As they walked up to the awaiting caravan, Kriv's question about his mother was answered. "She has white hair and keeps it in a bun. She's quite stylish."
Davroar and Kriv ride with the young Lord Artan, alone aside from the driver of the wagon. The water was precisely what was needed to keep him stable. The two both realized that it would take more powerful healing to deal with the ailment which afflicted the pudgy 20-something-year-old. But at least he was alive and not getting worse. After a few minutes travel, Kriv and Davroar began to to wonder if that was a good thing. The man became talkative almost from the moment he sat down on a crate in the back of the wagon. Artar would did stop talking for the entire journey back to Yartar. As much as the young man's yakking was annoying, the two could not help but learn some things about him and the situation Artan was in. The first conclusion that they drew was that the young blonde-hair, blue-eyed lord was spoiled rotten and used to getting his way with things. He clearly hadn’t seen a day of hard labor in his life. It wasn't that he was rude or arrogant, but rather that he was woefully out-of-touch with lesser folk. The way that he talked about his servants, it sounded like he would be completely incapable of taking care of himself. His chatter was self-centric in another way. He was trying to think out loud about what happened to him. It was difficult for him to piece together the events that led him into this situation.
"I had finished up work. Mother was being, well 'mother' and with Martyn and Urzales, (those are my brothers) away on business, well, I remember needing to get out of the house. I just can't remember everything. I was at home, getting dressed to go out. I was heading to ... ? I can't recall! There was something about a goose ... a golden goose..." He scratches his head and then itches some more so he dumped more water on his head and sighed in relief. "I don't think it was a real goose that was made of gold - that wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen at a party in Yartar. We have some wild parties, I must say! But it wasn't that. No, not a real goose." After another pause he muttered, "There was a woman. Oh yeah, a real pretty one...no, beautiful. There's a difference, you know. Any wench can be pretty, but this one was classy! Black hair - long, black hair. And she wore a magnificent purple dress. I know fashion, and that was some dress! She was amazing! What was her name?" He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand a few times, as if it would help jog his memory, but it didn't. "I don't even remember if she told me her name! How strange is that?" The banter continued all the way to Yartar. It was much of the same and some stories that underscored how spoiled he was, but nothing more substantial. By the way that Artan talked, the druid did get a sense that dealing with Lady Dezhia Rossolio was going to be a different experience.
The final leg of the journey was otherwise generally uneventful. The others moved about as necessary, to keep things safe. Zindra walked ahead, staying close to Bern, who was always more comfortable outdoors. It was difficult to be stealthy heading a caravan of two dozen wagons, but the pair did stay vigilant and kept the wagon train moving at a cautious pace. Jaliera was also vigilant, monitoring the road using Whisper's eyes in the sky. She also kept busy with the hired guards. They had devised a rotation system where half of them rode for an hour and the other half walked. This kept their legs fresh. Arus, Sindar and Zhu ended up talking. Arus had been in Yartar very recently and Sindar seemed to have some knowledge of the town too.
When the city came into view, Arus and Sindar both conveyed what they could about the city. The fortified city of Yartar with a population of about 6000, stands on the east bank of the Dessarin River. On the west bank is a walled citadel under the city’s control. Between them stretches a wide stone bridge. Travelers must move through the citadel and pass inspection before continuing west to Triboar or crossing the bridge to the city’s west gate. The Evermoor Way cuts through the heart of Yartar, connecting the city’s western and eastern gates. East of the city, the trade road becomes a gravel trail. Yartar is prosperous and becoming increasingly crowded. Some of its old buildings have been torn down and taller ones built—four stories high, in some cases. Because the city is a major river port, Yartar’s elected leader is called a Waterbaron. The current Waterbaron is Nestra Ruthiol. Yartar is a roaring trade town frequented by adventurers and maverick merchants. Yartar is always buzzing. Caravans come and go, and goods are shipped from the caravans to freight barges. The fisherfolk of Yartar scour the Three Rivers for catfish, cold-water crabs, eels, silvertail, and shalass. All these can be bought fresh from stalls in Yartar's central market.
The caravan soon reached it's destination, the paddocks on the west bank of the Surbrin river. There the wagons were directed to pre-arranged plots and laborers were waiting, both to register the goods and assist in the unloading. The guards and drivers would all wait here until unloading was complete and goods had transfered hands. There were some items, that required special handling, such as the harness that Othovir had made which Arus was asked to deliver. Everything was very well organized and it was time to decide what to do next and where to go.
He didn't mind the 'outpost' duty. It kept him closer to the wilderness and further away from the 'rabble'.
He heaved a sigh when their destination came into view. There was no chance of avoiding the 'crush of fools' the were the norm in this sort of place. He did his best to remain civil as they moved to their 'destination' and the caravan was 'dismantled'. But at least the folks here 'knew their business' and things were sorted in sort order.
While he was ready to head back out of the city, he suspected that his friends were looking forward to an inn, some drinks and beds. And ... to be honest ... the thought of a nice drink or three didn't sound all that bad.
Riding along she is somewhat relieved that her place at the rear of the caravan keeps her away from the talkative fop. There is only so much of that she can stand.
She talks to Sindar, asking him how things have gone for him since they last parted from each other on the caravan between Neverwinter and Waterdeep.
She also says to Arus, "We have not had much chance to converse, Sir Arus. I know little about Tritons. My cousin, a Sea Elf, has told me some about your people but ever since I came here from the Faewild I am always curious about new peoples I meet."
OOC: I forgot to mention that yeah, circle back to discussions you might have had on the way. I need to do some admin work to get some of the missions/quests, NPCs, etc. identified and recorded. You have a few days to chat away about the past and a couple of days to figure out where you're going.
She chats to the guards as they near their destination.
"I presume you are heading back after this? Thanks for all the help, think it worked out OK in the end. Stay safe on the road back and give Urlam my regards. Neat trick with the walking/riding routine. I'll remember that."
The Dragonborn listened, and learned, and trusted to his inscrutable demeanour to obscure his contempt, not that the oblivious creature was making a noticeable effort to look for it. This was ostensibly a fellow noble, a peer, but one blind to the obligations that came with rank and privilege, the responsibility to settle debts with all whose labour had been benefited from. It was almost a parasitic parody of the social contract. Nonetheless, there was much that could be gleaned from what he spoke, and it wasn't as if Kriv's opinions of humans could diminish further.
Arus can be very sociable in the right circumstances---a decent drink and seat at a game table, for example---but he's never garrulous.
He is however always courteous and talking with Zhu allows him to learn more about her kind as well as she about his.
Arus knows sea elves all too well and has met his share of land elves. Eladrin though are a mystery to him.
"My thanks for the consideration, Zhu, but there's no need for 'sir'.
"The Order of the Leviathan is a military order, its history rooted in crusades. The Triton Protectorates are a bit more grown-up these days, the Order's work more subtle. I hear we even have an official charity, though I've not been home for some years.
"Tritons are a decent folk who value honesty and fairness. They're also small-minded, dull, and utterly convinced of their superiority over cultures they know nothing about. I love my country but I don't spend much time there." This very two-sided assessment amuses him.
Shifting his weight on his horse, he says to Zhu with a grin.
"Though, just so we're clear; tritons are superior at everything."
Yartar soon appears over the rise in the road, which slopes down to the water's edge. Arus can smell the River Surbin, the docks. For him, a triton who has spent much of his adult life in harbour towns, it's not an unpleasant smell.
"We'll hand-off the caravan at Lionshield Trading, then we should get lodgings at the Pearl-Handled Pipe." He says to Bern and the rest of the party.
"Consider it an expensive treat. The Pearl is one of the finest inns anywhere: lively, comfortable, excellent food and facilities.
"We have a long road ahead of us after leaving Yartar. So we should make the most of our short stay here."
"Sound good?" He asks Bern, then to Zhu says, "And perhaps I can buy thee a drink and thou might tell me more about the Eladrin?"
He had been idly listening to the conversations going on. When Arus focuses the conversation, he shrugged. "While I prefer a more 'natural' environment", he began with a smile, "the occasional night in 'comfort' is something I could suffer through." He chuckled and gave Arus a wink.
She smiles softly. "It seems our two races have much in common. I know many Eladrin who would give you a run for your money on who is superior to who. That is one of the reasons I left the Feywild."
OOC: To be clear, you have not 1) Entered the city walls. 2) Returned the young Lord Artan to his home Also, some of you have "stuff" to do.
Just to set the time, it is, indeed, late in the afternoon. So one item on your to-do list is securing shelter.
You are currently at location 23 - the caravan paddocks. The Pearl-Handled Pipe, which Arus mentioned, is area 5 on the map. Area 26 is were the young lord lives.
As their wagon is directed to a spot to unload its cargo, he will ask, "Lord Artan, I would like to make sure you arrive home and get the help that you need. Are you strong enough to walk there?"
If he is not Davroar is willing to shape change into a riding horse to get him there quicker.
"Aye. Let's hand-off the caravan and then the lordling en route to the inn. The Rossolios' house is likely in the same neighbourhood."
He wants to deliver Lord Artan before the party pays out for a night at the Pearl. There's a chance the Rossolios will offer hospitality of their own, which would be hard for Arus to refuse. Duty before debauchery, after all.
Jaliera found the guards along with the wagon drivers huddled around the paddock inspector. He was handing out chits to the men and women that accompanied the caravan. When the guards noticed Jaliera, they make their way over to her. One of them, a slender man named Quiggles, speaks up for the group. "M'Lady Jaliera, we do not know yet. Each of us have plans of our own. There is much work for guards. First we be gettin' our gold and then we be a spendin' it."
"Are you and the others staying at the Pipe, m'lady?" Nym, a burly guard asked after overhearing the Triton. He seems impressed.
The group has decided to take Lord Artan home which was probably the right move. The young man had promised a great reward; he made sure to remind Davroar about the reward the entire ride back to Yartar. Second, the noble really needed to get help. The water that they had provided for him to wet down along the way was now nearly gone. He tried to insist on walking in, but after a few shaky steps, he accepted Davroar's offer and, amazed, he climbed onto his back. With the wagons offloaded the group gathered together and headed into town. First they would need to pass through the citadel known as the Shield Tower. The tower is home to the Shields of Yartar, a force of about 150 mounted town guards who police Yartar and fight off frequent orc and troll raids.
As the group made their way through the gate into the walled courtyard that surrounded the tower, they pass a half dozen heavily armed mounted guards stationed on either side of the entrance. Many more guards milled about the courtyard both mounted and on foot. Once guards recognized young Lord Artan Rossolio riding in with his entourage in tow, guards turned their attention elsewhere that spared the party the more intense inspections and scrutiny others had endured. The sound of Davroar's hooves changed as he cantered ahead. There was a different feel beneath his feet too. Sindar was able to explain that he had heard the tower grounds were protected by hidden traps that once ensnared nearly 100 trolls. They were headed from the southern gate to the eastern gate which led into the city. Off to their left they could see the northern gate which was guarded even more heavily. Nearly two dozen mounted guards near patroled the entrance and a dozen archers were vigilant atop the wall above.
"That's where the Waterbaron's barge is docked," Zindra said as she saw people glance over there. The gate led to a roofed dock where a metal-armored, ram equipped monster capable of carrying 200 warriors was docked. It had crossbow guns mounted on its decks, along with barrels of water and buckets of sand to dampen fires from enemy incendiaries. Its side armor is fluted and chased to show off the skills of the local bargewrights, whose work is the chief source of income for the town. The warboat had proven very useful in several hard fought battles.
"There are so many guard because a few years back, some pranksters from Triboar sneaked in and splashed paint all over it. That wasn't the first prank like that. I guess Nestra didn't like that," Zindra added. Nestra Ruthiol was the current Waterbaron, the elected leader of Yartar.
After they exited the tower grounds through the east gate they had to cross a wide stone bridge that led right into the crowded, bustling main street of Yartar. Instead of heading straight ahead, Artan directed them to turn down to the right. This is an area of the city that Arus had not visited before. It was the wealthy part of town. The homes here were large and well kept with manicured landscaping. The deeper they went into this area, the more lavish the households. Artan’s home is a two-story building deep in this district. It is large and old, surrounded by tall maple trees. A wrought iron fence surrounds the grounds. As you approach you can see at least two guards each walking two wardogs. the Rossolio manor reeks of wealth and power and is foreboding. Artan needs help to dismount and Davroar realizes that it is time to change back from horse form and does so. He splashes the last of the water on his head, and passed through the gate onto the grounds with your help. When Lord Artan reaches the ornately gilded front door, it opens and he is greeted by a slender man who wears a butler outfit. "Welcome home m'lord and welcome to your guests. Your mother would like to see you immediately," he says coldly but politely to the young master.
"Hello Khemed," Artan says as he follows the butler, into his home. The manor is decorated with lavish paintings, tapestries, busts and statues, the floors are polished mahogany where they aren’t covered by massive carpets, and gaudy chandeliers hang from the high ceilings. You are led into Lady Dezhia's office.
The busy old matron doesn’t seem particularly thrilled at the return of her son, and immediately starts verbally abusing him. "Where have you been, you foolish boy? No, don’t answer that. I will not tolerate your presence while you are wearing that dreadful attire. You look horrid. Go get yourselves a bath and some clean clothes, then we’ll talk!"
As Artan bows his head and retreats to his chambers, Dezhia turns her attention to you. "What have you done to my boy?" She asks demandingly.
He shook his head more than once. The coin needed for all the lavishness would have been better spent helping the less fortunate residents.
He =was= sorely tempted to answer the woman's question with the same question. What has =she= done to the boy. But he remained silent. He knew that 'they' would ignore anything he said and it would likely reflect badly on his companions and perhaps lessen any 'rewards'. That sort was like that.
It took a noble to match a noble. The Dragonborn scion of Norixius Keep stood his ground unbowed, and calmly replied,
"Rescued him from what appeared to be a damaged cocoon, near the point where the Horn Stream and the River Surbrin meet. Whoever put him in there, and did whatever they did to his skin, would appear to be magically capable and dismissive of local authority. Is there anyone fitting that description in town against whom your son may have fallen afoul? This intolerable conduct must be rooted out, the perpetrators of this Lèse-majesté against your family brought to harsh justice."
He kept his emotions off of his visage. He was impressed with Kriv's response. Well done put it right into the lady's hands to deal with the problem. By offering it that way the lady had no choice but to act or disregard, which she certainly wouldn't do against such an affront. He waited and watched.
She listens and nods very slightly to Kriv's response. To her, the situation should be investigated because it was an assault on a seemingly innocent person. The fact that person was of a wealthy, or even noble family has nothing to do with it, and might even lessen the need for her involvement since wealthy nobles have many more options for resolving such things than the average townsperson does. But she is willing to let the conversation play out for now. It might be instructive to hear how Lady Dezhia responds.
Approaching Lord Artan's home, he will let him lead the way forward as he reverts back to his normal form. Gawking at the obvious wealth, he trails the others as they enter Lady Dezhia's office and does not say anything immediately as Kriv and Arus have answered the Lady's questions well enough. He will only add with a respectful tone, "Artan should also have someone watch him all the time, with lots of water at hand until he is healed."
DM Lady Dezhia Rossolio listens to the dragonborn's explanation with interest. Although the same could not be said for all of his companions, she could tell by Kriv’s bearing and tone that he was not riff-raff. So she contemplated his words as he spoke and after a momentary sigh says, "Well, I suppose that if you were guilty of doing this to my son, you would not be here with him. I will assume therefore that you have nothing to do with causing his affliction. You do raise some interesting points.”
She stops to reply to Davroar and Arus “Our family priest will have a look at his condition. It does, indeed look foul. Thank you for taking care of him."
Then she looks to the butler, "Khemed, see to it that these instructions are heeded. Have a bath drawn for Artan and have someone attend to him. Also, see to a fresh pot of tea.”
Khemed did not answer Dezhia. He simply turned with a bow and departed to follow his orders. Once the butler was gone, Dezhia offers her guests seats. There were two plush amber toned couches that faced each other. A glass table rested between them. A set of a half dozen matching fine mahogany arm chairs were also scattered about the ornate office.
She moves around to her seat which was behind her wide, antique desk. There she took her seat and continued her response to Kriv. "You make valid points. It would need to be someone or something with power. Yes, of course it concerns me. Do I have enemies? I cannot think of any but that does not mean they are not there. If such enemies exist, then they think that they will get to me by harming my son.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip. “Or maybe it is trouble that Artan brought on to us? Who knows what troubles that son of mine has gotten into? It is the fact that I do not know what happened to him that concerns me most.”
Khemed returned, wheeling in a small two-level serving cart. Dezhia paused as he began to set servings and immediately threw up a hand if anyone started talking while he was around. On the top of the cart that the butler pushed into the room was a plate of pastries that included cookies, small cakes and slices of a berry pie. It also had a steaming teapot, porcelin cups, saucers, plates, spoons, forks and napkins. He prepared a place setting neatly for each guest and then poured a cup of tea for everyone, starting with Lady Dezhia then the guests. Once the butler was done, he left and Lady Dezhia continued.
“Yes. I must know my enemies are. They need to be dealt with. I do not know what your plans are, but you speak with a level of confidence. Do you think you might be able to help find out what is behind his ailment? I can pay you.”
She had followed the others, mostly gawping at her surroundings. These dwellings are certainly impressive. She gets a sudden thought about defences seeing the guard dogs and calls Whisper to her shoulder.
Inside continues to impress although Jaliera is not so sure she would be comfortable living in a house like this. She would be frightened of breaking anything. That thought also prompts her to take extra care as she moves through the rooms and indeed when invited to sit down. Though she does think that those berry slices look more than appetizing. She wants to take one but doesn't want to go first.
Then her ears prick up. A job? That could be interesting.
Maybe it was his growing up and having to work for food, shelter and coins other than gold, he also took a special interest in a potentially paying job. Though the rich were notorious for being skin flints, so negotiations would have to be strong.
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