Felmor hurries to the location the sherrif provided him the night before, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. although he is used to getting up early, his rest came in fitful bursts, not very helpful at all. Seeing all the people waiting for the herbalist who may have contracted the plague fills his heart with a knot of fear and he unconsciously gives the group of sick souls a wide berth.
Seeing the other members of the group either approaching or waiting for him as the case may be, he waves to them.
"G'mornin'. Any sign of Deldrin?"
|
Britton's in a good mood despite the desperate times that have hit Falcon's Hollow due to the plague. Heading back to his second home, the forest, coupled with actually having a hand in making a difference, has him excited about the journey ahead. Lord can sense his eager anticipation and has been playful as they traveled to the herabilist's shop. The calm soon drains away seeing the line of sick and scared people lined up at the shop.
Seeing Felmor waving he approaches him.
"I haven't seen him," Brit replies. "Let's hope he gets here soon. I'd hate to see a bunch of sick desperate people storm Laurel's shop."
The line of townsfolk is moving slowly at a snails pace. Every now and then one of the townsfolk will enter the shop, then exit a while later, clutching all manner of roots, vials and potions as they hurry away. At the same time more townsfolk keep joining the queue. Laurel's seems to be a popular place.
Brit will scan the crowd looking for anyone he knows. If he sees someone familiar he'll try to reassure them that everything will turn out well.
Brit scans the crowd and with horror recognizes his elder sister Gayle in the queue. She is clutching the hand of small child, no older than four years of age...your niece. Upon asking why she's here she sobs, telling you that her little girl, your niece, woke this morning with a terrible hacking cough. She fears its the taint and her daughter will die...
Felmor sees this scene unfold in front of his face and for a moment is overwhelmed by long-forgotten memories. Without thinking, he wipes away the few tears starting to trickle down his face, and wrenches his mind back to the present, and turns to look for the healer Laurel.
Mezari had never been much for civilization. That said, her traveling troupe of family and friends with which she grew up still attracted attention occasionally whenever they did pass through a village or small community, and one of the main draws had always been speaking with a wise elder or herbalist on this or that remedy. The gnomes had the advantage of having multiples; Falcon's Hollow, on the other hand, seemed limited just to this woman Laurel, if the sheriff's commentary was accurate and if this line of villagers was any clue.
Barzai riding silently and somewhat sleepily on her shoulder, the witch makes her way towards the healer's hut, avoiding the winding line and looking for a familiar face; she catches sight of Felmor after a few moments of popping through the crowd and ducking beneath and around people, and heads in his direction.
Felmor sees the gnome woman approaching and waits for her to arrive, before rejoining Britton.
Figuring he would know who Laurel looks like, although, seeing the crowd milling about the door, it may be difficult to gain entrance to see her...he thinks having Britton there to stick up for them would be helpful.
Armandia can only nod grimly. She knows well the look of people waiting in death's shadow, and it never gets easier to take. She joins the others without a word.
|
|
A Howl in the Dark wrote:
Brit scans the crowd and with horror recognizes his elder sister Gayle in the queue. She is clutching the hand of small child, no older than four years of age...your niece. Upon asking why she's here she sobs, telling you that her little girl, your niece, woke this morning with a terrible hacking cough. She fears its the taint and her daughter will die...
Brit's eyes open wide in horror at seeing little Eliza possibly sick with the plague. Lord can't help but lick the little girl's hand. "Eliza, let me take a look at you."
After finding her fellow volunteers Mezari turns her attention more fully to the crowd. She watches the stream of villagers marching slowly and worriedly to the healer's cabin, examining each from a distance for a few moments in turn before moving on to the next, sizing up symptoms and trying to find anything that might be considered a pattern.
Grn'nak wanders in rubbing his eyes looking for the rest of the volunteers. He gives a quick nod in greeting, and mumbles...
"Sorry for the delay. I couldn't quite get the crick out of back from that chair this morning."
After looking around, and noticing that the sherrif hasn't made his appearance yet, he quiets down and looks at the folks milling about.
Brit moves closer to Eliza, kneeling down to examine her better. She looks scared and apprehensive as you check her over.
As Mezari walks down the line she draws the stares of the crowd as their eyes follow her path.
As Brit and Mezari mingle through the line examing people a middle aged man with long flowing grey hair approaches Grn'nak, Armandia and Felmor. He is dressed in simple worn green robes and carries a wooden staff, pinned to his robes is a badge depicting a falcon.
"Greetings!" he proclaims "Might I be addressing Mezari, Armandia, Grn'nak, Britton and...err" he looks down at a piece of paper in his hand"Kelmor?".
Felmor stares at the gentleman, wondering if he was just not literate or if he is completely daft.
Fighting a momentary urge to yell his correctly-pronounced name (and also wondering how on Golarion's green soil could he pronounce the Lady Armandia with the proper Chelaxian accent, and he mis-pronounce Felmor, as in fell-more?)
Instead he swallows his anger and says "That be who ya talkin' ta."
That be who ya talkin' ta
"Ah ha!" says the robed man and thrusts a small piece of parchment into Felmor's hand "A message from Sherrif Baleson, he apoligises for his absence and bids you good luck in your journey, now im afraid im very busy and must bid you farewell. May Gozreh's favour be with you" and with a flick of his cloak the stranger turns to leave...
|
|
Panic tightens Brit's chest seeing that his niece is sicker than many others in the line. He strokes her hair assuring her and her mother in whispered tones that he's going to find a cure. Brit tries to catch Mezari's eyes and he'll shake his head to show how worried he is about how sick his niece is. He sees the robed man address them and hand Felmor a note.
Standing up he addresses Felmor. "What's the Sheriff say?"
He replied to Britton curtly "The sherrif can't make it, he sez to talk to Laurel wittout 'im."
Violent hacking cough, dark liquid expectorate. I wonder if it's less an actual disease and more some sort of parasite or fungus....
Pushing her musings aside for now the gnome makes her way towards Britton, spending a moment studying him and the girl before heading back to the group. The resemblance between the two and the woman keeping the girl is impossible to miss, having seen illness in the family herself she can't help but empathize with the woodsman's plight.
She follows at Britton's heels as he returns to the group, keeping silent for now.
Grn'nak joins with the group, but tends to keep the group between himself and the line of obviously infected locals.
"Let's talk to this healer, and be away. I'll fight monsters and vermin any day, but the plague..."
Felmor looks at Grn'nak and says appreciatively:
"yeah, not possible ta fight this wit a sword, best ta let those experts wit' the plague handle it."
once the group is together then enter the shop and look for Laurel, asking one of the sick people if necessary
|
|
Approaching Felmor. "That woman and her daughter that I was talking to over there was my sister Gayle and my niece Eliza. Eliza seems to have come down with the sickness and I am not sure how long she will have. We need to find out what Laurel needs and be on our way. I think it's best if we go to the front of the line with the letter and ask to see the healer."
Felmor hands the letter to Britton, and says "Ya, I agree, lead the way."
"I'm with you."
Brit confidently strides to the front of the QUEUE ;) drawing unfriendly stares as he does. You reach the entrance and attempt to enter when suddenly angry voices pipe up all around you. "Hey! Dung for breath! what makes you so special?!", "Back of the line!!" and similar comments echo in your ears. You turn around to see an extremely angry, hostile crowd glaring at you.
|
|
Holding up the Sherrif's letter.
"Sherrif Baleson has asked me to help with an expedition into the Darkwood to find curative agents for the sickness that is spreading."
Nodding toward his fellow volunteers. "These people have agreed to risk much in order to get the supplies needed to combat the taint. Laurel just needs to supply us with the list of what we need. Delaying us puts each of you at greater risk."
Britton hopes that will satisfy the mob.
Grn'nak steps up next to Britton.
"Let this man pass, if you truly wish this healer beat this plague, she'll need supplies. The sherrif asked us to aid the town, and we agreed. The sooner we can get Laurel's list of needed herbs, the sooner we can recover them for her from the forest. So, again, I implore you to let this man pass to speak with Laurel."
Felmor says nothing, but does watch the crowd closely. having dealt with unruly crows before, he unconsciously grips his club tightly, and looks over the crowd. He didn't want it to come to any violence, but he would be damned to let this rabble interfere with important business like saving their sorry behinds.
Your responses result in a round of mutterings and raised eyesbrows from most of the crowd. Most talk between themselves for a minute, arguing most likely about whether it is worth letting you in ahead of them. A few of the larger, more burly men in the crowd are still overtly hostile though and glare at each of you whilst the crowds mills around. Suddenly the largest of them, a bald rugged man with a large scar across his neck steps towards Brit.
"I don' care what in the hells that damn sherrif ses! Kreed runs this town not Baleson, now get in line and wait like all'a us...or am I gonna havta' make ya...?"
|
|
Britton gives a low whistle and Lord bares his teeth and growls.
"Are you sure you want to try to make me? All I need is Laurel's list of supplies and we'll be on our way."
Standing to his full height, Brit takes a step forward and says in a low voice to the bald man, "I have family that is sick, if you delay me and any of them perish, I will hold you personally responsible."
Armandia keeps her hand far from her weapon - not that this fools anyone for a moment - and approaches the bald man. "Excuse me. I'm terribly sorry to intrude, Mister... what's your name?"
Felmor, seeing the ugly man approach Britton, readies himself to spring to his defense and returns the glare. He is not intimidated by this walking bag of human refuse, who is not worth making up a bilge cleanup crew.
Seeing Armandia move towards the bald man,he pauses and waits for him to act, although he thinks if she just smiled more...
I suppose the Sheriff was not kidding when he said recommendations from him would not be well received. Some sort of schism in the leadership of this little hamlet...?
Mezari watches the scene, following behind Brit and Felmor quietly. She'd rather not get involved in a scuffle with commoners especially while there was work to be done, and besides Britton and Armandia seemed to have it handled. She certainly couldn't deal with it herself, casting magic in the village limits would cause a riot, especially with people already as on-edge as they appeared to be.
Grn'nak lets out a loud growl as he takes a slow step to the side to get some clearance. He snarls, "I've been polite, I'm here to try and help, and yet you stand in our way. Kreed may run this town, but do you think he's going to pay to support your family once your gone? I strongly suggest you let Brit by, or we can find out exactly how your family will get by..."
The large man smiles a wicked toothy grim at Brit's comments whilst flexing his rippling muscles and shifting his weight to side. As he does this Armandia steps up and asks his name in that soothing voice of hers. "None of your business wench!..." The thug goes to carry on his insults but is cut short by Grn'nak's growl.
"I've been polite, I'm here to try and help, and yet you stand in our way. Kreed may run this town, but do you think he's going to pay to support your family once your gone? I strongly suggest you let Brit by, or we can find out exactly how your family will get by..."
The man looks clearly unsettled for a moment and looks round at his friends before laughing it off, shouting "Hah! My family'll be fine they aint e'en got the taint and I bet I aint either! Bah! I'm off ta earn some coin. If you wanna let the fools ahead be my guest!" he shouts to the rest of the line as he storms off angrily. The rest of his friends stay in the line but without their apparant leader they shuffle uneasily and avoid eye contact. A few of the more friendly members of the line nod and motion for you to head to the front.
Felmor again resists the urge to say something that would inflame the crowd again but follows Britton to the front of the line, keeping an eye out for the healer and also making sure Mezari and Lady Armandia are not molested by anyone else.
He tries to ignore the flush in his face as he murmers to Armandia:
"Guy was nuttin' but a bilge rat" as she walks by him.
The lady prefers polite talk. The orcblood has limits to his patience. Both very useful, in the right situation.
Mezari nods as Brit motions her forward and makes her way with the rest of the group.
Grn'nak follows Brit into the healer's hut, glancing around to see that the folks milling about don't harbor anymore thugs. Inside he sighs, and shakes it off, and looks around to see what the healer may have.
You all enter the shop and are assaulted by an explosion of sights and smells. 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, and a large pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman shouts impatiently "Knew it was too good to be true! Go on then, tell Laurel whats wrong with ya"
Upon entering the cramped shop, a momentary feeling of anziety fills his heart. "Never really liked the'se places", he mutters to himself. Remembering the smells of all the herbs, incense, and spices all mixed together again brings back unpleasant memories to the fore of his mind.
Seeing Britton moving to talk to Laurel with the ease of familiarity, makes him realize how far he is from his home. Quashing down his emotions, he mutters, again to himself, "gotta git this over wit'."
Laurel looks up, pure anger etched on her face, but she when see's it is Brit she softens slightly...only slightly. She then starts busying herself over her equipment again, flicking some sort of green mushy substance on the floor.
"I'm not in the mood for your jokes young Brit, as you can see I'm in middle of a situation here." She says as a puff of smoke erupts in front of her face. "So if your visiting just to bring me some especially juicy rabbit you've caught now isnt the time.
|
|
"We'll be out of your hair in no time. The five of us are here to get the list of supplies you need to combat the taint."
Pointing out each of his comrades. "They've volunteered to brave the Darkwood and I couldn't see it right that they go in there without someone experienced in the forest."
Looking back at the door. "Gayle's in line out there. Eliza's with her. My niece is sick."
Brit leaves it at that.
"I think you have a bit too much eye-of-newt there."
The gnome can't help but smirk at Brit's comment, but she's quick to suppress it before Laurel turns. She merely nods to the woman as Brit gestures in her direction, seeing no need to add any commentary to his explanation.