"I can do that. That's a specialty of mine. I can summon a little monster five times a day. It lasts for one minute."
Once everyone is at what they consider a safe distance Niccan summons a dog and sends it into the tunnel.
"By all means, then."
As the summoned dog runs into the tunnel Niccan quietly says to Kalig, "I used to worry about the creatures. But then I summoned one to play with it. At the end of the spell it just faded away. I figured out that it's not a real animal."
It was a less than pleasant sight, even knowing the mutt was made out of nothing but ether and fey trickery. The curly-haired canine leapt out of thin air with its master command already ringing between the droopy ears, dashing into the tunnel. There its paws quickly met the tripwire. A crack followed by a whine - like raining spears, those curious stalactites Niccan had spotted earlier immediately launched themselves from the ceiling into the unwitting apparition below. Its death was mercifully swift, as was the vision of its pitiable form; the dog merely faded into nothing.
Kobolds weren't known for being particularly smart, but one could only admit they had a cruel genius for trap making.
With the snare cleared, the group could traverse the low tunnel. The barricades erected there were a nuisance, certainly an asset for anyone looking to defend the passage, yet with no one manning them the ex-caravanners could clamber over these with little trouble. On the other side they saw what the ratfolk had already scouted: the tunnel opened into a much larger cave. Well, larger in terms of floor space; the ceiling was still awfully low. Kalig, Danton and Quintus all had to hunch forward to progress. While this was very much intentional by whomever had scratched out this cavern from the hill - recently so judging by the smell of fresh soil - the state of said ceiling presumably wasn't. It was in shambles, all cracked and partially collapsed. Fully half of the cave, the western half, was buried in rubble from floor to ceiling. The several tons of rubble, dirt and brick made the space difficult to navigate.
Three things of particular interest drew the group's collective eye. One was how this cave appeared to continue further still somewhere to the north, beyond the debris. The other was something like the remains of massive cement slabs, some part of the rubble, others lodged in parts of the ceiling, a strange find Niccan had postulated to be the foundation of the Witch Tower. This chamber might very well sit directly below the ruin.
And last was the hand. A single arm - human and still - reached from the rubble like a restless dead trying to escape their grave. Someone had been buried under the landslide that had befallen this chamber.
Quintius aids those scouting ahead for signs of more traps:
Looking at the arm sticking out, "At least it was quick."
Niccan joined Quintus by the.... arm. "Hard to identify a body with just an arm. Any jewelry on tattoos would help. Maybe if we carefully dig to see how much of the body we can see?"
He carefully brushes aside some of the dirt. "They didn't mention anyone missing, someone that might have snuck down here. But it would have had to be someone that knew the tricks down here. Maybe a scholar of local history? Or the wizard? But why would he collapse the tower, especially on himself?"
Niccan joined Quintus by the.... arm. "Hard to identify a body with just an arm. Any jewelry on tattoos would help. Maybe if we carefully dig to see how much of the body we can see?"
He carefully brushes aside some of the dirt. "They didn't mention anyone missing, someone that might have snuck down here. But it would have had to be someone that knew the tricks down here. Maybe a scholar of local history? Or the wizard? But why would he collapse the tower, especially on himself?"
"I haven't studied engineering but I would be amiss to not suggest the collapse might have been caused by instability in the structure. And said instability could be triggered again by digging through the rubble. We could start small, right around the arm, and at the first sight or sound of shifting ground we make a run for it."
Addressing Niccan's other thought, "The maybe missing wizard was my first thought and he might have been doing what we're doing and not realized what he was walking into when the collapse struck."
Niccan freezes at Quintus' comment. "True. And the cave continues. If we find any kobolds, maybe we can capture one or more to question. With the dead ones at the wizard's door and the signs we've seen here, I think they're connected. I'd like some answers."
Kalig kneels by the hand. "Let's see..."
Danton inspires Kalig while she examines the body.
"I wonder if we could tell just based on the type of rocks that have fell how old that body might be..." His insight was strange but it came from Abadar himself, hopefully it may provide some idea for Kalig.
The group lurched their way forward, all but the ratfolk having to stoop beneath the low, crumbling ceiling of the half collapsed cave. Their destination was the sorry sight that was the arm protruding from its own grave. 'Who?' was the question on their collective mind, closely followed by 'why?' They had anticipated kobolds. What in the world was this unfortunate soul doing here?
Being the most medically minded among them, the druid took point. Not a youngling, was her first conclusion. In kneeling before the thin limb, she saw liver spots on the skin. Not your average laborer either; though finely wrinkled with age, the outstretched hand was just a bit too soft, the fingers free of calluses. And free of rings too. Which was curious as she saw the pale indentations that indicated this man had been in the habit of wearing a few such. Had these been removed before or after his death? No, she couldn't say.
What she could say was that the sleeve peeking from the rubble looked fairly expensive. The dead man was wearing some sort of wine red robe, or so Kalig surmised, all visible of it right now being the arm wrapped in its dirtied sleeve. A rather wizardly robe if she had to guess.
Actually... Hold on. Reflecting off their conjured lights, the half-orc saw a glint from within the ample sleeve. Voluminous as wizardly clothing tended to be - a tradition of the trade, they always waving their arms about in arcane gestures - this particular sleeve formed almost a little cave of its own in hanging from the limb. Was there something in there?
Kalig nearly fell back from her perch in realizing what she was looking at. The gleam had come from a kind of nozzle - an atomizer of sorts - rigged to a flask via a spring-loaded string. The contraption had been hidden beneath the deceased's arm. And the flask - she recognized the sharp smell coming from it. Alchemist's fire. A trap? Had someone boobytrapped this corpse to spray fire at whoever touched it?
So it would seem. And she had nearly caught this gout to her face. Sighing, she tried to see what else there was to learn here. Judging by the dead's coloration, he hadn't been here long. No more than a day, probably, an inference that sparked a thought. Assuming this cave-in below the Witch Tower's foundation had been what toppled it, then the group knew exactly when this stranger had died. When was it they had all been enjoying Pia's stew yesterday? Seven o'clock in the evening? Yes, thereabout before the Wise Paper had been rattled by the ruin's collapse.
Someone had been rooting around here only to die when a cave-in triggered the tower's demise? This theory only brought on more questions. What had this man been doing here? How had this man even known of kobolds tunneling beneath the Witch Tower?
Nearly unbalancing herself as she scoots backward from the body, Kalig describes kobolds using Orc expletives that one dare not translate.
"The kobolds trapped the body," she then adds in common Taldan. "After stealing the rings off him first, of course. I'm sure he died during the tower's collapse. Which means that they came through here afterward, and it's reasonable to surmise they expected someone to come looking for him. Someone they'd think was worth using up a vial of alchemist's fire for. Anyway, I wouldn't bother freeing him. Although we could try to trigger the trap in his sleeve and burn the corpse that way, since we've been trying to dispose of corpses thoughtfully when possible... but that could risk using up a lot of the air down here."
She stands up, brushing herself off. "Anyway, he appears to be quite old and in a mage's garb. I don't think it's a stretch he was probably this wizard that lived next door. The question is... was he rooting around in here and did he cause the collapse, or was he coming for the kobolds and the kobolds triggered the collapse via one of their many traps to stop him? Or was he working with the kobolds, they both did something that triggered the collapse, and that's why the ones that escaped ran to his doorstep?"
She glances down at the corpse again. "With foes like that, I need to understand traps better..."
"Or were the kobolds already working down here, the wizard might have suspected or heard something, and the collapse killed him. For the kobolds to then go to the wizard's house? That sounds like they know who was killed and they went to burglarize a now-empty but not defenseless house."
Quintus agrees with Kalig on this, "It's not worth the risk to uncover his remains - at least not yet. And apparently our little 'friends' have a level of resources to suggest they aren't homeless and copper-less vagrants."
Niccan agrees with Kalig and Quintus. "Kobolds use traps. If we can't get a professional then we need to learn more about them."
"The only wizard they've mentioned topside was that Hunclay. Maybe he was working with the kobolds and they crossed him? Or he refused to pay for something that they did so they trapped him and killed him? Collapsing the tower might have been an accident, collateral damage or something? Hard to tell so far."
He moves past the body and follows the rubble. The low ceiling doesn't bother him so he feels like maybe he should lead? He looks for any tracks looking for recent activity, but doesn't notice any.
Conspiracy to sabotage? A murder plot? A double-cross, even? Perhaps distracted by his own speculation on just what had occurred down here, Niccan's usually so sharp eyes were less so. He did not take notice of any particular tracks in wandering further north.
Which was to say that the dirt was in fact covered with these. Of what ground wasn't overwhelmed by rubble, a farrago of crisscrossing tracks could be seen dappling just about every square foot. Clearly a fair number of hands had been at work scratching his cavern out of the hill. The ratfolk just couldn't discern anything appreciable from these tracks, trodden and trodden over again as they were. But there was more to see inside.
The cave narrowed into a passage, all hardpacked earth and reinforced with poles, still quite low. This passage split into two, one of which terminated to the north. There a hole in the floor led... nowhere. It looked to have been a narrow thing leading somewhere even further beyond, but it had been collapsed entirely. Now just a burrow choked with earth and stone, it was impassible.
The other split turned west. This direction stopped in a dead end too, a small round-ish chamber, one not entirely empty. Here lay heaps of furs, piled almost like nests. There was no particular cohesion between these shabby pelts; to look at they came from deer, foxes, racoons and any number of other mammals. Niccan stopped to consider a kerchief-like rag he was pretty sure had once been a squirrel. The diverse furs were like in only one respect: their smell. A reptilian musk hung about this room.
It was strong enough to overpower even the sweet smell of rot. Leftovers from meals littered the floor, mostly just animal bones and what little still clung to these. Did kobolds swallow prey whole only to regurgitate their bones like snakes did? The group had to wonder at the sight of several little complete skeletons, primarily those of birds and other such small critters. And that mass of quills... Had that once been a porcupine? The image of a kobold digging into one half of a porcupine like a child might a split melon wasn't an appetizing one.
Quintus forges ahead and assists whomever is searching for traps and...anything else?...amongst the stench of death and kobolds.
"I fear our wizard friend might be dead." It was a matter of fact. Danton had issue with many of the dead bodies down here, but he somehow couldn't muster up anything for the wizard. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day, or maybe it was the arrogance of an arcane wizard. Ultimately the underwriter organized it internally under "not important right now".
"So. It appears that this place has been connected deeply to the kobolds, but the question is why? The Cantleclures weren't known for being magnanimous and kind, I worry that they had some sort of deal with the kobolds and they're coming to collect now." It was purely speculation of course, the Abadaran had to keep an air of knowledge about him. He would hate to lose the trust of these very competent allies.
"I fear our wizard friend might be dead." It was a matter of fact. Danton had issue with many of the dead bodies down here, but he somehow couldn't muster up anything for the wizard. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day, or maybe it was the arrogance of an arcane wizard. Ultimately the underwriter organized it internally under "not important right now".
"So. It appears that this place has been connected deeply to the kobolds, but the question is why? The Cantleclures weren't known for being magnanimous and kind, I worry that they had some sort of deal with the kobolds and they're coming to collect now." It was purely speculation of course, the Abadaran had to keep an air of knowledge about him. He would hate to lose the trust of these very competent allies.
"I disagree. With what Kalig and Niccan have discovered it appears all of this tunneling into the Witch Tower and its underlying structure has been fairly recent. I don't think it has anything to do with the Canteclures. As for the trapped body down here being Hunclay we also don't have anything conclusive to prove that's the case. I would say what we've found would encourage the authorities to try to enter Hunclay's home but I don't think anyone is going to be eager to do so - us included."
"We don't know that body is Hunclay, but it isn't worth the risk to try and dig it out. Maybe cut off a piece from the sleeve of the robe if we can avoid the fire trap? Then let's head back up and report. There doesn't seem to be anything else down here."
"I think we might want to ask where we can find the kobolds. We might be able to get one to talk and explain what happened here...."
"I think the dead mage is likely Hunclay. He didn't answer his doorbell, and they mentioned he would have come out to see the ruin of this place they said he hated, but was strangely quiet. It may not be, but how many other old experienced wizards live in the area? They don't tend to be common.
[b]"As for why the kobolds, I believe they wanted to come for the vault we found. They blew their way into it and just couldn't figure out how to lower the bars. How they learned of the vault is the question. From Hunclay himself? Or from someone else, and Hunclay went to investigate perhaps when he heard noises coming from the tower? That we don't know, but I am absolutely certain he was killed by the collapse, so either he did something to cause it, or the kobolds did not long after he arrived."
She frowns as they reach the northern dead end. "Must be how they got in here. And explains why they ran out instead of went back the way they came. I wonder where it might lead... if the tower foundations are behind us..." Kalig tries to get a sense of where they are in relation to the terrain above and also assessing the general terrain of the area to think where an underground burrow might continue without being flooded, etc.
When they come to the final room, she wrinkles her nose at the stench. "Not pleasant, but since we are here... may as well see if any of these furs might still be of value, or if there's anything else hidden here, besides a poison-dart-mounted muskrat."
Using her shovel and keen senses, she pokes and prods at the piles to see where traps might be, and then once safe, looks for anything of value.
The priest shrugs at Niccan and Quintus' suggestion, "You may be right of course but I will not rule it out. I don't fully trust our current employer truthfully, and I worry there is more to this than burrowing kobokds."
Danton gives a sigh when Kalig starts to rummage, "Let me see whatever you bring me..."
He really does not want to go through the mess of stuff to evaluate everything, but he will do so knowing full well that it will be required in the future, "We are washing up after right?" The disdain from his voice is only matched by the exhaustion of the day.
Niccan watches as the group goes through the stinky animal pelts. "Well, OK. But we still got to report. And we'll need to buy some tools to break those chests open."
"But the reward money should cover all of that cost. And we've got that other junk to sell."
"And once we get back with tools.... There's whatever is in the chests."
Niccan watches as the group goes through the stinky animal pelts. "Well, OK. But we still got to report. And we'll need to buy some tools to break those chests open."
"But the reward money should cover all of that cost. And we've got that other junk to sell."
"And once we get back with tools.... There's whatever is in the chests."
"Not only the 'junk' but the coins from the one chest we did manage to open."
This felt almost anticlimactic. With all the signs there, the group had rather anticipated - if not looked forward to - some kobolds at the center of all this hullaballoo. Yet now when they'd reached the literal and figurative bottom of the rabbit hole, there wasn't a scale to be found. Kalig rifled through the nests of fur carefully, wise as she now was to kobold trickery, but found nothing of interest beyond a few more half-eaten scraps. In fact, the whole little room seemed to her like a dwelling hastily packed up and abandoned. A temporary lair for those working on expanding their tunnel? Probably. What, then, had prompted their quick exit? The tower's fall? Or something else entirely?
The search was somewhat frustratingly fruitless. The druid couldn't even say where that narrow, northern burrow - the one the kobolds had presumably come here through - led. North, obviously, but she wasn't familiar enough with the local area to say more than that. What was north of Belhaim? Beyond forest, of course. Perhaps a local would know.
With no one to question, the group could only scamper their way back. They passed the suspected wizard still waving from his spontaneous grave, and clambered through the tunnel back into the dungeon. There stood Khavel and Star, waiting patiently and glad to see them whole. The dwarf, loath to sit about doing nothing whilst others labored, had the retrieved chest open in front of him. He'd been counting.
"I'm no 'underwriter'" - somewhere below the beard a chin nodded towards Danton - "but unless my arithmetic's off, this chest's coinage adds up to 850 gold pieces. On the dot. We might be lookin' at a healthy payday."
Almost one thousand sovereigns. And with six more such chests to go. Of course, this didn't mean much if none of it was theirs to keep. A thought that prompted the ex-caravanners to consider their next step. Kobold tunneling had felled the Witch Tower. They now knew this much and that was what they had been tasked to learn. Did they report back to Lady Devy now? And if so, how much should they tell her?
Although no cartographer Quintus retrieved his journal, ink, and ink pen and drew a map of the areas they explored and how they connected to one another. Although the scale and aesthetic appeal might be lacking it would be enough to give the Lady, and other Belhaim authorities, a decent notion of what they had discovered.
"Definitely enough to purchase supplies to continue our work. I doubt Lady Devy will be satisfied with what we've learned since we were unable to follow the kobolds back to their source. And perhaps the location of the caved-in tunnel gives us a starting point to search for them. Plus determining if the body down here is that of Hunclay. Should we get to work burying the remains of the former prisoners?"
Kalig nods at Danton. "I can dig that pit with magic once we get to some workable dirt. We can widen it with manual labor if needed. And then report to the Devy woman." She shrugs. "We may or may not trust her, but I'm not sure if I want to make that my problem. I didn't see she's responsible for this, certainly, and as someone who's sort of the town's alderman or whatever, I doubt she hired the kobolds. As to cause of collapse, we know the kobolds blew up at least one wall. They are the likely culprits. But we should tell them about the body. If they wanted us to investigate further, Hunclay's home might be a good start before going into the woods to track the kobolds."
"As for the chests... while we are not obligated to tell them about it, it's also going to take a lot of work to get it moved--and then if we were to either just take it, or angle for keeping much of it, where are we, stranded travelers with no passage home, going to keep and carry it all? We can hire a cart and horses, but then that will make our newfound wealth rather obvious, won't it? Though it may make us less rich, the path of least resistance, if not ethics, suggests we tell the woman and ask for a share. If the rest goes to the good of the town I've no objection. If you want to keep it all for yourself, so be it, but you can carry it all yourself too. Of course, I have the key, and if the Devy woman insists it's all hers or something, that is a bargaining chip."
She closes her jaw firmly, and then shivers involuntarily. Kalig's personal order of priority is ask for a healer's services, if they can spare some of their newfound treasure for it.
"Hmm.... I don't think we should indicate that we got the chests open. Say that they are locked behind bars, possibly trapped, and they look sturdy, locked and also likely trapped. Leave the heavy bags of copper and silver there. We can then offer our services to retrieve them once we have the required tools, for an appropriate commission of course since the traps we encountered so far have appeared quite deadly."
"I'm still concerned about the man that we assume is Huncley. How did he get there? He got past everything that we did without dealing with the traps and the ratling? Or did he have a tunnel from his house and that's behind the pile that dumped on him?"
"I'm still concerned about the man that we assume is Huncley. How did he get there? He got past everything that we did without dealing with the traps and the ratling? Or did he have a tunnel from his house and that's behind the pile that dumped on him?"
"Or did the person know of a secret entrance to underneath the Witch Tower? We've certainly found more than our fair share of them so far. And it would make sense for people as unpopular as the Canteclures to have a secret escape route."
The cleric weighed in on Kalig, "This money may have very well belonged to the town. I don't think we should get excited until we know more about it but I do think some of it should belong to us." He feigned being in deep thought, "Perhaps the Church of Abadar can hold it for the time being. Assuming we get it out of course."
Ah, blessed fresh air! Invigorating as any physician's smelling salts, honestly, but then the group's senses were somewhat skewed after so long spent in the musty dungeon. A backtrack along their own stepping stone path and two ladders saw the ex-caravanners emerge to that most welcome sight that was the open sky. All that remained of the Witch Tower was two scant floors, the upper of which was as bare as they remembered it. Without any ceiling and totally open to the surroundings since the collapse, it now formed a stubby viewing platform over Belhaim. They looked to the sun. What time was it? Well past noon, certainly, probably nearer supper time. Their stomachs told them as much.
"Huff... Are you sure this is worth it, Quintus?" the dwarf groaned.
Too bad their toil wasn't over yet. Khavel was pulling up the contents of the underground armory, what bits and bobs they had deemed worth selling, up the ladder shaft by rope. The group had worked together to get what weapons and armor could be salvaged hauled over to the basement's entrance. Now came the task of getting it up the ladders. And after them, the corpses.
The bundle of tied together mancatchers rattled as he set it upon the stone floor. Khavel sat back on a piece of broken masonry. He was breathing heavy. Proud dwarf that he was, he absolutely refused to complain at a bit of manual labor, yet the rest of group could see that the steadfast man wasn't entirely well. Despite her best efforts, Kalig thought she detected a certain yellow tinge to his eyes. Not a good sign. But then she wasn't feeling her best herself. Damn rats.
But it wasn't as if the group couldn't afford a break in their work. It really was a very nice view, little Belhaim as seen from up here. The hour wasn't so late that its inhabitants had finished their own work day. They could see farmers and labor hands moving to and fro at the outlying fields. The villagers were bringing in the hay, a bit late for the season, but the surrounding forest made for more limited sunlight than open plains. Drying grass naturally took somewhat longer. Children flocked among the wagons as well. It was probably a communal effort, as such things so often were in small communities.
And on that topic:
"Hullo there!"
A mature man leading a cartful of hay down the nearby road had spotted them. He had at least five kids sitting on top of the stacked haybales, all of whom looked up to what remained of the Witch Tower and the strange outsiders who had climbed it. It didn't appear at all a safe ride for children which was probably why they seemed to have been enjoying it. "You lot still at it?" he called. "Pia will be right glad to know you're alive!"
Right. The group had been at it all day.
Ah, blessed fresh air! Invigorating as any physician's smelling salts, honestly, but then the group's senses were somewhat skewed after so long spent in the musty dungeon. A backtrack along their own stepping stone path and two ladders saw the ex-caravanners emerge to that most welcome sight that was the open sky. All that remained of the Witch Tower was two scant floors, the upper of which was as bare as they remembered it. Without any ceiling and totally open to the surroundings since the collapse, it now formed a stubby viewing platform over Belhaim. They looked to the sun. What time was it? Well past noon, certainly, probably nearer supper time. Their stomachs told them as much.
"Huff... Are you sure this is worth it, Quintus?" the dwarf groaned.
Quintus replies to Khavel's question, "I only wish we were flush enough with gold or even silver coin to leave this stuff to rot but we find ourselves destitute and in need of equipment and supplies."
The young Taldan was also breathing heavy, doing his fair share of the heavy lifting to move their reclaimed items to the surface. He made sure to take at least an equal number of turns to relieve some of the burden from Khavel. At any sign of protest from the stout dwarf Quintus would say, "Don't shame me by making me look like I'm a layabout in my own homeland. A Taldan never stands for such things! Plus the residents of Belhaim will think less of me - I must set an example for them."
True statement? To a degree. Quintus was intent on proving the strength of Taldor still lived within its people. He was also motivated by his respect, and concern, for Khavel and the others. He had been blessed with physical strength and wanted to use it to help others.
"Hullo there!"A mature man leading a cartful of hay down the nearby road had spotted them. He had at least five kids sitting on top of the stacked haybales, all of whom looked up to what remained of the Witch Tower and the strange outsiders who had climbed it. It didn't appear at all a safe ride for children which was probably why they seemed to have been enjoying it. "You lot still at it?" he called. "Pia will be right glad to know you're alive!"
Quintus waves at the man and says, "Of course! A Taldan's work is never done, yes? Hopefully Pia will save us some dinner as we have worked up quite an appetite!"
“The Empire wasn’t built by idle hands!” the man affirms with good humor. While a common enough aphorism, it sounds almost ironic coming from a plain villager delivering some hay. Though in fairness, the rustic fellow seems perfectly aware of this. Patriotism runs deep in Taldor, supposed cradle of civilization, and even backwaters like Belhaim are usually proud to call themselves part of the greatest nation on this blessed globe.
It helps that villages are immured against the evil tongues wagging in ports and cities, those that call the nation a well dressed corpse, all powdered and smart, the maggots that are its aristocracy eating themselves fat before the inevitable.
Not thoughts on this simple man’s mind. “What’s that you got there?” he queries at seeing the group hoisting bundles from the ruin. “Don’t be afraid to ask for more hands, you hear?”
The children sitting in the wagon are all curious eyes and straw matted hair.
"Just some odds and ends that we've recovered from the remains of the Witch Tower. Nothing exciting and probably not of much value either but coin is coin and Pia doesn't accept smiles and hugs for payment!"
While Niccan isn't big or strong, he would be trying to help, hauling what he could. He hears Quintus' conversation and adds, "Perhaps not junk though. Antiques from the Cantleclures possibly. Just need to find the right buyer!"
Danton isn't much for hauling but he is good at managing people, and he was concerned about a crowd of nosy townsfolk. Not that they didn't have a right to know what was found down there, but unless a proper inventory was done and unless they knew how it got there, he wouldn't trust them. Villagers had a way of getting heated and causing damage when they didn't know details, so he kept as many as he could at bay.
The Abadaran knew better than them after all.
Kalig, mostly quiet for once, doesn't interact much until it is time to take care of the dead. And then, she just very directly asks the farmer looking on, "There are dead bodies below of those tortured in the tower. We aim to bring them up and bury them. Is it a trespass on someone's land if we dig a hole here?" Kalig had a limited respect for most people's ideas of land ownership for, as a druid, she knew they belonged to the land and not the other way around, but she also knew people got very territorial and did not want to visit the town's jail again.
"Nothing exciting and probably not of much value either but coin is coin and Pia doesn't accept smiles and hugs for payment!"
”You haven’t smiled wide enough, then!”
A jovial wink, a neighbourly nod. After the group’s ordeals below, it felt strangely normative, almost comforting, to come across this plainest of plain folk, just a villager carting some hay. Exchanging amicable how-do-you-dos with passerbies was a world removed from dungeon traps, starved apparitions and grotesque vermin hordes. The ex-caravanners’ senses had to reorient themselves; they didn’t need to watch over their shoulders for death traps anymore. They had rejoined the world of the normal, where one didn’t open doors whilst clutching a weapon in the other hand and people could be greeted without suspicion.
It made one appreciate why those storied adventurer types were so abnormal. Supposedly, it was difficult enough for the professional soldier to readjust to civilian life. How then did one go from jousting with monsters – dragons, even – to a rural village existence like Belhaim’s?
Not a question the simple villager was likely able to answer, he just about to lead his mule on and depart with a wave. Which was when Kalig’s query stopped him. It was a reasonable question, of course. Just burying the dead in the first patch of grass not likely to topple the ruin might lead to some taking offence, one way or another. But Belhaim was a small community. And the dead carry significance in small communities. After all, there they can only ever represent tragedy, accident or loved ones, never strangers.
They couldn’t hear it, but from their vantage point on top what remained of the tower, the group could see the smile fade from the man’s mouth in repeating ‘bodies’. For a moment he appeared plainly confused. ”What, you mean… people?” Then some no doubt practised practical spirit took hold of him. ”Hold on!” he called up to them. ”I’ll deliver this load over to the Devy stables and come back with the cart! Leo!” A boy sitting on a haybale looked alert. ”Put those stilts of yours to use an’ run on over to the priests. Tell ‘em the caravan crew found some bodies in need o’ tender hands. And Pem! You go tell the undertaker. Go on now!”
Both boy and girl darted off like only children can.
---
Within a quarter hour the ex-caravanners had more hands than they knew what to do with. A crowd of people had gathered about the Witch Tower, the second in as many days, drawn by either curiosity or willingness to help with whatever strange business these outsiders had pulled out of the ruins. ”I’m lowering another one down!” called Khavel from the top storey to some able lads below, still in their work clothes. The group was very much in charge. Being the ones now most familiar with the site, the villagers heeded their warnings. People kept a safe distance from the fallen tower and did not try climbing the ruins themselves, a select few instead helping receive both the armoury gear and bodies as the ex-caravanners lowered them via rope.
Said bodies were treated with all due respect, Danton even recognizing some of his own white-clad peers among the assembly. There were also other acolytes, these wearing more colourful garb.
Also seen in the crowd were the two young constables from yesterday, doing their best to keep the peace, although it was hardly necessary. The presence of their ‘chief commander’ seemed plenty sufficient. Lady Origena Devy had arrived as well, she planting her noble self at the flock’s foremost edge like a human cairn; here and no further. Even without commanding anyone, it proved an effective method of letting people know not to go too close, both for their own safety and so the group wasn’t disturbed. Excepting a few words shared with whomever approached her, the noblewoman appeared perfectly content to let the ex-caravanners run this particular show. And with the last body safely stowed away, the group finished the job they had set out for.
Quintus is polite to and welcoming of the help from the villagers of Belhaim. He focuses on the work at hand; removing both the remains of the long-deceased and the salvaged equipment from the basement.
When he has a moment to speak quietly to the others he says, "Drawing a crowd was going to happen."
Niccan watches the crowd working to bring out the bodies as well as helping haul the other stuff up. Everyone was helping! This reminded him of how his extended family was back on the docks. Humans from this small town, all working together just like his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins....
"I don't remember any time where I've seen the city people pull together like this. Nice!"
”Oi,” called the gaffer, the same one they had first seen upon emerging from the ruins. ”Did you want all this junk carted over to Tymek’s?” He nodded towards his wagon, now loaded with what remained of the Canteclure armoury. That and some leftover hay.
The group had just finished hoisting down what needed hoisting, finishing with themselves. The climb down the rubble wasn’t quite as bad as the climb up had been, especially with rope and the foreknowledge of where to tread. Their feet met green grass again for the first time since this morning. And what a day it had been.
At least their efforts met with some recognition. There were acknowledging gazes all around, those villagers who had stepped up to help commending them via nods and even pats on the back – the simple salutes of one honest labourer to another. As they all left what remained of the Witch Tower behind to join with the crowd, the ex-caravanners noted a definite thread running through the conversation playing out there. Namely, people were wondering at the identities of the five bodies. Belhaim might be small, but its roots ran deep. As was so often the case with small towns, its families were less households than they were institutions. Everyone from farm hand to jurist had lineage here, whether proud or ignoble. It was these lineages people were sharing now, speculating at half-remembered stories of some family member or another that went missing during the reign of the hated Canteclures 200 years ago.
The little crew of spelunkers found something more present to focus on, however. Lady Origena Devy approached them, her prim and proper form a singular stalk of white lily among the field of common daisies. She gave them an appraising look and not without reason; now seeing themselves beneath sunlight, the group noted that their underground trek had left them more than a little grubby. The Lady’s eyes looked like those of an orphanage matron’s upon seeing her wards return from play all covered in mud.
"My, but look at you,” she said, not unsympathetically. ”You're all covered in grime and..."
Blood. It wasn’t just dust and soil that had left their mark on the group. Most of them also wore crusted over splotches of blood, not all of it their own. A worried wrinkle tensed its way between the noblewoman’s blonde brows.
"I take it this little job I entrusted you became a fair bit more involved than anticipated?"
Begins the digging as promised with the expeditious excavation spell to get started, and is surprised, pleasantly so, as all hands gather to create the resting place for the dead. While she leaves the formal prayers to the towns' priests, she kneels and lays her hands on a mound of dirt destined to cover the corpses. She prays quietly. "From earth you come, to earth you return. Be cleansed and return to new life."
After the sordid and dirty matter is settled, she approaches one of the other priests who have assisted with the task of consecration. "I and the dwarf..." she points over to Khavel. "We've infected rat bites. Is there an infirmary here?"
She is not in the mood to report to the lady and trusts those in her party to do the business bit while she takes care of, you know, not dying.
Niccan moves up to the front of the group, at least as dirty looking as the others, possibly more since he has more fur on him matted with the filth and blood....
"Lady Devy. More and less I fear. A guard should be posted so no 'fearless children' try to sneak in. It's still dangerous. Traps, rats, pools of acid, and very unstable areas. There was debris that indicated kobolds were there. But we didn't find any that were alive."
He lowers his voice, "And we think we found Hunclay. Buried in the area that was collapsed to cause this all to fall. There's more but it might be better in private?"
”Oi,” called the gaffer, the same one they had first seen upon emerging from the ruins. ”Did you want all this junk carted over to Tymek’s?” He nodded towards his wagon, now loaded with what remained of the Canteclure armoury. That and some leftover hay.
"Yes please. Two of our group sustained some injuries that require the treatment from one of the temples. They don't work for free so hopefully we've salvaged enough to get our two injured some assistance."
"My, but look at you,” she said, not unsympathetically. ”You're all covered in grime and..."Blood. It wasn’t just dust and soil that had left their mark on the group. Most of them also wore crusted over splotches of blood, not all of it their own. A worried wrinkle tensed its way between the noblewoman’s blonde brows.
"I take it this little job I entrusted you became a fair bit more involved than anticipated?"
"Indeed. And we were hoping we might rest for a bit at your manor and discuss our findings?"
Danton returns back from the rites and speaks plainly to the Lady, "We have uncovered far more than what we anticipated." He waves in the general distance, "Before we continue and tell more about our findings, I think we need to renegotiate, or at least agree to in the near future."
Kalig approaches one of the other priests who have assisted with the task of consecration. "I and the dwarf..." she points over to Khavel. "We've infected rat bites. Is there an infirmary here?"
Somewhat predictably the dwarf in question protested at being spoken for – ”Pah, will ye stop fussing over me, woman?” – albeit without much vim. Khavel couldn’t muster the energy for much of anything after their ordeal, his otherwise so strong shoulders slumped and back bent. Of course, this only cemented the need for some fussing on his behalf. Fortunately, the young woman Kalig approached proved receptive.
”Oh no!” she said with the sort of professional sympathy usually only found in nannies. ”I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we don’t have an infirmary as such…” The half-orc wasn’t entirely sure what denomination the woman belonged to. Not Danton’s white-clad lot, certainly. But they comprised some sort of group, all recognizable by colorful accessories. This particular woman's plain work clothes were livened by a light, rainbow hued scarf. That and some pinkish flecks of paint that were probably less intentional. ”But we are blessed with two holy men! Have you visited the Seven Roses?”
The what now?
”The Shrine of the Seven Roses. My master there will be happy to help you! It’s only a short walk away, just follow the smell of everything good! It’s just beyond the bakery and soap maker, you see. Or would you like me to guide you?”
Another priest? Kalig thought on the High Enumerator, the local cleric of Abadar the group had met yesterday. She knew that a priest sufficiently adored by their respective power should be able to miracle away most any blight. Magic was certainly the quickest, not to mention cleanest, road to recovery. Then again, hadn’t the Lady mentioned an apothecary yesterday?
Some feet away the aforementioned Lady’s eyes widened at Niccan’s early report of their findings. ”You found Hunclay?” she said, her noble bearing faltering before plain incomprehension. ”Do you mean to say he’s de…!” The words were halted, deliberately so, before they could leave the painted mouth. Devy looked about to make sure no one else could hear what was said. Though a few onlookers shot the outsiders and noblewoman curious glances, the crowd seemed entirely content with their own natter about these most singular events to befall their village.
”Yes,” the Lady continued, following Quintus’s suggestion, ”perhaps it would be best if we discussed your findings further in private.” Inviting oneself to an aristocrat’s home was probably a faux pas in high society – especially if one belonged to rather low society – yet if Devy took any offense at the idea, she didn’t show it. Rather, those thoughtful eyes of hers looked like dark pools disturbed, as if some leviathan of the deep had reached up to break their still surface. The news of the wizard’s death had clearly affected her, she appearing to ponder its implications.
Those selfsame eyes slowly narrowed at the Abadaran’s contribution, however. ”As I recall, we have already renegotiated your fee once, Mr Trallius.” It wasn’t frosty exactly, her tone of voice. But it was the sort of inflection by which a headmistress might send chills up students’ spines. ”Nevertheless, you are all invited to supper at my home where I am eager to hear whatever you have to say.”
Kalig nodded in thanks at the young woman with the rainbow scarf. "Thank you, Miss... " She leaves time if the woman wants to supply her name. "I am Kalig, called 'the Tireless' by the Circle of Four Winds. We'll find it. We'd best tell our friends where we're going first, and I expect you have other things to do."
She also remembered the presence of the apothecary... and the fact that a single vial of antiplague costs 50 gold pieces. So that was not an immediate option until they'd sorted the iron chest situation. She'd hoped a temple might at least give her a quiet bed to rest in for a reasonable price if she couldn't afford magic; inns generally did not like sick guests making their lodging look like plaguehouses.
Either way she needed to regroup with the party first, who were finishing their conversation with Lady Devy. She addresses Quintus, Niccan, and Danton quietly: "There's a temple here... for the roses and art goddess, I think... where I'd like to see if we can take care of the rat bite infections once and for all. But I know we've a lot to discuss with the lady, and wonder if we should press on a bit with you further before seeking help or contending with the various things we found underground..."
Quintus shakes his head, "As much as we'd love for you to join us yours and Khavel's first priority is to heal. Hopefully our contracted payment will be sufficient to cover the costs."
Niccan glances around as others add to the discussion, then back to Lady Devy. "A meal would be wonderful Lady. But we have to rake care of our hurting members first...."
"And clean this, mess off of us. We wouldn't want to bring this into your home." He lowers his voice so it only reaches her, "The body that we believe was Hunclay was mostly buried, and we feared that trying to dig it out could cause the rest of the building to collapse on top of us. Plus, there was a trap with a fire bomb. We believe the kobolds set it to finish the job. We were able to see the robe that the man was wearing. It was a bit fancy...." He describes the material of the sleeve.
Danton gives a smile at the Lady's comment. Of course that was the way if things, but perhaps when they discuss more about the situation they can get more leverage.
The whole thing was peculiar though. The wizard. The kobolds. A giant horde.
The implications of what could be happening worried him. There were stories about the area, but they were just that... stories. Right?
"I think regardless of what happens next we must regroup. There's something going on here and I would like to know what it is. There's much wealth to be organized and sorted, and without the whole story, I doubt we can find its rightful owners."
He accepts the offer.