Party 5

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Fauntleroy purses her lips and forces herself to recall the sigils needed in a ritual to detect magic. It helps disappointingly little to soothe her temper as Carwyn heads her way. She sits up, straight backed, and adjust her glasses to glare up at the cleric.

“This is, by my count, the second time in an hour or so that you interrupt me, Master Gwirionedd,” she says, trying to keep her voice measured— yet she makes no effort to keep her voice quiet.“What is so pressing that you suddenly need to talk to me about it? If it is about the mists, I am well aware. Anything else can wait until I have finished up my class, I’d say.”

She resolutely turns back to her spell book. “Now where were we...Ah, yes. It will take a bit before you’ll be able to cast your first spell properly. Unlike ‘Divine’ magic or even worse sorcerers, a wizard doesn’t cheat. They get where they are through thorough study and discipline.”
 
Carwyn looks up to the ceiling and says a silent prayer to Eldath for some calmness and takes a deep breath. "Professor, I am sorry for being a constant interruption into your teachings and believe me that angering you is the last thing I want at the moment." He thinks on Balion's words and tries to relax himself a little, not letting himself get riled up by Fauntleroy's complete disdain. "It is not about the mists. Well, maybe related to them. Part of it at least. This is important Fauntleroy. Please."

He frowns as she continues the lecture and has to restrain himself from slamming his hand down on the bar, instead rubbing both hands over his face and turning away slightly. "I know you might be in a mood with me but that is blatantly incorrect. You know that. Sorcerers may get their magic as birthright but you earn divine magic with study and discipline as well. Just because it is through belief and not a particular set of books does not make it any less valid." He pulls out his prayer book, handwritten in Celestial with detailed notes and diagrams of sigils and information and holds it open on a random page. "And just because I do not cast from my book does not make me a cheat in what I worked for. Now before you continue teaching your half-truths and fallacies, a word please."
 
“If you were sorry you would not interrupt in the first place,” she says simply. “Is the world ending? Are we in immediate grave danger?” She glances around the bar, as if to confirm that they were not under siege. “No? then it can wait. Really, Master Gwirionedd, even my rudest colleagues had more decency than this.”

The half-elf raises an eyebrow, letting out a scoff. “I wouldn’t call begging a certain amount of days in a row for something to happen until some ‘deity’ gets fed up with you ‘study and discipline’,” she says simply. “The difference between a warlock and a cleric is that warlocks often hold a more honest view of how they gained their power. Now if you could leave me be— I’m trying to teach here.”
 
Carwyn blanches at her words, his face white either out of sheer disbelief or rage or a mixture of the two. He takes a moment and puts away his prayer book, holding up a hand while he tries not to explode at the vast blasphemy of it all. His voice goes quiet when he speaks, keeping an eye on Edmon out of the corner of his eye. "If you were willing to listen to what I had to say instead of being so disparaging then you might understand that we might well be in grave danger yes. However I am not keen to discuss that sort of thing in front of a child who has been torn away from everything that they knew and subject to only the gods know what days prior. Which is why I asked for the conversation to move away from everyone." He takes a deep breath and tries to focus himself, willing himself not to let the anger take over. "I know that you have no concern or care inside you Professor but as a common courtesy at least I thought you would have refrained from re-traumatising the poor boy merely for the sake of your misplaced ego."

He wheels away for a moment and then turns back pointing at his head and his voice raising just a little bit higher than he wants. "For someone so intelligent you clearly lack any sort of real understanding of anything. I did not beg for my powers, I worked for them and I am betting that I did a damn sight more than stared at a few books for a couple of years for what I know. I am not surprised that someone who dabbles so often into death is cynical of the gods because there have to be a few that are not happy with the sort of work that you want to do. For the record I am damn sure that my begging as you call it has earned me a wider variety of magic and more of it than your ineffectual scribbles ever have. But I wouldn't worry about your blasphemy Bryce because there are the wrong fucking gods here which is one of the points I was trying to make." By the end he is shouting and he grabs a handful of hair in anger before holding up a hand in apology to the rest of the tavern.
 
“Children don’t learn anything about the real world if you hide it from them,” Fauntleroy says mildly. “It’s unfair to hide it all from him, wouldn’t you say? Leave him stumble in the dark like a fool. Give him false hope that it’ll be alright. You think I’m a monster? Fine.” She turns to Edmon. “I’ll tell you what this fool here tries to hide, the very truth most people flee from— life is tough, and these so called ‘gods’ are just gluttons that play with us mortals for entertainment. They don’t care.”

She scoffs at Carwyn’s display. “Master Gwirionedd, you’re making a embarrassing display out of yourself,” Fauntleroy says. “Interrupting classes and yelling like an ‘end is nigh’ madman in the streets of Waterdeep. And blasphemy, from you of all people? Tell the folks of these lands that their gods are the ‘wrong ones’?” She smiles wryly. “I expected better of you. Perhaps you should cool down. Bludgeon something to death. Maybe that will help you calm down.”
 
Balion, having had enough of this show, steps up and tries to place himself between Fauntleroy and Carwyn leveling a stare to each in turn. He doesn't open his mouth for a moment and when he does he is looking at Carwyn. His voice is quiet and calm but there is a hint of reproach and disappointment bleeding through. "Carwyn, friend, this is not becoming of you. Yes, we are in a situation where we may be in danger and we have one with us who's Wheel has only just begun turning. That is no reason to shout or argue. I understand you do not approve of Professor Fauntleroy's choice of study but when has she has never overstepped boundaries of taking a life in the search of her answers, as I know it. She is no murderer or purveyor of evil. If that was the case we wouldn't have continued our own Wheels path with her. She is a valuable companion and good friend because she makes us stop and think things through or to look at something from an unconventional angle. Please. Take a moment and breath. We have the day's light before we should truly worry about much and it's not much past breakfast. We can easily get together, share the information we have, and set on a turning before the sun falls." He puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder with a small squeeze. "Your intention is noble, but rushing is not something we want to do at the moment with as many unknowns as we have and especially with Edmon to think of. We will get him home, safe and sound."

Balion then turns to Fauntleroy, his tone not much changed. "I am equally surprised by you, Professor Fauntleroy. You are a learned woman and for that, as you heard, I value your view and input on things. I also understand that your inquisitive mind almost demands you question conventions, traditions, and faiths. All are good qualities to have when applied in the right scenarios. To attack a friend and traveling companion with that is not what one of your intellect or viewpoints should be doing with that mind. It is beneath you and ultimately a petty act typically taken by the unlearned or those unwilling to accept a truth that there are many perspectives and realities in our world. You should know better than most how it feels to have that perspective used to attack you." He gives her a knowing look. "I am happy that you wish to share your knowledge with us and hold lessons like these. It's a great help and I would have been lost more than once without your help. A difference of opinion or perspective is something to cherish and see as a challenge to grow and understand more."

Balion then alternates between looking to the both of them, voice still quiet and calm, the edge of reproach and disappointment finally leaving. "We are friends and companions. We have chosen to turn our Wheels in tandem because we see the value of each to the other. Both when in the field and out. We are different and for that, we are stronger, physically and mentally. A squabble from time to time is to be expected, the path anyone's Wheel takes is bound to be fraught with bumps and rivets, but the point of those is for us to better ourselves and overcome or find common ground. It is not for us to tear each other down when we falter. We are better than that. We are kinder than that." He stops talking for a few moments, still leveling looks at them both. "Or have I been wrong to hold you two in such high esteem?" His question is sad, filled with hurt as if he was in pain from the mere thought of it.
 
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Carwyn reacts to Balion's words like he has been slapped and takes a step back away from the elf. He frowns and gestures towards Fauntleroy, still clearly angry with everything. "The hells Balion? I asked for a quiet word to talk about these problems. If she hadn't..." He sighs catching himself and his tone and takes a seat instead, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose and taking a few calm breathes. "I do not care what she chooses to study, since you are right she has only done so with honesty and integrity so far. There is obvious value in her field. But it matters when she takes away from everything that I have done and worked for merely because I came to it in a different way to her."

He sighs again and finally opens his eyes and looks up. When he speaks he is much calmer but there is still a hard edge to his voice, clearly still bothered by things that had happened. "We are in danger. As outsiders, as new into this world. That much is clear, but there is a clearer and more defined danger and it is not something I wish to discuss on an open tavern floor. It is something that you are well aware of Balion. If we are to follow your advice then we need to have somewhere to actually talk about this. The only thing that I want to do is keep all of us safe as much as Fauntleroy might snipe. It has been all I have tried to do since we started travelling together and you have all felt my healing in testament to that." He stands up again and moves to put himself behind Edmon, obviously establishing a protective position around the boy. He looks at Fauntleroy properly for the first time since Balion started talking. "Pushing me is fine Professor, deserved even since I know I have angered you a number of times over the last few days. What you said to Edmon was beyond the pale though. Let us move on from this and do as Balion suggests. Let's find some common ground and make sure we are all on the same page."
 
Fauntleroy can’t help but scoff a little as Carwyn is addressed, before shaking her head at Balion’s words. “I admire your attempt at rationality, Master Balion. Perhaps you are right in suggesting I overstepped a little— but both of you should not forget that the only things I do follow are my own curiosity and the undisguised truths. You will find no falsehoods or sugarcoating with me.” She can’t help the somewhat vague smile, cocking her head a little.

“I have to admit I’m mildly confused at the idea of being ‘friends’,” she says— not in a way intended to be mean, but with genuine lack of understanding. “I’ve never required friends, and I’m not about to start now. I am sorry if I somehow gave that impression?” Fauntleroy presents this as if it’s a logical, rational thing to say, as if it was a social contract one could just opt out of at will. She sees no flaw to her logic.

She raises an eyebrow as Carwyn addresses her. “What I said was the truth, and nothing less than that. You made hide from it. You may think yourself special, handpicked by some deific lady from another plane. I warn you that you’re nothing but a toy to play with— do with that warning what you will. It’s your life. Be foolish and see if I care.” She looks at what little of Edmon she can see behind the cleric. “But don’t sugarcoat life for that child’s sake. You’ll only disappoint him. Life is bleak and dour and then you die. That’s the truth of life, and in the end we cannot hide from it.”
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Edmon waves slightly as Carwyn arrives and gladly takes the blanket around him when the cleric adjusts it, appreciating the added warmth. He tilts his head when Carwyn mentions heading outside for a private talk but says nothing, simply fidgeting in his seat. His normally neutral expression starts to tend towards a frown as the conversation between the two older figures turns more serious, with the volume raising higher and higher with each back-and-forth. Each time Fauntleroy or Carwyn looks to him, as if seeking some sort of approval or confirmation, he merely shrinks back more and more, tugging the blanket tighter around him as if it could shield him from all of the arguing.

The tavern is in a tense silence as the argument continues, most other conversations dying down as a result of being interrupted or simply not being able to be heard over the current ruckus. A couple farmers quietly slide their bowls and glasses back over to Arik, not really wanting to stick around for this; his monotone speech telling them their total bill is the only thing that can be constantly heard in the meantime, as he seems to pay no mind to what was currently going on. Most of the other patrons either bury themselves in their glasses and food, or occasionally sneak glances while mostly looking away from the current clamor.

From his seat Gerbruht can't help but overhear all of the conversation, looking back over to Gimble and raising an eyebrow to himself as if questioning just who these people really were. Snagging his glass of water he sneaks to a more hidden spot between two patrons at the bar and continues to write, either trying to ignore the encounter best he can or taking note of it. Meanwhile the delivery boy who was sitting outside peeks his head in through the front doorway, blinks a couple times, then slowly backs out again as it continues on.

"What's all that commotion out there?!" With a bit of a clatter heard in the back room Mirabel pushes her way out of the kitchen door, hands still wet from some sort of food preparation as she looks at the group, confused. "Did something happen? Are you alright?" She holds out a hand expectantly to the side; Arik, without missing a beat, hands her a rag to dry her hands with. "I must say, it's terribly hard to get a good roast going if it sounds like the tavern's going to collapse as soon as I leave!"

Ismark, who had looked up from his papers at some point when the shouting started but seemed hesitant whether to actually step up and intervene, seems to snap out of it when Mirabel steps out. He seems to try and pep talk himself, taking a deep breath and straightening his messy coat as he stands up from the bar. "I'll handle this, Mirabel," he says, flashing an uneasy smile as he walks over and pats her comfortingly on the shoulder before moving past her and approaching the tense group.

"Lady, Gentlemen. Why don't we all just have a drink and settle down? I would prefer to keep it civil in here, Mirabel and her sisters do work hard to keep this lovely tavern in tip top shape." He steps forward between the two, an apologetic expression on his face as he clasps his hands together. "Do either of you drink? If so you can have a glass on me, otherwise I'd be happy to pay for your food as well. Perhaps there is still more to discuss between the two of you, but I would happy to be a mediator in order to smooth this over if you would like?" Though he tries to be uplifting there is still a hint of pleading, like he's not entirely sure what he should do in this sort of tense situation. "I imagine it must be very tough, coming here as outsiders... please, I can offer you any hospitality or assistance I can to make this day better for you and your little one, within my jurisdiction as burgomeister of this village."

Edmon in the meantime has almost entirely shrunk back as the conversation seems to subside at Balion's intervention -- though not for long. Though Carwyn has stepped behind him he does not look at the cleric, having propped up his knees so that his feet were on his seat and burying his face in the darkness of the blanket until everything was finally over.
 
“It’s Professor, actually,” Fauntleroy corrects. She raises an eyebrow at the burgomeister’s offers. “I think it’s a little early for alcohol, isn’t it?“ And besides that, it would be a waste of perfectly good ingredients for spells, but she’s wise enough not to voice that thought right now. “I hardly think Master Gwirionedd and I have anything worth talking about, but I thank you for the offer.”

She shakes her head at Ismark’s comment. “I hardly find it ‘tough’. In fact, I think it’s a fascinating chance. How often do scholars get this chance? Hardly. There’s a lot of magic at work here, and it will be my pleasure to study it.” She looks at Edmon for a moment when Ismark indicates him, shaking her head. “You misunderstand— he’s not ‘our’ little one. Just a child we helped.”
 
Carwyn raises his eyebrows at Fauntleroy's final statement to Edmon, more pity in his eyes than anger. 'Does she really think that there is no light in the world?' He goes to say something in response but Mirabel's entrance derails him and then he is on the backfoot. He looks guiltily to the tavern owner and gives an apologetic shrug. When Ismark cuts in between himself and Fauntleroy there is a flash of annoyance but it is mixed with relief. He can see how uncomfortable Edmon is and he is wracked with guilt over it. He knows that the last thing that he would have needed after the attack in his childhood was a protector who was as loud as he had been, but it was like Fauntleroy knew exactly how to wring out a reaction from him. He doesn't want to shout or be angry and he knows he needs to try harder to keep it under wraps, at least around the boy.

He studies the burgomeister as he makes his proposals, keenly observing the mannerisms and worries plain to see on the face of the other man. He holds up his hand in resignation and pulls up a seat to sit next to Edmon, not reaching out to the boy but just being a presence near him. Hopefully then Edmon would be able to calm down around him later at least. He takes another few deep breathes, trying to remember the exercises that Lander taught him to control his temper and finally felt confident enough to be conversational and calm. "Apologies Burgomeister. It was not my intention to cause a scene. I very rarely drink but if you are generous enough to pay for our meals then I will not turn you down." Carwyn feels that he seems like the sort of man who judges his interactions with others through money, if he pays something then he might feel a little less nervous at least. He offers the burgomeister the closest he can come to a warm smile at the moment.

"Well as much as I am sure there is plenty that you can offer us, the most important thing is really information. Especially given our situation." He makes sure to keep his body posture open and friendly as possible and to keep his hands down on his legs where they can't be taken as threatening. "There are some things that we are unaware of. I am sure that you could work out from the argument that we are very new here. We don't understand this land or what has happened to us. The Professor may think of this as a scholarly exercise but it is something that will continue to be an issue for us unless we have some more knowledge on it. You seem... familiar at least with the idea of outsiders. Is it something you have experienced before?" Carwyn doesn't want to overwhelm Ismark with too many questions, he can see that the man is nervous enough as it is.

He winces at Fauntleroy's last statement though and he can feel himself getting angry again. Then he looks to Edmon and bites everything back, pushing it down inside. Instead he gives the boy a smile and puts a hand on his shoulder very gently. He looks back to the burgomeister and nods towards the boy. "Despite what was just said. I have responsibility for this boy. His name is Edmon. And mine is Carwyn, I am a priest of a goddess of peace known as Eldath. I will let my companions introduce themselves." He feels himself finally finding firmer ground underneath him now that he wasn't having to spar with Fauntleroy. He leaned a little closer to Edmon and whispered gently to the boy. "Are you okay? I'm sorry for shouting there is just a lot going on at the moment and I'm trying to keep everyone safe."
 
Balion pinches the bridge of his nose as they continue to bicker, though thankfully they are at least no longer shouting. As the Burgomeister offers what kindness he can, hoping to aid in stopping the fighting as well it seems, Balion gives him a thankful nod. As he's looking to the Burgomeister, his voice somewhat exasperated. "How long do we have use of the rooms we had rented last night?" As he waits for the answer he then turns to look between Carwyn and Fauntleroy. "You two shall be headed to one of them to talk along with Gimble, I will watch Edmon for half an hour and then we both will be up to the room, conversation being done or not." He then looks to Edmon with a small smile and nod. "I'm sure we can entertain ourselves, right Edmon?" Turning back to the Burgomeister his lips twitch into a small apologetic smile. "If we need to pay for the rooms another night to use them then I will do so."
 
Gimble looks towards both of his companions in slight bemusement and credulity as both make their points and counter points. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more kind Prof.” but also finding himself agree with her perspective more due to his own bias. Thinking back on all his family’s pain it’s hard to believe in a god, one who would interfere in mortals lives anyway. “Though Carwyn ‘as been living up to his name sake and been as calm as can be expected ‘ere.” Gimble shifts his weight a bit to look at the depressed lump of blanket that is Edmond and let’s out a chuckle. Smiling to himself a bit “Poor lad, I’ll have to talk to ‘em.” Taking another bite of his meal and sip from his cup he notices Balion approach and shifts up his eyebrow a few inches in response. What seems to be another five for his proposed resolution. And then furrows his brow as Fauntleroy shatters the tension with her brutal remarks. “I can’t be haven this among my fellows.” Gimble straightens up, but before he can say anything another stranger appears trying to calm things down for The inn something that completely escaped his mind. “Ah so this is the burgomeister, looks wealthy.” placing that mental note at the back of his mind he steps up onto his stool. Then sits back down to continually think about what exactly he should say tossing the words around his mouth and stetching a little bit gets him to a good speech he is about to give when Balion speaks towards retiring for the night. “ugh, fine at least that should be done with. I’m going to stalk this burgomeister about later.” Getting down from his stool this time he says.

“Well that was exciting wasn’t it? Plenty of emotion to go around ey? I doubt it’s the last I see of it, though I ‘an hope.” Spinning his arms around after jumps down he waves and says looking back “I’m gonna go fer a walk, Prof I enjoyed your class. Hoping to continue it later, but maybe I could teach ya a bit about appealing to others sensabilities.” Straining every syllable as he walks out the door.
 
Fauntleroy tries and fails not to be amused by the fact that their appointed mediator just walks out the door. She can’t even bring herself to be frustrated about him walking out— class was rudely disrupted minutes ago anyway. She couldn’t blame him for walking out.

“Other than our mediator disappearing right out the door, I don’t think there is anything worth talking about,” she says to Balion. “I’d much rather get back to my notes and do something actually productive today. Considering we’re apparently in a very dangerous situation, I’d be remiss not to study where I can, no?”

She looks towards Ismark. “How rude of me, Burgomeister. I forgot to introduce myself. Professor Bryce Fauntleroy. Professor or Fauntleroy will do just fine. Pleasure to meet you.” She rattles the formalities off like it’s a script.
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

"Hopefully we can keep it toned down for the rest of the morning, then?" Ismark feels relieved at being able to help, at least a little bit. "Well anyway, nice to meet you all -- Carwyn, Professor Fauntleroy, Edmon. And I'm sure I'll get to know the others soon enough if you folks happen to be staying in the area for a bit longer. As for me, no need to use the title -- just call me Ismark." At the question on his experience with outsiders he furrows his brow in thought, rubbing his barely stubbled chin. "To be honest it is not something I have personal experience with, but I have heard the tales of such things happening. I assumed most people like that wouldn't want to stay in a small village like this for long, probably moving to the larger towns in western Barovia or to another domain entirely."

"If you would prefer to speak more in private, we can also take a walk to my fa-- my house, on the south end of town," he offers. "It's a bit messy, but I can still accomodate some guests. Or if not that's fine too, if I'm not running around town you'll probably find me there if you need anything later." He flashes an awkward smile, before glancing out the window. "Hopefully there isn't too much trouble today, I could use a break to settle things down for once." He seems to realize what he just said and shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Though I'm sure you have enough of your own worries to figure out, of course."

When Balion asks about the rooms Mirabel perks up, still wiping her hands clean. "Sorvia mentioned you coming in pretty late, close to morning," she says, thinking about it. "You can keep the rooms at least until the evening before you pay for another night, it's not like we're filled to capacity or anything."

"Don't... shout." Edmon says quietly, still clutching the blanket close. He keeps his gaze low to the ground, not really looking at Carwyn. "I don't like it when people shout. It's okay, I'm okay, but I just don't like it."


Village Streets:

As Gimble walks out he runs into the delivery boy from before, who seems to have resumed his previous business of carrying crates into the tavern. He glances down at the gnome, before glancing back at the front door, tilting his head. "Hey, so they're... they're done in there, right? I didn't really want to interrupt... whatever that was." He reaches up a hand to scratch his head awkwardly, managing to carry the crate in one arm without much strain. "That seemed, um, rough."

Looking around Gimble can see a fair bit of activity around the village, though it is a far cry from what he might have been used to back in Daggerford. Most farmers are toiling away in the fields just outside of town, where it seems some crops are getting close to being harvest-ready. Across the street a broad-shouldered young man can be seen on the roof of what appears to be the general store, hammering away at a hole in the rickety roof while the door below is propped open with a crate. In the distance, the air is filled with the sounds of a dog barking, of birds chirping and crowing, and of wheels rolling over cobblestone and dirt.
 
Seeing Edmon upset almost brings the rage straight back to the surface for Carwyn until he realises that there had only been one person shouting, him. Edmon is upset because of him. The guilt hits him in a wave and there is a moment where he feels sick, he can hear the screams and the shouting from that day in his head as a faint echo. Lander had never screamed or shouted, even when Carwyn had been at his most difficult. He needs to be more like his mentor, he needs to push harder to stay calm and control his emotions. He struggles to remember just how it had felt when Eldath reached out and calmed him with her presence but he pushes through the top of the anger clinging on to the vaguest wisps of that memory. Being so disconnected from that presence was proving more and more difficult for the priest and it was starting to become clear to him that he was struggling without her guidance to keep hold of his emotions. At least now he felt calm, he needed to stay calm for the boy.

He leans down close to Edmon and gently brushes away a few stray strands of hair from his face. He gives the boy a reassuring and apologetic smile and gently ruffles his hair, talking in a calm whisper with no hint of . "Hey now. I'm sorry I shouted Edmon. I'm sorry. Sometimes I get a little angry but I'm not angry now. I was just trying to make sure you are safe, that's all. No more shouting, all better yeah?" He gently picks the boy up, making sure he is still swaddled by the blanket and he holds him tightly but warmly. "Make sure you keep hold of that blanket okay?" Satisfied that the boy is at least not going to cry or run off anywhere Carwyn relaxes a little, the tension underneath the calm fading a bit. He doesn't have Balion's confidence that they will get the boy home in the slightest, he is starting to accept that there might never be that option. However all that means is that he is responsible for the boy even more than before, he will have to teach him the life skills he learned in the grove. He is determined to be a damn sight closer to Lander in how he acts than his father, that bastard.

He looks at Ismark, really studying the burgomeister as he talks while he gently holds Edmon close. It seems that the man genuinely wants to help, a rare trait that Carwyn feels should be encouraged more in everyone. There are definitely bumps in the road that Carwyn can read, not a lot of sleep and possibly new to the position or to some of the responsibilities of the role. However he could see that the man is earnest and trying this best despite these problems. He almost felt a kindred connection there, that out of your depth feeling resonating with the cleric. He leans over with his free hand and gives a comforting pat on Ismark's upper arm. "Okay Ismark, then please call me Cary." He smiles at the man, feeling relief at the offer of somewhere more private to talk. "Since it does seem like all that can be said at the moment has been, it might be best to have a change in scenery." He thinks about it again for a second and nods more confidently. "Yes, we will come back to your house. Thank you for the kind offer, it is truly appreciated."

He looks over to Mirabel and quickly mouths 'I'm sorry' at her before speaking quietly to the owner. "Please keep mine and Edmon's room reserved for us for tonight, I will pay you either way. Thank you for the blanket it is wonderful. I will stop by later to pick up his clothes. Thank you again for your hospitality." He turns back to the burgomeister and smiles. "We could all use a break I think Ismark. You mentioned other domains? Ahh I'm getting ahead of myself already. I will wait until we are at your house." He looks to Balion and addresses him only, not avoiding Fauntleroy just trying to avoid any further conflict especially in front of the boy. "Are you coming Balion, or would you prefer to stay here? I would welcome your company and your knowledge but I understand if there are things you need to do." Finally for the first time since the fight he looks to the Professor and gives a single nod, although when he talks his tone is amicable if a little forced and he only manages one word. "Professor." He gestures to the door for Ismark to lead on and out into the village.
 
Gimble looks up at the delivery boy, stretching his arms behind his head before speaking. "Ya, that was rough wasn't it? As long as ya don't initiate a conversation between the lady and the cleric you'll be fine. They gotta cool down for a bit, but I doubt those two 'ill reach a mutual feeling for some time." Gimble pauses at this "You should have stayed.... Ugh, I don't know anything about closure, I'm the last with enough expertise there to help." shaking his head at his indecision and cowardice, Gimble looks at the young man. "Where are you from lad? This region? I hope wherever it is it has more action than this slow town." *tsk* Gimble clicks his tongue a bit his companions argument still on his mind. "I'm looking for some action... ya get my drift lad?"
 
Fauntleroy doesn’t feel the need for much privacy. She doesn’t see the use in it— half the town is probably aware that they aren’t from the area. The other half will know before it’s time for lunch. But she supposes that Ismark might feel more comfortable. Something about not scaring his villagers.

So she pushes herself to her feet, snapping her notes closed and returning them to her pack. She straightens out her clothing and nods. “I suppose private might be for the better. Your townsfolk quite likely have already had enough of our troubles.” Quietly she hopes that the meeting might be fruitful, that there is something worth learning.

She barely looks at Carwyn, instead nodding to Ismark. “Lead the way, Burgomeister.”
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Edmon eventually looks up at Carwyn and nods slowly at his comforting words; there is still a slight sadness in his eyes, almost a tinge of disappointment, though at least it didn't seem like he was about to cry. Seeing that they were about to depart he instead looks to Balion, seeming like he'd prefer to stay at the tavern but willing to follow along to the house if there was no one for him to stay with.

"I'll use Cary then," Ismark says with a slight smile, holding the door open for the others. "I can't guarantee that it's much better scenery, but it's different scenery nonetheless." Mirabel nods as they walk out, quickly taking her mind off of the debacle by popping back into the kitchen to prepare lunch.

Continuing outside the group is once again greeted with the calm, overcast atmosphere of the village. By this point it is nearing the afternoon, with the faint dot representing the sun high in the cloudy sky. "I've heard them mostly referred to as 'domains' though I suppose 'nations' or 'regions' might be better terms," He starts, leading the group south on the crossroads through town. Though the houses look slightly larger heading down this street, more of them are abandoned compared to the other streets; most of the foot traffic appears to be from farmers passing through the crossroads to the fields.

"Around here borders tend to be defined by the Mists, they come and go wherever but around the edges of domains they're pretty consistent. Like this way will normally take you to Nova Vaasa," he notes, pointing towards the east. "Sometimes it'll shift though, or do something entirely unexpected just once and never again." He frowns, looking back to the group. "I mean, not that your case is necessarily one and done, I don't know enough about that to make a judgment. It's just what I've heard over the grapevine through the years."

----------------

The young man outside the tavern looks at Gimble curiously, scratching his head. "Oh, me? I'm uh... I'm from around Vallaki. Ain't the biggest town around anymore but it's got its charms. It's where most o' the wine comes from too so they're usually looking for helping hands... which is why I'm here and stuff." At the mention of "action" he raises an eyebrow. "You... you mean--"

He hushes up as Ismark and the rest of the group passes by, tensing up until they turn south and move out of hearing range. He breathes a sigh of relief before turning back to Gimble, leaning in for more of a whisper. "What do you mean, like, 'supposedly good' action or 'kinda bad' action or 'somewhere-in-the-middle' action? I'm not exactly, uh, 'in the know' but I've heard things along the roads."

He thinks about it for a bit, rubbing his chin in thought. "... Will you tell me somethin' in return? Who are you guys anyway? I've never really seen a small-folk like you before," he notes, raising a hand between them and noting that Gimble stood almost as tall as he did sitting down. "You guys are from... somewhere else, right? I kinda want to hear about that, it seems cool."
 
“Do the domains vary much from one another?” Fauntleroy asks. She doesn’t hide the fact that she’s studying the village as they traverse it— and from her face it’s clear that she isn’t very impressed. “What is their origin? Were they like us, displaced, or were they here before the mists?” She wonders these questions out loud in the off-chance that Ismark has any clue, but they’re more questions to pen down in her notebook. The start of a potential research.

“What happened to your village, Burgomeister?” The half-elf’s eyes glide over the abandoned houses. “This street especially seems to be rather abandoned.” Did the richer folk find someplace better, or did something happen to them? It was hard to tell in a place that seemed so dour.

She looks in the direction Ismark points out, making a note of ‘Nova Vaasa’. “How inconvenient for cartographers,” she notes idly. “Are there any in your village? I’d be fascinated to see how they deal with such difficulties.”
 
Seeing Edmon's look to Balion and his clear wish to stay in the tavern Carwyn sighs feeling a wave of guilt come over him again. He gives the boy a hug, trying to reassure him as much as possible that everything is okay before he hands him over to Balion. He makes sure that the elf is holding the boy properly and that Edmon is still keeping hold of the blanket before he smiles at both of them. "Both of you keep safe." He looks straight at Balion with resolve and switches to halfling. "<Get him some rest if you can, he looks like he needs it. We will be back before nightfall.>" Satisfied that the boy will be well cared for he moves out of the door and follows Ismark and Fauntleroy.

He is content to let Fauntleroy do most of the talking, questions and study were her areas of expertise after all. He spends the time studying Ismark instead of the village, given that he had seen around on his way to the church before and that he is putting a lot more trust in Ismark than he would normally feel comfortable with in such a strange location. Still there is something about the man that Carwyn believes is genuine and it resonates with the cleric. The only question he asks on the entire trip is something that has been playing on his mind since the church. "Do the different domains all have the same gods that you know of? Or does each domain have its own ones?" There is a frown on his face as he asks, clearly trying to work things out in his head.
 
Glancing at the young man and then up and around the surroundings, he says in disbelief “You ‘ad’nt seen ah gnome before?! I’ll tell you right now there is some pretty LARGE differences between this region and my own. Also yes I will tell you a bit more about my home if we can start heading towards this action you ‘ad mentioned” Gimble puts a hand on the hilt of his rapier and a wide smile on his face “Might be able to get you more than just stories if ya stick with me too!” He finishes.
 
Village Streets:

"I mean... I haven't traveled too much, at least in recent years, but they've all got their charms," Ismark says in response to Fauntleroy's question about the different domains. "They've got their own people, their own villages and towns, their own nobles. Just like we've got our dukes and our counts. And their gods too I suppose, though that sort of stuff seems to cross borders like their missionaries do," he adds, glancing at Carwyn before turning back to Fauntleroy. "Unfortunately I'm no scholar, I'm not as well-versed in history as I'd like to be. Though I think people would pay a lot of good money to figure out the answers to those questions, especially in the colleges up north."

His gaze turns a bit distant as he looks down the street, at all of the abandoned houses. "Most people have just... moved out, over the years. Not much to do in a small village like this, it's not as appealing as the larger cities to the west." He pauses at one house in particular, which although slightly overgrown with no signs of life is not intentionally boarded up. "And then there's some others... like the Diavolovs, who used to live over there and lend me books they'd gotten from Bildrath or traders from Nova Vaasa. I just stopped seeing them around the village one day, without a trace." He sighs, scratching his head. "I suppose I ought to search through their house sometime, see if they left anything to next of kin... but I don't know, it doesn't quite feel right."

Shaking his head he looks back to Fauntleroy, trying to push off the subject. "No cartographers would have any reason to stay here for an extended period amount of time, unfortunately -- if anything I'd imagine they stay on the road. I think I've seen a map in Bildrath's store, but they're a bit outdated from what I hear."

----------------

The delivery boy looks confused at Gimble's entire spiel, cocking his head to the side. "An... a 'No-me'? Uh, nope, I kinda haven't." He scratches his head, looking around the rest of the village as if someone could save him from this awkward situation. "Dunno if there's any 'action' here, Mister Nome, but even if there is I can't really take you there. I'm kinda just here to do my job and then head back to town. And I'm not even doing that right now." He says that with a bit of hesitation, though he doesn't actually make any move to get up and keep moving crates inside.
 
Balion gives a nod to Carwyn as he heads off and turns to Edmon with a small smile. "So, seems we have some time to relax and enjoy ourselves. What would you like to do Edmon?" He takes a seat as he talks, grateful to get off his feet for a moment. "Ah, I know something. When I was your age I loved to hear stories of the world. Would that interest you?"
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

With the two focal points of the tension having left along with the burgomeister, the main room of the tavern returns to some semblance of normality. Arik keeps an eye on the quiet bar, idly cleaning glasses and dishes just as he always does, while the rest of the patrons start to continue their hushed murmurs -- some of which are accompanied by side-eyed glances at the front door. Edmon looks up to Balion, clutching the blanket tight around his person. He turns his back to the front door. "...Sure," he says quietly, seeming to have calmed down a bit and trying to push aside the image of what just happened. "I like stories. Do you... guys, do you travel a lot?" He says that a bit slowly, as if considering his words carefully.
 
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