Nerek finishes his prayers, then asks some of the local priests about the plague he's been overhearing the worshipers speak about. He listens carefully, with growing realization of why he was directed to the town.
He inquires as to what has been done to help the sick and then asks about places to stay. After receiving directions to Jak'a'napes, he takes his leave and walks through the town, to the inn.
Along the way he pays closer attention to the plight of the people, noticing for the first time just how trying depressing the town is. He arrives at the inn, takes a seat near the bar, and orders a beer and a bowl of stew.
While waiting for his food, he asks about rooms, then takes a look around the room.
Calar listens patiently, chewing on his bread and cheese and sipping his water. The gentleman before him, Vishantos is his name, speaks rapidly and absently, at times it seems like the man forgets Calar is there.
Every now and then Calar will nod and admit he can or cannot physically make some incarnation of the winch.
Finally after Vishantos stops to catch his breath, Calar puts a hand out. "Vishantos, the winch is interesting; I am always eager to learn more, and you seem an educated teacher. May I ask you a question?"
He waits for a second. "Do you know anything about this plague?" Calar's eyes lift hopefully.
Geddoe again entered the inn, searching out the halfling innkeeper. After ordering their best meal ('Five silvers?! You've got to be kidding!'), he looked around for an open seat. Unfortunately, for some reason, tonight the dining room was filled, and the only seat he could find was next to two men, one who was filling notebooks full of doodles.
Sitting down, he proceeded to ignore the two men, who were just as capable of ignoring him. That is, until, he heard one of them ask about a plague. Discreetly, he listened.
"Hmmm..? Oh yes right..."
Vishantos clears his throat loudly. "I have heard that a lot of people have been getting sick. Not really my area of knowledge. I'd like to help though, if there's something that can be done. This town, these people, life is hard enough for them already. I can't imagine the lumberers get much sympathy from the consortium in terms of sick leave and the like."
Vishantos takes a long drink to soothe his dry throat but almost chokes on it. He apologizes amid much spluttering.
"What is the illness, do you know? I haven't heard the details. Nothing too serious I hope?"
Vishantos looks over at Geddoe, somewhat startled. "My apologies sir, I did not see you sit. Let make some more room at the table." Vishantos tucks his diagrams and writing materials back into their case and puts it in his pack.
Calar nods at the arrival of the bald man.
He shrugs in response to Vishantos's question. "A rough cough; I have even seen people hacking up blood. I know it is fatal, and it must be contagious. I don't know much else, but I have been thinking about asking someone. There is a church in town, the priests might know something, but I have also seen long lines outside the local herb shop . . .she sometimes sells cures for maladies."
"Calar's talking to some new folk. This'll be interesting, I bet. Oh, interested in the plague, are they?", Laurent thinks to himself.
Laurent approaches the group from his place in the corner and engages the two men he recognizes, "Hail, Calar and Vishantos. Broken any perfectly fine wheels this week, Calar? Vishantos, I see your plans still haven't reached fruition. Still chopping away as ever."
"Anyway, I apologize for the intrusion, gentlemen. M'name's Laurent. Laurent Reno. I couldn't help but overhear your friend here is interested in the plague. Terrible thing that. People dying and sick, in a foul mood all about town. Hell, Baleson's liable to lock me up should I cause any more trouble these days, even if he is blood to me. Someone should really do something about this plague. Lady Laurel's been mightily put out by all the sickness, so's I hear."
Noticing the winch plans for the first time, Laurent points and says, "Ah, that gear ratio'll never work. You'll need at least a 4.4 rather than that 5.2 if you ever want to load more than 30 stone with that. Excuse me, don't mean to insult."
"Ah, Mr Reno, so good to see you. You speak of our trades as if you know something of what it is to do work. Rather surprising really. I was just to ask Calar here how many of the ill folk of our town became so after hearing you play those awful pipes."
Vishantos laughs at his own joke, trailing off into a minor coughing fit.
"So, have things gotten so bad that the consortium is worried that the sickness might affect their profit? Or has the line up at the herbalist made it difficult for you to get your regular treatment for the itch in your... well never mind. Clearly there is a real problem here, and some of us would like to do something about it."
Calar laughs along with Vishantos, but quickly offers him a worried glance as his cough worsens.
"Reno," Calar looks up trying to hide is distaste for the scoundrel, "Your a man with his fingers in many a pie; if you could momentarily set aside your fondness for crass behavior, would mind addressing the problem at hand? This town, whether we love it or not, is being crippled by disease. Do you know anything going on? Anyone have a cure, searching for one? Anything?"
Calar sidles over to make more room for the musician.
Nerek plops down 5 silver, grabs his bowl of stew and beer and gruffly makes his way over to the table.
"Gentlemen," he says as he places his food and drink on the table, next to Calar. "Allow me to introduce myself, and offer my assistance. My name is Nerek Lodetracker, traveling Priest of Abadar. I believe I have been sent to this humble city to help remove the plague that has so recently struck it, and I'd happily join any of you who plan on doing something about it."
He then pulls up a chair and sets down, before spooning more of the stew into his mouth, and not a little on his beard. Which he periodically scratches.
"I do not want to waste time, so forgive me if bypass the pleasantries Nerek. If neither you, nor Reno, nor you," Calar gestures in the direction of the still silent bald man, "know nothing of the plague, then perhaps we should go speak with a local priest or the herbalist."
He looks about, suddenly uncomfortable with being the only one speaking, but still determined to get something done.
"Ah, I just came from there," Nerek says between loud slurps. "The priest are, uh, quite overwhelmed." Nerek seems to be choosing his words carefully, as if he fears stepping on the toes of others of his profession.
"Perhaps," he says, and lowers his voice to a gruff whisper, "we should avoid the priests, and seek out this herbalist you speak of."
He sits back, takes a long drink of his beer, and scratches his beard.
Laurent stares intently and with a previously unheard steel addresses the dwarf, "I hear the priests don't have the skill, or maybe the depth of faith, required to heal these people. Jokes aside, if you want to talk to Lady Laurel, we can take you there, Lodetracker."
Shifting his gaze and his mood, Laruent tells Vishantos "The consortium's not a much better friend to me than it is to you, Vishantos, even if they gave me a desk. I've the next couple of days off, seeing as so many o' the men have taken sick. I've little faith we'll find a cure, and I suppose if we don't, I might have to find another place to ply my skills. I've always fancied seeing the the statues in Magnimar..." Laurent trails off and wistfully looks out the window, eyes unfocused.
Geddoe was rather bewildered; he had merely sat down to get a bite to eat, and now, apparantly, he was being drafted to talk to some herbalist about a plague.
Still, he felt he had to put his two coppers in. "And what if this herbalist knows nothing about it? What will you do, go searching for some wizard to work his magic, to get rid of this plague?" he said, scooping some stew onto a piece of bread.
After popping the morsel in his mouth, ('My, my! Delicious! That she-demon at least knows how to cook!') he continued. "Not to be cold hearted, but plagues are rather commonplace, and people've survived them," 'Or died horribly and miserably of them' Geddoe thought, thinking back, "...With or without miracle cures. What makes this one so different, and what can YOU do about it?"
"Good point, Reno. I recall hearing similar things, about the priests being overworked at least." He looks at the men gathered at the table and then back to Laurent. "If noone objects, we should probably make haste."
Laurent stares intently and with a previously unheard steel addresses the dwarf, "I hear the priests don't have the skill, or maybe the depth of faith, required to heal these people. Jokes aside, if you want to talk to Lady Laurel, we can take you there, Lodetracker."
Shifting his gaze and his mood, Laruent tells Vishantos "The consortium's not a much better friend to me than it is to you, Vishantos, even if they gave me a desk. I've the next couple of days off, seeing as so many o' the men have taken sick. I've little faith we'll find a cure, and I suppose if we don't, I might have to find another place to ply my skills. I've always fancied seeing the the statues in Magnimar..." Laurent trails off and wistfully looks out the window, eyes unfocused.
Calar looks at the bald man. "Perhaps nothing, but shouldnt' we try? I doubt the Lumber Consortium is going to do much, and I for one know ill people that I do not want to see die. Maybe I can do nothing, but I will not stand pat."
He continues to stare at the newcomer, "You should feel no obligation to come," He glances around before returing his attention back to the bald man, "none of you should, but as I said, I know those stricken with the plague and I will not just gently stand aside while a disease makes them hack blood out of their lungs."
Geddoe continued to eat his stew, not looking at the other man, but, mentally, was running like a racehorse. Remembering his mother and youngest brother, curled on the floor, black blood running from their eyes and mouths...
He sighed, and set down his spoon. "Now I lost my appetite..." he muttered, before looking up at the man. "I'll come along. I guess this matter DOES catch my interest, at least for the day or two I remain here."
Nerek stares at Laurent, and then Geddoe, hardly believing his ears. "You youngsters should show more respect for men of faith, and your common man as well," he says gruffly. And scratches his beard.
"We may not be able to do anything about this plague, but the least we could do is try." He lifts his bowl to his mouth and slurps out the last of the stew. When he lowers the bowl, he scratches his beard and then drains his beer.
"I guess its settled then? We should get going, before it gets too late."
He stands gestures to Calar. "Lead the way, youngster."
"It's just a couple doors down, and Laurel's a bit cross with me. Something about a book I borrowed and gave back to with the cover half burned off. It was an honest mistake, but I'll stick outside if it's the same to ya."
"Then we're off."
"Very well." Geddoe picked up his pack holding all of his worldly possessions and the last chunk of bread, and stood up. "Let's get this over with."
Vishantos clears his throat once again. "I will certainly come along. I do not know what we can do to help, but it cannot hurt to ask."
|
Creeping ivy and full window boxes cover the façade of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” Despite the late hour a line of twenty-some somber townsfolk—some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears—stretches from the open door.
"Quite busy, this herbalist is," Nerek says as he takes a place at the back of the line. "I guess we'll just have to wait our turn."
He scratches his beard and waits patiently.
"My, my... this is all rather dreary. Pardon me gentlemen, I will let you speak to our good herbalist. I will attend to other matters."
Vishantos moves off to one side and a little futher up beside the line.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I know this wait is dreadful and boring, and none of us are happy to be here. Perhaps my small amusements will alleviate matters somewhat."
Vishantos removes his hat. "My hat here is, of course a very magical hat. With the magic words I can call forth from it all manner of strange things." Vishatos reaches in and pulls out a puff of purple smoke. "Now that's not right, I'm sure there's a rabbit in here somewhere..."
Vishatos continues to draw forth puffs of coloured smoke, muttering about finding a rabbit, a dove etc. The puffs of smoke coalesce just over his head into vague forms of the animals he describes. They make faces at the crowd and hide every time Vishantos turns to look at them. "What, you see a rabbit? Behind me? There's nothing there, are you trying to fool me?
Finally spotting the animals, Vishantos places his hat on the ground in front of him in a slightly exaggerated manner, leading the smoke animals to peform various stunts such as jumping through smoke rings. He focuses particularly on the children in the crowd, and their parents, but does his best to provide some amusement for all.
|
|
The amusing magic lightens the mood of the crowd, and manages to distract everyone from their situation for a while. Time passes more quickly, ans oon it is your turn and the door.
The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense chokes the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hang from the ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts fill high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe-looking
spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busies herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouts, “And what’s your problem?”
Vishantos:
25 xp for the good deed
Laurent tells the others, "Good luck, lads!", as they reach the door. He pulls out his panpipes and begins playing jaunty tunes in time with Vistantos's illusions to keep the line behind in the good mood Vishantos has instilled, hoping Lady Laurel doesn't recognize his playing.
"My dear lady," Nerek begins, "I am a travelling priest of Abadar, led here to deal with this plague that has beset your fine town." He finishes the last bit with a circular flourish of his arm, before returning to scratching his beard.
"These fine men have informed me that you might have some insight into what has brought the plague on, and what might be needed to cure these innocent folk."
He keeps scratching at his beard, absently while he waits for a response.
"Hmm? Another holy man, well, er, dwarf," she begins, stepping out around the table to have a look at you.
"Well, perhaps you can do more good then those we have had around here. The taint is a sickness almost like any other, but you get the mold growing in you. It starts eating away in your chest and belly and is damned determined to stay. Your body near turns itself insideout trying to hack the stuff up, but all that does is cuts your guts up… bad.”
Then she looks at you over a wrinkled nose and pursed lips, "Why?"
Geddoe entered the herbalist shop behind Nerek and Calar, appraising the store. He'd rather not say anything, since he was, in the group, the one with the least faith in this woman's ability to alleviate the plague.
Calar had held his tongue, content to let the more eloquent dwarf handle the situation, but at the herbalist's question he had no choice but to pipe up. "I have a friend, a young friend, in dire need of a cure. I have money, I can pay . . ." His words tumble out and trail off as he stares down the smaller woman pleadingly.
Nerek looks at Calar, with a sudden new realization of just how horrible the situation is. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," he mumbles.
Then he turns to Laurel. "I don't know if I can help, but Abadar led me here for a reason, and by the Great Road I shall do my best to cure those who are afflicted by this plague."
He scratches his beard absently, while addressing Laurel.
(*toot toot*)
"Honestly," she says glancing at the dwarf as she speaks, "The only things I have here may ease the suffering of your friend. I don't have the means to make a cure for the taint."
"Ah, but perhaps you know of something that might help, that you do not currently have?" Nerek asks.
[occ]Consider that a Diplomacy check or Sense Motive to see if she's hiding something. 12 + 1 = 13 or 12 + 2 = 14[/occ]
"Honestly," she says glancing at the dwarf as she speaks, "The only things I have here may ease the suffering of your friend. I don't have the means to make a cure for the taint."
Sighing, Geddoe looked at the two who he had followed. "And thus it goes..." he said. "A lesser man would say, 'I told you so'... but I guess I am a lesser man."
(*toot toot*)
"...and there's nothing up my other sleeve..."
" That's it, I am such a fool for not thinking of it sooner. You could get what I need!"
She seems rather excited, and starts digging through one of the books with gusto, "Here, my grandmother's book has a brew in it that says its good for this kind of thing. A weird concoction that ssounds more like hoojoo than real medecine."
"The recipe calls for some rare roots and concentrations, most of which I have here, but there's three I don't. Elderwood moss, which I've never heard of, but granny says the stuff only grows on the oldest tree in a foret. A specially pickled root called rat's tail, again, sounds like hoojoo to me. And seven ironbloom mushrooms, stunty luttle things that only grow in dark places thick with metal, a favorite among your people," she says while nodding towards Nerek, "or so I hear."
Geddoe gritted his teeth at the herbalist's sudden rebuttle of his opinion. Was this true, or just some ill concieved plan...? "What's the chances of this recipe even working? By your own word, it sounds more like witch's snakeoil than anything."
"Ironbloom mushrooms?" Nerek scratches at his beard. "I've heard of them, but I don't have any on me at the moment. They do have some medicinal properties though."
"Well most of this book," she says thumping the cover, "is the knowledge my grandmother traded her sight to Ulizmila for. That old witch has a way about her, dark and twisted but she knew her hoojoo. I'd be stakin' a lot more on trying to pass it off as the cure than you would."
RPG Superstar 2011 Top 32
|
"Well most of this book," she says thumping the cover, "is the knowledge my grandmother traded her sight to Ulizmila for. That old witch has a way about her, dark and twisted but she knew her hoojoo. I'd be stakin' a lot more on trying to pass it off as the cure than you would."
"Ulizmila? Who by the hells is that?" SOmehow, Geddoe had the feeling that this was going to go down in a BAD way...
"She is an old witch who lives up in the vale. She had a nasty disposition, but was a master healer. My gran'ma says she exacted high prices for her help, but she did help. It is mostly from her teachings that I do all of this," she says, turning her hands over to indicate all of the shop, "though she took my gran'ma's sight in trade."
"You'll probably get the chance to meet her, if she is still around. I can't think of another soul that might no where to find the rat tail."
"...and there's nothing up my other sleeve..."
"...and my dears, nothing 'twixt his ears..." *toot loot doooot*
Comprehending Vishantos is more than just a strong back for hire for the first time, Laurent thinks to himself, "Should have been working together sooner, he's quite good."
Vishantos directs the coloured-smoke rabbit to run into one of his ears and then pop out the other. He blinks rapidly.
Nerek scratches his beard. "Aside from this witch, who else might have some idea where we can find these ingredients?"