Content to let Marisol do the talking for a moment, Vladimir splits his attention between Father Hague and the "welcoming committee", still not overly trusting of the situation.
As she finishes her introduction, Marisol glances back in the direction of the horses nervously, as if worried that perhaps their mounts might be stolen.
Woelder turns when he first hears Marisol speak.. he immediately sets his work aside, and stands to face you. "Quite an an undertaking... your intentions are impressive. Begs the question to what end (more to himself - thinking out loud).... Welcome to Elmere. I am Woelder Hague. You may refer to me as Father Hague - suits as well."
Woelder makes a shooing gesture to the younger thuggish fellow - who then asks "You sure?"
Woelder Hague narrows his eyes... "Quite."
The pair of local bullies leave, and Woelder turns to you.
"So this charter is backed by the Throne... not an independent action by Restov." He shrugs and smiles "You must be of the uncommon sort... trailblazer, surveyor, warrior against the wild and the wicked... diplomatic delegation... I hope you are well compensated to have been laden with so many tasks."
Marisol continues, "Obviously the truly wealthy and influential nobles remain in court; we have been chartered for this task as we have the kinds skills that will be useful in bringing order to some of the so-called 'Stolen Lands.' We've been making a circuit to visit the various settlements in this area in hopes of dealing with any local conflicts or difficulties, and to gather information about monsters or brigands that might be about." Marisol carefully chooses her words to imply that the group is not rich enough to be worth the risk of robbing, while simultaneously underscoring that they are tasked with apprehending or defeating criminals -- which should be a relief to legitimate churches and municipalities.
"Being given the opportunity to rid these lands of filth is its own reward," Balter says in a dry yet absolutely serious tone. A single hand rests on the pommel of his sword, as it has since they first entered Elmere. There people there made him
In response to Hague's comment about the group's many tasks, Vladimir shrugs and says, "Multiple talents are what the job requires. Fortunately thus far, we have been up to the task."
"An interesting social structure you seem to have here, Father Hague." Vladimir says, trying to get a better read on this settlement.
As you speak, Woelder has a look on his face - hard to judge - either listening intently or deep in thought. After Vladimir's comment on the social structure... "We are a rather singular community. The barter system.. doing away with gold.. is our second form of bandit repellence. In doing so, there are several factors which must be taken into account which complicate it slightly... stability and sustainability require it." He pauses - reading Vladimir's face a moment, then "You might be alluding to our strays... Those we bring in - rescue from the bandit lands are far better off working.. admittedly unenviable jobs in accordance with their terms of indenture here than in the wilds. I would not say they are mistreated by any means."
Woelder clears his throat... "Across the river to the east... " He pauses as if making sure all are paying attention. "There is a watchtower. Bandit camp led by a Nidali named Dovan. By all means, feel free to begin with him.. and his coterie of cretins."
"That seems a likely starting place; thank you. Is there some place in town that we can stay overnight after we return from our expeditions?"
"Do you have any information that may aid us when we go to deal with Dovan and his thugs? Numbers?"
Father Hague smirks a bit in response to Marisol "Our inn is likely below your standards - more geared toward local clientele. Master Pfaelof takes on boarders with some regularity... affable fellow, and his accommodations are decidedly more pleasant. Guest house.. a stone's throw from his sizable farmhouse.. center of bean fields ten minute ride east from here. "
With Vladimir's question he hems and haws for a few moments, then... "I realize the actual number within the camp may be considerably different, but our lookouts to the east reported there were eight when they began their foiled assault. That was... six months ago now?" He shrugs... "They must have determined it no longer worth the effort.. sometime between the lookouts' flight to rally our militia, and the militia's arrival to the scene. I have been told they served under the Stag Lord not long before then, and this Dovan is a great admirer of rather perverse and subversive artistry... Apart from that, I know little. We keep our distance."
"Well, we will be happy to see what we can do to solve that particular 'problem', and make the area just that little bit safer for honest folk", says Hrafen, without a shred of irony.
"Very good. At first light we should see what we can do about Dovan and his ilk. For now though, we should pay Master Pfaelof a visit and see if he is willing to take on any borders for evening."
Turning his attention back to Father Hague, "Thank you for your time, I am sure we meet again in the near future."
Whatever hopes she had had for Father Hague alleviating her sense of ill ease, Durielle is not at all comforted by the man. She doesn't trust herself to say anything as her stomach feels hollow and everything about this situation is triggering the instinct to flee this town. Father Hague's interest in whether they have been accumulating wealth seems very suspicious to her.
She pays attention to everything Hague is saying, but is acutely aware he may be able to see the discomfort on her face. The oracle tries to mask this by coughing and wiping her mouth, but who knows if she is successful.
She lowers her eyes and lets the others discuss the situation regarding the local bandits. Once Vladimir makes the party's goodbye, something in her stirs, and she looks directly at the severe-mannered cleric. If he makes eye contact, he will see a cold-anger burning there in the depths of her shining silver eyes.
"Topper Red is dead." The words are spoken flatly and hang in the air thick with importance. After a a second's pause, the oracle continues. "He himself seemed to think that he would be of some importance to this town. His capture that is."
She stares at the cleric hard.
"But instead, he's dead. That should tell you all you need to know about this group's resolve towards lawlessness and instability in the region. Goodday, Father Hague."
Durielle turns and strides out of the church.
Marisol strides out with the remainder of the group, hand on the hilt of her cutlass. As the team reaches the horse post she says, [b]"This all seems very odd. Some kind of labor camp for prisoners? I mean, not necessarily unlike what we've been doing with the ones we captured, but... Father Hague seems to have a different goal in mind. I don't know what exactly. And the way they leered at me and Durielle, it's like there are no women in this town. It's... kind of like he's trying to take convicts and turn them into a monastery." She seems evidently uncomfortable with this situation, but also unwilling to say more while in the heart of the town, as she unties Prancer's reins and then struggles to get back into the saddle.
Vladimir does his best to hold back any emotion as Durielle matter-of-factly statement of the death of Father Hague's son.
Reaching the horses with the others, the swordsman says, "Agreed. There is something not right about this settlement. Perhaps we can discuss it in more detail as we make our way to Master Pfaelof's homestead...that being said, be on your guard."
Father Hague grasps the pew back to steady himself, then drops into the seat. As you reach your mounts, he emerges from the chapel and hikes his robes hustling toward you. "Wait! His body... my son's.. body. How did you leave his mortal remains?"
In part he is behaving as someone who's unprepared for a surprise inspection, and he is weighing his words. You get no sense of ill intent - maybe manipulation, or hiding/downplaying the village's little "quirks".
You see a disconnect between a typical priest of Abadar and Father Hague's influence, position, and apparent beliefs.
Father Hague thanks you - brief, but sincere, and turns back to the church - pensive... half in a daze, perhaps.
It is a short ride to the farmhouse estate at the center of a bean field spanning about six or seven acres - green sprouts in precise rows. You see four workers out in the fields.. the nearest jogs to intercept you soon after you take the turnoff from the main trail. He waves you down... nods, hat in hand.
"Aye sirs, m'ladies. Master Pfaelof has gone off to visit his boys at the East Watch. Know for a fact guest house is open... been so bout a week, I'd say. I'll get you writ down for the night."
There is a stable behind and between the main and guest house - both appear simple, sturdy, well maintained. A few hundred feet further south are two "medium-sized" barns. There is a pond just to the east of the barns (coincidentally kidney bean shaped)... about 150 feet across, maybe 250 feet in length.
Marisol dismounts and prepares to lead Prancer to the barn. "This seems pleasant enough," she says. "If the water seems amenable, perhaps I'll go for a swim."
Leading Shadow to the barn, Vladimir comments, "Certainly better than another night camping out."
Hearing Marisol's comment about a swim, he says, "I know that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but if you do choose to have that swim it may be wise to have someone else within earshot...something about Hague and this settlement still seems a bit off to me."
"Like son, like father?" Balter says dryly as he tugs Owlbear along, while glancing around for potential threats.
Marisol's lips turn down like she's tasted something sour, and she says, "You're right, of course. Can't let our guard down just yet. It's easy to forget sometimes. In fact, before I get my hopes up, I'd better see if the pond is clear enough for swimming, or if the water's too fithy and algae-laden." She pushes open a barn door and leads Prancer inside, then turns to check the pond. "I'll take a look right now, I suppose."
Vladimir nods, staying put until Marisol makes her decision about the pond.
Regarding Balter's question, the swordsman responds, "Perhaps, but if so, he would seem to be a shrewder villain than his son could have ever hoped to be."
"Don't worry, I'm just going to take a look. I'll be back in a moment to rejoin everyone at the guest house."
And Marisol is as good as her word and sways over toward the pond to see if the water is fair or foul - but cautiously.
Vladimir allows himself a small grin as Marisol returns. "Even thought the accommodations seem pleasant, I would suggest we maintain watches just as if we were camping in the wilds."
"Any thoughts?" he asks his fellow charter holders.
"Right. I'll take a morning watch. Or, if you think it's necessary, I know a spell that will allow someone to hold watch all night without need for sleep."
"Since it is my paranoia that is driving this decision, if no one else wants to take watch, I will be the recipient of that spell should it come to that."
Balter nods slowly at Vladimir's assessment of Hague.
Hearing Marisol mention her spell, the ranger frowns. "Damn. I know the one you're talking about. I should have prepared it. I wouldn't want to sleep here if I could help it."
"Since my magics are largely intuitive, it's not a matter of preparation for me. So that works out best for you to focus your magical priorities in other areas." Marisol offers an affirming nod.
"I see that we are also all on the same page of wondering if this is a trap."
Hrafen looks longingly at the beds, before sighing regretfully and nodding.
"Whilst I wouldn't mind a good night's sleep, I agree, it would be wise to keep our guard up; we know relatively little about these people, and something strikes me as slightly... off... about them."
He then grins, and winks.
"After all, it's only paranoia if there really *aren't* people out to get you..."
The farmhand who'd greeted you reaches the stable to further assist you. He notices Marisol looking across the fields - eyeing the pond. "Welcome to walk the grounds m'lady. Wouldn't advise it alone at night when the wild encroaches." He says this last bit with a slightly dramatic tone as if quoting someone else.
He heads to the guest house, and opens the front door for you. "Make yourselves at home. Master Pfaelof'll be back not long after first light, and can settle up with you. Looks like you should have plenty to offer in trade.. if you're not lookin' to stay on and work it off." He winks and smirks as enters and preps the fireplace.
The guest house has the layout of a tiny inn... the common area has a fireplace, small kitchen with a counter-topped island and stools, and two four-seater tables. There are three bedrooms with single/intimate double beds on the main floor, and a large loft bedroom above with four beds. A backdoor leads to an outhouse fifteen feet from the building.
"Thank you for your assistance." Vladimir says to the farmhand. "What does Master Pfaelof usually ask for in trade?"
Turning his attentions to his companions he says, "Even though the individual rooms would likely be more comfortable, I would suggest that we make use of the loft. I will likely cost us less and afford us a measure of security. I will take the first watch, or the entire watch should Marisol wish to cast her spell on me."
"Meh...no worries... not much for a night or two, and on account of the short notice, I assume the good sirs and young ladies aren't looking for too much in additional services, aye?"
"That is correct, just the lodging for tonight. Thank you."
"I'm happy to stay up -- I can get some regular maintenance work done," Marisol says lightly. She listens politely as Vladimir negotiates for the lodgings.
Marisol stares in the direction that the farmhand left, then says, "I'm getting very suspicious. 'Stay and work it off'? What exactly is the price for spending the night in the guest house? This town is getting creepier by the minute. Maybe it's just my nerves, and some supper and rest might put me at ease... I hope their hospitality stays congenial. Remember that old story about the fellow who tried to spend the night in a farmhouse where the farmer had a bed that would stretch you on a rack if you were too short for it, and he'd lop off your legs if you were too tall? Feels like that. I almost wonder if some of those folks in burlap sacks are travelers who decided to spend the night and then had to 'stay and work it off.'"
"Agreed. I am certainly seeing why Olbrent was so uneasy discussing this place. Try and get some rest, but be on your guard. Hopefully we will not have to battle our way out of this settlement."
Marisol nods perfunctorily and says, "I'll go ahead and keep watch - I have very good night vision, just in case."
Marisol's swim is uneventful, and the farmlands quiet - most of the farm workers had already hit the road back to Elmere by the time she'd made her way out there. Once to the pond, she spotted a small hill with a single tree and headstone... a few dozen feet behind the nearer barn. There is a slim split-rail fence around the little area - enough to dissuade casual foot traffic and livestock from plodding across the grave.
Clouds roll in late evening and fill the sky, making it a starless night. It does not get terribly cold outside, but the guest house shutters are in bad shape.. which brings some chilly drafts throughout the night - particularly when a minor windstorm passes through not long after midnight.
Only the name... "Ernastine Pfaelof" is engraved on the headstone.
You hear trotting horses around 5:30 am... through the east window (direction facing the main house), you see a man in padded under-armor garments and cloak riding one horse, and leading another to the stable. He looks over your mounts, and glances toward the guest where you are staying. After stalling his horses, he walks toward the barn nearest the pond. (requiring you to move to a south-facing window)
A little before 7am, there is a knock on the door. It is a man in his thirties wearing padded under-armor garb under a cloak - hood down. Beside him is a young woman in a sack cloth jumper holding a basket full of bread.
"Good morning... " He gestures and steps back, allowing the young woman to hand over the basket. The man bows, "Stueben Pfaelof... I apologize for coming so early to settle up, but I must ride back to my post, and my father has taken ill. I'll subject you to the local tradition. Ten gold pieces will do. Father can always exchange it at the chapel."
Stueben is broad-shouldered, athletic build... with the gritty look of a soldier. His demeanor is pleasant.. laid back.
Once returned from her swim, Marisol carefully dries her hair and then dresses in a red-and-black gown for the evening -- something more comfortable and less smelly than her traveling garb. She casts keep watch and lets the others slumber.
"I am called Marisol. I am sorry to hear of your father's illness. I hope that he has a speedy recovery. Perhaps the priest can assist," she says quietly. Marisol shuffles through her pack and produces the requisite coinage. "A steep fee, but I am all too glad to have a roof over our heads for the night. Thank you, Mr. Pfaelof. We should be on our way soon."
Hearing the conversation downstairs rouses Vladimir from his slumber. Coming down the stairs he sees Marisol, her red and black gown catching the swordsman's eye, rummaging through her pack looking for the requested coinage.
"Good morning...Stueben, is it? Sorry to hear of your father's health. Any thoughts as to what is troubling him?"
'At your convenience, m'lady. No need to rush. I apologize again for the intrusion at such an early hour."
"Oh I'm sure it's nothing serious, thank you sir." Stueben bows his head. "Up too late, night air... bit of a cold would be my guess.", and shrugs.
He absently jingles the gold in his hand. The young woman leans in just a bit - peering at the coins.
Stueben turns to leave, ushers the young woman out, and nods a farewell. "Well... Safe travels today.... Which direction might you be heading, if I may ask?"
Marisol shifts her position slightly to stand closer to Vlad -- perhaps a show of solidarity. "Depends on where tracks take us," she says. "Still looking for specific clues to the locations of bandits in the region." She smiles slightly apologetically. "I'm sure once we have a better handle on the terrain we'll have a better idea."
Impulsively, she turns to the woman with the basket of bread and says, "Are you indentured here? We heard that many of the workers in this community are... under contract."
Vladimir nods in agreement with Marisol's explanation of the party's direction.
"Stueben, where is it that your post is at? Does Elmere have many outposts?"
Listening to Marisol's question, Vladimir thinks to himself, It is seeming more and more that Topper's father is no better than Topper himself...perhaps even worse. as he awaits answers from both Stueben and the young woman.
Stueben cocks his head and nods upon mention of the region's bandits - impressed at the unexpected.
The young woman nods and replies to Marisol "Yes, ma'am.... I had two years added to pay for the search team. When I was younger, I ran off with a couple of my friends. We didn't much like it here.. we just didn't know how good we had it, I s'pose. I was lucky enough to make it back - thanks to Master Pfaelof.. the one who found me. My friends weren't so lucky. Pack of big wolves. Master Pfaelof said they were worgs."
Stueben responds to Vladimir - pointing down the trail to the east. "My brother and I are at East watch. There are two others. One at Nettle's Crossing to the northwest, and Rydinger Farm serves as South Watch. Should you go after Dovan's camp, please let us know if we can aid in any way." He steps aside - a few steps away from the young woman "I know it is just a matter of time before they take Elmere. There are not enough victims in this area for such a group to sustain themselves by way of roadside banditry alone."
"Dovan is... high on our list," Marisol says with a crook of a smile. "We should update our maps with these notes about Nettle's Crossing and Rydinger Farm."