Kreed laughs, a good, loud, exuberant laugh at Kairon's insult exchange. You don't have a whole lotta sense do you priest? You think I got this job or kept it because I send my jacks to every little errand needs doin', 'specially when a good number were too sick to do anything!? No, I lead here, because I get results, and I make profits, and that's what keeps the whole damn world goin' round s'far as I can tell. You walk through town ever? There's a big fat river runnin' right by it. There's plenty o' fresh water around, people just need to not be too lazy to get it and put it to a boil. He pauses for a second then, as Kairon stares him deep in his azure eyes, not the least bit scared or intimidated, he retorts. Might be the people deserve better. I reckon people everywhere think they deserve better 'n what they got, but right now, here, in this place, I'm what they got, like it or not. I'd be careful about how you spout off at the mouth too, cause a lot o' stuff comin' out o' yer face at the moment sounds an awful lot like sedition. I've locked up men for less, but your hunter friend there is right. I owe you somethin', consider me not lockin' you up your reward. As Kairon turns to leave making his comment about the stench in the air, Kreed looks at Payden and the guards circled around him and mutters, Seems to me things just started smellin' a whole lot better just now. His men all laugh under their breath at the thinly veiled insult.
Who knew Baradim would be the party face!? ;D
Baradim's words, for whatever reason, seem to carry some weight and traction with the Gavel. He paces back and forth looking at his massive map of the Darkmoon wood, scratching the scruff of unshaven stubble on his chin. When he finally looks up, he looks only at Baradim. You are right of course. He says, and the tone in which he says it makes it feel like it pains him to do so. Perhaps all of his bluster and command was only to save face with his underlings? A man of authority must at least continue the guise of being in charge of all things, after all. Fine, keep the writ. Smoke out whomever is behind this and bring me their head. As to Brookman's well, I'll send out a message and see if any of the jacks volunteer. If they do, I'll set them to replacing Deldrin and his men. Thuldrin pauses here, and then looks at Kairon. I'd ask how you know about my search for the book, priest, but I'm certain I'd get only lies or half-truths. Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you, but the fey are the enemies of everything I do here. Brownies, pixies, satyrs, and worse, have been hampering our production since we moved here. An ancient proverb from the East says a man must know his enemy. I'm trying to do just that. If there can be no diplomatic solution with these fey, and believe me, I've tried parlance more than a half dozen times; Syntira's ambassadors are cold and staunch on the best of days. No, diplomacy has failed, therefore I look for every advantage. If these creatures have a weakness, I must find it, and exploit it. He pauses again, looks down at his map, over at Payden, and then back at the group. Is there anything else then? If not, please, by all means, find the hidden menace. Don't be surprised if the road you travel leads to Syntira, the nymph queen of the wood, and to death. She is not a creature to be trifled with, and she would wipe this whole town from the face of Golarion if she but had the power to do so.
Having decided that approaching Sharvaros Vade, which would first require getting past his walls and gates, without rock solid evidence is a terrible idea, the party makes their way back to town, up to The Perch. Thanks to a certain writ, and no lack of angry stares from some rather deadly looking warriors and magic-users the entire party is finally lead back into the Lumber Consortium's headquarters. Kreed, Payden, and several well armed guards are all taking up occupancy in the large circular room. Before anyone can even say anything, Kreed addresses you all. Before somebody erupts in a spout of supposedly righteous fury, he says looking right at Dolok, who, funnily enough looks very much like a volcano about to blow. Let me assuage your fears and let you know that I've already sent a missive to Vamros asking that he take a second look at his evidence, in the light of your accounts. He waves a hand dismissively encompassing the entire group, then continues. Payden's told me what the word about town is, and by that word I'd say the Consortium owes you something. The way Kreed says "something" makes it sound very much like his letter to Vamros is exactly all the payment the Consortium is willing to give for your services, which is rather ironic, considering, according to what you were told, the Consortium, aka Kreed, was pretty much behind locking Laurel up in the first place, as some kind of scapegoat to placate some angry voices of dissention. I'm certain knowing that Laurel was actively gathering ingredients for the cure, and that that cure was ultimately given away for free, will sway his ruling on her case. It's possible she'll be let out before the formal hearing on Oathday. It seems, by this little, seemingly prepared, speech that Kreed believes he has already addressed whatever it was you sought by coming to him, but he doesn't close there. I'll have that writ back now. It's a statement not a question. Seems to me you've done the work it was written for, and my guards have more pressing concerns than playing wetnurse to a bunch of city errand-boys and their tag-alongs.
How's that for getting your dander up?!
Payden lunges at Dolok, and his regulars draw swords, when he fires off his mouth and his magic, but Kreed calls them back. Stop! He says, perhaps to Teedum, perhaps to Dolok, perhaps to both. He then stands straight up, taking his hands off the map, and chuckles just a bit. That's good Dolok. It's just that kind of fire we'll need to help the illustrious envoy from Sarenrae's church in Almas get rid of this disease. When Thuldrin says the word illustrious it positively reeks of sarcasm. Just remember, the sooner you find a cure, the sooner you can go back to helping a healthy Master Figueroa mend and sharpen blades. Kreed then turns around and faces the envoy, reaching in his pocket he pulls out a thick papyrus scroll, stepping towards the envoy he hands the document to Kairon. Here's your document. Look it over. It's got the Consortium seal, and my signature. With it you'll be able to move freely throughout the town, and any Consortium employees will help you to the best of their ability, except where it puts them in danger. Looking over the document proves it to be a true writ of passage and aid, indeed, with a wax seal of the axe and broken circle of the Lumber Consortium, and signature line that reads: "by order of Gavel Thuldrin Kreed." Having already had such a writ in his pocket, it seems as though Kreed knew such a document would be needed, but was waiting to be asked for it before he would actually produce it.
Kreed turns his tall narrow frame back to looking at the map, and pauses for a longer moment than seems appropriate. Now, as to your questions about forays into the woods. The woods are old, ancient by any civilization's records. There are dangers and foul things that cannot be planned for, and sometimes it seems that the woods rebel against our presence. Any foray into the woods by humans has the potential to cause... He pauses again. a reaction, by those within that are not happy about our work. He brushes another gathering of dust off of a part of the map. You have my permission to enter the woods, yes, but I am not responsible, nor will my men be, for any retaliation the woods sees fit to bring for your intrusion. If you meet a foe you cannot defeat, don't expect to find quarter among my lumberjacks. If you bring a monster into one of my cutyards, my men will keep themselves safe, if that means sacrificing you to the woods' anger? He turns around again, and levels a stare right at the three members of the envoy, each in turn. So be it.
If that is all gentlemen? I'd ask you to respect my time. Take Dolok, and go. As you say, He looks directly at Lunarinus. My profit margins aren't getting any bigger as you stand around.
Thuldrin takes a moment or two before answering, looking from Dolok to his right hand man, Payden, and then back at the envoy. Lady Cirthana understands Falcon's Hollow very well. He says, and then begins to walk around the room, talking, seemingly to everyone and no one. His eyes turn to the envoy occasionally, but otherwise he seems intent on looking a the map.
Blackscour is both the name of the fungus and the disease it causes. The gods only know what caused it to turn up in our town's only well, but I have not, as yet, had the men or materials to spare in destroying and rebuilding the well. Which is what both Laurel and Cirthana have decided is necessary to clear the taint. The Consortium has a quota of lumber it must meet each month or forfeit profits. He says, as if explaining why fresh drinking water weren't a top priority is just that easy. As for an infirmary, the Valers are hardy folk, and they tend to keep to their own, in sickness and in health. Some have turned to Laurel for folk remedies and old witch's brews. He chuckles at that. I wondered, then, as I do now, if Laurel might have something to do with it all, seeing as she remains perfectly healthy, and her business has near quintupled in the past month. When he says those words he looks directly in Kairon's eyes. I'm guessing she'll also find a way to profit from the cure. You'll need her aid as well, no doubt, but I wouldn't trust her. Thuldrin pauses a moment and leans down to inspect his massive map, brushing some dust off an area of trees. As for my "permissions" they are granted. I'm starting to lose otherwise healthy and hale Jacks to this bloody ailment, and that is making meeting our quotas harder and harder. Not to mention it was just brought to my attention this morning that our only blacksmith in town, Master Figueroa, has begun to show symptoms. I need sharp blades on my men's axes and saws, and a sick blacksmith won't be doing our business any good. When Kreed mentions Figueroa he looks directly at Dolok, and smiles a rather wicked-seeming grin.
As to entering the woods. Should that become necessary for whatever reason, I'd ask only that you check with my cutyard boss Jarlben Trookshavits at our main camp at the wood's edge before entering. Sometimes people's forays into the woods have lead to he pauses for a moment considering the best word, unfortunate circumstances.
Thuldrin takes a step toward the envoy then, seeming, finally, to be examining them for their character. I would ask one favor, and offer a bit of advice. Take Dolok here with you. With his master ill, he will most likely want very desperately to help find a cure. That and seek the aid of Baradim and Chillel, two Valers with some experience in the woods. I believe their aid could be invaluable in ridding us of this wretched illness. He nods after looking scrutinously at each member of the envoy, then returns to his position at the table, placing both hands on the edge of the table and leaning over to stare at the map. After a moment, seeing that you are still there, he looks up at Dolok, but speaks loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the building.
Still here? Was there something else?
The stone floor of the foyer of the Consortium's headquarters is draped in a massive bearskin rug, the head of the dead animal looks to be at least five hands in width, with teeth like daggers. An imposing welcome mat, to say the least. The envoy from Almas is once again stopped by two guards, dressed just the same as those at the outer wall. Checking Lunarinus' papers again, they wave them into the huge circular room to the north. Bright natural sunlight fills the room from a ring of glass that circles the entire conical ceiling of the room. In the center of the room sits a large oak table, on which sits a map of the wood.
The Consortium's map is massive, measuring a full five feet by three feet, and covering the table. Anyone in the room may take a look at the spoilered link below.
Surveying the room shows a tall thin man dressed in fine clothes with only a hatchet at his side, flanked by Payden Teedum, and two of the sellswords that he appeared with earlier at Jak's inn. Against the back wall, somewhat in shadow, is Dolok Pickering, the fiery-haired man that made the envoy's acquaintance earlier as well. He is not bound, but it appears as though he is some kind of prisoner nonetheless, or perhaps is just awaiting permission to leave? As soon as you step into the circle of light, the tall thin man addresses you promptly.
Good morrow friends. I am Gavel Thuldrin Kreed, acting mayor, and leader of Falcon's Hollow. He says with seemingly over-enthusiastic friendliness. Dolok here was just informing me of your arrival, and your offer of aid for our recently afflicted city. I bid you welcome. How can the Lumber Consortium be of help to you?
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