The Flayed Man part 8

A light snow drifts down around the group as they make their way back to the village. Although Seldan is fully armed and armored, and dressed for travel, the cold and damp appears to trouble him not at all, and a golden-silver light, the result of a simple cantrip, is pinned to the tip of the mighty horn, wood, and steel bow that is unstrung and strapped over his right shoulder, bobbing as he walks. "I think the Guild unlikely to tell us, do they even know what the Frostmantles were about," he is saying.

Olek marches out with the others on this snowy afternoon, to ask about the history of the Frostmantles from the villiagers themselves. Just to see what went on unoficially. "Yeah, in a village that size, everyone knows everything that went on, pretty much. They live in each other's back pockets. But yeah, since the Frostmantles weren't working for the Guild, it's unlikely the Guild knows much about them."

Malik walks beside Seldan, his source of light something a bit more practical -- a glowing stone of some kind, a small flame lit around it as it orbits the wizard's head, illuminating some of the small crystalline ice in the air as he moves. "You would think it in their best interest to keep their people informed," Malik muses, "and yet they always seem to have so little information to share. Except where to potentially find the bodies of the people that they formerly hired. As they lay claim to all of their equipment. Strange." Though the deadpan of his voice suggests that he doesn't find it strange at all. Potentially even mildly irksome.

Ezil follows behind Seldan and Malik on the trail, walking with his cloak pulled tight. He listens, looking between the party as they talk of the village, and the Guild. "You know my opinion of them." is all he contributes, but not specific to who. There is not much else from him at the moment, choosing to just watch the snow as it coats their path.

Iskandar tends to wears the same gear when traveling as he does in the city, or virtually any other setting for that matter. The benefits of his heritage and background. He doesn't notice any but the most extreme of temperatures. He has a long-legged stride that eats up distance as if he was astride a horse. "Well," he joins into the conversation mid-stride, "I find myself having to speak for the guild more and more these days, but I still appreciate them. Some of my greatest renown has been won on quests arranged by them!"

The light snow makes the trek a little more uncomfortable than it was when you made it prior to today, but arriving at the village is not the hardest thing in the world. Soon, you've come to the first of the farms and structures that make up its outskirts. Smoke rises universally from the chimneys.

Olek looks around as we enter the village, and wonders, "Do we know anyone here yet? Or do we just barge in and ask questions?" Tact is not his strong suit. Tact is more of a tragic flaw, with Olek. "And how long ago was it that the Frostmantles were here? I vaguely recall someone mentioned a year, but I don't remember other than that it seemed a little while ago?"

"I cannot argue that I have seen much, and made my fortune, through the Guild," Seldan agrees. "Blind indeed would I be to fail to acknowledge that the Guild keeps its secrets, and asks few questions of those who offer it coin. Once have I seen an employer act in bad faith, sending us on a false mission and attempting to invoke illusion spells upon us. The Guild was not pleased when that was reported." He does not seem especially troubled by the snow, although his hood is up against the wet. He looks around as they near the outskirts, frowning. "Perhaps closer into the village, more will be about. The farms will sleep in such weather."

"Quintoos of 1018, the murder was," Seldan answers Olek.

Malik slows as they approach the village, looking around at the others. If he has further thoughts on the nature of the guild, he keeps them to himself -- though he gives Ezil the faintest ghost of a smile, nodding to himself. Scanning the village, he asks, "Old villagers know things, but are rarely inclined to share. Young villagers are more inclined to share, but rarely know anything of use. Rumor and speculation mostly. You'll always find a good story at a tavern, though it's likely to be as incoherent as the teller. And officials know the least, and cost the most to tell you as much." He offers a shrug. "Every option is as likely to end in suspicion and lost time. It's simply a matter of which to throw ourselves against first."

"Why do you think our cousins bribe the guards instead of the mayor? The guard sees, but doesn't speak. He takes, but doesn't share. The guard does too much for too little, and a bit of gold goes a long way to his family." Ezil's words coming with a shrug as he walks, but a smirk comes to his face after Malik's words. "It doesn't always work, but when there are secrets, someone always knows somewhere."

Iskandar turns to give Malik a stare, eyebrow quirked. Then he smiles broadly. "A fine way of putting it," he nods. "I say there's no reason why we can't divide and conquer. I like to make my first stop a tavern every time I enter a new city or village." He pats an empty wineskin on his belt, which you could have sworn was full when the party started the trip from Alexandria."

"Small places such as this are often suspicious of those they do not know," Seldan answers Malik, with a long look over at the man by his side. "A bit of liquor, some coin shared, and some small talk may be wanted to loosen tongues." A nod to Ezil. "You are not wrong." He continues on his path, looking for whatever might pass for a tavern in the area. Hadn't they found one before?

Olek peers at the others, and sighs at Malik and Ezil's blanket condemnation of cities. "Dwarven settlements are not like that," he says proudly. But amends, "At least not so much." But dwarves do tend to be more community-focused than the human places he's been.

Malik gives a little shrug, that ghost of a smile still there. "The tavern might not be a bad place to start," he agrees. "Not for all of us though," he adds, nodding toward Iskandar's observation. He returns Seldan's look, a positively innocent expression worn like a mask there before a tiny wink is given to his partner. Looking back to Ezil, he asks, "Where would you start, then? The guards?"

"Each community is different. This is true." Ezil notes to Olek, bobbing his head as he turns to look at Merek. "I have left the Faring Ways behind, but I would suggest the local healer, or the guard. Yes?"

GAME: Iskandar rolls knowledge/local+2: (12)+5+2: 19

GAME: Malik rolls KNowledge/local: (4)+6: 10

GAME: Malik rolls Diplomacy: (2)+6: 8

GAME: Olek rolls diplomacy: (14)+-2: 12

GAME: Iskandar rolls diplomacy: (4)+8: 12

GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (9)+16: 25

Malik, looking around the city with something of a dour expression, just gives a sigh. "Alright," he says to nobody in particular, his accent thick enough that there is no way he would ever blend in as one of the locals. "Time to go question the people of Asswarts. I'll meet you back at the tavern."

Olek will go and talk to the watch, if no one else will. They're a bit more likely to know any official scoop, and a bit more likely to spull the beans to somewhat unsavory Guild representatives than random individuals in bars. Olek's pretty unsavory, if it comes to that, and while his personality doesn't count officially as a handicap, it does make his life more challenging. But in this case, he tries pretty hard to trim off the rough edges from his personality long enough to find the watch, or as much of an officialdom as a town this size gets, and he'll ask about the Frostmantles.

On a night such as this, the tavern seems to Seldan like the place to start. A relaxed, warm, and cheery place, where liquor can be had and coin willbe welcome, and a sufficiently diverse cross-section of people that if the denizens of the barstools do not know, they will know who likely does. Bundling up just a little more and letting the snow fall on his cloak a bit longer, he finds the local watering hole and ventures inside, beginning with a round for the house and a request for something to chase the snow away.

He is patient, listening to small talk and the doings of locals, only gradually directing the conversation to the winter of 1018 and the doings of strangers in the area at the time.

Iskandar steps into the tavern, glancing around briefly and favoring anyone who looks at him with a nod or a smile. He approaches the bar and sets down his empty wineskin. "I'd like to fill that with your best wine!" He sets down a gold coin. "And if there's any left a round for the house!" He turns to survey the people here. "Nothing like the wine they serve in Esswitz, I always say! Why I've been stopping by here on way across the lands for, four years? Five? Do any of you remember those years?"

Ezil goes roaming in search of a small temple he can recognize, or a healer he can be pointed to in which to ask his questions. The man loves diplomacy and discourse, and finds it best to go where a community will gather in crisis. He takes his time, and while his tsuran heritage is strong, he tries to use as little of his accent as possible. If found, he will donate coin to the alms box, or to help pay for herbs if there is no church. It's mostly about respect for the community, and offering a warm presence first, and what he seeks second. It's really not a scam. Honest.

The wizard seems to be doing his own thing, flashing glances at Seldan now and again as the paladin seems to be absolutely slathering on the charm. Malik, however, seems a bit less impressed -- even if he can barely take his eyes off the man. His own conversation with one of the patrons goes from bad to worse, however, the man looking less and less amused as the wizard asks his questions. And, as one might expect, this lack of amusement leads to near disaster as the patron stands, looking downright angry, and slugs the wizard squarely in the face. Whatever was said between them was too quiet to hear, but the expressions alone tell a fine enough tale -- between the pair, Seldan is clearly the more social of the two, and this time, the wizard may have very well had it coming.

Seldan, meanwhile, seems to have winkled himself into an open conversation with several of the locals. "Problems at the old Keneld farm? I had not realized that that was still there," he begins, quietly signaling for another round from whichever of server or barkeep is the most readily accessible. "I take it that it is no longer is?" The disturbance on the other side, when it happens, gets his attention, and he looks over, then shakes his head with a smile before turning his attention back to the locals. "I do not doubt he had that coming."

Iskandar doesn't have nearly as much success making conversation about local events from four years ago. But that doesn't seem to bother him at all. He does indeed get his wineskin refilled, and comes away with an amphora of wine 'for the road' as he calls it. Although isn't that what the skin is for...?

Olek finds the local watchman is not, actually, much inclined to talk to strangers about none of their business and none of his pointing out that he's trying to help with a problem /they asked/ the Guild to help with will sway him. Olek is forced, at last, to give up and he'll look for the others.

Ezil turned up nothing with his search, standing near a shrine he's come across with sigh. It's fitting it's dedicated mostly to Althea, though there are smaller spots upon it for offerings to the other gods. It was not what he was looking for, and the disappointment is clear, but he did find it all the same. While it's carried him to the outskirts of the town, he kneels and pays his respects. "Telmentar, I don't wish to ask, but it seems that there is not a path that shines under your light that I can see. Is it the snow? Is it too long for us to find a trail to help us?" the rest of his words falling to a whisper as he takes a moment to pay his respects, standing with a subtle glow to his eyes that only lasts but a moment, taking one more look to see if there is anything to find in this dead end.

Iskandar is trying to find a place to tuck away his amohora but ends up just tucking it under his arm. This draws a comment from one of the villagers in the tavern, and with a smile Iskandar engages him in murmured conversation. His expression freezes just for a moment as he learns something where he hadn't been expecting to. After nodding and refilling the local's mug from his new amphora, Iskandar turns to look for other members of the party so they can regroup.

Ezil takes a long look at that shrine. He stares at the place that has is attention until that sheen within his glance has faded. "That's not good." his breath taking a moment and then turning to quickly head back down the path. "I need to find the others." heading to where he heard Seldan and Malik had went. Yes, find the bar. Find it fast. Whatever it was that caught his glance has him moving with haste.

Olek finds the local watchman and has a bit of a chat. He's not used to people wanting to talk to him at all, but Gurv, as he's known, is apparently so starved for attention that he'll even talk to Olek. At length. A bit more length tha Olek was really planning on. But finally Olek will break free and find the others to report on his findings. "So, the watchman is bored out of his mind. They mostly do bar fights and wild animal attacks, and this guy didn't even know about Morv Blayton or the Frostmantles, though he's probably got the most outside contact of anyone in the village."

Seldan continues his conversation with several of the locals over more than one mug of ale, but for himself listens more than he drinks. More than one of them gestures northward at his question, and he nods his understanding, then turns the conversation to other, lighter matters. For the rest of the evening, he'll focus on getting to know names and faces, and give his own. He doesn't even try to push the conversation further. Not tonight. When Olek walks in and announces himself, he looks up, but extricates himself carefully and only with plenty of pleasantries.

When he finally does extricate himself, he tilts his head towards the door, then looks over at Malik. "Let us see him out before he insults anyone else."

Iskandar nods. He steps out of the tavern. While waiting for the others to emerge he throws back his shoulders and spreads his arms, breathing deeply. Dropping his hands to his sides he looks around the rest of the party. "That went about as well as can be expected," he notes. He had overheard a bit of what Seldan learned through skilled diplomacy, and when it's safe to do so explains what he can add.

Ezil sees Iskandar as he comes running from the direction of the shrine he'd found. A hand raises to hail the giantborn as he's a bit winded. He only begins to slow now that an ally is in sight. "Iskandar. Are the others still inside?" he calls as he comes to stop near the man, trying to catch breath. "I think I found something important, but... it might not be related."

Seldan takes it upon himself to rescue the silent Malik from the corner and herd him outside, black eye and all, and is just opening the inn door to step back out into the snow, cloak in free hand over his shoulder. He only catches the last few words, though, and looks back to see if Olek will join them as well. He waits until the door is closed before saying anything. "Are you all right?"

Ezil looks up to Malik and Seldan, pausing as he sees Malik's eye and almost opens his mouth. Nope. He seems to decide it's best not to ask. "I..." looking around to make sure that it's unlikely he'll be overheard. "I believe there are followers of The Nightmare, Seldan. They're here, and they are active. I felt the evil." he explains, looking then to Iskandar. "It was at the shrine I found. I don't know if it's related, but.... could the death of been ritual after all?" but not mentioning how he know.

Seldan bares his teeth in an expression that is half-grimace and half-scowl. "The Hound. That explains who might flay a man living ... but why?" The good humor in his bearing is entirely gone, as if that one name alone renders the Silver Guard suddenly all business. He grows quiet, one hand on the pommel of his sword, and closes his eyes, focusing intently.

GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/religion+1: (14)+11+1: 26

Iskandar looks thoughtful. "Followers of Caracaroth...?" he repeats. Within the span of a few seconds the expression turns to one of eagerness. "I've yet to face any myself. But I've heard many tales of their evil and depravity. We stand to find more glory than we knew on this quest!" By the end of his bit of speech he's beaming.

Olek peers at Ezil curiously, and says, "You think the shrine was used by evildoers? /Recently?/" He looks around, and says, "If it's recent, maybe I can find tracks from the shrine to where some of them are? Or have done things. If it's that, we could ambush them."

Ezil nods to all of those questions, finally seeming to find his wind. "I do." this spoken to Olek. "Within a couple days, maybe less. It left an aura on the shrine." his glance the shot to Seldan, speaking softer. "I am blind to evil for a while. I'll need your eyes to look for it coming. I... called in a favor, and will need much rest before it returns." giving that much warning.

"It is what was that is of interest," Seldan reminds the others, looking up. "The disciples of the Great Hound may yet be around ... such is not so uncommon as that." He uses the Myrrish name for Caracoroth, which matches the Myrrish accent with which he speaks. I cannot say if it is related, or no, and yet might such as they well use human skins in their rituals. It could be them, but I would learn more. I would seek the Keneld farm, north of town if the locals are to be believed. They mentioned "problems", but seemed unwilling to speak." He nods at Ezil. "I understand, and I shall. Well done."

Iskandar eyes Ezil. "You mean to say, you had the ability to sniff out evil, but now you've lost it? That's unfortunate." He rubs his bearded chin. "It always makes things simpler when people can assure you 'that is evil!' before you smash it." He shrugs easily. "But if at least one of us can still do so, we should be able to manage." His manner seems to imply that even if no one in his party can do so he thinks he can manage.