Search Posts
When Sister Margoleine reaches the inn, she is distraught to hear the news. "And to think, I was out for a ramble with those ruffians and rebels terrorizing the countryside!" she reflects, shocked at her own narrow escape from the murderous Desnans. "Here I believed that the only danger to Aldencross was on the far side of the wall!"
Leaving the house, Tatya resumes her guise as Sister Margoleine. The herbalist is already known in the inn for taking walks in the countryside. She snatches up a few weeds and blossoms to carry with her as an alibi. "We oughtn't to enter town together," she warns. "When we get near, I'll leave the road and come in over the countryside as if I've been for a ramble."
"I've no real talent at drawing," Tatya sighs indolently, "and it would take an accelerant and time we don't have to get the proportions right. Still, fire ought to draw their attention ... and if Alazandaru is as clever as he thinks he is, he might give himself an alibi as a friendly neighbor trying to douse the flames if he's seen in the open."
Tatya summons a glowing, devilish-looking figure between herself and the watchtower and lets it cavort across the countryside.
Tatya nods and, with a sigh, resumes the appearance of Sister Margoleine. She places the herbs she purchased inside her cauldron and heads downstairs. Giving out the story that she's going out into the surrounding countryside looking for local herbs and seedpods she can preserve to take home with her to grow, she adds that her employer's guard Terrick is accompanying her to help assuage her fears. "I have never been so near the Watch Wall before," she explains truthfully. "The thought of what might be waiting on the other side, were not Balentyne here to protect the town.... You who are used to living here must think I am silly, but I feel safer with a strong sword-arm at my side."
Under the guise of Sister Margoleine, Tatya visits the herbalist once more, seeking a treatment for some disturbing warts her employer's brother Jed has developed....
As Margoleine, Tatya will return to the common room below and inquire about outlying farmsteads under the pretense of planning a nature walk: In which direction might they lie? Are any abandoned? Any local hermits or aging widowers living alone in the country whose absence might not be immediately noticed?
She tosses a sizeable packet down onto the table in reply. "I have the raw materials with which to resupply my store, but these rooms are poorly suited to serve as an alchemical lab. I would prefer greater privacy and fewer chances of interruption."
Tatya returns to the group's suite at the inn and looks disappointed to find only "Terrick" in the sitting room. "Oh. Has Bostarg not yet returned?"
"You seem to be a skilled herbalist. And obviously your taste in gardens is superb. I do know of a few ways to help extend the lives of plants while traveling, and could probably rig up a few cart side boxes to grow plants in. Assuming you're traveling by wagon of course. Not the best for a variety, but if you need so much for your employer, it would help to grow your own while traveling." "Margoleine" furrows her brow in "thought." "We arrived on foot," she muses, "but I believe their purpose is to purchase goods for resale; it is entirely possible we might have a wagon to carry their wares when we depart. I will raise the question with my employer, Master Valen, and might well return for your advice; thank you." With a smile, she takes her leave, supplies in hand, to return to the inn.
As he talks shop with the priestess, his eyes seem to occasionally wander. Realizing he's been caught looking, he quickly brings up the symbol, "Your pendant, it's very beautiful. The color compliments you well. Usually you only see those on Knights of the Allerion, or on those who've done a great service for the temple. Is there a story behind it?"
She looks down at the holy symbol with a smile, as if its presence had escaped her mind. "This is the only thing I have which was my father's. He and my mother died when I was very young, and I have little memory of them. I have been told he was a great man, though; it would not surprise me to know that his deeds had come to the attention of the temple."
Changing the subject from what is clearly a sensitive topic, she goes on, "I was just admiring your front garden, Master Valen, and resolving that if ever I have a stable home again I should grow something like it. Unfortunately, at the moment, I am tasked with the traveling life and keeping my companions in good health. Our journey here forced me to use several of the concoctions I brought prepared, and I am hoping that you have the stock to resupply me. My employer rarely sleeps, so full is his mind with thoughts of business, and finds need for a mild soporific."
Tatya browses over the apothecary's front garden, pondering the ends to which it could be turned in the proper hands and considering what she could cultivate if she had time and a stable homebase. With a sigh, she makes sure that Sir Balin's dead son's holy symbol is prominently displayed on her breast and, setting a demure look on her false face, enters the establishment. Opening the doorway, a bell rings and the inside of the shop has numerous shelves filled with a variety of small jars containing a variety of alchemical substances, as well as alchemical equipment itself. A moment after the bell rings, a man comes from the back room, removing thick gloves that he carefully sets aside as he approaches the counter. "How can I help you, miss?" Greetings," "Margoleine" smiles. "Master Valen, I presume? My party is just recently arrived in town, and at the inn they directed me here when I inquired about medicinal herbs and supplies."
Tatya wakes up in the morning and sticks her tongue out at "Margoleine's" face in the mirror. After breakfast, she reluctantly retreats to her room with her scorpion. The preparation process seems to be longer and more painful today than it has been, and she emerges pale and sick-looking, forcibly using her iron circlet to cover over the welts on her arm. After taking some time to recover from the ordeal, she plants a placid expression on her borrowed face and goes downstairs to inquire where a healer might find plants and herbs for medicinal purposes in town.
Morthos moves over near Tatya, his eyes boring into hers. "I find your lack of faith disturbing, dear Tatya." He then reaches up and strokes her cheek with his fingers until they wind up under her chin. Morthos then slightly lifts her face up as he leans in closer to where his mouth is inches from the side of her face, whispering into her ear. "I promise you this, dear Tatya: We. Will. Not. Fail. I will not allow it." He then slowly pulls away from her, forming a devilish grin that spells utter confidence. Morthos then reverts back to 'Terrick' and makes his way back to the window, peering out like he does. "Margoleine" narrows her eyes and glares at the back of the arrogant man as he moves away to the window. Simpleton. His narcissism will be our undoing.
As Morthos spends time looking out the window as 'Terrick', he turns and takes a few steps away from it and paces. "Patience, dear Tatya, patience. Our time will come. I confess, I am not accustomed to such subterfuge. It is a slow way of accomplishing our goals, true, but this is Bostarg's game. It has yet to fail us and so we shall play it out until it does." "When it does," Tatya replies testily, "it will be too late; we will already have failed."
Like the halfling -- well, the real one, anyway -- Tatya senses no call to go out and mingle with the doomed townsfolk. To her mind, the more limited the party's interaction with the village, the fewer opportunities to slip up and fall under suspicion. Her presence proves no balm to the lonely Aedorn, however, as she shows no propensity to be good company, sitting in silence and tapping her foot impatiently. "The days on the ship were more bearable than this," she complains after a while. "At least we were getting somewhere!"
"Margoleine" removes the tiny wicker cage that houses Tatya's familiar from a pocket and lays it down on the table. Seeming to draw breath a little more easily with the scorpion not physically on her person, she sighs and glances out the window down onto the street of the village. "What do you suppose they are doing down there, mingling with the sheep?" she asks Aedorn and Alazandaru. "Why are we wasting time here? Our goal is Balentyne."
Aedorn's eyes follow the gnome as he leaves, then glances over at Tatya. Laughing nervously, he shrugs. "I honestly didn't see that coming. Who would've thought a bunch of hardened warriors like them would be such prudes? It's not like having a bit of fun with the local help would endanger our mission - if anything, it'd just establish us as normal folk with normal desires. I understand not wanting to draw undue attention, but I wasn't gonna hurt the lass!" Tatya gives the halfling a brittle smile. "Undoubtedly. But unless you are inviting her in for a chat about justice and valor, it is hardly something you would do in the company of a priestess of the Inheritor. Sneaking away and hiring the attentions of a professional, on the other hand, is precisely the kind of hypocrisy one might expect of a respectable templegoer. Do try to look conflicted afterwards."
Tatya gives Aedorn a sour glance at his crude comment to the serving girl, either unpleased at the idea of sharing a room with a lecherous halfling or offended that he has never found her worthy of remarking on; possibly both. After "Jonas" has dismissed the girl, she suggests, "A traveling performer with an invitation within the fortress? If he were to be waylaid and replaced...."
"Margoleine" summons a smile and a nod for the innkeeper when he directs her to Father Niven and the temple. Must be sure to avoid the priest, she tells herself. Given the slightest cause for suspicion, he'll be sure to find me out. A real smile doesn't come until they are shown to the suite. It has been too many days of sleeping in the open on the deck of the Frosthamer since the last time she had the comfort of a roof and a bed. The arrival of hot stew is even more welcome. "Bless you, child," the false priestess smiles at the girl. |
