Rigo'Sharva wrote: "Gods get to laugh." Talisker sharply interrupts Rigo's angst.
"There's no place for blasphemy in Torag's house, lad!" Surprisingly, though, he seems to have softened toward Rigo since overhearing the questions posed in the interrogation. "Aye, yer a shook up young man, aren't ye? I shoulda chucked ye out by yer lugs auld lang syne, an moreso now, but I canna but feel that I have a message for ye as much as one to deliver for ye. The gods do laugh a times--Cayden 'ee laughs wi' Torag at the end of wark. But the good divines dinna laugh at suffrin'. Don' lose heart. Trust Torag, the law, an the good. An lad, ye should slow down. Good wark takes time, but it honors the maker."
He limps over to a locked cabinet, takes an fluted steel key from his pocket, and opens it. He's holding writing materials. Talisker laboriously scribbles Rigo’s message onto a tiny scrap of paper with a feather quill, saying:
"Fer instance, I've been askin' ye tae explain yer situation and ye refuse. I offer ye help, but ye don' seem to want tae listen tae the details. Then ye act upset when ye don' get the whole picture. Recall that ye were aboot to stomp out that door and remind yerself that Deacon Dram's patience is the sole reason yer message is getting sent today--even so poor a message as 'lad has message.' I'll send it by bird, no sense bustin' a Sending for such a message as tha, an' it'll go right swiftly anyhow."
He lifts the feather pen to the level of his eyes, going slightly crosseyed as he concentrates on it, speaks a command word, and shoves the message into the beak of the Bird Feather Token that is now in bird form. Talisker pushes open the front doors. It flutters out of the temple.
Turning to the party, he presents the bill. "Sixty gold for the spell, an' three hundred for the bird. I'll waive the cost o' the bird fer now, come back an' pay fer it if ye don' hear from Sillerswuird in a week or two--that'll mean she's denied ye, an yer a scoundrel if ye skip the tab. Sixty'll do ye fer now."
Eh, decided to save this post for after the spell. Edited to postpone.
"See, yer doin' it agin, actin' like I should know what ye havena told me yet. Ye didna mention any oath. Look, lad, I'm offerin' ye a Sending spell. If tha's not acceptable, write a note an' seal it, we'll send it by foot or by bird. If tha's not acceptable, ye'll need tae make yer own plans an' stop actin' like time's of the essence before draggin' yer feet when offered the best we have. Ken ye that the Sending scroll I just offered ye costs thousands a' good meals for the puir folk o' this parish. I hunger fer gold because they hunger for bread, and fer the glory o' Torag."
He looks at the party, greeting each in turn, his gaze lingering on Alexis and Audria. "They don' have the look o' murderers. Those tend to sweat a bit more, a this point. Doin' this tae we bairns don' strike me as a kindness, so young ones: only enter the circle if ye desire tae be put tae the test. Gather round, and prepare yerselves to speak the truth, by Torag. And ye," he turns to Rigo, "Frame yer questions well. Ye'll have three minutes. They canna lie tae ye, but they cin hold their silence."
Zone of Truth spell
Rigo’s hitting all of Talisker’s fool buttons, too. If I was GM, I'd let him walk out of the temple and Argentblade would be absolutely furious with Rigo for wasting time and resources when they finally did meet. But since it was my idea to get us here in the first place I'm feeling invested in finishing our business. Hopefully we can do so quickly.
“If ye fail yer quest through yer own impatience, that is on ye, na me, lad. Don’ be so quick to shuck yer responsibilities onto other folks, Torag frowns on such." The cleric smiles bitterly at the impetuous feline, remembering what it's like to be in the first decades of life, the youth when people equate the disruption of their lives with torture. As a war hero who got this job in a quiet city temple because he was seriously disabled by torture after being captured while leading a heroic rear-guard action against an orc army, Talisker could have gotten pretty angry about this. Instead, he draws on his experience for perspective. He decides to assit the cat. Limping after Rigo's receding figure, he keeps talking: "An try to ken tha’ I’m doin’ my wark in askin’ ye questions, an’ doin’ it well. She’s nawt here or I’d a’ fetched her m’self. Give me a brief message for Sillerswuird and I’ll send it tae ‘er.”
Rigo: You get 25 words. Zed, take over again soon!
Talisker does a quick double-take, giving Rigo a shrewd once-over and making a hand-gesture of respect at the holy symbol. "Torag fergive me fer not seein' the warkmanship on first glance. And if ye bear it in his name, blessin's upon ye, too, despite yer disrespect to his humble servant. If there be danger to the temple, speak." He peers past the party into the very normal-seeming scene outside. There's no sign of trouble, or even of anyone heavily-armed enough to take on armor-plated clerics. If not, I'll be havin' ye kno that Miz Sillerswuird an' the church o' Torag aren' likely to take me life fer an honest mistake, knowin' that I'm good to work through such. An to that, I don' know where ye got that bonny an' blessed haimur since ye haven' told me yet. An it IS part o' my wark to provide castin' for a price, same's to any other temple. Now if ye care to step inside, I cin send a message along soon's I... soon's we hear a bit more from ye. Sit ye down and speak. If ye are one of us, Visi kriaušės Toragas, jo palaiminimai gali būti tau."
The deacon calls his brother smith-priests to listen to the tale, shutting the door and quickly explaining the situation in dwarven. They look deeply interested, a bit distrustful, pretty much dwarves being dwarves.
Everyone--let me know if you want/need Talisker to know/do something. Rigo: I'm just freestylin' a grouchy dwarven cleric and I don't know enough about the setting or Torag to really know how
T's church works--I read a couple wiki entries that made me think his worshipers would be practical and brusque, rather than rigidly hierarchical and unmerciful, but if you think Rigo's non-threat should have teeth, well, poor Talisker.
The young cleric is obviously torn between his grouchiness at being interrupted at work, and his desire to facilitate a donation to the temple.
"Well then, if it be to the glory o' Torag, we might be able to give ye advice, then. Tho' know that in Booktown, the truth o' the gods is oft recked as less than the pretty worksmanship o' the legalese... if it's tha sort o' truth you want, there are many who'd supply it." Here he spits in the fire, showing his contempt for all convoluted attempts to twist reality through propositions and precedents. "But in this temple, truth is the real steel. It cin cut ye to the quick. M'names Talisker Dram, deacon o' Torag. Let's talk about the particulars o' the wark ye need done."
"An which then is it, ye crowd o' silly birds? Is ye wantin' to trouble Miz Sara or are ye shoppin' for powers that I reck are a good weight heavier than yer class? Shove off en leave a dwarf to is wark."
The dwarf turns away, apparently intending to ignore the crew.
NPC time! This is Moira btw
Rigo'Sharva wrote:
Rigo steps forward, and gives an elaborate bow. "Visi kriaušės Toragas, jo palaiminimai gali būti tau." Rigo speaks in dwarven, before switching back to common. "Apologies, but I must ask for Sera Alphagora Argentblade. I have urgent message for her." He reaches into his pack and pulls out a silver holy symbol, a warhammer. "This is proof of my truth."
The dwarf at the temple door raises one shaggy eyebrow at Rigo and says "An do ye ver'ly 'spect any fit-ganger cin step up from the roadway an waive aboot a wee sleekit haimur an trooble the lugs o' Lafdy Sillerswuird ye've dissapointment a'comin."
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