Feint Whispers Chapter #3: Festival of Falling

Bhartus sends a mindthought: So do you know about the earthquake? Would you like to follow us to town? Then we can help you better.
 

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Bhartus: "The ground moving? We escape with ground moving."

The party makes its way back to town behind the guards, with the twelve creatures following behind, huddling near each other shivering the the cold fall air.

As the sizable host reaches the main square at the center of town, the daylight has fleed below the horizen and both the near and far stars are visible in the night sky. Two massive caravans are being prepared behind the magistrate's office.

One is loaded with wheat and barley along with many tools. Empty wagons near the rear are padded with hay, obviously meant to convey bodies.

The other caravan looks to be a far more glorious affair. Colorful silks and jewels are visible in the forward wagons even from hundreds of feet away. Near the back is a massive throng of meanly dressed individuals, tied together near the waste with rope. Armed guards surround them. This is obviously a slave caravan.

The fiery haired figure of Daris Salum (slavetrader) hurridly approaches the party from the latter caravan. He briefly eyes the grimlocks before turning to the Fists. "I am now leaving with my charges, noble adventurers. The complications that have arisen during the Festival has made the ventures of my fellow slavers in this town untenable. As a matter of honor, I have been forced to purchase most of the slaves. I know many in this land and in your company dissaprove of what we do, but I vow that I will find these wretches a good home in my native lands of D'or. Many will eventually be freed, and many of those who are not will live better lives than if they were free. The sheriff is within his building, organizing the aid caravan for those poor souls hit by the earthquake. I leave you now. Good luck, oh noble ones." He rushes back to his caravan.
 

Jericho nods as he hears the slavetrader speak, "Treat them well, Daris, treat them well, I am sure they will find good households in D'or. Not a better place to be a slave, then in those lands, I assure ye. Not a better place for meeting beautiful women either..."

Jericho glances to Whitney, "Course there are exceptions every now and then, eh Jinx?" He tosses down some food for the cat to eat, and continues on to find the Sherrif, and deliver the grimlocks.
 

Bhartus shakes his head at the slaver's comments and enters the sheriff's tent. "The nature of men is terrible," he says. "Dwarves would rather choose death than slavery."

"So.. who sent that doppelganger?"
 
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"That's what I'm worried about," Tarowyn says in response to Bhartus' question. "Now that we know there are changelings about, we have to suspect that everyone could possibly be one."

"As you saw, a changeling's blood is black. I propose that we here prove ourselves with our own blood," the elf takes out his silvered dagger and cuts a shallow slice on his forearm, allowing his red blood to drip down onto the dusty ground. "We should demand the same proof from anyone we ally ourselves with, starting with the sheriff."

"As for these morlock/grimlock creatures," Tarowyn continues, looking at the poor wretches. "They say that they escaped from the underground due to the earthquake and that their Masters and the Finders come from there. This rescue operation may hold more danger than at first it would appear."

OOC: Sorry for not posting earlier. The boards have either been down or really sloooow for me until now.
 

Festy_Dog said:
"Ooh I like cats," Norri says, noticing Mist, "They're so stealthy and smart, but they are arrogant. I guess they have good reason ta be though."

Mist looks over with Lazy green eyes as she hides under Whitney's hair. Short one seems to have proper respect for me Nearly a smirk on her face as she relaxes again on Whitney's shoulders
 

Tokiwong said:
Jericho nods as he hears the slavetrader speak, "Treat them well, Daris, treat them well, I am sure they will find good households in D'or. Not a better place to be a slave, then in those lands, I assure ye. Not a better place for meeting beautiful women either..."

Jericho glances to Whitney, "Course there are exceptions every now and then, eh Jinx?" He tosses down some food for the cat to eat, and continues on to find the Sherrif, and deliver the grimlocks.

Whitney shakes her head and rolls her eyes before turning away.

Mist looks down at the food and considers if it is worth getting down to get it. After a quick thought or two she hops down and picks up a large bit and holds it in her mouth as she rubs against Whitney, who takes the cue and picks her up.

See Momma.. Loud Male can be trained..though he should have given me the gift rather than make me pick it up. Mist purrs as she gulps down the food I am sure he will still need much training though
 

Upon opening the door to the building, a scene of utter destruction is revealed. The desk is overturned and in flames. The rest of the furniture is broken and similiarly alight. A dozen bodies, town guards, lie mutilated and still on the floor and in a vague sitting position along the walls. The smell of burnt flesh can be detected through their armor.

Another body, draped in a blue cloak with a depiction of a mountain range, the insignia of Duvik's Passk, and covered in chainmail with black scorch marks sits next to the overturned desk. He is Sheriff Whiteclove and he is still breathing, if barely. And his blood is most assuradly red (Tarowyn). He looks up to the party. "...Fiiiists?"
 
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Jericho rushes to his side, throwing caution to the wind, "Good Sherrif! What in the blazes has happened here," he draws his blade and looks around confused, "Is this from the earthquake or something darker?"
 
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