Against the Cult: Entering Orlane (1.7)

The old man sets aside his trowel, picks up a staff, straightens with a slight groan, and turns his weather-beaten face toward the adventurers. His light eyes are striking in his dark face. His facial hair is neatly trimmed and mostly white. A second pair of eyes - deep black - peers at the party; what they'd taken as a fur ruff is actually a stoat, ferret, or weasel that is riding on the old man's shoulders. The man has a sack on a strap slung across his chest, apparently where he keeps the vegetables he was harvesting. "Oh, I haven't sought reward in...well, it's been years." He chuckles in response to Myrtha's question. "The garden keeps me fed, and it attracts the mice that feed Whiskers. I think that's reward enough." He wipes his sweaty brow, frowns as if he's forgotten something, leans on his staff, and begins patting himself down, feeling at his sack, pockets, and in his sleeves.

Theran-spider crawls along the ceiling over the bar and gradually makes his way across to the wall behind the bar. He moves cautiously, so as to not attract attention of the several people in the common room. Where the ceiling meets the wall, there are some other spiders laying in wait; spider-Theran studiously avoids getting too close or stepping into their silk. Eventually he finds a place where the ceiling meets the wall with no webs, and he crawls down the wall to the door there. The door is closed, but Theran-spider is able to squeeze between the door and the jamb and then crawls down the other side of the door. The space beyond is a narrow hall that opens out into a larger room.

This room is a comfortable living space, with lighter wood paneling. A fire in the hearth has burned down to red coals, which still illuminates the space. There is nothing moving in the room, and spider-Theran takes his time climbing around and over objects to get a sense of what is there. There are no people in the room, but it would be pleasant for them if there were. Four richly-upholstered chairs are arranged by the fireplace, and a wooden table with four chairs stands in the corner. The opposite corner has a stack of storage crates. In the middle of the north wall is a closely-fitted oak door with brass hinges and handle, carved with some shapes in the wood. There is no trace of the party's equipment here.

"Myrtha, did I get that right?" the old man wheezes. "I'm Ramne." He continues rummaging in his sleeve, and pulls out a wadded up rag. He jerks his head to his shoulder. "This is Whiskers." He unfolds the rag, revealing a floppy hat which he jams on his balding head. "People have been leaving town a bit lately, that's right. It's rare to see people coming in... We saw you carrying some folks out of the Inn last night." He leans a bit more on his staff, peering out from under the shapeless hat to look at each of you with a slight smile on his craggy face. "Hochoch, eh? In my younger days, I used to travel a bit m'self. We might have some friends in common. How is Donna, the priestess at the temple?"

Spider-Theran crawls down and around the ornately-carved door into a lavishly-furnished bedroom. A huge, soft bed dominates this room, with a convalescing bandaged man in it. With his spider-vision, Theran is not able to assess him perfectly, but he infers that this might be the Inn's proprietor, Bertram Beswill. Next to the bed is a chair in front of a desk covered with papers, as well as a bowl of some warm liquid - soup or stew, Theran thinks, but it's impossible to discern the difference as a spider. Next to the desk is a door leading outside. The floor is covered with overlapping rugs of many colors, and a large brass-bound wooden chest sits by the inner door.

"Bertram said that, did he? Hm." Ramne smirks a little. "Back in my day, we ate anything we could get our hands on, but now I can see how that's not always the best way to go about it." He scratches his beard. "What's that you say? Her? I don't know how I could know who that would be. Oh, it could be any number of people. Bertram is really friendly with a lot of folks in this town. Locals, and people that come from afar. Cecily, though? Nope. I don't know no Cecily." He wheezes a little; it takes a moment for you to realize he's laughing, revealing that he's missing some teeth. "Unless of course you mean THE Cecily of legend - the one the road's named after. Heh-heh!"

Spider-Theran can hear and feel at least as well as he can see; all three senses are telling him that the person in the bed is dozing with slow, even breaths. As he crawls back to the chest, Theran recalls the aspects of the chest he discovered in his first foray through the room: the lid of the chest is close-fitting, with no room for him to crawl through. It has a lock on it that is opened with a key or a set of lockpicks; the lock is self-contained, so he can't look (or crawl) through the keyhole to examine the chest's contents. On reflection, he realizes that the only locks that can be looked through in that way are locks that are designed to be locked on either side (such as some doors); most locks are only one-way.

Ramne's eyes narrow, and he nods. "Our temple has a priest, a priestess, and several initiates, I believe." When Aanbo introduces himself, Ramne dips his head. "Aanbo: a pleasure. That's quite understandable. I don't function well without a good night's sleep, m'self." He wheezes a chuckle. To Chase and Joseph, he squints and raises his scraggly white eyebrows. "And who might each of you be?"

His eyes briefly go owlishly wide when Aanbo mentions Diana. He tries to cover it, but you all saw it. He tries to squint and scowl, but his heart isn't in it. His shoulders relax, and he gives you a genuine, gap-toothed smile. "Diana? You know her?" Then his brow furrows once more and his smile fades somewhat. Looking at Aanbo, he asks the group: "How long have the four of you been traveling together? What happened to the others who were with you?"