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Forbidden Temple of the Great Falls

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Swiftbeak had caught Morr's departing orders from afar; still not quite up to the task of facing the men as a whole, he had remained on the edge of the group, quietly listening. Unspoken was the fact that there would be no one to carry him if he tired, but he at least had more feet than most.

The trip being an uneventful one was a blessing, as he was spared both the indignity of fighting wounded and any guilt that may have arose should the caravan been ambushed while he was incapable of scouting. His talon was healing well, considering the constant travel, but to have others caught unaware because of his injury would be a sore reminder of how irrationally he had acted- Saving the Hellguard must have appeared noble, certainly, but if others had died because he could not perform his duty, would he not have traded many lives for one?

These thoughts were long exhausted by the time he arrived at the town gate; his mind could do little else other than focus on putting one limb before the other. The prospect of rest was so welcome Swiftbeak did not even lower his head as he once again found himself the target of unruly whispers and fearful stares; he marched with the men around him, briefly reinvigorated having reached the end of two long days, and he would not let the superstitious paranoia of a small town's small minds detract from this victory over fatigue.

His righteous indignation did not stop him from promptly laying upon the ground once Morr began to speak, however; his bestial form had its benefits, and finding rest even on the dust below was one of them. There were others, of course, and one of the most prominent he spoke up to offer freely:

"If any fear they will be left wringing information from one that does not respect the authority of the Hellguard, I will come along. Those so unsavoury as to be accustomed to trouble are oft inured to the threat of sword and armour; if nothing else, I believe my presence might be persuasive. Any of you who have come between me and a meal would agree, I'm sure."

To the creature's delight, this drew a few nervous chuckles from the assembled guard. He didn't know whether it was their laughter or their unease that pleased him.
 
Kaleed gave a small smile, his face momentarily turning into a horrendous parody of amusement.

"Gathering information", Sir Morr called it! Oh, but it was so much more than that! The subtlety, the deception! Dark exchanges in dark smoky rooms, beer and liquor for all! Intimidation and persuasion, everything mixed together perfectly could make or break your efforts. Kaleed always enjoyed himself when he went out looking for the tidbits and happenings in society.

One of the best things about Urah, was that the criminal and underworld element had developed a hand signals for communication. Utilizing a variety of shapes made with ones fingers, one could have an entire conversation without a word. Useful if you didn't want anyone to overhear dark secrets and lewd happenings. Kaleed knew that the practice had spread, but hadn't encountered anyone who was fluent in the practice. A hellguard back at the outpost had tried to communicate with him, but he was so out of practice, Kaleed wasn't sure if he wanted a drink, or to go on a walk. Considering that they were both in a washroom in the barraks, Kaleed shrugged in response, and hoped to get a chance to properly teach a few others.

Kaleed bent, ruffling through his pack. Pulling out a grey scarf that matched the rest of his clothes, he settled around his neck. Arranging it so that his mouth was covered, he then secured his pack onto a nearby cart that was being carted off with all of the other Hellguards possessions. Upon his hips, he had a few pouches, one filled with coins, another with random odds and ends. His twin steel daggers sat upon his hips in their normal spots.

Straightening, he strode over to Sir Morr. Trying to catch the his eyes, he tapped his ears with an index finger, and jerked his thumb behind him towards the closest tavern he had seen. He gazed left and right, seeing if anyone else was planning to join.
 
Valetni frowned, not at all pleased to hear that he would have to be saddled with three others as he went about his personal business. He had expended some rather expensive materials during the raid. The type that were not at all easy to come by, or entirely legal. Not to mention that some of the people that he had business with, one old friend in particular, would not be pleased to see a trio of monks and/or hellguard following at his heels.

And the business at the gate... Such disrespect, and for one of his station. He would have to do something about that, a suitable symbol of his authority would be necessary. He knew just the place, if it was still in business, where he could have such a symbol of office made. He wasn't sure how long they would be staying in pikewall, and it would be best to speak about the commissioning as soon as possible, so he could attend to other matters while it was being fabricated.

As for funding, he had his own personal funds. The alchemical ingredients he could probably expense to the temple, but he would certainly have to pay his share. It had been so long since he had thought in terms of money, so long since he had paid for anything...

First things first, he would have to ensure his privacy.

He caned his way towards the scarred knight, leaning in close as he approached. "Sir Morr, a moment of your time perhaps?" He rasped out. "I have business to discuss with you."
 
Nodding at sir Kaleed once before turning to brother Valetni, Morr carefully set down the monk's trunk down, gestured for the alchemically-capable monk to follow, some distance a apart from the group.

"You wish to speak." Morr stated.
 
"As you know, during the raid when I vanquished the tentacle beast, I expended a considerable stock of some rather valuable reagents." Valetni paused. "I have the opportunity to replenish said stocks, and seeing as how they have already proven most useful, I feel as if it would be foolish to ignore such an opportunity as this." He leaned heavily on his cane. "To that end, I require that you release to me a certain amount of funding equal to that of my needs."

"That being said, I have other business to attend to that does not involve being saddled with three members of the laity." He gave Morr a meaningful look. "I assure you, I am more than capable of taking care of my self, and attaching others to me will only jeopardize the success of my mission, I'm sure you understand that the mission comes first." He idly tapped his cane against the ground.
 
"You are saying that you require funds, but not any personal escort, brother Valetni. At least tell me what your destination is, for not only is your protection of priority, but also that of the resources you wish to carry with you." Morr answered.
 
"Ah, Sir Morr, I did not realize you cared so strongly for such material possessions." Valetni idly twirled the cane in his fingers. "As I have faith in Buzzia, I ask you to have faith in me. Where I go, others cannot follow." He simply stated.
 
Staring at brother Valetni for a moment, Morr relented "Very well, brother Valetni. While I do not care about material goods, I must nonetheless realize that they are of importance to the success of our mission and in the end, it is that what I must ensure. Take what you need, but I must ask you to return here after a set time."
 
"As you wish, sir Morr." Valetni said, giving the knight a mock bow. "I thank you for the trust you bestow in me." He turned to one of the hellguard, he never bothered to learn their names, and collected his share of the loot. Hefting the considerable purse, Valetni slipped it into his robes. Turning on his heels, he set off downtown.
 
Mary looked up at the buildings paying particular attention to the odd sights and sounds.

"So this is a town Mister Zato?" she asked, the levels of curiosity in her voice rising steadily.

Mary looked around to address Zato, and, after seeing him busy in conversation with a member of the Hellguard, watched quietly as Valetni slunk off down a side-alley some way behind him, she raised an eyebrow and looked down at the feathered form held tight to her chest.

"Mister Morr said we needed to stay in fours didn't he?" she asked the creature.

*QUACK*

"You're right... Mister Val will get in trouble if he wanders off on his own..." the little girl stood for a second, eyes wide as the cogs in her head ticked and whirred round... thinking.

"Me, you, and Mister Zato makes his one a four doesn't it?" she asked the duck quietly.

*QUACK*

"Ok then!" she smiled cheerfully at it and grabbed a hold of Mister Zato's hand.

"Come on Mister Zato!" the small girl cheeped, before dragging him along after Brother Valetni, only just able to keep him in sight as she lead the Blind monk through the streets.
 
Something out of the ordinary was happening at Pikewall, and Rufus knew this. Adjusting his durable tunic, making sure to completely cover his chest, he recalled the conversation he overheard this morning, in the main floor of the tavern. Something about a “strange and suspicious” group of people who travelled from a long ways. The tavern owner was a very kind man who took Rufus for an abandoned child, and allowed him to stay in the basement, free of charge. Although he didn’t show it, Rufus was secretly pleased that he lived beneath the tavern. The amount of information that could be absorbed through the thin floorboards was extensive, at the very least. Wanting to see this group for himself, Rufus put on his scarf that covered the majority of his face, and with a quick tug of confidence, started climbing his ladder to the outside world. Warily opening the hatch, which led out to the back area of the tavern, he quickly stepped out, and silently exited through the back door.

Even though his nose was covered under a heavy scarf, Rufus could not help but notice the many different scents of his hometown, as he made his way to the supposed location of this new group. He noticed scents such as the sawdust at the woodworkers’, the baked bread at the bakers’, and the fresh fish being carried by a local fisherman. As Rufus grew closer to the town gates, his experienced eyes had already picked up commotion apart from the usual. Soon enough, he caught a sight of the travelers: A gryphon, standing proud, a gathering of monks, one of them was quite obviously blind, a very tall and fully armored knight, and … a young child, whose age was not too far off from Rufus’ own.
 
"Wha's, huh? Where are we going, Mary?" the old monk asked, though he didn't resist her tugs. Did she see some shop?
 
The girl kept moving forwards, following Valetni's brown-habited form as she responded to Zato.

"We're looking after Mister Val, to make sure he doesn't get in trouble." her large eyes easily tracking his distinct walk through the streets.

"We're in a four, just like Mister Morr said to do" she carried onwards, her little shoes tapping slightly on the cobbled floor.
 
"Ah, of course!" Zato replied. Morr did say that, after all. And with the unspoken Hellguard he assumed was still there, they would remain completely safe.

His cane started to patter as he got in tune with Mary's pace, so he was being led but not as aggressively.
 
Rufus watched with both bewilderment and worry as he saw the young child run with the blind monk down THAT dark alley, presumably following the other monk. In his years of experience with the intricate pathways of the large town, Rufus had learned early to not pass down that alley. Last time he visited that area of town, it had almost cost him his life. Needless to say, this area was populated with many beyond-sketchy folks, to say the least.

With a sudden start, Rufus dashed after the girl and blind monk, wanting to warn them against the dangers of this certain area. Seeing they were not too far ahead, Rufus yelled out while running, “Hey! Excuse me! Don’t go down that path!”, hoping the two would stop.
 
Valetni paced along, he had three destinations in mind, he knew the general location of the first, the specific location of the second, and almost no chance of finding the third without asking directions. The third was not quite something he wanted to ask just anyone about, unless the standards of decency in pikewall had changed since he had last been here nearly eight years ago.

Deciding to visit the first item on his mental list, and the only one that was truly time sensitive, he began making his way towards the artisans quarter. Stumping along the cobbled streets, keeping well clear of the carts as they made their rounds, his ears were soon introduced to the sounds of industry. Voices hawked their wares, hammers were swung, cart wheels clacked along the cobbles. The sound of progress, of civilization. This was what had propelled humans to the forefront of the species. If Valetni could be said to feel pride for his species, it would surely be for this and this alone. It appealed to something within him, the application of intellect to solve and overcome. Valetni had fond memories of his childhood, sneaking down at night to watch his father, a joiner, laboring in the workshop by lantern light. The smell of freshly cut wood was one of the few things that could bring an involuntary smile to elderly monk.

It didn't take him long to locate the rhythmic clanking of a metalsmith hard at work on some project or the other. Valetni had debated the problem in his mind, and decided that the services of a blacksmith would be in order. Valetni approached the shop, the cherry glow of a forge informed him of the location of the owner, as well as the rhythmic pounding. Valetni paused out front, before entering through the open door.
 
Mary (oblivious to the shouts directed at her) turned a corner and stopped suddenly.

She looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Valetni on the street.

"He... He disappeared Mister Zato..." she turned and looked up at the monk.
 
"Hm? Well, he must be around here somewhere" Zato said, hoping that the Hellguard would speak up.

"Perhaps we should ask directions?"
 
The blacksmith looked up as Valetni entered. He appeared to be similar in age to Valetni, and no more than a decade younger. A large man, easily larger than any man Valetni had ever seen, including the hellguard, he seemed to make the massive forge seem tiny in comparison. He worked shirtless, without even an apron, and Valetni could easily make out the mass of scars adorning the man's chest from stray sparks, as well as from various weapons of some sort. Their did not appear to be an ounce of fat upon the man, his bulging thews readily apparent even as he steadily worked the heavy hammer over the anvil. Valetni would not be surprised if he did curls every morning with said anvils. Valetni focused on the man's face. Two large, green eyes sat beneath a thunderous brow, and the only hair on the man's entire head was a rather impressive black mustache that fluttered with every exhale, as if they were alive.

"Now, what can old Herrick do for a Monk of Buzziah?" He asked in a voice like the crash of the waves upon the rocks. Valetni was impressed, the man wasn't shouting, this was apparently his speaking voice, and he was still clearly audible over the sounds of the fire, the occasional whoosh of the bellows, and the ever present hammering.

"I'd like to speak with you about commissioning an item." Valetni said hoarsely. Even a good dozen feet away from the fires, he was already sweating heavily within his robes.

"Eh, Speak up little monk, or come closer. Poor Herrick does not have the hearing he once had." The man laughed from the belly, laughing so hard it was nearly a forceful projection of sonic mirth. Even as he laughed he kept up the tempo with his right arm, occasionally using the tongs in his left to rotate the piece of metal he was forging. Valetni bristled at the comment about his size. 'Small man', in comparison to this giant, yes, but the lanky monk was just a few inches shy of six foot, and was accustomed to looking down when he addressed most people, in more than one sense.

Braving the Heat, Valetni approached. He could actually feel beads of sweat popping up all over his skin as his body desperately attempted to regulate its temperature. He felt the moisture within his mouth vanish as soon as he opened his mouth again. "I said, I'd like to speak with you about commissioning an item." He said as loudly as his condition would allow.

"Eh, Commissioning you say?" Herrick asked. "Here, man that bellow!" He gestured to the large bellows.

"What? I'm no blacksmith!" Valetni retorted. Damn this Heat, it sapped the life from a man.

"I never accused you of being one, now man that bellow!" Herrick Laughed again. Valetni had heard of men laughing in the face of death, insane berzerkers on the battlefield, a crazed captain at the helm of his ship in the storm, demanding more sail despite the danger. He had always imagined it would sound like what he was hearing now. Speaking of insane, Valetni found himself moving towards the bellows. Soon, he had the warm wooden handles in hand, despite having made no conscious decision to take them up or cross the distance.

"Now, Mr. Monk, you know how bellows work? Aye, you're a smart man, I can tell!" He gave another laugh. "Now, you want to be nice and even with those, not too fast not too slow." Valetni nodded to show he understood. What was going on? How had he ended up conscripted to act as this man's apprentice?



Two hours later, Valetni gratefully accepted a cup of fortified wine from Herrick. "So, Friedrich, how do you like your first taste of smithing?" Herrick said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'll stick with being a monk, thanks." Valetni coughed out after taking a long swig of the sweet, refreshing liquid. It was amazing how fast they had ended up on first name terms with eachother. Valetni again mopped his brow with the rag Herrick had thoughtfully provided.

"Ha, that'd be for the best in my opinion." Herrick laughed deeply. "Now, you mentioned something about an item you want commissioned?" Valetni frowned, he had completely forgotten about the reason he had come to the blacksmith's shop.

"Ah yes, here's what I need done..." Valetni began.

The two conversed for nearly an hour, with Valetni outlining what he wanted, with Herrick thoughtfully asking for clarifications or offering suggestions as they went on. Valetni left the shop with a smile on his face. He had paid half upfront, a significant portion of his coinage, but not nearly a majority. He was confident that when he came to pick up his item in two days, he would be more than satisfied with the work of the large blacksmith.
 
Seeing as how no one appeared to speak up to make more suggestions, Morr, after giving weibel Belatia her orders to secure lodgings in the nearest tavern, spoke one last time "If you find anything of peculiarity, I suggest you find weibel Belatia in the inn. I will be off now, to the mayor."

With soldat Surnem, soldat B. Truckwell and soldat C. Truckwell in tow, the knight began his march through the streets, aiming for the fortified center of the town, where, as tradition would have it, the one governing the city would have his seat.
 
Mary continued looking around for a moment, before tugging gently on the Blind Monk's hand.

"D-do you think we should go back Mister Zato?" she asked him, her pale face looked worried as her eyes flicked from figure to figure, still looking for the other Monk.
 
"Yes, we should probably go back. Valetni will be fine on his own" Zato stated, turning his head towards the girl.

"Do you remember which way we came from?"
 
"Mister Feathers says he doesn't know, Mister Zato." the girl was getting quieter now, the sparkle of the town wearing off by the second as their current predicament seemed to go downhill.

"M-Mister Zato..." she asked.

"...I'm scared..." her eyes had become very large, and she stood very close to the blind monk.
 
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