Party 7

"Uh yeah, I guess..." replied Marcon. Then, whispering: "Are you sure it's a good idea to talk like that?" He looked around nervously, half expecting Jasper to receive divine retribution for his blasphemous comments.
 
"God of the dead, remember? Kelemvor concerns himself with what is, not what people think about it. If I was going to get struck down for lack of reverence it would've happened years ago." Jasper shrugs, "as long as we keep the faith and do the work there's a lot of free reign among the clergy."
 
Village Streets:

Making your way out of the general store, there's a quiet air to the town; it's almost strange to think that you were just assaulted by monsters such as those insects just an hour or two ago. Most of the farmers are out in the fields already, minding their own business as they work on the next season's harvest, and the streets themselves are quite empty as a result. As you head down the southern street towards the large mansion at the end (which you assume to be the Burgomeister's place) you notice that while many of the houses down this way are generally more well-built than the ones along the main road, they are generally more abandoned as well -- many of them are boarded up, locked, or otherwise overgrown with weeds over time.

In the distance a weary looking mansion stands behind a rusty iron gate, once built to some level of magnificence (or rather, opulence) but faded over time. Weeds litter the field around it, only the cool autumn climate keeping them from growing wildly. Pressing forward the damage to the house is more than apparent in the overcast daylight -- the looming walls of the several-story abode are riddled with claw marks, scratches, and other signs of damage. Many of the windows are intentionally barred, and the double front doors stand hardy and tall, like the last bastion of defense against any assault.
 
The elf-girl walks along slowly, obviously scanning the plants in gutters, street cracks, and private yards for the herbs she needs.

'Hey, you should look up.' "Huh?"

Clover glimpses the home and recognizes the signs of attack, "Guys? Did Bildrath mention anything about the mansion having been in a war, recently?"
 
After a moment of examining the scratches, "Apparently the burgomaster annoyed a really big alleycat."

Clover then half-waits for the others, half is distracted by a cluster of bluebells. Not herbs she needs, but still pretty.
 
Thinking for a moment Marcon replied “There was a woman in the tavern this morning who said this place had been attacked. And I’m pretty sure she said it was wolves... I remember thinking that Mr Pyl'cin-Tun might have come this way to help out.”

Turning to Carrac he asked “do you think it could’ve been the same wolves you encountered?”
 
"Targeted attacks on the leader of the village? This doesn't bode well." Jasper turns back to the other houses they've passed to confirm this one is unusual. "Wolves wouldn't be this discerning, so either they're being commanded by something with a specific grudge or they aren't wolves."
 
Clover mumbles, "Could've been a big cat. Maybe a giant ocelot..."

'Uh, Clover? Did you not get enough sleep? And what's an ocelot?' the spirit-girl asks.
 
"Right, well whatever it was it isn't here now. And it looks like it didn't get in the house. I'll feel much safer inside than standing out here waiting for it to come back." And with that Marcon strides up to the front doors and knocks.
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

There's a few moments of silence after Marcon's knock, after which some light steps can be heard scattered around the house -- some getting closer, some moving away. It seems like someone is moving around on the second floor, but you can't tell with all of the windows being covered with drapes and other reinforcements. Eventually a male voice calls out on the first floor, a bit hesitant but otherwise clearly heard in the relative silence of the surrounding area.

"...Yes? Is there someone there?" After a glint of movement behind the peephole on the door, the sound of a few locks and chains being unlocked can be heard before the front door slowly creaks open. Behind it is a young man with shoulder length hair, wearing an old button up shirt and dark pants. He looks around at the ragtag group and raises an eyebrow, scratching his head awkwardly. "... Can I help you? We weren't expecting visitors today, unless I missed a memo or something. Which to be fair, is pretty often." As he's conversing with you all he takes a few glances behind him, as if looking to something in the distance inside the large house. If you look past him you can see that the main hall of the mansion is rather messy with light debris scattered here and there, but regardless it seems like at least some attempt to clean has been made recently.
 
"Mr. Marcin, I didn't encounter wolves. I encountered werewolves, must more dangerous. I've never seen this sort of damage on a building like this from them though. Interesting..." Carrac had been some one distracted by the scratches and happened to answer the question as the door was finally being opened.

Moving back to the rest of his companions, he thought it best to not say to much. Afterall he wasn't known for his ability to converse with the affluent members of society. He tended to be a bit to obtuse when delicate things came up.

However Carrac honestly found himself unsure if this poorly person answering the door was the nobleman's son or a servant.
 
"Uh, yeah, hi." Marcon suddenly felt unprepared for this conversation. "Um, there are a few things actually. We're looking for our friend and the store owner in town, uh Bildrath? Well, he said you might be looking for some help, something about medicine...? Er..." He looked around, trying not to look as stupid as he felt. Spying a large claw mark next to the door he tried a different tack. "You've had a bit of animal trouble, it seems..." He finished, lamely, and shut his mouth to stop any more words from escaping.
 
Jasper stares flatly at the rest of the party's feeble attempts at conversation, taking a breath before walking forward and introducing himself. "Good day, sir. I'm here as part of the Kelemvorian Census of the Recently Deceased. Who in this residence is dead, who is dying, and given the werewolf attacks here how long would you say you expect to remain alive?"

He pulls a sheaf of paper from a coat pocket, glances quickly at it and tucks it back away again.

"Speaking to these men's concerns, have you seen an orange man wandering around anywhere? He claims to be on a pilgrimage but disappeared in the night and is yet to turn up, alive or dead. "
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Kle...Kelev... Kelemvor?" The man asks hesitantly, stumbling a bit on his words. "Uh... sorry, I don't know who you're talking about. But, er, we don't have any dead people here... yet, anyway." Looking over to Marcon he tilts his head curiously and adds, "Oh huh, he actually told someone about it huh? I guess there wasn't really anything better to do," he says, chuckling awkwardly again. "Yeah, we've been meaning to get something for Pops but it's been tough, with how dangerous it's been outside lately. Doesn't help that it seems those beasties can smell our food stocks from a mile away."

Glancing back at Jasper he adds, "And, uh, no, sorry -- no orange man. You're the first visitors we've had all day actually." He pauses for a moment awkwardly, like he doesn't really know how to deal with guests. "So... did you want to come in, or something? I guess maybe, since you said something about helping with Pops' medicine."
 
The skinny, pale elven girl follows Jasper into the home, pausing to stretch on her tippy-toes and tuck an anthurium into the hair of the man who answered the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she near-whispers.
 
"Yeah, uh thanks." Marcon manages and makes his way inside the mansion, trying not to seem too eager. He wants to scream at Carrac and the young man to get inside and shut the door already, but holds his tongue. Just past the entrance, though, he hesitates, unsure of which way to go.
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Right, well... right this way, I guess," the young man says hesitantly, holding open the door for everyone else. The two-story mansion is well-furnished, albeit old and in varying stages of disuse. Many of the windows and doors have been reinforced over time, as if new wood was simply built upon the older rotting planks. Carrac would notice that debris has been swept hastily to the side, though not all of it -- as if attempts to clean were interrupted part of the way through.

"I don't have much to say about the medicine pickup. Pops has been having issues with his breathing, and it's tough for him even to swallow some especially bad days. We've been meaning to travel down to Vallaki where we hear a traveling apothecary sometimes makes the rounds from Borca to Nova Vaasa, but my sister and I can't both go without someone staying behind to take care of Pops." He frowns slightly. "And, well, the roads are quite dangerous on foot. I worry about Ireena too much to send her off alone, and she's too worried about me to allow the same. So we've just been waiting around for some caravan or something that happened to be passing in that direction."

He exhales a bit, then sighs and shakes his head. "Apologies, that was a lot to unload right off the bat when you haven't even sat down. Would you like some tea or something?" He gestures down one hall adjacent to the entrance, where there seems to be a long dining table surrounded with old high-backed chairs.
 
The prospect of good tea has listed Carrac's spirits after the long day he's had. "That is the best thing I've heard since we arrived. If I was a different man, I'd marry you."

Slumping down into a chair, he closed his eyes. Arm still burning from the acid, providing him with a great deal of discomfort. I'm going to need a new shirt, a passing thought but accurate. His current attire had been badly damaged by the earlier monstrosities.
 
Clover states, smiling, "If I may, we're a group of pilgrims who set off for a distant temple, but it appears our god has plans for us to attempt to do some good and possibly earn coin to donate when we arrive at the destination... but primarily to do good, of course. I'm the junior member of the group, Clover, and these are Jasper, Carrac, and Marcon. I'd like to help you with the tea, if that's allowable under the customs here."
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

The man smiles sheepishly at Carrac's statement, starting towards what appears to be a kitchen at the other end of the hall. "Well I'll try not to disappoint but I can't claim to be the best teamaker out there. Could never get it to taste like the way my mother made it." Looking over to Clover he nods, seemingly thankful for the offer to assist. "Well I'd never say no to some help and some company. That's a noble goal you have there, a pilgrimage anywhere seems awfully tough with the way the roads have been lately." He chuckles with a slight shrug. "Name's Ismark, by the way. My sister's still upstairs making sure Pops is eating alright, but she might pop down at some point. Make yourselves comfortable in the meantime."

He waves at the group to sit down, then beckons for Clover to follow him into the kitchen. "Do you and your friends have any preferences? Do you take it plain or with cream and sugar?" He frowns slightly at the thought. "Er, just sugar. The last bit of cream has probably gone bad by now."
 
Clover shrugs at the question, "Honestly, clean water has been the greatest decadence we've had lately, so tea is a rare luxury. I don't know if they prefer sugar or not. If you can provide me the leaves, I can heat the water and steep the tea while you gather sugar, Ismark."
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

"Clean water is the least we can do, what with this big ol' house and all," Ismark replies, reaching for a cabinet and taking out a small canister. "There's a well out back we fetch from, mostly good quality. If not mixing in a bit of wine usually does the trick, learned that from some travelers once."

After a bit of struggling he manages to pop the container open, revealing some dried tea leaves. "Luckily traders from Hazlan pass by fairly frequently, so we can keep a good stock. It's mostly for guests though." He hands Clover the canister before seemingly looking around for something.

"Now where's the bucket...?" He scratches his head, before shrugging and pointing to a smaller tub of water to the side and a place for cooking. "I'll be right back, that should be enough for one pot at least. I think my sister might have taken the well bucket to get some for Pops." He nods and starts to leave, waiting to see if Clover has anything else to say.
 
Clover smiles to Ismark, "I see the teapot and cups, I think I can handle things from here so you can take care of your other guests, though it would be rude of me to shoo you out of your own kitchen, if you would prefer to watch me buzz about in your kitchen like a bee after pollen." After putting the kettle on, the elf lass begins to arrange a passable tea service out of the teapot, cups, saucer, and other necessary components hidden about the kitchen.

Once the young man has left, she relaxes somewhat and feels more free to assist the kettle and clean the components of the makeshift tea service with prestidigitation and mage hand.

'He's worried.' the ghostly thoughts intruded into Clover's consciousness.

'Agreed, and between the state of the front door and his father's health, I'd be worried also, Rose. Perhaps some tea actually will help?'

'I miss tea.'
 
Minutes later, Clover re-enters the living room of the manse carrying a tray filled with cups, a bowl of sugar and spoon, kettle of hot water, and an already-filled teapot.

"I couldn't find any citrus, but if you drink it quickly I can add the flavor for anyone who wishes. I do hope Ismark's father is faring well."
 
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