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Tusker draws his scimitar to slash at one, while the dog snaps at another. Tusker's scimitar attack (1d20+3=23, damage 1d6+3=7)
Tusker climbs through the hole, glancing back at his dog to persuade it to join him. The hound whines a little at the smell, but clambers over the rubble easily enough, its tail drooping as it hurries to stand by the half-orc's side. "Looks like the goblin problem might keep going," Tusker murmurs, pointing at the tracks that lead through the other exit.
"A noble? Down here?" Tusker frowns. "Suddenly, I'm not sure I like the looks of this. What would a noble be doing in a place like this?"
Tusker - and, after a lot of throat clearing, the dire rat - head down into the cellar as well. Not needing light, the half-orc peers into the hole as the others begin to enter it.
"When searching the rat's world, it might be best to have a native guide," Tusker murmurs to himself. He spends a brief moment making a few quiet chittering noises, and then smiles as a rat the size of a small dog pushes into the kitchen. "Welcome, friend," he tells the animal. "We might need your help for this, if you'll give it." He gestures around the room. "There's food to be had, in thanks."
Tusker nods and prepares himself to return to the "haunted" house.
Father Fabitor, while initially surprised, is actually quite amused. "I shouldn't be laughing, but I suppose no one was hurt. Yes, I will take care of the goblins and see that they do not come to harm." "Glad to hear they'll have someone to keep an eye on them, Father," Tusker says, nodding. "Then by all means, let's return while there is still daylight outside. Thank you, Father Fabitor, for taking care of these wretches. Keep a close eye on them..." "I've got no problem with that," the half-orc replies, "but rats can get just about anywhere, and goblins are quite similar in some respects." There is nothing in Tsuker's tone to suggest that the comparison with rats is intended as a slight; in fact, the words contain a touch of admiration.
She turns to Tusker, "So, you think they're telling the truth?" "I don't think they're smart enough to lie," Tusker replies wryly, "and it fits with what we've seen here, doesn't it?"
To the others: Spoiler: (sharply)
"Stop that!" To the one who was speaking:
Spoiler:
"We will not harm you, little ones, but we cannot leave you here or others will come to kill you. You have scared your neighbors, and they will lash out in fear. We are going to find somewhere to take you where you will be safe." Tusker looks around. "I've told them we're going to take them away from here... we just need to decide where, and make sure none of them run off because they spot something shiny."
Tusker frowns before replying, Spoiler:
"Jokes are fun, little one, but these kind of jokes tend to result in people like us coming to find you. You'll have to stop, or things could get... bad." Zilroy looks at Tusker agog. "You can actually speak to these little beggars? What are they saying?" The half-orc shakes his head, looking frustrated. "They say there's no spirits here; they've been scaring the neighborhood because they think it's funny. Practical jokers, from what I can tell, but likely to get themselves killed if they're not careful."
Spoiler:
"We have been asked to find out about spirits or ghosts in this house. Do you know anything about that?" Tusker asks. He glances sideways at Gallows, then adds,
Spoiler: "My friends are warriors, and ones with short tempers. Don't push them, little one."
Tusker moves toward the captive, grinning his over-wide grin. In Goblin, he says,
Spoiler: "Can you understand me if I speak this way, little one?"
Tusker nods approvingly at the rapid and merciful response to the goblins, and again at the paladin's words, though he frowns as well, clearly not expecting the goblins to heed the warning.
Death is a part of life, but there is no need to force nature's hand.
"This does not feel like a crypt," murmurs Tusker quietly as the group moves forward. "More like... a nest."
Tusker steps outside to dismiss his dog, giving the animal a good scratch behind his ears and then sending him on his way. He watches the animal vanish into the streets of the city, then re-enters the temple to speak briefly to the priest. "We didn't learn much," he tells Fabitor quietly, "and I can't see how we will now, but if there's still someone out there who wants to hurt Phon, you might want to keep an extra eye or two around the place. I know a guy, a fellow named Mikki Machete, who fights in the arena sometimes. He does guard work and bouncer jobs too, though, and I could put you in touch with him if you'd like another strong arm around." After his talk with the priest, the half-orc turns toward the new arrivals. "Forgive me, ladies," he says, "I didn't introduce myself earlier. You can call me Tusker, Tusker Tall. I tend to... stay in the background when the authorities arrive. It's too easy for them to see someone like me and make assumptions. I appreciated your help with the fire, Miss...?" he trails off.
Tusker nods. "Ghosts are a disturbance in the natural order. What lives should die; what refuses to die must be... encouraged... to complete its journey."
"I've been happy to help," Tusker says thoughtfully, "but I admit, I'm not sure what there is left to do. I agree it would be better if we knew why, but I don't see how we can learn that now without paying substantial money for a divination or something similar. I'm no investigator, though."
Tusker watches the girl go, with a thoughtful expression. He then turns to look at Cadwyn once again, his silence heavy and pensive.
"We have news. Much of it good, but... not all."
I love this city like a sister, and like a wayward sister sometimes I have to look out for its well-being." Tusker glances up sharply at hearing the man describe Ptolus in that way. He gives Cadwyn a thorough, searching look, though he does not enter the conversation.
With the fire handled, some of the local children swallow their apprehension and approach Tusker and his mastiff. A small girl looks up at the half-orc and says, "What's your dog's name mister? Can I pet him." One of the braver boys has already offered a hand for the mastiff to sniff. Tusker smiles, though he is careful to not make it too broad (people tend to misunderstand that). He kneels down to put himself closer to the eye level of the children, and speaks to the girl, while keeping a calming hand on the back of the dog, in case it gets overwhelmed by the attention. "I do not know his name," he tells the girl gently. "I have no right to give him one, and the one he has himself is a part of too many things that cannot be said by people's tongues. Dogs like my friend pay as much attention to their noses as you and I do to our eyes; his name has more to do with his scent than any sounds he could make. He is my friend, and comes to help me when I ask him to. That is enough for me." He carefully takes the girl's hand and raises it toward the dog's nose to be sniffed. "If you let him smell you, it's the same as introducing yourself to him," he explains, trying to be soothing.
Tusker and the dog stand guard over the mage. "That was your summoning that did this," Tusker tells him. "If you can do something to keep this neighborhood from going up in flames, you have a responsibility to do so. It might earn you a little leniency in the eyes of the law."
"Time to go," Tusker tells the dog. He looks at the wizard. "Surrender to us or burn in here, mage." He then makes for the front door.
The dog continues its assault, but even the magic blessing it just received is not enough to help it this time.
Seeing his own attacks go wide but the dog's striking home, Tusker lays his hand on the animal's back and mutters, "I grant you the cutting edge of steel."
The dog whimpers at the growing heat, but follows Tusker's focus and launches himself at the mage as well.
"Neat trick," Tusker tells the wizard. "I have a few of my own." He cups his hands together, then pulls them apart, murmuring, "I am the hearth in the kitchen, I am the coals in the forge, I am the wick in the candle, I am the spark from the flint..." Between his hands, a ball of flame suddenly appears, and he hurls it toward the mage. Ranged touch attack (1d20+1=3, damage 1d6+1=4)
The mastiff growls, deep in its throat, then lunges again at the doberman it attacked before.
Seeing the dogs leaping for him, Tusker wastes just a moment regretting what is to come. But the moment passes, and he signals his dog to join him as they step up to meet the animals' attacks. Scimitar attack (1d20+2=6, damage 1d6+3=4)
"I agree; we're men, not beasts." Tusker grins broadly at that, but steps up behind the priest, his dog standing ready at his side.
"Knocking worked well last time..." Tusker comments.
Tusker wipes the spittle from his face, but smiles. The tusks are quite visible. "You, I don't like," he tells the elf. "Fortunately, I know how to deal with rabid animals." He pauses a moment to let the message sink in, but then laughs and looks at Gallows. "C'mon, let's get rid of this guy. The watch will take the word of a paladin for what we've heard here."
"Nice place," Tusker says ironically. "Anyone feel like peeking in a few windows?"
The show of force is impressive, and enough to bring the pudgy man to his knees, grovelling for mercy. The elf, with a final disgusted look, turns and leaps towards the back window. Tusker's dog is far too quick for this and pounces. He brings the elf down easily, as if he were just a toy for the big mastiff. The dog sits on top of the squirming, but securely pinned elf, wagging his tail looking to Tusker for approval. Tusker smiles at the dog, drawing his scimitar and approaching the elf. "Not smart," he tells the man on the floor, reaching out to run his hand though the dog's thick fur and pat it on the head. "Not smart at all." He looks at the dog. "You, on the other hand, are very good." He places the edge of the scimitar at the elf's throat. "I'm gonna back my dog off you now, but if you move, I'll slit your throat myself."
Tusker steps into the room as well, hoping against hope that intimidation might avoid violence. The large dog trails in after him and growls at the elf and his companion.
Tusker signals the dog and together they cross the street toward the warehouse, getting close enough to the door to hear the last bit of Gallows' speech. Tusker smiles to himself, but he also feels a chill, as violence seems likely to follow. He grips his scimitar tightly.
"Some reason we shouldn't just go up and talk to them?" Tusker asks quietly. "We're not going to learn much just standing around here..."
Tusker looks the building over, then around at the passersby. "So, do we want to take a look around inside first, or wait to see what's going down at sunset?"
Tusker tilts his head to the side, a move that somehow makes him resemble something closer to the huge mutt as his side. "Now, what offense could I take from that?" he asks musingly. Without waiting for an answer, though, he replies, "Like as not, I'm more a part of this city than you are, Zilroy."
Tusker appears as well, the dog trailing behind him once more. He appears more ready for a fight than he did last night, in thick armor of carefully stitched hides under his cloak. His scimitar is within easy reach, and even the dog seems more anxious than it was the night before, ears twitching to catch the slightest sound.
He looks around at the rest of the group. "Don't think I introduced myself proper last night. You can call me Tusker, Tusker Tall. Everyone does."
"I could scout out that adress, before we check it out, if you like?!" "I admire your optimism," Tusker chuckles, "but I think you're going to stay where we can keep an eye on you." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Like as not, the other one will have managed to get word somehow the job went south and nothing will happen. Don't mean we shouldn't be there in case I'm wrong, though."
Tusker scowls, an unpleasant sight at best. "One of them fled," he points out. "You really think anyone's going to show at that meeting?"
"Crawling into other people's bedrooms is pretty much always a bad idea," Tusker allows thoughfully, "but back-alley knifing's something else entirely. On the other hand, what's Phon going to think of us sniffing around her affairs like this?"
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