Baseil Sawyer's page

"Well done, Councillor," Marikel says loudly enough for those nearby to overhear. "Your discovery of this traitor may have saved countless lives. We'll be sure to bring Iomedae's justice to him."

A muscle in Sawyer's cheek twitches slightly, but he maintains his smile as he shakes the priest's hand.

"Now that Miss Zola is safe and you've both had some time to recover, I wish to pursue this Gorewillow fellow and bring him to justice. Any information you or Miss Zola can give me on where to start my search would be of great assistance. Did he ever mention a troll associate? Or the Mindspins? Understand, any help provided may aid our success."

"I knew the man only as a prospector," Sawyer insists primly. "It was strictly a business proposition; I would hardly have made small talk with the fellow. And I don't think it's appropriate for anyone to interrogate a child who has just gone through what mine has. I want her to put the whole thing behind her, not dredge up foul memories...."

Marikel takes a deep breath, and heads towards the Sawyer abode.

Baseil answers the knock at his door. A look of intense displeasure crosses his face when he sees Marikel, quickly to be masked by a broad, insincere smile. "Why, ...Padre," he greets him, the familiar title used by the townsfolk palpably awkward falling from his lips, "won't you come in?"

The councilor twists his mouth into a tight smile. "You must do as you see fit, of course." He steps aside and gestures toward the stairs up to the main floor of the house.

"Very well, priest," Sawyer replies icily. "You're asking me to trust in 'your word,' and I have little choice but to do so. But if anything happens to my daughter because you've let this miscreant walk free, you should know that I will not rest until the church of Iomedae is drummed out of Trunau forever."

Sawyer's cheek twitches. "That... that... half-breed is the treacherous one," he hisses.

Sawyer comes to the broken-through wall eagerly, holding up a lamp, but his eyes open wide with shock when he sees the group in company with Gorewillow. "You -- You're in league with him! You've been working with him all along!" he accuses.

"This wall has been sealed since before I was born," Sawyer answers with certainty. "If there's another way in from the cliffside, I'd think Gorewillow could have used it rather than harassing my family."

"As soon as I was sure he was gone and wasn't going to double back," Sawyer says, "I sent for you. He didn't go right away. First came the arguing and the threats; then we had to find the right place to ... 'renovate.'" He gestures sardonically at the hole smashed in his wall.

"He ... he was alone...," Sawyer hesitates. "He said something about meeting up with an associate in the mine."

"I ... thank you," Sawyer manages with a forced smile. "If you come with me, I'll show you the basement."

Downstairs, the basement is in disarray, boxes, crates, and old furniture cleared away in haste and without care from one wall, where the plaster and lath has been messily smashed through, revealing a dark, rough-hewn tunnel.

Alicia continues to eye Sawyer suspiciously. "I remember seeing a copy of those charts in the basement of the flophouse all those half-orcs lived in. I wonder how many others were made...?"

Sawyer bestows on Alicia a gaze both cold and quizzical. "I'm sure I wouldn't know. But I've told you what he's after. There's no need for maps; you just head straight south, as far as the mine goes, and ignore the side tunnels. The tomb would be at the newest workings, where the excavation stopped."

"No one. At least no one I'm aware of in town. We didn't even know about it. As I said, the mine was sealed off after the ... incident: caved in from the cliff side and walled off from the basement side. There's no indication in the family history that anyone investigated any further."

"This Gorewillow claims to be a scholar. Tomb robber, more like," he scoffs. "But he said he found writings from before Trunau was founded that indicated that Bloodmarch Hill was the site of this giant Uskroth's tomb."

Scratching his head in thought, he looks to the healer and then to the others. Sighing, he turns back to Sawyer. "Alright, so this piece of garbage is down in the tunnels, correct? Any idea where these tunnels lead? And do ya know how many he's got that's part of his lot? Oh! and another thing: what's his name? Who in the blast are we dealin' with? He doesn't live here in town, does he?"

"Of course not!" Sawyer seems disgusted that anyone would even suspect a Trunauan capable of such perfidy. "It's a half-orc from Freedom Town. His name is Skreed Gorewillow, or at least that's what he told me."

"Do you still have the maps?"

"No," he admits.

"Listen, what's he's down there for...," Sawyer insists, "it's not the tin. I thought it was until today, but.... The official story about the closing of the mine was that the ore was played out, but it wasn't. That's why I took the chance at reopening the works. There was still ore down there, but as they were following the streak, they dug into ... something else. Something that ... raised the dead. A man died down there and then ... reanimated and attacked the other workers. The Chief Defender at the time advised the works be shut down and the word spread that there was no more tin, to dissuade others from disturbing whatever's under the Hill."

"I warned Gorewillow to avoid that part of the mine ... but he already knew. That's what he was after all the time. He said there's some kind of tomb down there, a giant's tomb, with a curse that turns would-be tomb robbers into its protectors. There's something he wants out of it ... Uskroth's Eye, he says. I don't know what it is, but that's what he's after."

"I'm trying to tell you!" he snaps. "When I returned to my home late last night, that man was here! Thanks to your ... intervention, he was unable to access the mine from the tunnels, but I had provided him with the old maps; he knew there was a entrance from the basement of this house and demanded I let him go in that way. You know I sent my daughter, Zola, away before the orcs attacked; she was meant to go to Lastwall, but he told me his associates had intercepted her and were holding her. He showed me this." He drops an earring on the table. "He said her ear would be next, if I didn't cooperate -- or if I informed the Council."

"When I returned to my home late last night.... No, I must begin further back. Several months ago, I was approached with a business proposition. A man was interested in the old tin mine, wondering if it was really played out. He offered to do all the work, provide the men and the equipment, in exchange for a share of any ore that was recovered. It's not common knowledge, but, well...," his lips twitch again, "my family is not as well off as it once was. With the costs of keeping up the house, food and clothing, and nothing coming in ... well, that tin money we've been living off of for decades is just about gone. It was an opportunity to be grasped at: to take the chance of realizing more ore, without putting myself or my family at risk ... and without my fellow councilors being apprised of my straitened means." He gives the party a baleful glance, at least one reason for his insistence on secrecy now revealed.

Sawyer ushers the group in impatiently and then quickly closes the door behind him. He looks noticeably worse than when the party saw him in Ivory Hall last night: his face drawn and sallow and dark circles heavy under his eyes.

"Howdy Councillor. I'm assuming things are pretty desperate if you've come to us for help."

Marikel gestures to his rag-tag companions.
"I want you to know that I will help but you have to play straight with us. Are we clear?"

At Marikel's question, a muscle twitches near the corner of his mouth, in what could be a suppressed grimace. "Crystal, your reverence. I have never concealed my distrust of your coreligionists' motives in Trunau; however, for all that Lastwall may be a bunch of overreaching busybodies, your fellows also have the reputation of putting your lives on the line to defend the innocent, and it is in that vein that I approach you now."

"Indeed," Sawyer responds with an unpleasant sneer. "If there are any in Trunau seeking to weaken the town, let us devote every resource available to rooting them out."

"What are you implying?" Sawyer demands. "My daughter took advantage of an opportunity to travel. It has nothing to do with ... with anything else."

"I've never heard anything so preposterous!" Sawyer snaps. "Trunau has fended off many an orc attack before and will do so again. We live in hostile territory. There's no reason to cook up some cockamamie theory that will only serve to upset people!"

"What are you suggesting?" Sawyer snaps.

"They stole them!" Sawyer erupts. "Waylaid a caravan! Isn't it simpler to deduce that thieving savages stole some supplies than to invent some wild conspiracy?"

"Send a squadron out in the orc-infested darkness and weaken the defenses of the town in her hour of need?" Sawyer barks. "Absolutely not!"

Alicia's glare seems to draw the councilor's attention, just in time to overhear the end of Marikel's report.

"'Conspirators?'" he repeats with a chuckle, as he moves toward the fireplace. "Orcs aren't known for clever plans, I'm afraid, particularly these barbarians of the Twisted Nail. I hardly think there's more to this than some overambitious shaman stirring things up in the Mindspins. In any event, Trunau has successfully repelled their attack; it will be years before the tribe recovers from their losses and dares to think outside their mountain peaks again."

There's a Mwangi half-elf (I'm guessing).

Oh, and they haven't actually added the race tags yet, so even if there were an elf, it wouldn't get picked up the filter.