Chapter 54 Shadows over Daggr Port
Part V
The bucket weighed heavy in her hand. Hastur wabbled across the villa's farm ground from a well pump to a shady tree in the middle of the property.
The cleric heaved the heavy vessel up, cocked her arm back and launched its contents onto the passed out drunk at her feet. It splashed the parched ground and the ranger in its cold embrace. Thaelin shivered as his senses came too
"Oh good, you're awake." the cleric said dryly she tossed the bucket aside and watched the drunkard squirm. she felt the urge to draw out her trophy dagger. And as if guided by a professional's hand the blade entered her hand, twirled gracefully around and its blade rotated
"You had better pray to the gods that you are sober! I am sick and tired of this, Thaelin! You have one job. Just one! Don't embarrass me. And what did you do?"
"Embarrass you…"
"Yes. Just because of that incident last night, you have lost all payment privileges this mission."
"Yeah…" he grumbled knowing arguing was not going to get him very far
"Not only did you embarrass me, you had us kicked out of the only inn in this shitty town. Mr. and Mrs. Mariani have graciously allowed us to stay another night in their home. We need to solve this mystery soon or else its sleeping in the mud again for us."
"Yeah…"
"And we need payment Thaelin. Madame Glassgate is soon to be back on our ass. And then…Oghma help me."
"Yeah."
"This whole mission is turning into a shit-show. There are so many unanswered questions. Like okay. The men died because they are dicks. But the women? Four women are mysteriously dead and no one knows why. They were wives and mothers. Nine Hells, what is the connection?"
"No clue."
"And Varris is no help at all. All she does is stand around like a statue and complain about the smell of this fishy town."
"Yeah. She does that sometimes."
"For Oghma's sake, Thaelin. At least try and act like you're listening when I'm lecturing? Its like I'm talking to that brick-wall of a paladin."
"Um, Hast."
"This bucket has more personality than her."
"Hast."
"I'm not done yet. Like seriously, does all that training just zap all of the humanity out of someone? Sooner I'm free of that blue haired bitch the better.
"Hast!"
"What?!"
"Breakfast is ready." Grumbled the brick wall. Her blue eyes locked on to the half elf. Hands clenched into fists.
Hastur was petrified. Without second thought, she ran. As fast as her legs could take her, she ran towards the villa. Away from the righteous fury of her bodyguard.
Varris cursed under her breath.
Thaelin, seeing the opportunity rose and clapped a hand on the paladin's shoulder. But Varris shrugged the hand away.
"She didn't really mean it, Myshka."
The only reply he got was resolute silence.
"Take it from me Myshka. She may seem viscous with that tongue, but she's actually pretty friendly. She's like a cat. She has to warm up to you before she likes you. It must be an elf thing."
"This place stinks."
"I know, I know."
"Thaelin?"
The ranger pursed his lips. Was this finally the moment he waited for? Where she had finally forgiven him. Where she would actually talk to him and not threaten to beat him to death with his own legs?
"Yes, darling?"
"You have three seconds to remove your hand from touching my ass, or I will rip your legs off and-"
"-And beat me to death with them." He continued as he removed his palm from its resting place.
When the three adventurers reconvened in the dining room, they were greeted by the Lord of the manor. A breakfast of fresh fruits, small sausages, and breads were placed about for everyone to take their fill. To Hastur's amazement the meal even included coffee. It was an interestingly prepared brew. One that was even seasoned with sweet spices. Nutmeg, she thought she could taste. Hastur placed a small plate at her feet so even her puppy could savor their hospitality
"My son Vieri says you saved his life at the port. I am in your debt, sir ranger." The Lord of the villa said sipping his coffee
"Its true father. He fought as if he were a real knight!"
Varris rolled her eyes at the statement. She covered her nose with her gauntlet. Along with the unknown stench, the smell of in inflated ego was going to be unbearable.
Thaelin licked his fingers and munched on the last of his smoked sausage. Between mouthfuls he nodded his head. "Since you mention it. There is something I want to ask ya about."
The ranger rose from his seat and made his way to the nearest wine decanter, but was intercepted by a half elf taking his goblet. In turn, he reached into his pocket and proffered a small wrapped package to his friend.
"What is this?" Hastur said tugging at the cords. The paper crinkled as she folded the neatly kept tabs away to discover a small white square. Made of what looked to be clay. When she tapped her finger against it, a small chunk broke off. Curiosity got the better of her.
"Vieri. To your room." Warned Lord Mariani
"But-"
"NOW!"
The half elf's ears perked up at the growl. She felt sorry for the child, but was drawn in to what the package held. She rolled the crumb between her fingers only to have the piece fall apart further till it became a powder. As she brought the substance to her lips to taste, her hand was firmly taken by a steel gauntlet.
Hastur tugged at her hand until she was free. "What's wrong?"
"That, my dear friend. Is a substance that is commonly frowned upon by our kin here in the North. Sugar Moss." Thaelin said snatching another delectable morsel of food.
"Where did you get this?"
"Ask him." Thaelin said turning to Lord Mariani "It was in a crate in his warehouse."
"It's a narcotic. A disgusting poison that destroys the mind. Then the body." Varris shook. She tore the package from Hasturs hand, dropped it, and stomped so hard on the brick that the floors nearly cracked.
"Now I see why you Southerners are so eager to come North. You want to make its people weak. Drugged. Then you can waltz right in and take over."
Marcus' hand slammed on the table so hard, goblets clanked to their sides. Freki let out a couple barks aimed at the mean old man from the outburst
"Let me guess. 'you would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for us meddling kids and our dog too'."Thaelin smirked
"I whish the gods would have mercy on me! The lord said emerging from his seat and pacing around the hall. With one hand supporting him by the table. He used his cane to gesture and prod theelin in the chest "First my daughter. My own daughter lays dead. My eldest son drinks himself into a fury over silly superstitions. And now you halt the greatest revenue venture my family has seen in several generations? What will it take? Hmm?"
Varris kept her eyes on the man. She sidestepped in front of the cleric, uncertain if there was a would be assault incoming. Freki's stance widened and the pup growled at the man.
Hastur couldn't quite process the information. She popped her head aside the wall of armor by her to speak "My lord, what did you mean by silly superstitions?"
"Hast, I think we have more important matters to attend to right now…" the ranger said before a deflecting another prod to his chest from the cane
"No. I want to hear this. What does he say?"
"He thinks he's cursed. I tell him that there is no such thing as curses, or magic, or-"
The cleric drowned out the outside world and focused on her thoughts. 'A curse?' could it really be a curse?' somehow, the pieces began to fit. A curse could have the power to kill. But to kill indiscriminately? Uncertain. Perhaps. But this makes things easier.
"Laranlors. Magic is real. And a curse is a very serious thing. Bring Gerrard here. I need to talk to him"
The Lord did just that. Gerrard struggled to keep his eyes open for the duration of Hastur's interview which started with the most strange request.
"Varris, Smell him."
The paladin cocked her head. Visible confusion was etched on her, but she did. And the man reeked. Like a mixture of horrendous odors all rolled into one. Hot tar, decay, mold, all of it. It was enough to make the stalwart warrior gag or her blue hair turn white. Varris took several hasty steps away gasping for fresh air
"By the gods! Toss him in the ocean! Burn everything he touches! Just remove that odor from him!" she said between dry heaves
Hastur let out a deep sigh "Damn it. I was hoping that wasn't the case. I cant believe I forgot. You see, upon their oaths, Paladins are blessed. They can detect good and evil in their presence. And in this case the presence of evil takes the form of a stench."
Gerrard shook his head "What do you mean? I'm not evil. I've never done a bad thing in my life…I mean I stole candy as a child, and I drink, and I have a weakness for women, but-
"-Relax. You may not be evil. But the curse is. Now that we know it's a curse that makes it easier. We just have to break it. The problem is, I don't know the spell. But there's more than one way to crack an egg. We can either destroy wat cursed you, have the castor remove the curse, or u can break it yourself."
Across the city. In that ancient stone manor, the young heir took a deep breath before entering the stale room that had been warned off. Entering the private quarters of a recently departed is an unnerving sensation. Part of oneself wants to feel like the dead are simply not there. As if the memories in the room keep the loved one alive a little longer. For better or for worse
The bed in the center of the room still lay untouched. Purple silk bedsheets were spread and tucked with measured precision. A faint layer of dust discoloring them.
A vanity desk with a large silvered mirror. Perfume bottles set neatly in an organization pattern by their owner. A folded up note rest on top. Out of respect for the departed, the heir refused to touch it. He wanted to encapsulate the room. Preserve it and the memory of his deceased sister. All the times the two would play as children, all the joys they shared, the secrets they told. He wanted to preserve them all.
"You stupid boy." Came a shrew voice that made the heir jump nearly out of his skin
"Mother, please stop."
"Is this how you are to be? Skulking in the shadows. To think I sired such a pathetic retch. I hope the grave takes me before I see the day this house is ruined by a shite like you."
Johannes rattles his short sword. "And what would you have me do mother? I am grieving!"
The bony fingers of the crone's hand struck the heir's cheek. With a crack that broke the serenity of the room. "There is no time to grieve. You must act!"
"And how would I do that?"
"Either take that stupid sword of yours and kill those foreigners yourself, or fall on your own blade for all that I care."
Johannes McClain drew out his silver hilted sword. He looked into the blade. "You can do this." He assured "Those Southerners will die. Blood will drip from my steel tonight"