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"When you meet with these guys and get them talking, try to get them to spill the details of their contract with the Redshields. I don't know about you, but I'm curious why a bunch of merchants would be interested in killing dragons that aren't even in their trade territory. I think the key detail will be how the Redshields are stipulating the division of the dragons' treasure once the job is done."
Sapphira waylays you before you can speak with the purported dragon hunters for yourselves. "They don't know how to keep a secret worth a damn, that's for sure," Sapphira tells you in private. "They're dragon hunters, by their own admission. Not even freelance, either. After a couple rounds of free drinks, I even got them to reveal that they're in the employ of the Redshields. They've been contracted by the merchant house to hunt down and kill any dragons they find in the area. "I haven't gotten them to spill the details of their contract yet, or if there are particular dragon sightings they are pursuing. I've already gotten their tongues loosened. You might be able to get them to keep talking, especially if they feel like big shots who've earned the attention of the local lord."
"Conquering Galt is one thing. From what I've heard, the place was a wretched mess with no standing army to speak of," Sapphira chimes in. "The River Kingdoms, on the other hand, is a hornets' nest waiting to be shaken. If the warlords and other powers in the region learn that Taldor might be invading, you'll suddenly see the River Kingdoms unified in purpose like never before. "It especially helps that the entire width and breadth of the Kingdoms already sits between us and Taldor's armies like a buffer zone."
"I have been prying information out of the princess and her friend, slowly but surely. That Lotheed woman is quite paranoid and vigilant, so it has been hard to make inroads. "So far, I have learned that Grand Prince Pythareus, the military commander who has maneuvered his way onto the throne, has halted his armies' advances now that they have secured Galt. Undoubtedly, he wants to shore up their supply lines in the newly conquered territory before advancing further. "I also managed to get our exiled noblewomen to share that Pythareus will probably want a few weeks to tour Taldor as a victorious hero, having reclaimed one of their empire's lost holdings. Besides stoking his ego, the noblewomen also suspect he will use this to bolster national pride and drive up recruitment for the army, since holding Galt and moving onto the River Kingdoms will take significant manpower."
"I've also heard about more sightings in the swamps to the south from the local hunters, coming in to drink away their wages. Rather than trolls, it sounds like there's definitely a tribe of lizardfolk dwelling around one of the rivers or lakes. Best case scenario, they might be a good buffer or sentry against any Taldan incursions northward. Worst case scenario, they've already clashed with the Whitehollows and might be hostile towards outsiders. "If you don't have any other priorities, you might want to track them down and settle the situation."
I would like to have all intelligence we have on this house confirmed. I need to know the facts before we judge them. If slavery is how they earn their coins, then there will be no home for them here. When word spreads to all corners of the river kingdoms, there will be no home for them anywhere around here as well. "Don't need to tell me twice," Sapphira says proudly. "Finding ways to foil these businessmen could be very profitable. Now, I know what you all are probably thinking about the money they've made from their schemes - I think the term is 'ill-gotten gains' - and how it might be somehow tainted by their deeds, but the right thing to do is to reclaim the money and put it to good use. Countering the bad they've done by doing some good, right?"
"I'll also keep all my eyes and ears open for any lingering activity by Lamashtu worshipers in the region. They creep me out. My mother once told me about a cousin of ours who set herself up as some sort of idol or queen for a group of Lamashtan. It didn't end well for anyone." Beneath her hooded cloak, your medusa enforcer gives an involuntary shudder, reflecting upon the story.
"Materialistic is one word for them," Sapphira replies to Bydar's contribution about the Redshields. "They do business in a lot of the shady goods that you'd expect to be flowing in and out of the River Kingdoms - poisons, pesh, weapons, and so on. "However, their biggest and most profitable trade seems to be in bodies." Sapphira explains that the Redshields seem to be involved in slaving operations running through Numeria, Razmiran, Molthune, and parts of Brevoy - although they like to label it as 'indentured servitude' to maintain a facade of geniality. "In regards to their work with the Technic League, they're definitely also using this trade route to export - or smuggle - star metal and strange technology out of Numeria. I don't know what they might be exporting out of Razmiran. I've also heard rumors that they're mainly importing food, weapons, and other supplies to the crusaders in Mendev as a cover for exporting something from the Worldwound. I really don't want to think about what that could possibly be. "In short, the Redshields will delve into any business that will reap huge profits. I can't even figure out what they're doing with all this money. They're hoarding it like a bunch of damn dragons."
"I've been tapping those noblewomen for information," Sapphira informs Lord Christian and company upon their next meeting. "They've pretty much been debating whether or not they have any chance at retaking the Taldan throne. Frankly, it seems like quite the longshot to me. For now, they're trying to decide whether Charis is a safe long-term base of operations for them. The exiled princess of Taldor could be a very powerful political ally; granted, she'd also be a very dangerous one. I can try to persuade them to stay or leave at your discretion." Sapphira reports that she has also done some digging into the Redshield merchant house, since they have been of interest to you. "They don't have the reach or power of the Aspis Consortium, but they've quickly built up a lot of wealth and influence in just a couple decades," she begins. "They fill in the gaps between each of Brevoy's great houses, acting as middle men since the nobles usually can't play nicely with each other. They've also taken stakes in the houses' businesses in lieu of payment, especially in their early years. Now they've extended their range into Numeria, the River Kingdoms, Razmiran, and Mendev. They pulled out from Galt right before the Taldan invasion, so I think someone tipped them off. "All in all, they're pretty good at maintaining a reputable front to disguise where they're really making their money."
"Ooo, I'm going to have fun with these two," Sapphira coos. She rises to go introduce herself to the noblewomen and learn about them, but she pauses and tarries to mention one last piece of information.
"While on the subject of dragons, I also heard another interesting account. A gang of bandits, apparently made up of Galtans driven north by the Taldan invasion, attempted to set up shop south of the Kamelands, past the rivers feeding into the Candlemere. "I say attempted because they were massacred before they could cause any damage - massacred by a dragon with coppery scales," she says, sounding amused. "While one dragon has decided to court Lord Christian, it seems the other has decided to become a vigilante and police our borders."
Sapphira sighs when she sees you enter her inn soon after the Taldan noblewomen. "As soon as I saw them, I was looking forward to questioning those two newcomers," your medusa spymaster says after joining you at a table, nodding towards the exiled princess. "Obviously I'll give you priority, but I hope we can finish this before the birdman jumps on the chance to chat up those noblewomen before I can." She spots the bottle of wine you carry. "The hunter woman found you quickly? Good." You can practically hear her smiling under her hood. "I've been laughing about this off and on all day. I've had to step into the back just to keep from making a foolish spectacle of myself. "The one who dropped off that bottle - your 'secret admirer' - she took the form of a tall, muscular Ulfen or Iobarian woman. Sandy hair. Small but sharp nose. Now, I say she took this form because I know it was all an illusion. She wasn't fooling me with her disguise. "That copper dragon you helped seems to have developed a fondness for our lordship," she nods at Christian, her cutting smile finally peeking out from beneath her heavy hood.
"Of the three spies we intercepted, one was from Pitax, one was from Daggermark, and the third...we couldn't actually get anything from him. The others either carried evidence that betrayed them or we got them to let slip their allegiances. The third man was actually halfway decent at his job. If I had to guess, I'd say he was from Mivon. But like I said, it's just a guess." When you mention your latest encounter with Lamashtan cultists, your enforcer generates a sound akin to a sigh and a growl blended together. "I actually naively hoped we were done with those wanks," she says, exasperated by their continued nuisance. "While you were gone, I also pursued all the leads we gathered about Delphine, that woman who tried to recruit me in Pitax for some Lamashtan coven. After speaking with or observing just about everyone woman who's come to town, I can say with certainty that she is not here now. "If there are multiple Lamasthan cells active in the region, she may be a link between them, acting as a recruiter." She accepts the proffered hairs, agreeing to do what she can with them to learn about the enemy. Lord Christian: When you ask her about her happiness, the medusa groans again.
"Ugh, I hate philosophical questions like that. I got plenty of those from talking with that Vudran priestess." Despite her objection, she actually seems to sincerely contemplate the question. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am happy," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice, as though she wasn't expecting the answer herself. "My old measure used to be just whether or not I was still alive. Hells, death certainly found enough of my sisters. That's why I didn't want to follow their path, all claws and hissing and running afoul of monster hunters and the like. "Incidentally, that's also why I didn't take up with Delphine and her Lamashtans, if that's what you're concerned about. Even if she didn't creep me out, I knew that if I threw my lot in with them, I'd meet my end by either some adventurer's sword or upon their own sacrificial altar. "I've got a business, I've got some money, I've got a position of power...I've got a pet bird," she adds with a teasing tone, craning her neck to look around for Mr. Pink. "I guess I got what I wanted, after all," she says, allowing herself to sound wistful. "Although I don't think I need to be 'cured.' I'm not some boil that needs to be lanced. I like having my special defense, like a favorite dagger hidden under a garter. "Maybe some sort of enchanted lenses or goggles? I could keep them on when I need to look someone in the eye without it being the final time. That could be a fair compromise."
Bydar:
The Lotheeds are a family of minor Taldane nobility. They are most notable for holding the County of Meratt in northwestern Taldor. Syretia:
The Lotheeds are Taldane nobility with their highest ranking member being Count Bartleby Lotheed, who governs the County of Meratt from the town of Lotheedar in northwestern Taldor. The family is known for producing more than a few prodigies in magic and alchemy.
Martella is a black sheep of the family, being the half-Qadiran offspring of an affair by the late Count Mercater Lotheed.
"I had shortstack and the birdman collect the accounts and report them to me," Sapphira announces when Syretia inquires about the creatures sighted to the south. "The descriptions don't match up. It sounds like some of them have been seeing trolls, while others sound like they're describing lizardfolk. Given where these sightings have been coming from, either one is plausible. Hells, I might even wager than both are correct."
"They described a giant rock shaped like an elk by way of landmark, so they probably meant that temple of Erastil," Sapphira clarifies. "If the temple is actually further to the north, then it's little surprise these sots couldn't find it. "They didn't know exactly what kind of work was being offered. They speculated that it might be moving some kind of contraband. I suspect their information was second or third hand at best, so the details are well muddled."
"I've had Mr. Pink and my new...marmalade suppliers keeping their eyes open to spot what I might miss, rare though that may be," Sapphira reports. "So far, the Whitehollows have not been brazen enough to come into town after their last encounter with me. "However, I have overheard from some of the woodcutters and trappers that visit my establishment, especially after they've had a few too many, speak about someone offering work at a hidden temple in the forest to the west. And to think, some of our customers accuse us of watering down the drinks. We don't water down the drinks. Not if we want information from you," she adds with a smile that creeps out from beneath her hood.
Sapphira looks over the notes proffered by Syretia. She scans over them for only a few moments before, with a groan, she asks, "What in the Pit am I looking at?" She listens to the sorceress' explication, her exasperation slowly metamorphosing into curiosity tempered by confusion. "Why would I want to strip myself of my greatest defense?" she muses with a wave of her hand. "Even if this is only made available to my closest allies - which, I suppose, would be you and the rest of the dragon lord's coterie - where is the benefit? I get to show off my comely eyes?" ... Sapphira throws up her hands and quickly dons her hood with a groan when Booker next enters. "What's the point in having the birdman as a face if everyone's just going to barge into my room anyhow?" The medusa's sarcasm melts away when Booker presents the silvery prize. Even though her eyes are hidden by her hood, Booker can plainly tell how intently she is assessing the Desnan icon. "Yes, this will do nicely. When can your proliferate kin make their first delivery?" ...
Lord Christian's rhetoric is staunchly backed by the party's deeds, and a touch of divine blessing. The grumbling quiets, the bitter fires of vengeance are squelched, and the survivors of Nivakta's Crossing are entirely mollified. They accept the wisdom of sparing the dragon, the beneficence of guiding him to the path of redemption, and the sheer practicality of having an indebted dragon as an ally. In fact, in the coming days, Sapphira makes you aware of a new thread of gossip weaving its way through Charis. "You should know," she says, struggling to suppress her laughter as she explains the situation to the party, "people have begun to say that if Lord Christian is not Choral the Conqueror reborn, he's at least outdone him by keeping three dragons on leashes rather than simply two."
"I think I caught one of those Taldan rivals of yours - what was their name, again? Oh, yes. Whitehollow - trying to blend in and gather information," Sapphira tells Brandt, pouring him a drink at her bar. "I could've put a crossbow bolt in his back, but I figured you'd want him alive. Unfortunately, when I approached him, he ran like a frightened rabbit. Again, I could've stopped him like, ahem, a stone, but I did not want to cause a...commotion in the middle of the village. "I'd suggest staying alert. I imagine the Taldan party will be trying subtle methods to undermine your authority." ..... Lord Christian is soon approached by Abbot Kara Ilarenika. The Pharasmin priestess is accompanied by a small crowd of her fellow survivors of Nivakta's Crossing. They eagerly await the announcement that the dragon whose rampage decimated their lives has been slain. This encounter leaves you relieved that Apothyl opted to part ways with you, at least for now, several miles before reaching Charis.
"I've heard the name 'Nettles' mentioned more than once around the tables in my establishment, so I made a point of investigating," Sapphira offers. "Davik Nettles. He was an engineer who retired from Brevoy and built a bridge across a narrow span of the Shrike. Apparently, he made a handsome living charging tolls to cross the bridge - at least until the bandits who previously dominated this area paid him a visit. I've been told that the bandits killed him, burned his house down, and tossed his body in the river. "It seems there used to be numerous sightings of Nettle's undead remains patrolling the river and guarding his bridge. However, ever since the bandits were put down, those sightings have tailed off. I suspect that with his killers slain, his bones now rest. Of course, I can't promise that he won't make an appearance if you cross his bridge."
As you make your preparations, you are approached by your enforcer. "Evidently I now serve as your postmaster, as well, for this message arrived for you," she says, offering a folded piece of parchment. Once someone accepts the letter, she adds, "This was also left with it." Sapphira holds up a single, roughly diamond-shaped scale. It is a dull copper color, the size of your palm. "I continue to dislike how your new friend is able to slip past me. She's making me look incompetent at my job," Sapphira glowers. The Letter: Friends,
I've observed that you are making preparations to set out. Your timing is fortuitous. I've seen Mercifax fly back towards his lair in the mountains. Despite how he's tarnished, his behaviors remain familiar to me. From his flight posture, I recognize that he returns home to sulk. There he will likely remain for several days. There are two route towards his lair. One approaches from the east, from the direction of the Dunsward. This route is safer, but it will take you some time to arrive. In the meantime, he may depart or, worse still, notice your approach. The other is by way of Lake Silverstep. While this is a more direct route, it is much more dangerous. I will meet you soon, once you depart your village, and provide more information.
Sapphira listens to Booker's sales pitch as impassively as a statue. His offer of bringing back something from the party's travels, however, elicits a pleased smile upon the visible portion of her face. "You see, this is why I always thought my sisters and foremothers were foolish," she muses. "Why antagonize the adventurers, explorers, and would-be heroes when you can befriend them and earn your heart's desire that way?" She draws the proffered jar of marmalade closer and signals to Mr. Pink to bring some bread. "Since it seems our boss, Lord Christian, will soon be leading you and the rest of our mutual friends in a bit of dragonslaying, it's safe to assume that a literal hoard of wealth will likely be passing into our humble home here. Now, I wouldn't dream of expecting to have first pick of the spoils," she quips whilst spreading some marmalade upon a slice of rye. "Even though we are very much on the frontier, I still pride myself on being a woman of culture and taste. If there is a piece of clothing or jewelry among the dragon's hoard that particularly stands out, I would ask you to bring it back for me."
At dinner, held privately within the temporarily closed Scale and Feather, Sapphira reiterates what she told Syretia and Bydar when they visited earlier. "I was deeply unnerved when she quietly announced her identity and asked for her egg," Sapphira says about Apothyl. "I couldn't tell she was anything unusual when she walked in. I don't like being taken by surprise like that. "She explained the situation, but I didn't truly believe her until she provided some details that I knew could only have come from you. I swaddled the egg in a cloak one of the hunters left behind, and when I offered it to her, she snatched it and ran like an urchin stealing a loaf of bread. "Everything else has been painfully dull in your absence, otherwise. The arrival of those peasants from Nivakta's Crossing was the only other highlight, which is even more depressing now that I say it out loud. "Regarding that Temple of the Elk though...I've been questioning quite a few of the woodsmen who ply the Narlmarches. They say that a priest of Erastil by the name of Kavken has been tending it, restoring it. Without actually meeting him, I'd consider him highly suspect."
"Shall I have the birdman pour you a drink?" the hooded medusa asks any of the party who visit her at the Scale and Feather. "I know I sure needed one after your new friend stopped by to pick up her egg. "And before you ask: no, she's not still around. She scarcely spared ten minutes for the exchange before running off. I guess her human guise wasn't going to last long and she didn't want to cause a panic. Of course, she promised she would be watching and ready to help when you need her. I suppose I'm awfully paranoid to find the thought less than comforting." Brandt: You find Lira at a makeshift archery range, located a few hundred yards to the west of the inn, though well within sight of the huddle of buildings that make up your village. She is alone when you come upon her, trying to improve her skill as a hunter and guard.
"I'd forgotten just how dull the frontier can be," she says before you can get out a single word. "Even when some of the trappers and hunters got into moonshine-fueled arguments, they managed to make it uninteresting. I should've gone along with you and the lord, if only to catch a glimpse of the dragon I've been hearing about." Thus, she invites your explanation of the situation to the north. As she listens, though, her mood sours. "I take it back. I'm glad I didn't see the beast. Did it really rip the roofs clear off the houses?" She pauses and looks at the bow in her hands with uncertainty. "I'm guessing a simple thing like this wouldn't do a thing against such a menace?"
"Don't worry about me. I'm no victim," Sapphira replies to Brandt, although she does not sound insulted at all. "Deal with them as you will. The fate visited upon them won't hold back my ambitions." Sapphira heaves a sigh and pauses, her posture straightening as she seems clearly pleased with herself. "Anyway, I can also have Mr. Pink keep tabs on the people passing through the inn. Much to my surprise, he's a big draw. Locals and travelers alike seem keen to gawk at the 'big walking bird.' He's a good pair of eyes and ears, even if he's only one man." Brandt: Your domain remains small, with less than a thousand people inhabiting the entire barony so far. This spares you a hindrance in your present endeavor: there simply aren't that many people on the outskirts to observe. Under the long summer dusk, most of the people you see are hunters and trappers returning to town, or farmsteaders leading their animals in from the fields.
Everyone seems busy with their honest work, and you can't pick out signs of any suspicious behavior among them. If the cultists are lurking near your new home, they are not out tonight.
"I encountered Delphine in Pitax," Sapphira explains, putting venom upon both names. "I traveled to that wretched city when I first left home after resolving to find a company of explorers or adventurers to ally myself with. It was my misfortune to instead encounter that woman." The medusa pauses to remember the meeting. "In hindsight, I'm quite positive that she was also just a visitor to Pitax. I don't know where her true home might be, but if she's also been spotted in this region, it suggests a range of her operations. If I had to hazard a guess, she probably hails from one of the larger towns or cities in Brevoy."
Sapphira cycles through a range of emotions, albeit obscured by her hood and the dim light of the cellar, as she listens to Lord Christian's accounting of the past couple of days' events. "You act as though these kobolds mark the first time you've taken a gamble upon someone whom many might try to kill on sight," she quips with a wry smile. "Of course, they can't possible match me for style and skill, but hopefully they will prove useful allies, nonetheless." An awed quiet comes upon her, even if just for a few moments, when she is presented with the dragon egg. "Amazing," she breathes, clearly awed by the living treasure. "I can't even begin to estimate how much something like this could be worth. I'm not suggesting we sell it, so spare me your dirty looks. I mean that something like this could earn the favor of a powerful dragon - or at least spare us one's wrath. It's little surprise that you would want to keep it safe." Talk of the cultists elicits a shudder from your enforcer and spy. "When I came to the Stolen Lands, before I encountered Master Narthropple's party, there was a woman who tried to recruit me. Even before I saw that she wore the symbol of Lamasthu, there was much about her character that unnerved me. I'm no saint, but I'm no dunce, either. I knew better than to cast my lot in with her. Even if some bounty hunter or knight errant didn't come to slay the lot of us, I wouldn't trust her not to bleed me for her goddess." Another shudder wracks the medusa. "I don't know where she lurks or what company she keeps, but I can give you the name that she gave me: Delphine."
Brandt's mention of "talk behind closed doors" immediately seizes Sapphira's interest. She invites the party through the inn's backdoor, into the kitchen, and towards a hatch leading into a cellar. Much noise and merriment can be heard from the front room. "We're already quite popular with the local hunters and trappers," she explains, holding the hatch open with one hand and aiming her other hand's thumb towards the front. "I wasn't expecting to be accepting so many hides, pelts, and other animal bits as payment, but here we are." A newly hewn wooden ladder descends into the cellar, which still smells heavily of freshly dug earth. It remains half bare, containing only a small number of casks and crates. A single door bearing a sturdy iron lock sits in a niche against one wall. "Is this private enough? I could invite you into my room over there," she says, gesturing towards the locked door, "but it is rather small." She lifts a round wooden board that hitherto leaned against the earthen walls.
"It's all still very rustic and small, but it's a start."
Just before dawn, you break camp and part ways with the kobolds, who return into their home before the morning sun burns their eyes. You return home with your newfound precious cargo. After several hours of travel, you return by early afternoon. As if by serendipity, you find hooded Sapphira waiting for you, standing beside the inn on the northern edge of your small settlement. "Welcome back. How did it go?" she asks, eager to keep abreast of any new information in the area.
Syretia:
"My first contender for a name is 'The Scale and Feather,' using a feather weighed upon a set of scales as its emblem," Sapphira explains. "I have also been considering the admittedly less inspired 'Sapphire and Onyx.'"
She leans back in her chair, resting her chin upon her chest as she thinks. "Hmm, what else...I've also considered The Bottomless Well, The Cloak and Stagger, The Crow Bar," she punctuates this last one with a pause and unseen look that emphasizes how tongue-in-cheek it is. "I also came up with far too long of a list of names that are nothing but off-color innuendos."
Syretia: ”Oh, I wasn’t planning on being out here serving meals and pouring drinks,” Sapphira laughs. ”In fact, I was seriously considering recruiting your avian companion to be the ‘face’ of this establishment. He has the better blend of exoticism and...approachability. I would be more of a ‘silent partner,’ shall we say. I am much better at bookkeeping and negotiations, after all.”
Syretia: The inn is entirely yours. Though Cavan's commendable work stands complete, the inn is presently bereft of a keeper or even a name. Of course, that means there are no distractions or interruptions as you spread your books and papers across the table.
Or at least you expected no interruptions. Your solitude is broken when a cloaked figure, the hood drawn almost completely over their face, sits at your table without announcement or invitation. It takes a moment of puzzlement before you realize that it's Sapphira. "If you enjoy solitude, you may need to find a new refuge sooner rather than later," she says. "Unless you want a very unproductive inn. On that subject, I wanted to make a proposal." The medusa, already tapped to serve the barony as a sort of enforcer, folds her hands and leans forward. Although she disturbs your carefully arranged piles of documents in the process, she presents quite the figure of a merchant making a business pitch. "In lieu of installing any old body as innkeeper, or worse, recruiting someone unknown from the city, might I offer my services?" You can see Sapphira's predatory smile beneath the hem of her hood, and even without seeing her eyes, you can almost hear her wink. "I can guarantee that no troublemakers will be countenanced, so you don't need to worry about brawls spilling out into the street - once we have streets. Furthermore, this way I can assess visitors and newcomers as they arrive and gauge what sort of danger they may pose to your rule. If it sways your decision, I'll even let you and your companions have first go at naming the place, although I did have some ideas that were quite inspired, if I do say so myself. "So what do you say? Can I count on a charter from the lords and lady of Charis?"
"You assume correctly," she jauntily replies to Bydar. "Even if you swore that there was another hidden treasure room down there, I could not be convinced to return. I am satisfied with what I've come away with, and I happily leave the rest to you." Sapphira's lips briefly quiver as a thought crosses her mind, likely wondering if there could be another treasure room and potentially reconsidering her refusal. She does not revisit the issue, so presumably she reaffirms her decision. "If it's any comfort, I didn't encounter any other creatures down there besides those horned beasts," she continues. "I can't imagine any ancient traps remain down there, or else the brutes would have blundered into them long ago. And I question whether they even had enough brain behind that singular eye to concoct their own traps."
"Don't forget, you also have this stronghold here," Sapphira says, raising her arms to gesture towards the ancient stone walls. "When you eventually build some kind of fortress or castle on these foundations - and you'd be foolish not to - you can give it whatever name you'd like. I think a powerful name like Castle Tilekdivyth has a certain charm." She shoots a disarming smile towards Bydar.
Mr. Pink: Sweeping the perimeter with your keen avian eyes, you notice that the two of you sit at the edge of the camp. Perhaps expecting a private conversation - or, at worst, a confrontation - she led you to an out-of-the-way place where you wouldn't be interrupted.
A pleased smile cuts across her obscured face. "That rule is quite to my liking. If the two of us are to protect this place from behind the curtains, then I believe this will be a very promising land, indeed."
Mr. Pink: "I know you're behind me," the cloaked medusa calls. She turns to face the tengu following her. "If it's any consolation, you might have fared better out in the wild, rather than this crowded camp." She listens to Mr. Pink's explanation, then softly shakes her shrouded head. "To be honest, I only understood about half of what you said," she sighs. "I'd expected at least one of you to remain highly suspicious of me. It's disheartening, but I also can't say that I'm at all surprised." She pauses near an unattended barrel, deftly hoisting herself up and taking a seat. "We're both rare birds," she says, her own pun eliciting a wry smirk just below the hem of her hood. "But only one of us has a reputation that follows them like a shadow. "I'm not a good person. I won't pretend to be. Of course, I'm not a monster, either," she emphasizes her point with a raised, ring-bedecked finger. "I want to learn from the mistakes of my foremothers. If playing nice and helping the adventurers is my best chance to survive, then so be it. As long as I can carve out my own piece of happiness, I'll gladly play by your rules."
Sapphira leans close to Christian, then thinks better of it and edges away. She whispers, just loud enough for him to hear but Narthropple to remain deaf. "I...took care of two others. I left them in the corners of the room where you found me. The accuracy of Master Narthropple's recollection determines whether these tunnels are clear or if one more of those beasts remains lurking just out of sight."
"I can lead us to Narthropple, whatever state he may be in," Sapphira declares. "Just keep your eyes open, especially behind us. I don't know how many of those things were down here."
"In the days we traveled together, I could never pry his purpose from him," she replies, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I was able to confirm his company had no affiliation with those damnable Taldanes. I came to suspect that, if they weren't simply pursuing old riches in some dusty ruin, they were hired to map the region. In my brief forays into the city, I keep my ear to the ground. I've heard that a few factions have suddenly taken an interest in bringing this land to heel." She pauses and kneels abruptly, brushing her fingers against a slab of stone low to the ground. "This is one of his markers. We're on his trail. When we find Narthroplle, I'd wager he'd offer gratitude rather than a fight. Depending on how he's fared over the intervening days, there may not even be much fight left in him."
"He was, by far, the most tolerable of his companions," she replies. "The priest was too headstrong, ready to charge into battle. He led us into the beastmen's ambush. Their scout was too quiet and eyed me too suspiciously. He made me nervous. Their wizard was the worst, always plying me with words to lure me to bed." Hidden by her hood, the expression that crosses Sapphira's face lies somewhere between a scowl and a wincing grin. "Narthropple was a soldier by vocation. He certainly commanded his companions with the sledgehammer-like grace of a sergeant. He spoke not about his background and seemed more focused on what was before him. While we marched along the river, I saw his fighting style in action against a patrol of lizardfolk. He fought with a pair of blades, one in each hand, and focused on parrying with one while landing a doughty blow with the other."
Now accompanied by Sapphira, the party ascends from this ancient refuge, back to the twisting tunnels that sit just above. As the avian duo scout ahead, Sapphira occasionally pauses to crouch down and feel against the stone of the walls, just above the floor. "I took Narthropple for a fool at first," she admits. "But he had at least a modicum of wit. He suspected that if he left any obvious trail markers, whatever lurked down here might use them to track us - or efface them and force us to lose our way. Thus, he made only very subtle marks, very low to the ground where they would be easy to miss." She rises and offers a faint snort of frustration. "He did not come this way. We may yet find his trail. He was a tenacious little slip." |
