DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

"A caravan," Relfarious says with no small amount of incredulity, and even some mirth. "Ha! No, no Lady Anora — there have not been caravans on the old King’s Road west of here in decades. In a century! You will find the road between here and Hirot… not well tended. And best attempted on foot. Dolsten and his boys knew that road like the King’s treasurer knows his sums, but even they only managed a pack animal or three. The way is crooked and rough, miss, and you would break a wheel before you got a league from here."

When Ty speaks up again, evidently unwilling to be ignored, Relf stokes his oiled beard and casts a glance at Senka. Motioning her closer to him, he whispers a quiet word in her ear before clearing his throat and continuing.

"Blind beggar, I’ve seen you about, but you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name... and even my voice, it seems!"

Raising an eyebrow at Dufgal, and then at the once-drowned priest, the merchant adds, "Does your acolyte have some sight after all, then? Some sense that gives him worth?"

When the discussion returns to more practical matters, Relfarious the Shrewd nods at Senka.

"Getting to Hirot should take you no longer than four or five days, depending — depending on your pace, sirs and madam. And payment would be two thousand silver coins, split between you however you desire… paid upon your return with news of the village and Dolsten."

"So tight-fisted with the guild’s monies, Senka!" Relf comes in with a smile. "That’s the reward for completing this contract, and a generous I might add. But we will also pay a day-wage — ten silvers each. And that I will pay in advance, ten days worth… provided you set out at first light."

At the mention of silver and pay up front, Dufgal’s face evidences the slightest brightening. He immediately frowns knowing he failed to keep up his "dice face" as his father used to call it. The former-gongfarmer had been practicing for years to hide his reactions.
He promptly resumes his stone faced expression and endeavors to look around the room a bit.

Silver. Ugh, the worst metal. Beloved of the moon is silver, and the moon is no friend of the ocean! In order to avoid polluting his mind, Aldric worked the sums in terms of gold instead. About the price of a horse for ten days' work was a start.

He bangs his oar against the floor boards three times.

"The terms are acceptable."

The one with no eyes has quite the mouth, while the other two say little at all… Anora thinks, finding herself quite taken with the odd trio.

"Quite the sum, Relfarious." Anora says evenly, and wonders if the others had pegged it yet. Decent coin and a wizard’s tome for a task that could be carried out by a well-trained pigeon.

Something was amiss, even if Relfarious didn’t know quite what it was yet…

"And you know my name and my voice, master," Ty replies amiably. He's careful not to look directly at the man through his loose-woven blindfold. "That brings us square! If Father Aldric agrees to your terms-" here Tyravasiel gestures vaguely with his wine in the direction of the mad oarsman-- "then I can only submit this matter to the will of the Hag. By which I mean holy Pelagia."

Flyspeck shavings from flyspeck coins. Ty will need finer stuff to forestall the doom that pursues him. Still, this Hirot seems as remote as any place can be, and that suits the elf's purposes in its own way.

Relfarious smiles after the third thump of the oar, and makes his way back to his table where he sets down his glass and unfurls a text-laden scroll. "Excellent! Where you tread will be far from the Sea Hag’s watery domain, I’m sure you understand, but perhaps all this damp and wet conveys her influence. Now then! Sign here, each of you, and we will seal this arrangement!"

When Dufgal approaches to sign, or perhaps to just mark his ‘X’, the merchant appraises him with a critical eye. "Mm! You haven’t said a word, have you friend? Do you have a tongue? Do you follow the Bitch Queen’s salt water path as well?"

Certainly, the light-fingered man had never put his signature on any document, nor did he even know how to spell his name. In fact, most of the time his father just called him Doof. He watched what the others did closely, then copied as best he could. Anyone looking closely would see that his signature started with an A. He quickly nodded to Relfarious as he spoke.
"methanks ye sir, fer this work. I’se workin’ hard for ye. I know nothin’ ‘bout no bitch, no queens, or no salty water but I’se likin’ master Aldric plenty enuff to follow by his side."

Anora takes the pen into her delicate hand and scribes her name on the paper with some flair. While a wizard’s apprentice might be lacking in the ways of magick, they became quite proficient in the art of the pen. Her knuckles had spent more time raw pink than anything else during her tutelage under her exacting master…

"And would you like me to scribe your own name?" she asks of the beggar. "So that it might be on the line, I mean. Ty, is that correct?"

"Would a contract so signed be binding?" Ty demurs. "Best not to chance it." He drains his glass, transfers it to his off hand, then reaches out in the direction of Anora's voice. "Kindly guide my hand to the page, madam." Clearly he intends for the wizard to take his wrist and place him in a position to sign.

"Wherever the rain falls, the Bitch Queen holds sway."

Aldric strides toward the desk in a most pompous fashion, his squeaking leathers drowning out the effect somewhat. He takes the scroll in both hands, unperturbed that he is dripping water onto the contract. The Witness does a light read-through of the terms for anything untoward, and should it pass muster, places his mark upon it.

"As sure as salt water runs from the teats of Pelagia, so shall be our commitment to this cause."

Aldric signs the document in two places after finding nothing objectionable in the contents of the indenture -- above and below the line where Senka, who frowns distastefully at the priest's comment, will cut the document in two with the shears she suddenly has to hand. Per the usual custom of the Guild, half of the agreement will remain within its halls, while the contracted party will carry their portion with them on their journey. The apprentice will cut the document in a jagged way that will make obvious the two halves fit together, and in fact were cut from the same parchment.

Dufgal steps forward to place ink next, and to prove to the guildmaster that he has a voice, such as it is. Relfarious's nod seems satisfied enough, and then Anora the Blue is placing her precise and rather beautiful signature. Will those looping lines one day become a sought-after autograph, proof of the grand sorceress's touch?

Time will tell.

Ty comes last, and just as Dufgal expected -- all eyes are on him, and on Anora as he requests the woman's assistance. This allows the big thief to edge close to a set of shelves that are laden with field equipment -- rope, grapples, spikes, sturdy boots, flints and tinderboxes... and a folding leather case that contains a delicate set of thieves' tools!

Anora takes the man’s hand into both of hers, and makes hard work of guiding his hand across to the paper. Hard work so that she might take the measure of the hand in hers, and judge them as a beggar’s hands or not. She had no reason to suspect otherwise, of course. It’s just that hands tell a story that is hard to hide.

"This way." the sorceress invites, moving them over to the parchment, satisfied with her momentary investigation. She finds the hands to be…

Ty's hand is grubby, as one would expect, but not rough or callused. The taper of his fingers suggests refinement rather than emaciation. Most striking is the firmness of his flesh, which stands strangely at odds with the man's white hair. There's no palsy in his grip, a point demonstrated when the beggar takes up Refarious' quill and signs the two letters of his name with grandiose flourishes, as if he were illuminating a manuscript. He's almost daring someone to call him on it.

"There we are," Ty huffs, satisfied. "Thank you, madam. Is that all of us signed?" He sets his empty glass on the table and peers through his blindfold at the middle distance between the room's occupants.

Relfarious watches the whole affair intently, wriggling his mustache once or twice as signatures are placed, then he signs grandly and Senka comes in after to make the cut that will divide the contract into two. It's all done in a matter of seconds and the young guildswoman holds one of the parchment pieces out to Anora for safekeeping.

"Done!" the man declares warmly and boisterously. "And I shall be glad to hear your report and make payment once you've hurried back with what I pray is good -- or at least not dire-- news."

"Shall I see to their advance and conduct them out, Guildmaster?" Senka asks, and when Relfarious nods, she extends a hand to the door, attempting to usher the quartet from the room.

LATER THAT NIGHT AT THE SHIELD & SHEALTH

Senka had secured Ty, Anora, Dufgal and Aldric with their advance as she warned them of what lay ahead on the morrow.

The bridge is treacherous, and the the moors and woods are dangerous, filled with robbers and bloodthirsty brigands-- you'll need to keep a vigilant watch! she had said emphatically. And when she spoke of Hirot itself, her voice became a hoarse whisper, as though she was afraid the walls, or perhaps her master, would hear her.

Backwards folk they are. Not properly civilized, never were, even in their villages. Don't believe anything they tell you. Trust your eyes, not your ears.

Now, hours later, the foursome has retired to one of Garion Folly's many ale houses, a lodge with a warm fire and the mumur of patrons drinking and chatting before they turn in for the night...

"Trust your eyes, and not your ears." the woman recounts to the others over the lip of her cup.

"That puts you at an unfortunate disadvantage." she says, brushing a hand against the beggar, to let him know she is referring to him.

"Well, shall we busy ourselves with the business of more serious introductions? How is it that you three fell in together? This isn’t your first outing, I trust!"

"We are united in our love and devotion of The Lady of Waves! But the sea is nothing if not brutally honest, Anora the Blue," Aldric speaks in his wisest tone, as he fumbles with a bowl of salt. The colour of his fingers matched Anora's name, and they quivered as he tried to spoon the salt into his beer. "If you're trusting your eyes, then we are not much to look at, are we? But, heed the Bitch Queen's teachings: there's a lot going on beneath the surface."

He takes a swig, makes a disgusted look, and goes back to the bowl. Absentmindedly, he recalls Anora's inquiry.

"Ah yes, introductions. I am Aldric, Witness of Pelagia."

He waves the others to make their pleasantries as he heaps more salt into his beer.

Dufgal, although not new to drink, had never been to a public house for ale so he watched the others very closely and just aped their orders and manner of payment. He had quite a hunger brewing so he found someone at another table eating what looked good to him and he told the barkeep that he wanted the same.
He relished his meal, but watched Anora in a bit of awed silence as she spoke with the other two. He couldn’t imagine that she would be addressing him.