Saus

[Graybeard]

[OOC: LOL, well done...]

The bartender gave the group a curious look and turned back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath. Remarkably enough, he emerged a few minutes later with the exact items that had been ordered, including both the peach schnapps and the oak stick. Equally remarkably, the ragtag clientele of the bar seemed not to mind.

"Your orders, ladies and gentlemen and ... whatever you are," the barkeep announced. "Now please drink up and get on your way." After accepting the payment for the various beverages (and stick), he turned his back on the group and gave them a wide berth, still muttering under his breath.

"Wonder what's the problem?" Brother Miguel softly asked Sister Rose. "I don't know," she replied, almost sotto voce, "but the whole social dynamic feels weird here. My Empathy wore off a while ago, and I'm not ready to put it back on yet -- not that I'd be caught casting anything in here anyway." She broke off as a large man wearing farm clothes, with dirty fingernails, and smelling of gin staggered up to where the five were sitting.

"Pardon, lads and lasses and ... things," he said, reasonably articulately considering how much alcohol he smelled like he had in him, and much more genially than any of them were expecting. "Don't pay ole Freddy no never-mind. He don't mean no harm, he's jus' got a burr unner his saddle from wot happen when the Round Priest came in t'other day."

[Viking-Sensei]

"This is highly fascinating." Sasha said, flipping open one of her notebooks and rummaging through pages scrawled with tightly-written notes. "I don't have any references to a "Round Priest" anywhere in my notes. His use of the definitive article denotes a singular and probably named person or thing. Round Priest might be a person, possibly an unflattering nickname for one of the local roving missionaries... or it could also be reference to an item or an event, possibly cerimonial, most likely something that rotates between locales."

She turned to the small man, who she had mostly been ignoring, and held out a coin. "Care to tell us about the Round Priest for a drink?"

[Graybeard]

[OOC: "Small" man? The guy that just staggered up to our doughty crew was described as a "large" man. Anyway:]

"Waren't much to tell," the man said, accepting a beer. "I waren't there when it happen. Me mate Arkie was, though, and here's what he say 'bout it:"

Brother Miguel took advantage of the man's (understandable) interest in Sasha to put his Truth capability on as the narrative continued. "I 'spose it musta been 'bout this time Wednesday." Two days ago. "Me mates was havin' a glass or two after workin' in the field, like they ushully do 'fore goin' home to the missus. So there they are, an' this li'l short fat guy wearin' priest's robes walks into the bar."

"Not from around here?" Sister Rose asked, seeing where this might be heading. "Not a new priest at the temple here in town?"

A guffaw. "Right funny, ma'am. Thet ole tightass at the temple, scuse my language, ain't been to a bar sincet he was a kid, prolly, and that musta been two hunnert years ago." Some of the denizens of the bar were listening to the monologue by now and chuckled at this description, but in a nervous sort of way.

"Naw, the Round Priest waren't from 'round here, you could tell. Anyways, he come in and ask for a lemonade. A lemonade -- really, I ain't kiddin', that's what Arkie said. Me mates thought that was right funny. Then Floyd, great big dumb guy he was, thought he'd have a li'l fun wi' the bloke. I dinna know what he say, but sumpin' happen then. The Round Priest started shoutin' an' Floyd started shoutin', an' Arkie an' the guys was listenin' figurin' they might be a fight comin', though it dinna look like it was gonna be much of a fight.

"An' then Floyd ... just died." The bar suddenly got very quiet.

"And that's enough of that," the bartender proclaimed into the silence. "You folks best be moving along."

[Viking-Sensei]

"I apologize for the inconvenience." Sasha said to the barman. "We'll be on our way."

She paused.

"You know, out in the Colonies, they have a tradition." Her hand disappeared down into her bag and pulled out a handful of coins (several of which were not Veracian and, seeing their denomination, made those familiar with the Tsuirakan currency system gasp), which she set on the bar. "...the tradition is called 'buying a round'. Usually it's either as the consequence of a wager or it's to honor someone. We didn't know him, but obviously his loss was hard... so, a round in honor of Floyd, please, and then we'll be off."

[Drannin]

Argus watched the young woman, impressed. She definitely knew how to dispel any tension in the room. As a matter of fact, she was probably everyone's favorite person for the next ten minutes. Shaking his head, he got up from his seat and headed for the door. No sense in borrowing trouble. "Coming, Harker?"

"Mggphllph," replied his familiar (damnit, he's already back in the familiar position?!), chomping animatedly on his wooden stick. There was extreme concentration on his face.

As the group walked out into the street, Argus' curiosity peaked. "...Harker, what exactly are you doing?"

Harker raised a digit and kept chomping, very carefully and precisely. By this time, the whole group was watching him. Finally, Harker removed the stick from his mouth, wiped and sanded it, and held it up with a flourish. "Ta-daaaa!"

It was a carving of Sasha. Apparently Harker's idea of what Sasha would look in a bikini and taking a very seductive pose. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, and was Sasha to a tee. Just with different tastes in clothes. And body positioning.

It was a very quiet group that stood in the street, for a few moment.

Argus turned to Sasha. "Please excuse him. His mind's defective."

"I heard that!"

"I know."

[Graybeard]

"Nice job getting us out of that bar," Sister Rose told Sasha as they boarded the wagon, trying not to look at the carving (or chuckle at it when she did). "However, the guy that was talking to us had something interesting to say that may bear on what brought us down here. The 'round priest' he mentioned might -- or might not -- be connected with the mystery that we're trying to research. Brother Miguel, did you get a good sense of what was going on there?"

Miguel took Rose's question as equivalent to was he telling the truth? without tipping her hand, and decided to answer in kind. "Well, as weird as the story sounds, I think he believed it." In other words, yes. "It might be interesting to try to find this 'Arkie' character. From the sounds of the background rumbles, I don't think he's in the bar, and I have no idea how to find him."

"The other possibility is to talk to this 200-year-old priest," Rose offered, with the barest hint of dry humor; yes, some of the village priests were ... past their prime ... but not that far past it. "This village is small enough that the priest will almost certainly be the person retained to give the deceased Floyd his last rites and a proper burial. He might have some more information. Shall we give him a try, or look for Arkie, whoever he is? Sasha, do you mind this digression on the road south?"

[Drannin]

Sasha just shrugged noncommittally. Argus took this as assent. "Let's look up this priest and see what he can tell us about... well... everything. It's just a quick detour, anyway. Might prove interesting as well." Plus it seems to involve someone else that can kill by looks alone. Meaning they've perfected the look that I thought my dear wife had mastered, or there's some particularly unusual magic going on.

The similarities to a certain young boy were striking.

Argus looked down at his newly reclaimed familiar. "Harker, please put the carving away." Speaking of mysteries... here was another one he needed to have a very long chat with.

[Graybeard]

Father Devin, priest at the small Temple of Luminosita, was cut from the same bolt as Father Rilus, but at least he could hear without either an ear trumpet or magical assistance. "Yes, I attended to the poor fellow's earthly remains," he said. "Floyd was a -- good boy --" Brother Miguel's Truth spell wasn't so sure -- "of course, he had his high-spirited moments, as all young men do, but he surely deserved better. First, to get kicked out of the house by his wife, and then to have this happen to him! Well, I'm sure he's in Luminosita's Presence now." That was definitely not where Devin really thought he was, Miguel was quite sure ...

"Thank you for that information, Father," Sister Rose said, earning a frown from Devin; he came from the particular sub-branch of the Orthodox Church that believed that women should speak only when spoken to. (This might explain why there were few signs of women at the temple.) Undeterred, Rose carried on, "We'll surely include young Floyd in our evening prayers, but we must get on the road. Do you have any more information on what happened to him?"

The old priest considered. "Not really. He died in that horrible little drinking establishment on the other side of town, and men die there all the time. Why, just two weeks ago there was a knife fight that that left young Raybian dead and his friend ... unable to have children." Rose and Miguel shuddered, but Devin simply continued, "The only unusual thing with Floyd was that there were no marks on his body. He just looked like he had -- stopped."

Like a certain beaver? Or a certain Tsuirakuan investigator? Rose and Miguel thought, exchanging a look. Miguel pondered for a moment. He was pretty sure that asking whether a "Round Priest" had been in the bar was not going to go over well with this prelate, so how else to frame the question? Ah. "Thank you, Father. Just one other question, then we must be heading south. Did any other priests in town ... become involved in the investigation? Or are you the entire presence of Our Lord Luminosita here?"

A look of puzzlement crossed the old man's face. "No, no, I've been the only priest here for at least thirty years. Well, there was a time about ten years ago when the bishop for the district came to town, but even he only stayed for about half a day or so. Otherwise the only members of the Faithful who've come through are the travelers like yourselves, and there hadn't even been any of those for six months until you came along." He means it, or at least believes it, Miguel thought. If Father Egbert was in town and in the bar, he didn't stop here to make contact. Interesting... His attention returned to Father Devin, who was saying, "I think the elven ruins west of here might scare some of the devout away -- even though our god is more powerful than theirs, to protect the believers. I'd still take care traveling in that direction if I were you," he confided.

"Thank you, we'll do that," Miguel nodded. "You've been most helpful. May Luminosita's Peace be with you." He and Devin shook hands (Rose had figured out the lay of the land by now and quietly receded to the background) and returned to the wagon, where Argus, Sasha and Harker were waiting, to fill them in.

[Viking-Sensei]

At Sister Rose's mention of elven ruins, the attention quietly shifted to Sasha... who shrugged. "Hrrm... Elves. I... don't normally do elves." She said quietly. "Elves don't need archeological anthropoligists... mostly, if you have a question about elven history, all you have to do is track down an elf and ask them. There's not really the mystery to it that there is with humans and other mortal races... more of an inconvenience."

She looked down at her equipment.

"But... you know... since you guys did give me a ride and have put me well ahead of schedule, I suppose I could give it a look. Maybe if we can find out what your mystery missing priest or the Round Priest are looking for out here, it might give you guys the leg up on locating them. Besides," she smiled wryly, "I've always wanted to see what the Archeo-chronographer can do when I turn it up to 11."

[Graybeard]

"Well, this ruin seems to be more or less on our way," Brother Miguel said. "Let's head south and see if it's convenient to look at it. Not much else to do between here and Homontel, anyway." Homontel was the next town south that seemed large enough to have an inn, a long hour's journey away, and with still a couple hours' daylight left, there was time for a brief diversion.

In fact, the ruin was only two or three miles beyond town. The main road angled southwest, then turned south at an intersection with a smaller lane running west. A crudely lettered sign said "ELVEN RUIN" and pointed down the lane. Sister Rose, at the reins, looked around at the wagon's passengers for guidance on whether to make the turn; getting nothing other than shrugs, she shrugged herself and turned the wagon onto the lane, where a collection of standing stones was visible only a short distance away.

As elven ruins go, this one wasn't much to write home about. The usual standing obelisks, a few of them capped by other stones and connected to their neighbors, surrounded a central plaza perhaps 20 feet across. Many of the plaza's tiles had been lost over the years, but enough remained to show that the floor had been decorated with the stylized image of a winged figure at one time. There were no signs of recent use.

Or were there? As Rose surveyed the site, she noticed a small cleared area off to one side, went to look, beckoned to the others. "Campfire," she said, pointing to a small fire ring. The ashes looked fresh. "I have the feeling this has been used in the last couple of days ... and I also have an uncomfortable sense that we're being watched."