DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

"Has the man uttered a dry word since your meeting?" Anora asks, with some genuine curiosity in her voice.

"I haven’t seen the man pass a moment without mentioning the sea! It borders on the fanatic, don’t you think?"

Dufgal feigns to assume that he and Anora are bantering and risks a jest.
’E’s wet as a heifer in heat.
And then immediately regrets being that familiar.

Not that Dufgal is unused to or uncomfortable with the sound of animal coitus, but he senses the unspoken understanding between he and Anora and starts walking back towards the tavern. He checks to see that she is looking in his direction to both confirm that they have the same idea and also to give her a glimpse of the leather bound filchings.

Ty quirks his lips. The human child is trying to cheat his way into a third bit of beaten metal? So be it. But let him earn it.

"Two at the end, young Master Tocs. I can hear perfectly well that the parlay continues." He gestures in the direction of Morgan and her devotee. "When we're safely clear of your rat hole, you'll have your full payment. However, by way of earnest..." Ty fishes a silver coin from his pouch. He bobs it about in the air, pretending to fumble for the boy's palm, which he trusts that Tocs will position beneath the piece in order to receive it.

"Now, if you would like two more of those rather than one, as agreed, you'll answer for me the question you left hanging the other night. Why, Tocs most Wee, do you believe that your village's lottery is rigged? What evidence do you have of it?"

THE MAD WIDOW YMAE'S HUT (ALDRIC; ANORA & DUFGAL DEPARTING)

Anora and Dufgal make their way to the Sign of the Wolf-Spear, walking across the market as Ymae smiles and takes Aldric by the hand, leading him deeper into a fever dream, into a reality where the truths he knows bend and fold and split, where his senses seem to leave his body and observe the proceedings from afar...

"Shackles and a map?" Anora says with a raised eyebrow, guessing what might be held within. It was just as likely that the thing was filled with the mad ravings of old witch, but perhaps the Fates still kept one eye on the goings on in Hirot.

"The witch has paid a heavy toll for Aldric… The Pelagian." she says, not knowing the man’s proper name.

THE WOLF-SPEAR (ANORA AND DUFGAL)

As they cross the market square, Dufgal and Anora note two things. First, a pair of the Jarl's Thegns are carefully carrying the voting-trunk down the raised lane of packed earth that leads from the town's great hall, and second... they note now just how stout a building the church of Justicia is. It, the Wolf-Spear and the Jarl's hall are easily the stoutest and most defensible structures in town. And in a village were precious few buildings have any panes of glass at all, the church has many gorgeous stained glass windows. The duo isn't close enough to make them out, but there are stories told in that colorful glass, they can see. Depictions of wolves and men fighting them, among other scenes.

Two brothers, monks, stand silently outside the church, watching the arrival of the lottery box as Anora and Dufgal duck into the Wolf-Spear

Broegan is quick to bring his guests beverages, though he walks with a limp and will for some time. He gives them privacy after that, which allows them to untie and open the leather folio.

Inside are age-old, yellowed pieces of parchment -- many of them. There's no single map that could properly be mounted on a wall, but easily half a dozen that can be pieced together that show the surrounding area around Hirot. Dufgal fits them together, and he sees the road they arrived on leading eastward back toward a civilization that now seems so far away... he sees a stream and wetlands, he sees forested areas and a mound of some sort not far from Hirot, to the north. The Tomb of Ulfheonar says the flowing script beside it, but the woman who can read that is distracted by other findings inside the folio.

There are loose pages from what appear to be much more ancient books. Formulas and rituals, details and depictions, illustrations and accounts... of means to contact and liaise with what appear to be powerful beings. It will take Anora time to study this material, to understand it, but she knows from a glance that these are very rare, very valuable pages.

uh, Lady Dufgal notices that the woman he was sitting with was not as excited about the map as he was. Yet, he can’t read it without her. He knew enough to know what the compass rose meant on a map but that was all. He always liked looking at them though.
I’se can’t read, see. pushing the carefully reconstructed pieces of the map toward her a bit.
’was told that the weapon we seek was buried in a tomb just north o’ the village.

Ty rolls his lips together and thoughtfully rubs his chin.

"Do the Jarl and his wizard ever show anyone the lot they've picked? Or do they just read out the name?" he asks.

It couldn't be that simple, could it? Have none of these yokels ever insisted on seeing the name written on the chosen chit? The lottery box could be filled with blank scraps of paper, or confetti, or small lizards, for all that it would matter. The blustery Jarl could simply dunk his hand in, pull out a lizard, and say whatever name he pleased. And Sylle Ru could then pretend to confirm it.

"Ah, so it's the Justician who verifies the name?" That must mean that the human priest is in league with the Jarl and his seer-- an unholy trinity if ever there was one. Ty imagines that proper priests must have little truck with magicians. Except of course for Father Aldric with Anora. And himself.

Better to abandon that line of thought.

"I would kill man-children to have a look in that lottery box," the elf muses. "Or maybe the priest can be made to squeak and chitter."

IN THE BACK YARD OF THE SIGN OF THE THREE RATS (TY AND MORGAN)

"You'd do what? Fuckin' kill a man-child?" Wee Tocs says, cocking his head, but at that same moment Morgan Haverson and Lloré approach, both stepping lightly to try to avoid the worst of the mud and the shit in the yard. It's not an easy task.

"My Lord!" Lloré says brightly, "Morgan says we have you and your friends to thank for the Hound being driven off last night! Is this true, sir, and if it is how did you do it?!"

Slightly behind the skald, Morgan struggles slightly to not roll her eyes at least a little as she lifts her skirts.

Anora hears the man, but struggles to pull herself away from the pages. Finally, with some effort, she takes up the pages and delicately into her own black grimoire for study later. She takes an additional moment as the information she had been able to glean on first examination fills her mind, and then she clears her throat.

"You’ve done well, Dufgal! You root out Hirot’s romances and secrets with equal skill! A keen eye, indeed!" she says, turning her attention to the map!

"No matter!" she reassures the man on the subject of illiteracy. "Given that your skills are more visual, Dufgal, I wonder if we might take a look at the church windows next time we pass?

This map is one piece, yes. Aldric’s burden will provide yet another and perhaps the church might offer some other wisdom."

If only on the exterior of the building… she thinks, knowing that those inside were quite dim.

Dufgal gladly welcomes Dolsten’s help. He pushes himself back from the table to make room. I’se guessin’ you’se knows it well