Skreed Gorewillow's page

Gorewillow stays in place, but his eyes dart sharply between the stone and the retreating party. "Pleasure doing business," he calls to Marikel when they reach the cavern entrance. "I admire a man who keeps his side of a bargain." He touches the brim of his hat in farewell.

He holds the stone tightly in both hands, as though he were expecting it to try and escape of its own accord. He steps forward carefully around the corner, taking in the scene.

Gorewillow can't conceal his eagerness as Mahath produces the stone. He doesn't move toward the wizard, but his fingers involuntarily flex as if to grasp his treasure. "The girl for the stone: that was the deal. Set it on the floor and leave it as you lead her out."

Marikel's cantrip lights up the cavern and reveals Skreed Gorewillow standing just at the edge of the darkness deeper into the cave. He obligingly steps forward so that he is more visible and smiles pleasantly at the group. "I'm sure you meant to say, I'll show you the girl and you'll show me the stone, yes? She's just around the corner. Would you like to send the dwarf to check?" He gestures to the darkness to his left.

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"Oh, I wouldn't say 'bored,'" Gorewillow's voice comes out of the darkness ahead of you. "There has been some unavoidable delay, of course, between sending the message and your receiving it and traveling here, but you mustn't blame yourselves. You really haven't kept me waiting that long."

The group passes the burned trees in the Inner Quarter and the well-trodden ground where the party repelled the orc raiders from the Inner Gate. Oblivious to the destruction around it, the Hopespring continues to plash into its pool as it undoubtedly has since before Uskroth and his Twisted Hearts made a last stand on Bloodmarch Hill.

"Well," Gorewillow says, touching the brim of his hat politely, "I've done business with many a man who has disagreed with me. I don't take it personally. I will see you in a few days to complete our transaction. Only," he emphasizes, drawing a circle in the air to indicate the present company, "you."

Gorewillow shrugs. "In a perfect world, no one gets hurt at all. I'm not a warmonger by choice, I assure you. Do you now how much simpler my job would be if Uskroth had been laid to rest in virtually any other hill in Belkzen? Pure archaeology!"

"Whereas the good councilor's actions redound to the credit of unadulterated humans everywhere," Gorewillow replies amiably. "It's funny how we pick and choose who is a proxy for their ancestry, isn't it? You'll forgive me if I can't take all the furor over whether it's the human or the orc blood that causes the problems too seriously; I'm not a native of Belkzen, and it's all a bit arcane to me." He gives a polite nod to the guard as the group passes through the Upper Gate; seeing the well-dressed half-orc in the company of the priest and his party, the Patrol member doesn't give him a second glance.

"Charming fellow," Gorewillow remarks pleasantly as the group exits the Sawyer home. "I can certainly see why you'd go out of your way for him."

"Two to four days," Gorewillow replies. "Remember," he puts in as Sawyer looks about to explode, "I have to get there and back again, and I'll be traveling with a child on the way back. I suspect you may know a certain cluster of rocks where I was to have retrieved a certain dagger? I'll send an associate to leave you a message there: when and where to make the exchange."

"As for an escort, I imagine the guard will be less selective about who they let out than who they let in ... and I made it in, after all. But you're welcome to accompany me, if it makes you feel better."

"I've yet to meet the man I can't do business with," Gorewillow remarks pleasantly, "including you, if you recall, Councilor. It's as they say: to retrieve your daughter, I have to depart from town safely, so it's in everyone's best interests to keep things friendly."

As Marikel moves tunnelward with his lighted sword, it reveals a half-orc dressed in well-made explorer's clothes and a broad-brimmed hat, which he doffs with a courtly bow. "Close enough to see me now, I hope?"

"Very well then," Gorewillow replies crisply. "I suggest we all walk out of here together and explain our deal to the girl's father. I must return safely to my associates, after all, before the girl can return safely to the bosom of her family. You may inform your companions, dwarf," he goes on, "that I've put away my grenade."

"Oh, you're quite right, friend dwarf," the half-orc chuckles, "quite an astute judge of character. Money is one thing, but my life is another. There will be other commissions, but it will do me no good if I'm not around to accept them."

"I have your word, then, priest?" Gorewillow asks Marikel directly. "This stays between just those of us here now in the tomb? No tricky loopholes like, 'Well, I won't invite along a squadron of soldiers, but my dwarf friend here didn't promise not to do so.' Swear by your goddess on your sword, and I'll believe you."

"Can a patient and reasonable person trust those with whom he is negotiating not to arrive at said neutral location with an army in tow?"

"I make no attempt to defend the young man's death," Gorewillow offers magnanimously. "It was a regrettable situation all around, the desperate act of a reckless subordinate attempting to cover his own mistakes, and, as you say, has resulted only in inconvenience and setbacks for me."

"The stone is of no importance," he goes on, "but it is of value to the right person -- a person for whom I am an agent. You are familiar with the hill giant chieftan Uskroth? No? Well, there's no reason why you should be, unless you are a historian like my client. Uskroth was the chieftan of the Heart Eater tribe back in the forty-third century A.R. He managed to unite his people with the orcs of the Twisted Nail tribe and defeated the Knights of Lastwall on several occasions, even claiming territory south of the Kestrel River while the rest of the orcs of Belkzen couldn't advance beyond the Esk."

"He lost an eye early in his career, to a Lastwall arrow. His followers would have taken it as an evil sign and abandoned him, but he was clever enough to forestall them. He seized a rock from the ground and set it in his eye socket, saying that the very territory they were fighting for would guide him to victory. After that, his legend only grew. The story was that even followers who fell in his ranks would defy death itself to rise up and keep fighting."

"It didn't end well for Uskroth, of course. Eventually, the crusaders drove the orcs and giants back. Uskroth and his remaining Twisted Hearts, as the combined tribes came to be called, made their final stand on a convenient hill. It is said that when Uskroth finally fell, there were twenty-three spears and swords planted firmly in his flesh. His bodyguard drove the humans back long enough to bury him in the hill where he fell, before retreating back to their mountain home."

"And where," Gorewillow demands, "of all places, did a group of ragtag dirt-scratchers decide to make their own stand against the advancing orcs a few centuries later? The same hill as the Twisted Heart did. You can't tell me the gods don't have a sense of humor."

"At any rate," he goes on, "my client is an aficianado of Belkzen lore, with a particular interest in Uskroth. I was hired to discover his tomb, which had never been marked lest his enemies plunder it, and bring back the stone which had come to be known as Uskroth's Eye. My client will place it in a private collection, and I will be well compensated for my time and trouble."

"You're right; I don't have the girl," the half-orc replies. "I'd hardly be keeping her safe by bringing her into a dangerous tomb. And then there's the awkwardness of the entrance to said tomb being in her family's basement."

"My associates crossed paths with the girl after her father sent her out of Trunau for her safety. She is still out of Trunau and still safe, to the best of my knowledge ... though I admit there is no clear evidence I can offer of the fact. My associates were tasked with keeping her well until I return with the stone. If I were unfortunately not to return -- because, for instance, you're either killed or imprisoned me -- well, that would be unfortunate for the girl, as well. If I return without the stone, she's still a bargaining chip, after all."

"You must see that it would be most unintelligent of me to allow her to die when I wasn't yet sure if the stone would be found or I could persuade you to hand it over. I am not a crude gambler, risking everything on a single strategem, as your own history must tell you. After all, if you hadn't discovered my team of prospectors and supply of black powder, the little girl needn't have come into the matter at all. I would have blown my own entrance into the tomb rather than being obliged to use Sawyer's."

"Just a single item you may have found in the tomb. A simple rock that may have been in or near the skull of the remains. Anything else you've found, keep with my congratulations. You faced the dangers of the tomb, after all; you ought to profit from the expedition."

To be clear, only Dorn is actually looking at Gorewillow. He is outside of the area of Marikel's light so he can only be seen by darkvision at the moment.

"Well, I do hope, for the girl's sake, that you're clever enough to be convinced. For your sake, as well. That's an awfully heavy thing to weigh on the conscience of a good priest: the fate of a child whom only you could have recovered. Or so I would imagine."

"Wouldn't you at least like to know what I'm asking for in exchange for her safe return? You might find my terms not quite so onerous as you expect."

Marikel leads the way through the web-filled room. He has to stop a time or two before blundering through a web, but there are no more spiders, undead or otherwise, and no more sounds echoing through the cavern.

The party crosses back over the natural bridge over the water-filled chasm to return to the area where they first encountered the swarm of ghost rats. As Marikel raises his sword to illuminate the room, a voice comes from the darkened tunnel that leads back toward Sawyer's basement. It is an educated voice, an urbane voice. "That's just about far enough for now," it says. "I take it you're the priest and his company? We have some business to discuss. I presume you are interested in the girl's safety?"