
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"Cailyn, the White Deer had a guest once who boasted he had taken down skeletons once. I thought at the time he was pulling my leg, but he did mention that he carried a mace as a back up weapon because ... ''Poking and a slashing ain't much use against fleshless bones walking about''. It would explain why such a perfect shot came to naught." He suggests.
Conrad glances down at his flail. "Oh. That's g-good."
He casts nervous glances around him. "Should we g-go? Move f-forward, I mean."
Cailyn finished brushing off her skirts and straightens, "Good suggestion, Mr. Mendelson. We should inform the good Father, and if no one else has, look to see where the footprints lead." in her mind following muddy footprints is easy, not realizing she would probably lose the trail in seconds.
After relaying what you found down below, Father Zantus and Old Naffer both look shocked and ashen. For once, the old ex-smuggler looks his age. Father Zantus shakes him self and asks for the robe before saying a prayer that grants him eyes that can see the auras of arcane and divine magic.
"I'm fairly certain that you are correct," he says after a few moments of intense study. "This was a Robe of Bones, an item often used by necromancers, or would-be ones anyway. I can't imagine why a bunch of goblins would want to steal Father Tobyn's remains, but if someone else, human, elf, or half-elf, is working with them or leading them, then there may be more to this than just some goblins getting riled up."
He looks up, eyes worried, as he looks over you all.
"Please, keep this quiet for now. If the rest of Sandpoint were to find out, there'd be a panic for sure. I'll talk to Belor and Kendra, er, Sheriff Hemlock and Mayor Deverin. I'll see what we can do as far as a reward for all of you for dealing with this. It may not be much, but I feel that we owe you for both what you did yesterday and today."
He looks to the north, and huffs. "Blast, why did this have to happen when Shalelu is going to be gone for months yet."
Lita had thrown up her arm at the skeleton's approach, guarding her face but hissing in pain as it's boney claws still managed to tear through to cut skin. She's grateful when Dare finally manages to dispatch the remaining creature, and just as much to Scrapeknee's offered healing, holding out her bloodied arm for him to address.
She isn't of much use during the investigation, really, not knowing much about magic or about goblins or about making much sense of tracks, really, but as the others talk, she's just stewing, each new piece of information darkening her expression ever-so-slightly more, putting together pieces of the puzzle as she goes.
"I think it's a safe assumption that someone's pulling the strings. They knew who they wanted, and where to find him. Someone who's been in the graveyard before would have had to guide them, I think."
He gapes at how completely the wound heals, obviously it still surprises even him.
****
Later when they head up...
Scrapeknee listens intently to it all
"It does seem that someone who knew this place a lot better than goblins had to be involved in this latest." A frown.
And he remembers, "Pardon, Father, but about those dreams?"
When Zantus mentions Shalelu, Dare huffs. "I don't get why everyone in this town seems to rely on a woman who wanders off for months at a time for protection. Maybe we don't have the rep this Shally-loo has, but I won't abandon this place if I can help it."
Dare looks around the rest of the tomb carefully to be sure they haven't missed anything critical.
Yup, you may take 20.
After carefully searching around the tomb for any potential clues and following the trail back to the wall separating the cemetery from the rest of town, you find how the goblins and their mysterious helper/guide got in when you see a ladder hidden away in corner where it would be easy to miss if you hadn't been looking.
Father Zantus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as Scrapeknee brings up the dreams again.
"Right, right. Let me get Belor and Kendra-- I mean Sheriff Hemlock and Mayor Deverin, and you can tell us all about them at the same time," he says. He starts to hurry off, but before he can take more than a few steps, Dare, pipes up and the priest turns back.
"She's the reason that we don't see more attacks like what happened yesterday," he says, a flicker of anger edging his normally calm voice. "She spends most of her time tracking and hunting the vermin. Conrad's right. She's been protecting Sandpoint since its founding over forty years ago."
He takes in a deep breath and looks at Dare with a regretful expression on his face.
"Forgive me. This and yesterday have not been kind to my nerves, but that was no excuse to snap at you," he apologizes before.
"As far as I am aware, Father Tobyn didn't have any enemies beyond those that every Desnan has," he answers Conrad before turning and heading to fetch the sheriff and the mayor. "I'll be back as soon as I can. If you would, please meet me in my chambers. Old Naffer, would you mind showing them the way?"
"Of course," the grizzled priest says before turning to the six heroes and giving a small bow. "If you'd follow me, please."
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True to his word, Father Zantus hurries back with Sheriff Hemlock and Mayor Deverin in tow. They listen with grave expressions as you report what you found in cemetery and the crypt that Father Tobyn's remains had been stolen from.
After you finish, Mayor Deverin and Sheriff Hemlock give each other worried looks before turning to Father Zantus.
"Who else knows about this besides those of us in this room," Mayor Deverin asks Father Zantus.
"No one," he answers. "It's just the six of them, you, Belor, Naffer, and myself."
"What a mess," Belor grumbles as he shakes his head. "Frist goblins, now this. If this gets out, the whole town will panic."
"Agreed, but there's more to this, I fear," Father Zantus says before turning to Scrapeknee. "You said something about dreams, Scrapeknee? Could you tell us more about them?"
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Dare doesn't further pick a fight about Shalelu, although the look on her face clearly indicates she is not convinced. She just feels sorry for people who foolishly rely on someone who isn't with them. Even if she is out hunting goblins, that doesn't stop bandits from climbing over the walls while you're out in the swamps. The ranger's a fool if she thinks wandering around protects the town, and the townsfolk are fools for believing it. Ah well. If the deadbeat returns, she'll pick the fight with the source of the problem.
When they gather inside with the Sheriff, Dare mentions the ladder. "Inside job." She frowns. "You said Tobyn didn't have enemies. But small community here, s'like a neighborhood. Families get grudges, political tensions erupt over petty bullshit. Anything went on while he was alive--feud he might have had to arbitrate, maybe? Someone who sought the church's protection who had an enemy?"
Something else occurs to her. "Plus there's these Thassabalonian ruins here, right? And right here and now there are merchants here with Sczarni ties who are interested in said ruins. Oh, and Aldern from Magnimar is here. Also Sczarni ties, also shady as f+&%. And he's old, probably has had his fingers in various regional pies for decades. Anything pop up in those ruins in Tobyn's day? Maybe someone caught wind of more recently?"
Scrapeknee says "Almost all of us had visitations of divine nature in our dreams. For me, I met Dani... and later a being known as Selalia who told both of us about a message of import to Sandpoint. Though the age of omens is lost, there are strands that can be felt, and they are converging. Dark Clouds are gathering over Sandpoint, and Selalia added that it would be up to us to help decide the town's fate. She said Dani and I weren't alone in these visitations, or so she suspected." He doesn't mention the dance, "You can check with Dani and see if she remembers the same. But I already spoke to those here and...well, Cailyn told me the message to her was something like ' 'You and your companions are needed to prevent a darkness from descending on Sandpoint and destroying all the good cooks.'" He looks over to Cailyn to make sure he got that right, but continues, "Lita had dreams too, and shared them with Dare where they were visited by a 'sunrise angel' to use Dare's description and again a warning of a coming darkness. Willie didn't remember much that he told, something about a cat? Conrad had a vision of some sort, he shared it with Joanna. So you may want to talk to Dani and her for yet more details some of us missed." He said this in something of a rush as if worried somehow if he didn't get as much of it out, something else would intrude on the message.
"So you can see why when it came to divine messages, we wanted to consult one wiser and more experienced in such than ourselves, sir."
Cailyn nodded when Scrapeknee looked over at her, indicating he was correct. She had found one of the chairs in the Father's chambers as well as an interesting text on 'Leading a multireligious congregation'. She had the
neatly worn tome cracked open in her lap, but was no longer reading it now that the conversation was happening.
She does interrupt to ask Ms. Ashborn "What Sczarni merchants are interested in the ruins?" Cailyn herself is interested in the ruins, not ever enough to actually go down into them, but sipping warmed wine while talking to someone who HAD been down in the ruins, but was now in an inn's common room with her... that would be interesting.
"Joanna and Tera."
Dare could get killed for dropping information about the Sczarni or whomever they wish to protect in front of the Sheriff. She is not sure she cares anymore.
"Ah" Cailyn was her only response. Her mother was ruthless in all things, and had not spared her daughter in her teaching of the way of the merchant. Profit over ethics was a particularly enforced lesson. Within reason of course. Slavery, heavily addictive substances, assassinations, so on were out of bounds, but working with the underbelly of a city was not.
She does not expand on her Ah, but the lack of surprise in her tone is telling enough for some interpretation.
Cailyn did wrinkle her nose a little as she looked back down in her book, a sign of either thought or dislike. Or both.
"What-ho, Aunt Kendra!" Willie called out cheerily at the mayor's entrance, looking up from a ruddy intricate beaded wall-hanging depicting the constellations of the night sky, presumably more so of religious than academic worth to the Desnan. Mind you, said beads would have to be untangled after the young man's admiration extended beyond viewing, not that he was eager to admit this. In fact, fumbling at unraveling the tangled beads was precisely what he had surreptitiously been attempting before now turning from it. "Like disentangling old Gussie from his showgirls, I swear... So they roped you into all this too, what?"
'This' being an overblown, if macabre, bit of ballyhoo. Dreams aside - and he wished little more than to push those aside - the salient point was a missing cadaver. And while certainly an unpalatable act of vandalism, this hardly presented any real crisis.
"Steady on, Dare, old girl," he tried in a mollifying tone. "That's an awfully wide field of speculation you're eyeing with naught but an ass to traverse it. Now, I'll be the first to admit to being, in most respects, no mastermind. In fact my Aunt Arabella has described me as as vague and woolen-headed a blighter as ever wielded a spoon, and there are days I don't disagree with her - in a sort of broad, general sense. My point is that you're most welcome to edify me on this, but what do any of these characters have to gain from stealing some dusty ivories?"
What indeed? Willie was stumped on this. A firm believer in the practice of retracing one's steps - a practice that always helped him find his errant socks - he couldn't get past Step 1 here: motive.
"Willie didn't remember much that he told, something about a cat?"
"Er, possibly, most possibly," the gent deflected, "though it was probably just the Deverins' old moggy pining in the night."
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"Conrad had a vision of some sort, he shared it with Joanna. So you may want to talk to Dani and her for yet more details some of us missed."
Conrad feels obligated to elaborate. "We were d-dressed with the robes of the Shelynite c-clergy, he explains. "And there was a wing-ged man, telling us there was more to c-come than the g-goblin attack? We had to swear to p-protect Sandpoint."
"What Sczarni merchants are interested in the ruins?"
"Joanna and Tera."
"Sczarni?" Conrad repeats, at a loss. He thinks he's heard that word a couple of times before. He's quite distressed to notice that it usually wasn't in a praising tone.
Mayor Deverin shakes her head as she notices the mess that her nephew has made of the beaded starmap.
After Willie posits the question of motive to Dare's suppositions, possibly revealing that he has an actual working brain between his ears, the three leaders of Sandpoint look to each other before turning their attention back to the six heroes. Mayor Deverin is about to respond when Conrad asks about the Sczarni.
"They're a bunch of loosely allied gangs that lie, cheat, steal, and sometimes kill. Most of them are Varisian, which is why some idiots think all Varisians are like them," Sheriff Hemlock answers with a scowl that isn't directed at anyone in the room, but at either the Sczarni, the aforementioned idiots, or both.
"Dare, was it? You're right, there are feuds and grudges here like anywhere else," Mayor Deverin admits as she turns her attention back to the fiery half-orc mage. "However, Father Tobyn and the clergy here in the Cathedral are highly respected among the townsfolk here. I won't say he was a perfect man, but I can't think of anyone that would raid his tomb for his remains. As for the rest of it," she grimaces, "I'm afraid that Aldern Foxglove has requested that I pass on an invitation to a boar hunt in the Tickwood. I had tried to dissuade him from that, but he was insistent and if he has ties to the Sczarni, then we, and I mean all of us here in this room, should be extremely cautious in our dealings with him. Sczarni ties may actually explain much about the terrible history the Foxglove family has endured." The last sentence spoken more to herself than anyone else as she covers her mouth and looks to one side in thought.
"That still doesn't explain why the Sczarni would want Father Tobyn's remains or what the Old Light has to do with their theft," Father Zantus says, exasperation clear in his tone. "Even they would be very, very nervous about disturbing a Desnan priest's grave, no matter how good the money is."
"Maybe I should go have a talk with-- You said it was Joanna and Tera," Sheriff Hemlock asks Dare. "If you're wondering about the goings on in those ruins, talk to Brodent Quink. He's a scholar that does a lot of poking and looking around in things like that. He'd tell you more than you'd ever want to know about the Old Light, though he's a bit of an odd one. Says the Old Light was some sort of war whatchamacallit."
Father Zantus raises an eyebrow as Scrapeknee mentions that several of you shared your dreams with others. The other rises when Conrad mentions that he and Joanna were dressed in Shelynite robes.
"It seems we would do well to heed those warnings," he says. "Desna often uses dreams to guide and warn her faithful." He frowns as his eyes fix on Lita's holy symbol. "Forgive me. I know this is a personal matter, but what gods do all of you follow," he asks apologetically.
To Willie: "I don't know if they've anything to do with Tobyn. That's why I'm asking, arse out an' all. Yes, to be very clear, I'm just throwing stuff at the wall. If it doesn't stick, I'll drop it."
She nods to Sheriff Hemlock as they speak further. "Maybe I'm not making sense. Too much goin' on, hard to keep track of it all." She scratches her head, frowning in frustration. "The reason I brought the Sczarni up is related to my question about Tobyn and possible enemies or connections. I was just asking, as an example, if he might have--even accidentally--got wrapped up in local politics or crimes. People confide in priests, so maybe someone told him a secret. Maybe he healed someone that someone else didn't want healed. That kind of thing. AND, as such... Sczarni deal in secrets, in info, and in revenge--AND they are very definitely here and active right now. Sczarni wouldn't do something as stupid and obvious as steal a favored priest's corpse--well, we wouldn't do something like that in Magnimar, anyway. Would be too much of a risk to the usual business. BUT they might know something, or might have connections to someone with a deeper stake in whatever's going on.
Like, those merchants, I seriously doubt they have anything to do with what's happened to Tobyn. But if they're interested in the ruins here and now, maybe they know something as to why suddenly dark forces are paying attention to this sleepy little settlement."
When it comes to answering Zantus's question, she flushes a bit. She doesn't usually talk about her faith aloud, and it makes her feel vulnerable. "Burn the occasional candle to the Dawnflower, if you must know. But I never had anything resembling a close, personal relationship with her. Well... not till yesterday." She remembers the flame-colored butterfly, but opts not to mention it, and sticks to the dream. "But there I was in the Dreaming Beyond, with one of her paladins, no less." She gestures to Lita.
Scrapeknee has let others take lead on this, and seems almost shy around the Mayor. After all, he once fell off her roof. He tries to avoid the Sczarni but he's heard things from his Sheriff Uncle.
"It seems we would do well to heed those warnings," he says. "Desna often uses dreams to guide and warn her faithful." He frowns as his eyes fix on Lita's holy symbol. "Forgive me. I know this is a personal matter, but what gods do all of you follow," he asks apologetically.
Feeling awkward, he admits, "Well, before all this I never thought of myself as particularly devout. I honored all the gods of the Cathedral because...well, it is traditional and they do protect Sandpoint but I wouldn't say I've been faithful. Erastil mostly I suppose, for family, but even there... well," He says "Pretty sure this gift could have gone to far more worthy folks. I'm honored though. I.. always thought Desna was a bit flighty though I'm learning better I guess.. but I do love the stars. Pardon, Father. I mean no disrespect. "
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""They're a bunch of loosely allied gangs that lie, cheat, steal, and sometimes kill."
Conrad goes very pale, and then very red. "And J-Joanna and T-Tera are p-part of them?" he asks with some difficulty, stammering even more than usual.
"I know this is a personal matter, but what gods do all of you follow."
"Shelyn." Conrad murmurs. He's too distracted to think of what everyone might have to say about his faith right now. "Like Joanna. I think." He lowers his eyes instinctively, suddenly very absorbed by the contemplation of his own toes.
Conrad goes very pale, and then very red. "And J-Joanna and T-Tera are p-part of them?" he asks with some difficulty, stammering even more than usual.
Dare stares at him, because she's pretty sure she explained to him she has ties to a certain "Family" and that her "Family" had asked her to apologize to them, and she had thought he had understood what she had meant. "I didn't say they were 'part of them,' necessarily. But ties to. They're merchants. Lot of times you need to earn a profit, you need friends in low places." She leans over and whispers in his ear. "My 'uncle' asked me to make nice with them, remember?"
Cailyn had been distracted with thoughts of her mother, not worry about her cousins. But she pulls herself away frow mental disdainful nagging about her disappointing path in life so far, to look at Ms. Ashborn and Mr. Mendelson "'Ties' may be too strong. More than often a purchase or a sale to an individual will not include the exploration of their organizational background," her voice though is lacking a lot of her usually buoyancy. More like she is reciting something she was taught.
She blinked at the end of her sentence, then shook her head and softened into a inwardly chastising smile. "I don't doubt your information Ms. Ashborn, I promise. Certain words create labels, which may be stronger than the reality, but once applied it takes an open mind to remove."
The noble woman sighed again, suddenly tired under several layers. It might due to another question, and one she had kept in limited circles of knowledge, only with small sect of very like minded folk.
Looking up at the Father, she responds to his question, a firm look, a straightening of the spine, and said "I worship Ganny Elda, Empyreal Lordess of Hearths, Kitchens, and Hospitality." only the tightening of her hand in her skirts expresses any anxiety of presenting her odd faith to unbelievers.
"I take it you haven't known Jubrayl long," Sheriff Hemlock says, his eyes stern as he focuses on Dare. "He's no fool. I haven't been able to catch him red-handed or find enough to arrest him, though I know he's the one at the head of the Sczarni here in Sandpoint. He wouldn't raid Father Tobyn's tomb, either. For one, if word got out and he was even suspected of being behind it, he'd be lucky if he was only ran out of town." He opens his mouth to add more, but Mayor Deverin places a hand on his arm and gives him an apologetic look when he turns towards her.
"Excuse me, Miss Dare," she says as she turns to face the sorceress. "But are the two merchants you're talking about Joanna Whitehall and Tera Flinders?"
Father Zantus chuckles as Scrapeknee apologizes for thinking Desna flighty.
"You're hardly the first one to think that," he says. "Fortunately, Desna is a forgiving goddess. I don't think she'd have allowed you to keep those gifts you have shown if she was offended by your, ah, misconception."
When Cailyn answers, the mayor and sheriff look confused while Father Zantus frowns in thought.
"Ganny Elda? I know Magnimar has a number of mystery cults dedicated to the Empyreal Lords, but I haven't heard of her." He smiles warmly as his curiosity is piqued. "I would love to hear more, Miss Vanderale."
The priest sobers as leans back in his chair and sighs.
"But, that will have to be for another time. I think I see what is going on. Those that have been blessed by or worship the same god or goddess shared a vision through a dream. Desna, Sarenrae, and Shelyn are close allies, even friends, in the pantheon and it would appear that they or their servants wished for you to be warned about even worse coming for Sandpoint, and if this most recent raid was only a cover to steal the remains of Father Tobyn, a beloved and devout priest of the Starsong, I fear that we may be in for some dark times indeed."
"And J-Joanna and T-Tera are p-part of them?" he asks with some difficulty, stammering even more than usual.
"No no no, of course they aren't, dear fellow," the city boy cooed reassuringly even as Dare elucidated and Cailyn contextualized. "Jo and Tera crooks? Why, they're the dearest old things I ever met. Especially Jo!" He served the young man a pat on the broad shoulder with a knowing smile. "Such charm! Such grace! Such... thinginess! Have no fear, she's a smashing girl - just smashing! - and errant tongues that says otherwise have surely mistaken any meanness on her part for her, er, espieglerie if that's the word I'm looking for."
Willie dotted this glowing review with an emphatic nod. No, two such nods, he decided upon. After all, this sermon served the dual purposes of not just defending a dear friend, but also heartening a young man's love. Oh yes, Willie recognized the sorry state of the fellow. It was one he'd seen in far too many pals of his by now, and while indeed no mastermind, there was one department of life in which Wilberforce Whyte-Vetillus dared claim to be old Lynx-Eye in person. He could recognize Love’s Young Dream quicker than any other bloke of his weight and age in the metropolis.
And like any other nutter, affliction-stricken Conrad had his sympathy. Willie wasn't about to dispel the heady pink fog before the chap's eyes. Like a fatal ailment, these things either passed or came to their inevitable resolution. All one could do was support the sufferer.
Mind you, this bit of slander had somewhat depreciated the orcling's stock in his mind. Joana and Tera in league with Sczarni? She had him rather convinced with the sheer color of her remarks about the good Lord, but now he was starting to doubt the old girl again!
"I worship Ganny Elda, Empyreal Lordess of Hearths, Kitchens, and Hospitality."
The gent could not help but cast a surprised look up and down his cousin's trim form.
"Worshipped her long, have you?"
He took to wandering the office again when Zantus aimed the same query of faith at himself, however, almost literally escaping the question. "Hm? Oh, you know," Willie said with a buoyant hand gesture every bit as noncommital as his expression. "This and that. An idle thought to your own lady luck when at the racetrack... A coin to the offer box when enjoying a Caydenite tavern..."
Religion always made the young man uncomfortable, even if he wasn't sure exactly why. He supposed he just preferred the lord and ladies of the Great Beyond remain in their respective heavens or indeed hells; a bit like his aunts now that he came to think on it.
All the happier was he to swerve the subject. "So! No leads on the old bones but some ratty goblins, what? It's a rotten thought, but those little blighters are probably chewing on them now. Oh well, nothing for it. Say, slaying grave dodgers is thirsty work. How do we feel about the Dragon? Or the Deer? I've heard young Scrapeknee's extoll the Deer's virtues enough! I'll buy the first round."
Was a whistle-wetting bit of celebration too much to hope for? Honestly, all these heroics were cutting into his free time terribly!
Lita nods, slowly, clearly in thought. "It doesn't sound like much of a lead at the moment, does it? Shalelu's name keeps coming up as the expert, but if she's not due back for a while, then... Do we have any way to send her a message? Maybe there's someone else knowledgeable about goblins in town?" There's a pause as she considers the idea, but it's followed quickly by a furrowed brow and a click of the tongue, a slight shake of the head. "Eh, not exactly keeping it to ourselves."
She straightens up with a sigh. "I think we should take Lord Foxglove up on his boar hunt, too. I know we're a bit wary of him, but it's a good chance to feel out what he's after. Or, give him a chance to make a better impression, might be he's on the level."
"I take it you haven't known Jubrayl long," Sheriff Hemlock says, his eyes stern as he focuses on Dare. "He's no fool. I haven't been able to catch him red-handed or find enough to arrest him, though I know he's the one at the head of the Sczarni here in Sandpoint. He wouldn't raid Father Tobyn's tomb, either. For one, if word got out and he was even suspected of being behind it, he'd be lucky if he was only ran out of town." He opens his mouth to add more, but Mayor Deverin places a hand on his arm and gives him an apologetic look when he turns towards her.
Dare looks at the Sheriff in utter confusion. "What you just said is exactly what I just said. Sczarni wouldn't do something that stupid."
"Is Common not coming out of my mouth? Am I just too stupid to speak sense?" She straightens to her full six-foot-four height and bellows, drowning out any other side conversations: BUT. VHISKI. AND. HIS. CRONIES. MIGHT. KNOW. THINGS. TOBYN. AND. OTHER. SECRETS. OF. THIS. TOWN. THAT. ARE. RELEVANT. TO. CURRENT. EVENTS. AND. WE. SHOULD. FIND. OUT. WHAT. THEY. KNOW."
She exhales. "Shall I repeat that in Orcish or Varisian, or are we on the same page now?"
"Excuse me, Miss Dare," she says as she turns to face the sorceress. "But are the two merchants you're talking about Joanna Whitehall and Tera Flinders?"
She has already said their names, other people have repeated them in the same conversation, and she is not going to condescend to repeat herself any further. She sighs, and instead says, "Uncle Jubrayl asked me--by which I mean ordered me--to make nice with them and look after them. Do you understand now?"
"Never mind, that now I've told you that, I'll probably be face down in the river by tomorrow."
No chess master at his board had ever looked so furiously cognitive as the gent in trying to parse the orcling's outburst.
"Sorry, Dare old girl, I'm afraid I'm not following. 'Whisky-and-hickory?'" Willie was more so familiar with whisky-and-soda, intimately so in fact. "What sort of whisky is it you want?"
The Dragon's taproom was still on his mind, and it took a further wringing of the old lemon to grasp that the drink in question was apparently a person! Of unfortunate parentage, no doubt, to be given such a rude moniker. Then again, should it be a nickname he might be just his sort of chap!
"Never mind, that now I've told you that, I'll probably be face down in the river by tomorrow."
Much as he wasn't following the young woman, however, this assertion sent his brow right up to meet his oiled hair.
"Will you, by Indros!" he said in the animated fashion of the upper-cruster, all bluster and disapproval. It quickly faltered. "Well... I should hope not. After all, they'll have to go through the rest of us first."
All for one, one for all and all that. Willie wasn't the most daring of chappies, but nor was he one to abandon a fellow in need, whether that meant standing by a schoolmate in facing the ire of the headmaster, or - as he'd learned in Sandpoint - meeting a pointed blade together. He supposed he just didn't have the stomach for it; guilt, that was. Shame was a powerful motivator! He knew from experience it upset his sleep terribly. And Willie liked his sleep.
"Are you suggesting we go have a chat with this Whisky character, then?"
She exhales. "Shall I repeat that in Orcish or Varisian, or are we on the same page now?"
Scrapeknee frowns at that. His Uncle is worthy of respect, even during a misunderstanding, but... then he hears of her worries about her own safety and it eases.
"Will you, by Indros!" he said in the animated fashion of the upper-cruster, all bluster and disapproval. It quickly faltered. "Well... I should hope not. After all, they'll have to go through the rest of us first."
THERE he nods, "We're in this together now."
Father Zantus chuckles as Scrapeknee apologizes for thinking Desna flighty."You're hardly the first one to think that," he says. "Fortunately, Desna is a forgiving goddess. I don't think she'd have allowed you to keep those gifts you have shown if she was offended by your, ah, misconception."
Scrapeknee blushes but nods at that. And listens to the advice that follows after. He wonders if the gift can be taken away now or not... he doesn't pray at night like clerics do. But then decides it doesn't matter. He'll use these gifts to help people. It's the right thing to do.
For a moment, it appears that Sheriff Hemlock is going to meet Dare's outburst with one of his own, at least until Mayor Deverin shakes her head at him as the young mage finishes with a rather pessimistic view of her fate in the coming hours.
"It would seem that we have been talking past each other," the mayor says calmly once things have calmed down some and a couple of you have announced your solidarity with Dare. "As much as many in Sandpoint are gossipmongers, you do have a point that there are probably secrets that could lead us to the who and why of yesterday's events. I apologize if it seems like I wasn't listening to you. I was trying to confirm that the Joanna and Tera you spoke of are the same young women that I've known since they were little girls. The Deverins have known both the Flinders and the Whitehalls for years and while you are correct, a number of merchants do have dealings with the Sczarni, those those families are known for being scrupulous to a fault. It's difficult to wrap my head around those two being involved with someone like Jubrayl Vhiski."
Sheriff Hemlock rubs his chin as he thinks before asking, "Are you sure that he isn't having you be buddy-buddy with them so that he can snatch them for himself?" He shrugs as Father Zantus and Mayor Deverin give him surprised looks. "They're the daughters of merchant families. They have to have enemies of their own." He looks back to Dare. "I think I can speak for Kendra and Abstalar when I say that we won't tell a soul about what Jubrayl asked you to do. Hells, I won't even act on it. If you do find out more whether through them, the Sczarni, or Brodent, would you mind letting us know?"
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It's easy to let oneself slip into less than commendable activities. Conrad's got some first-hand experience of that. Yet the thought that could be one big misunderstanding makes him feel, despite himself, a little more hopeful that he was too quick to judge the two women.
He hesitates. "Are you sure you were n-not lied to?" he eventually asks Dare in a small voice.
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When Willie starts asking her about "whiskey," her eyes widen, and she digs her tusks into her upper lip, caught somewhere between laughing, shouting, and crying. She just ends up staring at him incredulously, goes back to her musings to the Sheriff and the Mayor. Then, when he picks up on her muttered speculation on the shortness of her lifespan, she looks at his response with a different sort of shock. The "they'll have to go through the rest of us" was not the words she'd expect from anyone, let alone the posh toff who had been trying to weasel out of the adventuring earlier on. She is, truly, touched. The tips of her ears drop, and that might just be something pooling in the corner of her eye. When Scrapeknee concurs, she becomes very fascinated by her own fingernails for a moment, then surreptitiously wipes her face before something embarrassing might leak out of it.
As the Mayor and Sherrif respond to her, her brow furrows as she processes their own speculative offerings. She hears Conrad's whisper. She doesn't answer him directly, but she realizes it's best not to hold back what she knows.
"Listen. Let me explain the whole thing, so we can figure out what the best way forward is together, because I don't know what to do." It wouldn't even have occured to her to start sharing more openly, were it not for Willie and Scrapeknee's statements moments ago. "Be patient, because I need to go back a bit." She takes a second to gather her thoughts.
"When I was a kid, a summoner used fire elementals to burn down an orphanage I grew up in. This woke up my own sorcerous blood, and I managed to save myself and a couple of other of kids with my magic. But since I survived, the constabulary, not wanting to actually investigate what happened, framed me for the arson. A gang in Rag's End bailed me out, but I owed them, right? So I go to work for them, basically protecting some of their favorite assets. At the same time, I never shake the reputation of being a mad arsonist, which gets hard to live with after a bit--and the gang wasn't going to discourage it, because it made people afraid of me. So I started looking for a way out.
"Eventually I earned a big enough favor from my boss and asked him for a one way ticket out of town. He books me passage on a caravan of pilgrims to the Swallowtail Festival here, and he suggests I stay at the Fatman's Feedbag till I can get my bearings and to ask for Uncle Jubrayl.
"When I get to Sandpoint, I meet Jubrayl, and he says I can stay a few nights free. Stupid me, I don't really think about why he'd be so hospitable, just figure cousins doing cousins a favor, right? I offered to pay, anyway, but he refused. Back of my head says, he'll make the check come due at some point, but I'm also just trying to settle in, so I don't think about it. I know, I'm stupid."
She gestures to the others in the room. "Fast forward to the night we all met at the Dragon the first time. We're all sitting at a table together, and Joanna and Tera recognize Willie and Cailyn and invite themselves over and overtake the conversation." She rolls her eyes. "I snapped at the flighty one--Tera, I think--because the dumb chit"--obviously she does not care that the merchant women are friends of the Mayor's--"Asked me, solely for her entertainment, to demonstrate fire magic in a crowded room full of liquor and wood." She just gives the Mayor a stare to say, you really defend these people? "I walk away after that, because I don't actually want to set anyone on fire, and then suddenly, one of Jubrayl's cronies conveniently oozes out of the woodwork, concerned that I might have offended the wrong people and wanting to 'make things right.' Later I go back to the Feedbag. Jubrayl and Iulian are there, and Jubrayl tells me my tab's come due for paying. What I am to do is make things up to Joanna and Tera and offer my services to protect them. Now, to be clear, my 'services' are as a Sczarni heavy."
She pauses just to be sure everything is sinking in. "So, therefore, based on the way he gave me his instructions, I took this all to be on 'family business.' My read was that Jubrayl and Iulian all already knew Joana and Tera, which is why Iulian got upset when I yelled at them, and they didn't want me cheesing the girls off. The main reason I thought they work together is because of his intervention. I want to be clear, that maybe I misunderstood." She shakes her head. "AND Jubrayl DIDN'T say, 'Don't tell them I sent you.' Now, as the Sheriff noted, he's not an idiot. If he wanted someone to spy on them, or soften them up for kidnapping, he wouldn't ask a flame-tattooed, six and a half foot tall half-orc whose sole talents are yelling, waving a sword around menacingly, and setting shit on fire. I am obviously a heavy. 'Subtle' and 'covert' and 'friendly' are not in my toolbox."
She sighs. "So... I keep not getting a chance to talk to Joana and Tera properly about any of this, but I did tell Joana that Jubrayl told me to apologize to her and that I'm to be at her service at his orders. And if that's not what he wanted, then I've already f~**ed it up. So that brings us to what we are to do next. If I go back to him now--and I've already moved out of the Feedbag, so me going back is suspicious enough--with questions, it's only going to prove that I've f+%~ed it up worse, and lead to the whole face-down-in-the-river situation--or him trying and me redecorating the Feedbag several gouts of flame. What I do need to do is finally have that conversation with Joana, but I think if someone wants to get something out of Jubrayl, it would actually be smarter if it wasn't me."
She seems finished. And then suddenly she speaks again. "All I want to do is be left alone. Or be with you all and drink stupid toff cocktails and whomp goblins. I don't want to investigate or question or anything. I can't. I'm not good at that shit. I wanted to leave all this crime family bullshit behind in Magnimar and I can't. I just want to get out of this. I want to get out of it all. Is there a way I can do that, or is my only choice letting myself get killed? Because sometimes I think that is the only choice I've got." She looks at everyone in the room, ears utterly flattened, golden eyes pleading for a different option.
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Dare's explanation is a bit hard to follow, but Conrad's pretty sure he's got the gist of it. Mostly that she's up to her neck in trouble, and that she didn't really do anything to deserve it.
Well, asides from that whole orphanage thing - but for some reason, he found himself wanting to believing her. She didn't strike him as the killing-with-arson type. She was too sensitive for that, despite all that brashness of hers, and her faith in Desna was sincere, if her vision was anything to go by. Would a goddess close to Shelyn ever look fondly on a worshipper with an evil heart? He didn't believe so. Besides, he remembered all too well the butterflies delicately burned into the wood.
"We'll figure it out," he says sympathetically. "Tog-gether. As a g-group. And if the Sczarni w-want you, they'll have to g-go through us."
Scrapeknee blinked a bit at the deluge of information from the often terse Dare. It is a LOT to process, but then, Conrad speaks to the core of it, and he nods.
"Conrad says it better than I could. Dare, we saw your actions when the goblins came. You fought for Sandpoint. If need be? We'll fight for you."
Cailyn listens from her soft chair, eyes and ears following. A smile there at the declaration of One for All, a frown at the potential kidnap plot, a wince at 'dumb chit', then a scrunching of her nose at choices.
As Conrad and Scrapeknee do what is good and right, offering to stand by their friend's side. Cailyn looks away, considering. All she really wants to do is go back to the inn and read... well, maybe get dinner. Wait, breakfast... no brunch. Oh it didn't matter, she was just hungry.
And it wasn't like Ms. Ashborn was her friend. The other woman wanted so little to do with a 'princess' as she puts it.
"I am good at it." she finds herself saying, instead of the sensible sentence 'I am leaving' that she should say. She looks back to the group "Investigating, I mean. Picking at a question, little by little until the answer is revealed." she frowned then and sighed "It is my singular talent."
Armed with books, tales, and persistence to the point of annoyance, her nannies would groan anytime the little half breed had decided to Know something.
Her eyes settled on the half orc, and said with her hands prim in her lap and back straight "So I can help with that... Shit" she blinked slow as she swore, very unlike herself. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to grin at the word, but manners wouldn't allow it.
"I don't understand why. But thanks," Dare says to Conrad and Scrapeknee both.
"Don't jump ahead too far though. I've not yet given anyone reason. That I know of, anyway. I am just afraid if things don't go right... well."
Cailyn then makes her assertion. This too, surprises Dare. A corner of the mouth jerks at the repeated expletive. "Careful, Princess, nanny'll wash your mouth out," she can't help but tease.
"But seriously. Ok. This is your thing. So what do I ask Joanna when I go talk to her? She's expecting me at some point."
"Hmmm... 'The Young Lady's Guide to Polite Interrogations' repeatedly expressed that if there is information you so eagerly need, the best strategy to wheedle it out is first to assess the character of the bearer." Cailyn ponders her cousin in her mind "For Jo, whose study of the blade could lead you toward an opening declaring the intent of the conversation, veiled to a degree to incite the conversation, followed by bantering thrusts returned back and forth, each-"
Cailyn stopped, focus returning away from the book in her mind to the told at hand "No." she doesn't explain why "Personally I would simply tell her the truth. My cousin's can be ruthless if all stories are true, but they are not heartless."
"And I wouldn't go alone for the conversation. Wilberforce knows them swimmingly, I know them with familial warmness, and Mr. Mendelson, well, has ties of faith and... mutual interest" she gave the male warrior a quick smile hiding her own vast lack of experience in those matters, then returns her focus back to Ms. Ashborn.
"Anyone of us would do as a 'Parrying Dagger' of sorts."