The Flayed Man part 11

GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (12)+16: 28

Having returned to the inn that night, you rest peacefully.

No one bothers you, but again, this isn't exactly the friendliest of towns. Outsiders, aftter all, are not exactly welcome, even if they're tolerated.

You awaken in the morning to an uneventul town morning and proceed to nudge around, gently, on the matters in regards town hisory and wolves. Wolves are not uncommon in the woods around here, they say, nor are your usual assortment of dangers that you're liable to find out this way. Owlbears, dire beasts and more have been spotted from time to time over the years. Some of the townies have their doubts aboiut Keneld's story, still referring to him as 'the new guy', if they're old enoiugh. Insular, to be sure. The way they figure, he just couldn't hack it as a farmer out this way and he should go back to where they came from. This chilly reception applies even to Seldan, despite their overall willlingness to talk to him (and through him the rest of you). When pressed about the town history, they do confirm the gist of the stories shared about the Sorceress Wars by Keneld, and the informants who were said to've been disappeared by Altima's forces. The oldest amongst them, those who were young men at the time, grow even chillier.

Seldan listens to the tales, and with every passing conversation becomes more closed and impassive. "I see. Other than Keneld and ourselves...you must have few visitors indeed. Did you perhaps see these mercenaries he hired?" He speaks carefully.

Olek will hang around towards the back of the party and try not to look too dour. Sullen, but not interruptive. On his own, he'll usually find something to say that spoils people's moods; at least if he clams up, he can't say anything -too- bad. Anyhow, Seldan's doing about the best that anyone can with these insular folks, and he'd like not to spoil it.

Malik, of course, is not the diplomatic one. He's the sly one. And his skills are of little use while the paladin is trying to have an upright and honest conversation with the good townsfolk. So he mostly just watches quietly as well.

Ezil lets Seldan discuss these things, his attention more on those 'around' the group that the other paladin speaks with. Those who wish to talk and engage already have eyes on them. It's those who linger away and stay quiet that he seems to find a passing interest in. While he doesn't engage with anyone, he just watches with an ear half-listening to the topics being discussed with interest here and there.

Iskandar loiters about near where Olek is. They make an odd contrast. The Khazad is short and dour, while the Giantborn is towering and jovial. But they seem to have the same idea - Seldan has them eating out of his hand. Still, Iskandar's innate sense of heroism doesn't let him sit idle for long. Or maybe it's vanity. Ahem.

"We should help these farmers and villagers out while we are here! Show them our quality!" He turns around and then points at the nearest villager. "You there!" he booms. "Do you have any odd quests or jobs we could do for you? Chop down a few trees, lift a boulder out of your fields, that sort of thing?!"

"Oh right," replies one of them, "right band came through town, same as you lot are now," replies a grizzled loooking townsman to Seldan's question.

The fellow ppinted at by Iskandar just sort of rolls his eyes. "Sure, I got a quest for you. The quest of leavingm e the fuck alone," he snorts. People laugh. Of course.

"Very friendly place. Oughta retire here." Ezil says under his breath, shifting in his seat, and looking about the room once again. He's among good company with his group, it's the village populace that seems to be putting him off.

"The mystery of the skinless ghost is tied to the questions we ask," Seldan tells the farmer, levelly. "I have an idea for what we might do, Iskandar, but I will speak of it when we leave." He turns his attention to the one who actually answered his question. "They stay long, and did they cause any trouble?"

Olek nods to Iskandar, and he says, sidelong, with all seriousness, "I will aid you in this quest." He looks to Seldan, then the others. He avoids looking at any of the townsfolk. Leaving the town sounds like a good idea to him. We were just here to find out maybe a bit more, but it looks like that fountain of knowledge is drier than we'd expected. But Seldan's found a trickle, so he'll just try and not make things worse.

Iskandar chuckles good naturedly. "Yes yes...well. Your loss," he glances at the villager, "Is no one's gain." He turns away and then goes back to loitering once more. He doesn't exactly look in the direction of Seldan and those the paladin is talking to. But the timing of ISkandar's own words and the pauses in his speech are timed so that he could possibly be listening to every word said.

Malik lets Seldan do what he does, watching the conversation evolve as Iskandar and Olek chime in. Rolling his eyes, the wizard steps away from the crowd, moving over to a small group of people. Glancing over his shoulder, he drops his voice to a near whisper, looking to one of the men in particular. "Fucking adventurers," he sighs. "You would think the guild would have better things to do than send us out to bother people that don't want to be bothered." He glances back over his shoulder at Iskandar. "But so long as there are fools willing to do whatever they're told for gold, more of them will keep coming. With the blessing of the Temples, no less. They think they're doing the people here a service." The Tsuran's accent marks him as an outsider, naturally, but at least not one of the Alexandrians.

"'Course they caused trouble. Nosy shits just like you," replies the gruff, grizzled, older man. He glances at his friends and then has a sip from his canteen befopre adding, "They did their job and they left. Skinless ghost," he guffaws. Clearly, he seems to have his doubts about the existence, "You ask me, some folks round here have been taken for fools. Probably some old bastard in a mask or something. Wouldn't surprise me if it was Keneld himself."

"Don't know about that. Doesn't look like much was going on at his farm last I checked." Ezil answers the ornery villager, casting an armored shrug. "He don't much seem to like to leave his place these days. That because of some feud or something? Seems like a decent fellow, but then... I wouldn't really know him that well." joining into the conversation.

Iskandar turns his head slowly and casually as if he's looking idly over the area. Only to stop when he is looking in the direction of the villager. After a bit he glances at Seldan and then Ezil as the latter approaches, before he goes back to watching the elder.

"No kidding," repli4es the grumpy fellow at Ezil. "That's a /shame/." Seems like Keneld was right about them not being of much help to him. Then again, they settle back into their chairs and get their pipe smoke flowing again while Malik makes his approach.

There's exchanged words, of course, though, and the younger man lets out a sharp laugh. "No kidding. This is the most foot trfgfic we've gotten from outsiders in a while, aside from the occasionasl people peddling bullshit." A pause.

"No ofense." He's uncomfortable to be talking to Malik, yet, he also seems to welcome a little intereaction. The words seem to've put him a little more at ease, however, as he begins to engage in a little conversation.

Now the older gentlemen are playing a dice game.

Malik shakes his head, offering a smile. "None taken," he tells the younger man, seeming perfectly at ease himself, except for a few occasional mildly annoyed glances over at his counterparts. "Tsurans peddle their bullshit to Alexandrians because, like you, they couldn't simply leave us alone. And so now here we are. Debasing ourselves for --" He just gestures over to the group, subtly. Taking up a space against the wall, a respectful distance away from the younger man but close enough to be heard, he says, "That's what happens when you don't play by their rules, you know? They just keep sending more and more people, trampling all over everything, disrupting everything you know. They don't take kindly to being made to look like fools. Even if they -are-. You either play by their rules and get paid, or watch everything you used to know disappear as strangers become neighbors, like it or not."

Iskandar takes in a deep breath and then exhales. He looks at Olek and then towards the rest of the party. "This is getting us nowhere," he says in a lowered voice. "We should return to Alexandria and follow our next lead. The Frostmantle quartermaster, I believe it was?"

Olek is a bit confused now, trying to reconcile Seldan's helpful tone with Malik's commentary. He whispers to Iskandar, "What peddlars?" Seems he missed part of the conversation. He nods in reply to the suggestion about returning to Alexandria. "I think that's a real good plan," he says softly.

Ezil huffs a laugh at Malik's words. "Yeah, if you're not from 'their' city... they treat you like you're ignorant, and keep secrets that... well. Lots of secrets. They think because they have numbers and strength... that well, their opinion matters more." his shrug cast as he stands. "I don't know why you bring it up now, Malik. I fee like have the things I am sent on, people worried more about their pay than what was right, and just. It's a messy place." one tsurai to the other as he talks, walking towards the bar and leaving that conversation for now.

"Oi. Alexandrians, right?" snorts the younger fellow and his quiet conversation with Malik. The older men are starting to take a little more notice of it, but aren't paying it too much attention to it just yet. Still, he's got the guy on a hook for the time being, his eyes roving over the group.

"How do you work with them, anyway? The gold is that good, oi?" He has a drink from his own canteen. It smells of booze. He offers it over.

Malik looks up from his conversation, surprised that anyone other than the person he was having the conversation with could even hear him, given that he was speaking in barely a whisper. There's a momentary flash of annoyance, and he drops his voice even lower, nodding to Ezil's addition. "The gold is good," he answers, moving in a bit closer. "And, thankfully, discreet. Nobody knows that you did anything at all unless you tell people. It's why so many adventurers embellish their tales. There is nobody to contradict them. The Guild itself doesn't talk. They just pay. Quietly." He gives a little shrug, looking around the room. "Your elders think that they're preserving their ways, shunning outsiders. It's noble. And foolish. All they're doing is ensuring that more come by not talking. Smarter men would play the game and be rid of them." Pressing off against the wall, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a few gold that he dances across his fingers once, twice, before they disappear with a flourish, heaing back toward the group. "We should go," he agrees. "I think we have a report to file."