Runelords 12.6 - Stuck in Sandpoint

Virgil entered the Rusty Dragon Inn, having just left Quint’s house where the strange caustic fluid from the runewell had converted his sin. Beyond the horrid feeling it had left on his skin and memory, there was another sensation that plagued him. It was some sort of urge, a kind of pain he almost recognized, and it took him until he reacted the tavern and walked into the warm, food-scented hall that he remembered what it was: hunger. It was a sensation that he hadn’t felt since he was human, long in the past. The answer to the question of why he was hungry was almost self-evident, and didn’t take long to guess. As he walked to the stairs that led to his room, he didn’t have time to consider the repercussions of gluttony, or whether or not he was required to eat regardless of his compulsion to, when Ameiko stopped him. “Oh! Virgil!” she called over, stopping him. “Can I have a minute?”
He looked up, saw her and nodded, “Certainly.” 
She finished handing over plates to some hungry patrons before walking over to him, gesturing that he follow her to a quiet corner. “Shadliss Vinder came out of your room earlier,” she said, once they were positioned for talking.
He nodded, “She hadn’t been getting any sleep at home, after what happened to her sister. I let her stay in our room, hoping the change would do her some good, seeing as how we were out today. Did it look like she got sleep?”
Ameiko nodded as though that wasn’t really the point, going on, “She got to talking, after she came down. She was asking about adventuring, and how dangerous it was.” Her expression was neutral as she said, “Some of it was just in general; I’m really the only one around here with any experience in it, but it was obvious that she was worried about you.”
Virgil nodded, “Yeah. We were out at the Misgivings earlier. That place...is very, very haunted.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Why were you out there?”
With a tone that suggested self-evidence, he replied, “Because it’s haunted.” 
Ameiko nodded, as though that was a perfectly acceptable answer. “That’s why I never went there.”
Virgil continued, “What did you tell her, though? I always found that danger in adventuring varies according to what you’re doing.”
Ameiko shook her head slightly, “I was trying to calm her down; she was getting upset, and telling her that she had nothing to worry about was helping. But really? I think there’s always danger. If you’re an adventurer, avoiding danger means you aren’t getting paid much, and then it’s barely worth it. If you’re not...well, you can only deal with the danger for so long; you either run out of luck or run out of energy. That’s why I got out of it.”
Virgil nodded, “Well, I’m not dead yet.”
“You two are...seeming rather close,” Ameiko remarked. “She’s worried about you. Just...keep that in mind, when you’re going out.” Nodding seriously, Virgil acknowledged the gravity of her statement. “Alright. I have to get back to business. She left a message, to tell you that if you got in tonight, that she had a family engagement and that she’d see you tomorrow.” Ameiko turned to leave, “Have a good night.”
“Thank you. You too,” he said as she retreated. Climbing the stairs, he made a mental note to send Romeo to her with a message, once he was no longer needed to keep an eye on Foxglove.
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"Virgy!" Khyrralien said with great excitement. "Virgy, Virgy, come see!" Virgil raised an eyebrow and entered into the room, a grin playing about his lips at the fey's barely contained excitement. "Lookit meeee," he hissed joyously as Virgil closed the door, and he pulled back the mask and scarves that hid his features. Khyrralien's decent into sinful action had culminated, and his features had been warped by the effort: where once his face was mostly human in appearance with only a curiously-shaped nose, it was now a very distinctly cervid muzzle. His mouth opened in a wide grin, which not only showed off his row of pointed, canine-like teeth, but also revealed that despite looking like a deer's, his muzzle was closer to that of a dog's as well. His eyes had taken on a clouded, darker colour, and muttonchop-esque fur had grown in around his temples and jawline. Combined with the darker turn his antlers had taken, becoming jet black with aggressively forward-turning points, he had the appearance of the sort of monster that housewives warned their children against to keep them away from the deep woods. 
"Oh, Yoru," Virgil laughed, "That is a face that makes a statement!"
Khyrralien was certainly pleased as he replied, "Oh, it dooooes."
"Is it just your face then?" Virgil chuckled, his eyes roving up and down Khyr's body.
"Oh, nooo," he sing-songed. "Hardly just that!" Virgil continued to chuckle, terribly amused.
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Shadliss walked quickly up to the Mother, worry plain on her face. “Is Virgil here?” she asked, not wasting time on a greeting. “I heard that he was sick.”
Mother Zantis bowed her head once, “Yes, he’s in the infirmary, sleeping. He came down with some sort of chest illness, but I had the appropriate spell prepared, and I’m confident that it took effect. He’ll still need the day to recover though.”
“So he’s...he’s ok?” she asked.
Zantis nodded once more, “Yes, I expect by tomorrow morning he’ll be right as rain.”
“Can I go see him?”
“Certainly, though given how tired he was before, he’s unlikely to wake up.” The mother took Shadliss to the wing of the church that doubled as an infirmary. Though Yoma was hardly considered a healing goddess, the church still served as the town’s hospital, for lack of any better facilities. In the open, high-ceilinged room, a series of cots were set up. Only two were currently occupied: one by a farmhand who had injured his leg a few days ago, and one by Virgil, whose complexion was pale and whose breathing was raspy yet still strong. Indeed, he was deep asleep as the mother had said. Shadliss looked at him with trepidation, biting her lip; Zantis looked at her and said gently, “I expect a full recovery by tomorrow.”
The young woman muttered, “He can’t be sick…”
Patting the girl’s shoulder, Zantis said, “I know this has been a trying time for Sandpoint, and for you and your family especially. Know that Yoma is watching over you, and your sister. I know that you must be looking for solace in your grief,” she glanced at Virgil with a hint of disapproval, though Shadliss didn’t notice, “so please, do not be a stranger here. I, and the church, am here to help in whatever way we can, and I hope that we can be of some comfort in these times of hardship.” 
Shadliss nodded absently, still obviously focused on Virgil. “...Yes, thank you.” She was quiet for a moment before adding, “Can I stay for a while? In case he wakes up?” Zantis nodded her head, and after holding her shoulder for another moment, the mother left to attend to other duties. Shadliss moved a chair from another part of the room and sat quietly for a while, watching Virgil sleep, his raspy breaths interspersed with the odd cough. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, she found a piece of paper and left a note for him before making her way back out. 
The next day found Virgil’s health much improved, his body recovered after the magic purged the magical fungus from his body. He thanked the mother, who made a pointed comment about the church’s services for those with troubled souls, and offered him an open invitation to the church at any time. With the note in hand he had from Shadliss, he stepped out into the Sandpoint streets. It didn’t take him long to find the ravens, and directed them to bring a note to the girl assuring her of his wellness. Her reply was quick, and conveyed her relief along with a request to meet her at a particular street corner. Walking there presently, it wasn’t long before she came jogging around into view. Without hesitation or announcement, she threw herself around his waist, holding back tears. “You’re ok…” she muttered.
Putting his arms around her comfortingly, he said, “Hey, it’s alright. It was just a chest cold. The mother fixed it up right away; nothing to worry about.”
“You can’t get sick...You can’t…”
“Shh. It’s alright,” he repeated, stroking the back of her head. “If there is one thing I can promise, it’s that I won’t leave like that. Not ever like that.” She nestled her face deeper into his chest, and he led her towards a bench, where they sat in silence for a long while.
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A keening moan rang out from the adventurer's room. Virgil stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, rubbing his temple. Ameiko approached him warily, asking, "What's going on?"
Virgil sighed, "Khyrralien has come down with a terrible cold. Probably the same thing I came down with yesterday."
"That's...that's all?" she raised an eyebrow, glancing at the door which only served to muffle the groans and melodramatic wails of the ill Khyrralien, not block them completely. "A cold?"
The man put up his hands defensively, "It's a bad chest cold. We probably got it breathing in the mould in the Misgivings. I told him to go see the Mother, but honestly, I think he's preferring to moan about it. You know the type: being sick is a great excuse to complain and get fawned over. I figure he's a grown man; he can make his own health decisions." They both glanced towards the door as they heard a particularly bad groan be cut off by a flurry of deep coughs. "...If he's worse tomorrow and he hasn't gone himself, we'll take him to the Mother." He rolled his eyes, "Carry him to the Mother."
"It's not contagious, right?" Ameiko asked warily.
"No no. Like I said: mould. Lot of weird moulds in there."
"Uh huh..." she said, not entirely convinced. "...Well, as long as he's in there and not spreading it to any other patrons..." She shook her head and turned to leave, "Tell him to turn it down, could you? He's going to drive off business."
"You're the owner!" he replied brightly.
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“Mr. Miro, can I have a word with you?” Sheriff Hemlock asked, approaching him with a serious expression.
Virgil perked up, “Hmmn?” When he saw the look on the sheriff’s face, he nodded, swallowing the apple he had been chewing. “Certainly.” He held up the core, “Give me a second.” He made his way around the side of a market stall, moving towards a trash receptacle; when he was out of sight, he quickly cast a spell designed to significantly enhance the innocuousness of his intentions. Tossing away the only mostly-eaten apple, he returned, “What can I do for you?”
“Well, you see, it’s like this,” the sheriff said. With a gesture of his chin, he indicated towards Aldern a short distance away, looking at scarves with Eamon. “When did Mr. Foxglove come into town?”
Virgil looked unsurprised, “Three days ago? We ran into him on our way to Sandpoint, when we were coming back from the manor.” 
Hemlock raised his eyebrow, “You’re telling me that you just happened to run into Mr. Foxglove as you were coming back from his property?”
“Yeah,” Virgil was unconcerned. He made a face as though he just realized something, “...That was a weird coincidence, now that you mention it. At the time it was just convenient; we got his permission to exorcise the house, because if there was ever a place that needed it, it’s that manor.”
“...A coincidence,” he stated dryly.
Virgil had not a shred of hesitancy or shame, nothing to mark his blatant lies as what they were, “Yeah. Weird, huh?”
Hemlock still looked at him with some suspicion, “...So, where did you cross paths then? Was he...at his manor?”
Flippantly, he replied, “No, no, just on the road going to Sandpoint. He got some time away, so he wanted to get in a bit more hunting in before the season ended.”
The sheriff looked at him scrutinously, but Virgil was unfazed: the picture of innocence. After a moment, Hemlock shook his head, “...That is a coincidence if I’ve ever heard one...but it isn't like that house is in good shape, from what I've heard. Don't know what anyone would be doing there.” He shrugged it off, “Well, stranger things have happened. That wasn’t the reason I came over. Mullur came back from the farms last night and reported what he found." Hemlock went on to explain, "Apparently, some people had gone missing over the last week or so: same six men you found at the Foxglove Manor, and what we can only assume were their victims: some farmhands and livestock. On top of that, another man, farmer by the name of Patil, was murdered just a few days ago; found strung up and cut like Harker and the shysters. His family buried him; Mullur said they claim they were going to report it when they came in, but were too busy trying to figure out their own affairs first.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow, “Too busy to report a murder? What were they busy with?”
Hemlock heaved a sigh, “According to what Mullur found, Patil was a bit of an eccentric. Everyone around there knew that his land was just as good as anyone else’s, no less productive, but his house was always a strong breeze away from collapsing, and the way he and his family looked you’d think they were destitute. At the same time, no rumours of gambling, drinking, womanizing or anything else where a man could normally lose everything like that. Everyone thinks he was taking the best part of his earnings and squirreling it away somewhere, like some sort of treasure pile. Soon as word of his death got out, everyone and their uncle is out looking for his coin. If the family don’t find it first, well, they’re going to have a hard time of it, since there’s no way to back up any claims of theft. Patil did no one any favours, least of all his family.” He shook his head, “Some people’s children…”
Virgil sucked his teeth before muttering, “Three swindlers...an embezzler...and a man who’d rather his family starve than spend his money…That’s a pattern right there…”
“What of it?” Hemlock asked.
“Nothing,” Virgil shook his head, “Just...a lot of money-grubbing people met some untimely ends, is all.”
“I guess they did at that,” Hemlock replied, “but I’d hardly think their greed was worth that sort of death. I can sleep easier knowing that the ghouls are dead. I sent Mullur back to the farms to keep an eye out for any more danger, and I’m keeping the guards on alert until we’re sure the plague is over. I’ll let you four know if there’s anything new, and thank you again for your services in protecting the town.” He began to walk away, “Have yourself a good day.”
Virgil gave a wave, “You too, Sheriff.” As Hemlock walked away, Virgil tossed a copper piece to a farmer minding a stall, buying a carrot and taking a bite from it as he turned his attentions back towards Eamon and Aldern.
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Virgil had dressed sharply for the funeral, purchasing for the first time since his arrival in Sandpoint new clothes. They weren’t the style he tended to prefer, and they hadn’t been tailored for his devilish anatomy, but those were definitely secondary concerns to being respectful, he decided. The funeral was smaller: open to all but only attended by those who had been close to Katrine, her family and friends. He stood near the back, not wanting to draw attention to his presence, but Shadliss noticed his arrival and went to him immediately. He did his best to comfort her, though he knew that words were useless to do so. Taking his hand, she made to pull him towards the front, where she stood with her family. “I...I don’t think I should…” Virgil balked, “Your family isn’t going to want…”
Shadliss turned to him, tears already flowing, his hand still clutched in hers, “Please…” she said, her voice cracked. “I...I need…” Folding almost instantly, Virgil inclined his head and squeezed her hand, allowing himself to be led to the front. There were a variety of curious glances and sidelong looks as Shadliss led this man, the loud, foreign adventurer with his endless stories and saccharine charm who was an easy decade older than the girl who held his hand, to her parents. Ven’s eyes widened as he noticed Virgil join them, though Virgil kept his eyes and manner downcast, striving to be as respectful and non-confrontational as possible. Shadliss looked at the closed coffin that her sister was to be buried in, and she began to sob anew. She clutched onto Virgil’s arm, crying into his sleeve, and he held her hand politely, offering comfort. Ven glared at Virgil, who stared into the middle distance. He looked as though he might have started a scene, but after he glanced between his grief-stricken wife and daughter, he let the issue drop, absorbed by his own sadness. Virgil remained silent and as unassuming as possible for the duration of the funeral and reception, and he was utterly ignored by the grieving Vinders, whose daughter used him as support.
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“Ok. We need to talk for a minute about this bird,” Virgil declared.
Shadliss looked between him and the iron raven on her shoulder in confusion, “What? Romeo? What about him?”
Virgil tried to explain, “This is not a normal bird. Anymore. It was, and then it got...very intelligent, all of a sudden.”
“Romeo is very smart, aren’t you?” Shadliss cooed, rubbing under the bird’s beak.
The bird made a throaty, contented noise, which Virgil could understand as easily as any other language he knew, *I am smart*.
“No, no,” he shook his head, “I mean, he’s far, far smarter than an average bird should be.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, “So, he learns fast. That’s not that surprising.”
“Gah, it’s...he’s smarter than a bird can be. He understands things that birds just can’t. That doesn’t happen, that an animal wakes up one day with that much more clarity.”
“So what are you saying?” Both the girl and the raven stared at him as though he was yammering on without any point.
He sighed, “That bird is...the only way animals get that smart is with magic. And he was no smarter than the other two when I found him, so something happened recently. Either a wandering druid walked through town and cast a spell on him or…” he trailed off, considered something and asked, “...Have you been practicing magic?”
Shadliss looked downcast, “...No...not since...I’ve been...occupied.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Virgil backpedalled, “I didn’t mean to bring that up, that isn’t what I meant. It’s just...familiars, are usually the only things that get that smart.”
The girl turned to the bird, “Are you a familiar?”
The raven crowed, *I’m familiar with you!* He turned to Virgil, *And I’m familiar with you.*
“That’s...that’s not what I meant at all…” he said as Shadliss tickled under Romeo’s chin again. He scratched his hair, “I don’t...meah, I don’t know enough about how familiars work...I think, you can feel what they’re feeling? Can you do that?”
“I know that he’s been with me, through all of this,” she said, continuing to lavish the bird with affection. “I feel better with him around.”
He groaned, frustrated with the lack of progress, but added, “Well, I’m glad it’s been a comfort.” The raven cawed at him snappishly: a mangled sound halfway between a squawk and what may have been his name. Virgil blinked before shaking his head, “Romeo. Sorry. I’m glad Romeo has been a comfort to you.” Romeo puffed himself up in offense. “I shouldn’t be saying ‘it’. I’m an ass. I apologize,” he said towards the bird.
Romeo smoothed himself and replied in an almost off-handed caw, *Accepted*.
“That...that is a very neat trick though,” he said to Shadliss. “I think he nearly said his name. You should keep practicing that.”
“Can you say your name?” she asked Romeo. “Say your name!” The raven gave a few testing caws before managing to repeat the sound he made earlier, a butchered rendition of ‘Romeo’. Shadliss gushed, and he puffed his feathers out proudly. “You’re so smart!”
Virgil gave a sidelong glance at the raven, “Yes. He is.”
Category:Rise of the Runelords