Dragoknighte

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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"Thank you for your accommodations," Marita replied to Guido. Truth be told, she was more thankful that the halfling stopped the argument from going farther. She could easily see it lasting all night while getting nothing done. "I'll be able to handle my things, but if you had any paper or similar on hand so I could save this custard and bread for later, that would be great." She turned to address Victoria.

"Victoria, before everyone retires for the night, I have something I would like to discuss with you in private. It'll only be a few minutes. The rest of you can go ahead and sort out bedroom arrangements. No need to wait for me, if that's fine with you, Victoria. I'll sleep on the cot so don't worry about who has to take that." Marita did her best to sound pleasant despite the lingering heat from the night's events, but who knew how effective she was at that even at the best of times.

Caution was the first feeling to pass over Victoria. There were a very few number of organized churches, and by extension representatives therefrom, that requested a quiet conversation of her with something pleasant in mind. Marita did not belong to any of these. Curiosity came next, which for Victoria had the tendency to be the determining factor. Her life might have been very different otherwise. A polite expression colored her features as she responded, "Certainly," in a warm, melodic voice. She nodded toward the empty section at the bar nearby, suggesting, "I'm not turning in for a while, and I could use another nightcap after ...all that... just earlier. Join me at the bar?" Victoria did not wait for a response, instead rising from her chair with her goblet and striding to the spot she had pointed out. This otherwise fluid motion was accented by a tiny pause, whereupon she looked to her gaunt, eerily still Morty, who she quietly bid, "Stay," with a mischievous smile.

Marita wordlessly got up as well, and took her bag. She gave Morty a look before following the bard to the bar, taking the left spot. She heaved a long sigh, the pressure of the group dynamic lifted from her shoulders. She looked down at the woodgrain of the bar as she waited for Victoria to take her seat and order, trying to properly organize her thoughts. After a long moment she looked the other woman in the eye before speaking.

"I get it." Marita begins, her face reading more conflicted and perhaps a tad distraught rather than the various flavors of anger that had seemed to be the norm up until now. "Having to hide who you are and what you believe because the society you're in disapproves. Knowing that if word got out you'd become a pariah, little more than a monster. I know what you do, and personally, I don't like it. However, more important is the sanctity of faith. Even if you don't worship the names you threw out before, I imagine you still have faith in your music and your craft. What I'm trying to say is... I won't get in your way. As long as you're not hurting anyone or breaking the law," the implication here being more towards the graverobbing end of things rather than necromancy as a whole if the local law dictates the practice unlawful, "you're free to practice your craft around me and I won't say a thing. I do have a personal request to ask though."

Befitting her nature, Victoria kept her composure both personable and neutral. She listened politely, taking a small sip of her wine as Marita spoke. To her mind, the Cleric seemed to be projecting a bit. Or searching for common ground. Or both. But Victoria did finally respond, saying, "The names I spoke, I venerate. I learn from their teachings, or at least the storied word of them. And yes, there are many who find it terribly offputting. Many of these same people might specifically request my services when a loved one, or person of respect passes into the next world. I play music which can uplift the sentient soul and transform raw grief into a sense of wonder surrounding the mysteries of the veil between the tangible and the divine. I speak words of eulogy which bring acceptance and comfort, regardless of the faith of the departed. And I do so with the solid impartiality of graveyard soil." Another sip to properly wet her throat and she continued, be it with a bit more mercenary a tone, "And sometimes I am paid handsomely to do it. Now, I appreciate this olive branch - don't get me wrong. But what bothers you; indeed what bothers many, is the proclivity of my Art to manipulate the flows of life and entropy." The smile returned, and Victoria pointed at her porcine companion, near the corner of the room. "Like Morty!" Returning her gaze to Marita, Victoria evenly inquired, "So now that we better understand each other, what was that personal request?"

"It does bother me, and while I could bring up ethical or spiritual reasons for it, it's not really the point and I'm sure you've heard them all before. The request is that if you need to do this... manipulation for some reason or another while we're working together that you avoid doing it on humanoids. At least those that are mostly intact. To tell you the truth, when it's a person I think it's really creepy and gross," Marita's voice cracked at that part. When she realized what happened, she cleared her voice and regained her composure before continuing. "Sorry if that was rude."

Victoria couldn't help but giggle. "Humanoids... Hmm," she started, this point giving her something to consider. "My ability to give animation to things once alive is limited." She gave a shrug, "For now, anyway. Morty there is about as good as I can accomplish. But, I will compromise." It was something that she was comfortable doing, compromise. "The teachings of The Raven Queen forbid raising intelligent Undead, and the words of the White Book of Wee Jas strictly prohibit the animation of sentients unless their remains are lawfully obtained. I will adhere to those philosophies for the extent of this job. In addition to my personal limitations, this should be a good middle path nearer to your views." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand while taking another sip from her goblet, then declared, "Besides, Necromancy isn't just about walking corpses. Its about spiritual energy and life forces. I can close wounds. Obscure the senses of the Undead. Cause otherworldly whispers to flood the mind of the unwary. In time I can potentially do so much more that has nothing to do with an army of undead thralls. Anyway, I can abide by the terms above for now, if this makes you feel better. We do have to maintain a working relationship, you know."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Marita's conflicted look melted away, leaving her looking far more composed. She didn't exactly appear happy, but she looked dangerously close to content. "And I am aware that Necromancy is a more nuanced school of magic than is commonly given credit for. I actually have one ready at my disposal at the moment, but your pet showed me that you were willing to use its most infamous tool at its disposal. I'm not sure how many others at the table are aware of it yet, but I didn't want a loud reaction to tip off the rest of the bar and potentially cause a far more immediate problem on our hands. If you have anything you would like to ask of me, I'm more than willing to hear it out. It's only fair, of course. Something other than not Turning something you've animated or suddenly casting something like Zone of Truth again, I've certainly learned my lesson there."

"Ask of you?" began Victoria, clapping a hand on Marita's shoulder. "Let us ford that river when we come to it, hmm?" She wasn't sure if the part about tipping off the rest of the bar was supposed to be leverage, or caution. Benefit of the doubt might be in order. She ignored the mention of the Zone of Truth, instead changing topic to something with a built-in means of egress. "This place is getting busier. I don't know about you, but I feel a song's swift approach with wings of gossamer silk. If you will excuse me?" Victoria's eyes went to where she stored her violin, a performer's smile broadening on her mixed-sylvan features.

"For the time being, let's just say that I owe you one. And go ahead, you talked a big game earlier, I'm interested to see how you really perform." Marita turned around in her seat to follow Victoria's position and crossed her legs. If she was as skilled as she claimed to be, the cleric would have liked to have a glass of wine to go along with it, but she had gotten this far into the night without touching drink, and it would be a shame to break that record now. Besides, Greggory was already paying so much for room and board tonight, the least she could do was not add to that further.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita did her best to smile in return at Kosara's excitement. The infernal tongue was a curse on her existence and a mark of shame, but she didn't see it that way at all. From the way she spoke it was likely from a place of naivete, but at leas there was the small comfort that her second language could be spoken in a context unrelated to her past. That short-lived attempt at friendliness died when Hugh started yelling and making a scene again. Despite her best efforts it appeared as though she would not be able to smooth over the situation with the amount of courtesy at her disposal.

"I cannot undo the spell. It doesn't work like that. When you strike someone can you unpunch them? When you pour a drink onto the floor can you return it all to your cup? Can you return the words you speak to your mouth? There are spells where you must actively maintain their effects that can be consciously dropped; Zone of Truth is not one of them. If I had the capability I would have removed the spell as soon as I came to realize my mistake."

"You speak nobly of the right of self-determination, but by your words heavily imply that you are a killer. Zone of Truth does not compel behavior. While in the Zone you can think what you like. You can determine all the falsehoods you wish to speak, if you wish to only reveal part of the truth in a misleading fashion or whether or not you even wish to speak, as you have chosen when it comes to the topic of where and how you obtained your letter. All this area does is prevent you from speaking the lie. When you take a life, as you claim to be able to do so easily, that person did not decide to die. They can no longer determine anything, and you stripped that of them. For one who professes to detest arrogance, you sure think highly of yourself and speak with authority on matters of which you do not possess the knowledge. You broadcast it with every move you make and word you utter. You can breathe a sigh of relief because I have no desire to meddle with your sorry little mind. And unlike you, I will forgive you for acting like you know me and threatening cold-blooded murder."

Marita couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. She admitted she was at fault and did her best to explain succinctly how to mitigate the effects of the spell but he only doubled down on the insults and obscenities. On top of that he had to add low-key blasphemy onto the pile. It was like he was looking for reasons to be angry and add to a mental feedback loop of how right he was. Marita had hoped to quickly resolve the issue, but at this rate to prove her dedication she would have to resort to that and she would really rather to avoid having to go to such extreme measures. Marita sighed before speaking up again.

"Anyways since we have almost everyone's stories on how they acquired their letters we can try to draw some conclusions. About half of us seem to have gotten letters meant for a specific person. Perhaps the original recipient of Kosara's letter threw it away of disinterest, or maybe that person she saw pass was the culprit behind this particular mystery, or they could simply have been another messenger. And in Victoria's case I suppose it could be interpreted either way as meant for her, or perhaps handing out letters to someone who looks like an adventurer."

"As the numbers play out, were I, Naivara and Ser Lucas the original three that Sheriff Gregory was trying to contact? Probably not, the nature of Victoria's message calls it into question as does Naivara's. If Alastor, Mona and Jorlton were still here we could ask them, but who knows where they're off to now. Depending on the answer, whoever is responsible for these extra letters were either handing them out haphazardly, or they have a very detailed information network to be able to determine our identities, where we were and who we trusted enough to be used as a contact. I'm inclined to believe it's the latter." Marita shifted in her seat and thought a moment more.

"Earlier Hugh" Marita spoke his name without injecting it with venom even though she really wanted to, "posited a hypothesis that the one sending the letters might be Gregory himself. I'm not so sure about that. While it is true that he possesses access to information most do not due to his position and background, he certainly would not likely know of me. I am not from this locality. I do not bill myself as an adventurer. I usually do not undertake these kinds of tasks and I'm not a troublemaker who has run-ins with the law. Furthermore, he appears to be a man of strong will, I don't think he would be susceptible to enchantment or mental unwellness to have been the one responsible for the current situation. That said, it still might be the case, and this entire mission has been compromised at every level. Until we can ask the man ourselves who his letters were intended to find, I think it best that we assume that every one of us had a false letter."

"Perhaps the most troubling question of all now is why us? If I was sending out false invitations to undermine an investigation, I wouldn't send the letters to the people here. There's too much experience at the table." The best she could hope for in regards to this infuriating question was that they'd be able to apprehend the culprit directly, or in an unfavorable environment, those reasons would become self evident.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita didn't expect the explosion that came from Hugh. Everything she'd seen from him so far didn't indicate he was the sort of person to lose his temper so easily, but then again she had only known him for maybe a couple of hours at this point. She certainly didn't appreciate the insults and implied accusations hurled her way, and the desire to shout back at him welled up from her chest, but she bit her tongue and remained silent even as her ears turned red. He's disappointed in me? Who does he think he is, my father? She didn't give a rat's ass what he thought about her, but trying to undermine the entire conversation out of petty spite while also attempting to further the investigation was idiotic.

Although Marita held her tongue mostly to avoid stooping to his level and cause a scene, as she sat on it and had the chance to mull over his words, she felt like maybe he had a point. She still felt justified that the Zone of Truth was a necessary precaution, but perhaps she could have gone about it more gracefully. She had never been good in these kinds of social situations, it made her miss the clearly defined hierarchy of the Church.

"Before we proceed any farther I'd like to make an interjection. As far as the Zone of Truth goes, if it so bothers you, you are free to leave it. I cast it so in that this table is on the edge of it," Marita gestured over to the rest of the population merrily going about their night, "so merely stepping a foot or two away from the table towards the inside of the building should be sufficient to leave its field of influence. It would be untoward if suddenly the entire tavern were caught in its grasp. Even if you do not wish to move, this spell lasts mere minutes, so if you wish to retain your ability to speak falsehoods, you can tell your story once it fades shortly."

"Furthermore, I too am subject to the Zone's power. It would be unfair and cowardly to ask something of you that I myself am not willing to undergo. Personally, I don't believe any of us are some sort of saboteur meant to jeopardize the mission. The Zone is merely a precaution to concretely establish the facts at hand. However, I appreciate that I had been too hasty in my actions, and for that I apologize. For those familiar with my patron, recognize how much this means. Lastly as far as taking my word that I am indeed bound by the same rules as you," Marita intentionally left out how Victoria was not under the effects of the spell, "I'll tell you all something about me that I prefer none of you would ever know of, and I'm trusting you to not make ill of it." Marita leaned in and spoke in a far quieter tone than she had been previously, still loud enough for the rest of the table to hear, but not enough for anyone not seated to pick up on.

"I am indeed a holy woman of the Sun God Pholtus, but I am a convert. Originally I grew up in a community of devil worshippers. It was only when they destroyed themselves that I ended up being able to join greater society and find my calling. Che kur nammu o nukh chizni chekh ma.¹" Marita sat back and resumed speaking as she had been before. "If after the rest of you have had a chance to speak you want me to further validate this claim, I will, but I would rather it not have to come to that. As far as our mission goes and the matter with the letters, Information is our most valuable currency and we can afford to hide whatever scraps we may have from one another if we want to get through this. I believe there is more at stake here than any of us realize and we'll need to work together to get through this."

"I appreciate the gesture, Victoria but I'm good. Perhaps I'll be able to save it for tomorrow." With that, Marita crossed her arms to signal that she was done speaking.

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¹I will Curse anyone who speaks of this in Infernal. She doesn't expect anyone other than maybe Kosara to understand, but she expects her tone and the language to carry forth the gist of it

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear Action: Zone of Truth Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita listened to the questions and demands of the others at the table, whilst silently judging them. Hugh had a couple of decent points but let his avarice show in full force. Not unsurprising for a true sell-sword type, but just because he operated within expected parameters didn't mean he wasn't going to lose even more points with her. Kosara wanting a journal was surprising, and Marita wasn't sure how the tiefling would protect such a thing from the elements when not even her stomach was, but that was none of her concern. She also thought it was obvious that the letter asking them to take care of goblins was an excuse to cover up their true purpose, but evidently not. New armor for Kathryn would be expensive given her size, but at least she recognized that she was in dire need of new equipment. And compared to shortstuff asking for contraband magical items, it was downright reasonable. Victoria remained smugly silent, if she wanted something extra she likely had already haggled for it during this previous conversation. And Naivara... well it certainly was a request.

Gregory's response both surprised and irritated her. He answered her questions immediately at the table despite her saying she didn't expect him to. More aptly, she would rather have just received a written report of some form in the morning with as much real information as he had, rather than leaving it up to the collective memory of those present to make sure that all the details were represented. Gregory also seemed to assume that she would want more than he had offered, and even after hearing the requests of the other party-goers nothing had changed in that regard. In fact, she was almost a bit offended even though he was probably just being nice.

Her irritation was cut off from the clamor that came from the next room over, near causing her to jump out of her seat. As good as the smells were and as empty her stomach, Marita was kind of glad she hadn't actually ordered any food from the kitchen tonight. Maybe everything would be less suspect come breakfast time.

When the sheriff stood from the table she followed his departure with her peripheral vision and listened intently to what was going on behind her. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, (she did a great deal more than most anyone else still sharing the table with her) but that he was clearly very guarded, and she had a feeling that the cards he was holding to his chest had information pertinent to the situation. It was difficult to hear considering May and the ambience of the bar, but she did manage to catch a few bits here and there about the expenses of lodging a party. More important than the words were the way they were spoken. Owen sounded rather lost, while Gregory was about as irritated as she felt at the moment and half as suspicious as Hugh on a good day. Of course, as dialed into that conversation as she was, it would be impossible to miss Guido's outburst.

With that revelation, everything made sense. Why would a man like him invite the people she had met here today? He wouldn't, which begged the question about where these other invitations came in. Of course it would be easy to get paranoid over who might be a secret traitor, but oddly enough, she didn't feel that sort of suspicion. Almost everyone here was flagrantly unreliable, and if you wanted to sabotage a mission with a mole, there were certainly better and easier ways than sending out a flyer to 2 dozen different people across the land. But she was quite tired of being in this informationless environment, so rather than merely conjecture to herself, she would do something.

For the second time tonight, the cleric stood up at the table. With her right hand she drew a sigil in the air as she spoke aloud.

"Let His holy light burn away all falsehoods, revealing barren truth."

With these words spoken, her eyes and amulet briefly flashed a cold white light bright enough to create sunspots in the eyes of anyone looking directly at them.

"I have just created a Zone of Truth here. I would like to ask all of you under what circumstances exactly did you receive your invitation? If there's legitimate reason to suspect one another of espionage or the like, I would like to get it out of the way rather than ruin my night worrying about it. I won't force you to answer if you do not wish to, but the less needless doubt the better. If you resist the spell so you don't have to tell the truth, I'll know. More importantly if everyone here is clean then perhaps from sharing our stories we'll be able to find some sort of clue with which to work off rather than the table scraps we've been handed." Marita sat down once more and interlaced her fingers as she set her forearms flat against the table.

"I'll start. I received my invitation 11 days ago in Bleakriver, a town just North of here. I had been staying in the temple helping the clergy for some time when one day the lead priest Father Restoff came to me with mail. The next morning I began traveling here." Marita was silent for a moment before speaking again, this time looking over at Kosara, directly answering her question. "I quite enjoy a game of colf, but I haven't had a chance to play it in the past couple of years. Now back to business."

Thornwood Asylum For The Criminal Insane- A Villain Roleplay.

This looks interesting

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita noticed Victoria's brief change in expression when Kosara mentioned 'summoning unspeakable evils,' and made a mental note of it. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but probably not. There were far greater issues at hand, but it would be a good idea from here on out to keep an eye on the bard. Worst case scenario she might have to step in and arrest her herself. Well not that she had the ability to arrest people in an official capacity, but being a cleric of an order god, she felt confident that her word would hold weight if she brought a captured criminal to local law enforcement. That said, she didn't want it to have to come down to that, but it would be preferable to allowing a catastrophe to occur under her nose.

Suspicions about her potential party member aside, Marita leaned forward to listen to the Sheriff speak with great interest, her face only once scrunching in irritation being lumped in as an "adventuring type." This entire situation was at once a relief and rather vexing. The obvious irritant being the lack of information, technically speaking none of them had any idea what they were exactly supposed to be dealing with, and if this was to be purely an inquisition, well half the people here had no business being here. But at the same time, her gut feeling about there being something major at risk here was reinforced. If it wasn't just her, then it was even more likely to be the case.

In the back of her head, Marita was already trying to produce some possible reasons for these disappearances. The first one, and the train of thought she couldn't shake, was that there was some cult behind all this, kidnapping people in the night. If you joined you would be let go, if you refused you were kept as a prisoner at best, sacrifice at worst. She had no proof for any of this and hoped it wasn't the case, but the niggling hypothesis wouldn't go away. Marita looked over at Victoria. The fact that she had previously spoken to the sheriff indicated that she probably wasn't connected to the root problem, so that was off the table at least. But the look on Gregory's face told her that the potential future of having to arrest the bard wasn't out of the picture by a long shot.

"I do have a few questions I'd like to pose." Marita sat up straight in her seat, interlocked hands held neatly beneath her chest. "Well to put it more aptly requests. Do you have the names of the people that have disappeared? How long they tend to disappear for? How about any commonalities between them such as 'primarily women,' 'only halflings,' 'younger than middle age,' or if people tend to vanish in a certain location or time of day. Of course I don't expect you to rattle all these things off the top of your head, but if you could provide us with a written report as detailed as possible it would go a long way towards aiding us in our investigative efforts." Not to mention that if there were indeed ne'er do wells operating in the shadows, they'd be far less likely to tip them off any more than they already had by their mere presence if they had solid leads to work off of rather than starting from "asking around town blindly looking for anything of interest."

"Ah, if it weren't clear already I shall formally accept your offer." Not that she had ever intended on saying no. In fact, the thought of payment hadn't even entered her mind until he mentioned it just now. At the moment she was fairly good as far as supplies and money went, but she wasn't going to turn down good food and coin for no reason. Willingly taking up charity work was noble, but she spent quite a lot of her time doing that anyways, and 20 gold coins would expand her budget enough to potentially get something nice for herself, like a new coat for the coming winter.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita listened over Kosara's rather eclectic collection of skills with some interest. There was a lot of fluff and at best situational tools listed (at least for this part of the world and regarding this particular job), but despite her appearance she did seem to perhaps have more going on beneath the cowl. But it was entirely possible that she was hoping for things that didn't actually exist. If nothing else, her presence here meant that Marita wouldn't have to worry about everyone in the party running up to her every time they stubbed a toe. As much as tending to the sick and wounded was such a vital part of the public image of Clerical magic she found it one of the least engaging and restrictive facets of the trade. Perhaps later she'd ask her a bit more of what magic she learned from her grandfather.

Kathryn's skills were a complete non-surprise, but that wasn't the thing about the resident half-giant that grabbed Marita's attention, it was the fact that she claimed to be member of nobility, or at least a high ranking subject or vassal, especially given how half-breeds tended to not make it so far up the social hierarchy. Kathryn must know how disenfranchised she looked, so chances were that she wasn't lying. Neither Nathan Lucas nor Arcanaple sounded familiar to her, at least not immediately but maybe with time she'd recall something. That aside, given how... squishy many of the people at the table appeared, having someone so large and imposing was a bit of a relief. Not to mention Marita's skills synchronized well with Kathryn's.

Suddenly she heard a rather diminutive voice behind her. There stood a gnome. Well it was more like a nose with a gnome attached. He was dressed fairly well to do decked out in a variety of blades and proclaimed himself a wizard, covering himself in a blue glow. Unfortunately for him, even if he had cast meteor swarm on the tavern she wouldn't have been impressed, and not only because she would almost certainly be dead. Instead she only had time to mark him in her head as the party's second little prick and as another arcane caster before yet another newcomer made her appearance.

Admittedly, Marita had not had much to eat today and the smell of the food made her stomach growl, but at this point it was quite late. The cleric often had trouble sleeping, and eating too soon before bedtime only exacerbated the issue, so when May asked for any orders she waved and gave a perhaps remorseful, "No thank you." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Alastor excuse himself, and didn't think much of it despite it being perhaps the last time she'd ever see him.

It was then that the (hopefully) last newcomer to this whole situation made his appearance. When he introduced himself as the Sheriff, Marita wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, he managed to be surprisingly close to the mental image of him that she'd had in her head for the past 10 days or so. She was curious what sort of man Gregory was exactly. The manner in which these letters were written sounded quite generic, but the method in which they were delivered at least in her experience was very direct and personal. Did he know ahead of time who he would be inviting to the Arbalest Party? And why did he choose who he did? Especially some of the more suspect members at the table.

Wordlessly, Marita produced the letter, neatly folded in half, nearly as pristine as the day it was handed to her. She unfolded it on the table and smoothed out the crease as best as she could before presenting it. She gave a brief glance at the others who had already gotten their invitations out. Kosara's was shockingly intact, about as well maintained as her own. Hugh's was a mess, bloodstained on top of that. Marita wasn't sure what exactly to make of that, but her suspicion of him increased a bit further than previously. Assuming everyone else had their shit together they would finally be able to learn what this was all about.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita was glad that she didn't have to wait long for someone else to respond to her proposal, even if it was Hugh, who with each new word came off as more and more of a little prick. She understood his immediate dislike of Kosara, especially given how she pounced at his throat first chance she got, but the condescension and smarmy self-satisfaction that dripped from his every word was a bit much even for her, which really said something coming from one who came from the church of the God of Inflexibility. Grating tone aside, he did provide a lot of useful information. In this troupe of social rejects and sore thumbs, someone with abilities in the realm of subterfuge could be a great asset. Arriving early and doing some investigation showed initiative on his part, and if he found something pertinent to this job having more information than the scraps they were given would make the situation much less irritating. When Hugh looked over at Marita he'd see her looking back with a vaguely irritated, but not dissatisfied expression.

As Victoria began to speak, Marita found herself leaning in to listen without even intending to do so. She certainly had a hypnotic voice that made you want to listen, as much as the cleric was loathe to admit it. There was no surprise when Victoria listed off her artistically inclined talents, but it was still good to confirm them. But when she mentioned the names of her divine inspirations, Marita's eyes instantly flashed with recognition before narrowing, looking at Morty and then back to Victoria. However, not a word slipped past Marita's lips. Of course she would recognize Wee Jas if nobody else considering she shared the same panthenon with Pholtus.

Marita's gut instinct was to call out Victoria for being a dirty necromancer, but she fought that back, if for no other immediate reason than risking accidentally causing an angry mob to form. It might have come as a surprise to those ignorant of the more intricate details of the gods and their doctrines, but despite being a Lawful Good Sun god, Pholtus didn't actually have dogma explicitly condemning the undead. Sure in practice 99% of the time the Undead would be purged due to being a menace to society or used for evil means, but this might have been the 1% exception she never expected to have to deal with. In fact, Pholtus and Wee Jas were probably closer in alignment than him and Pelor. It was also worth noting that she decided to explicitly namedrop 3 lawful neutral Death gods with similar stances on undead and their use. Either she just wanted to flex her religious studies, or she was being sincere. The fact that Victoria volunteered this information freely (even if a bit veiled for obvious reasons) did much to have the cleric temper her reaction from "Openly Antagonistic" to "Heightened Wariness." If nobody else brought up the resident bard's fondness for the unliving, neither would she even if she didn't like it.

It all made sense now. That wrapped up pig, her fondness for purple, Gray Requiem. In retrospect it was all quite obvious. Actually, now that the name Wee Jas was in her head, Marita took a double take at Victoria's features. It was almost like the depictions of the Ruby Sorceress leapt of the page and decided to rock a tricorn. This realization twisted her gut in a knot. The appearance of this woman here was an omen. Now more than ever she was convinced that she needed to be here on this mission.

And yet, in the midst of all these complicated feelings, Marita felt a sense of relief. Perhaps it was the pettiest feeling she had had in months, but knowing that Victoria was a necromancer gave her a legitimate reason to dislike the half elf beyond shallow envy, and she didn't have to fight that feeling anymore. There was still a hint of shame because it was a rationalization, but there was only so many thoughts she could juggle at one time and the ramifications for trying to justify a minor sin was low on the priority list.

The cleric's thoughts were cut short by the appearance of Naivara, who of her own accord let everyone know she was a druid. She seemed extraordinarily awkward, but the hermit's smile and tone evoked an odd sense of nostalgia in Marita, although she could not place why exactly. She did not like it, but that malaise did not extend to the girl herself.

"No need to be too concerned. The Sheriff has yet to arrive himself, so we were getting to know each other better and what we are capable off. To keep it short, I have Clerical magic, Hugh over there is an expert in stealth, Victoria the silver tongue and Alastor the blade. Ah, my name is Marita Bärbel." Her tone and cadence were about as nice and approachable as the cleric was capable of. She couldn't fault the druid for interrupting the conversation, so she tried to catch her up to speed as quickly as possible, while allowing the others to chime in with what talents they could provide in as smooth a fashion as she could muster.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita was saved from having to continue the conversation with the Tiefling after receiving the not unsurprising but still vexing information that no, he hadn't heard anything from the sheriff other than the letters he had sent out ahead of time. However, that came at the expense of the one saving her in this instance being the most immodestly dressed tiefling she had ever seen. The fact that two tieflings happened to show up here in the first place was what? One in a million? Even when she had attended the grand balls of nobles who had come from across the land, at most she saw 4 of them, and they had all come together from the coast.

And those clothes, most whores were better dressed even when it wasn't autumn. Kosara had done much to earn Marita's dislike before she even said anything, but her mouth only added further reasons to that list. There was nothing particularly wrong with being bubbly and gregarious, despite the stereotype that clergymen were uptight sticks in the mud, she knew many people who were very people oriented. In fact it was a very good trait to have at many different levels of the hierarchy. At the local level it was easier to connect with the flock, and at the high level, nobility and kings. The problem came from how she didn't moderate herself for the situation, and worst of all was how freely she shared information. The letter was indeed about goblins, but even from the way the barkeep talked, it probably went much deeper than that, and she presented herself as nothing but a liability if any inquisitorial duties were required of them.

Marita was taken out of her judgements by the ding of metal on wood as the largest human, let alone woman she had ever seen stepped into the tavern. By the Light, she was even taller than most Dragonborn she had seen. Aside from her stature, Marita could help but notice the state of her gear and be unimpressed by it. There was something to be said about the frugality of using what you had for all that it could provide, but there was a limit to that, and her equipment had passed that point many years ago. Stubbornly holding onto tools that barely managed to hold together from a stern look was at best asking for it to break at an inopportune time. The fact that she was still holding onto it indicated being too poor to pick up usable equipment (not a good sign for the ability of a sellsword) or some overly entrenched sentimentality. The best Marita could hope for was that Kathryn's physical attributes would compensate. Aside from that, there was nothing yet for Marita to consider.

As if not to be outdone in loud appearances, in walked a woman whose entire appearance screamed at the top of her lungs "Look at me, I'm a bard! Purple's my name, music's my game!" Unlike the previous two applicants, Victoria's Aura of Unreliability came more from her broadcasted occupation than her demeanor or equipment. Even at the best of times bards were fickle and prone to distraction, but as far as gripes went, this was almost a non-issue. No, the reasons Marita had to dislike Victoria were much pettier. Marita could see the care that was put into her makeup as a fellow "woman of the brush." Every morning she put in a lot of effort into trying to make herself look good, so seeing someone else look so much better gave a rush of envy. She knew this wasn't a valid reason to dislike her, and she seemed respectful enough (Marita silently returned the nod) so for now she'd try to suppress the feeling. She couldn't help but grimace at the appearance of Morty. Was there really a need to bring such a creature indoors? If she weren't already distracted, she might have noticed the full extent of how odd the pig was, but for the time being he was safe.

Mona. Marita didn't know what to think about her. She dressed as a holy woman, but she carried a fey on her shoulder. She wore an amulet as a holy symbol, but it wasn't dedicated to any god or set of gods. At least not any one she was familiar with, and she was fairly confident in her knowledge of what deities were out there. It was just a unicorn. Her eyes narrowed just a bit more than they were before. Her mind jumped to a few explanations: a con in holy robes, a cultist, an artist more attached to Unicorns than was healthy. Perhaps she was a foreigner from a far off country and their religious iconography was unknown to her. For now she would brush aside her doubts and just watch how Mona acted.

Finally, most surprising of all, they were joined by a man that had been in the Pear since before Marita had walked in. He was short. Very short for a man who wasn't (half)elf. Clean shaven for the most part, but looking closer, she could see bits of stubble here and there. He didn't go to the barber for his grooming, that's for sure. And his eyes were sharp, the kind that looked at people and saw the worst in them. He had been watching them this whole time from outside as it were. She didn't trust him. Those who didn't trust anybody were the first to betray others.

All in all, other than perhaps Alastor and Victoria nobody in this gaggle of misfits and rejects were trustworthy for one reason or another. Perhaps this would change given time, but Marita wasn't going to hold her breath. Now more than ever she was glad she decided to answer the Sheriff's call. If her hunch was correct, she definitely wouldn't leave a delicate matter in the hands of those at the table, even as a last resort as this were.

Marita stood from her seat and placed her hand on the table, not a slam, but with enough force to direct attention to her.

"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, I'm Marita Bärbel. Since the Sheriff and anyone else that may be attending this party appears to be running late, the least we can do is get some business taken care of before hand so we don't end up staying up all night for nothing." Her voice came out authoritatively, but she tried to sound informal enough to not come off as commandeering.

"Everyone has given a name and alluded to being here because they got the same letter, but there's more we need to get out of the way first. Why are you here at this table, and I don't mean your life story," she said preemptively so Kosara didn't go into another tangent about her grandfather or whatever. "I mean what do you bring to this table. What skills can you contribute. If we're supposed to be working together and I'm assuming that's the case, otherwise why would we be called in like this, I want to know what exactly to expect. If this task ends up more dangerous than the word of the letter says, I don't want any dead weight, or worse a liability that endangers the rest of us needlessly. If you can't offer anything of value then you might as well leave now." That came off a lot worse than it sounded in her head. Marita cleared her voice before continuing.

"In my case I'm a cleric of Pholtus. I'm pretty good with this mace, but more importantly I'm a skilled handler of holy magic. Whether that be healing the sick and injured, bolstering allies, or ensuring that no lies be told." Unsure of how to continue or wrap up from here, she sat down and looked expectantly for someone else to follow up. If nobody did, not only would that entire display be awkward, it'd also be a bad sign to come

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Marita Bärbel Human, Cleric, Level 3 HP: 18/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: N/A Location: Darenby Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Marita stepped into the local temple of Darenby and took stock of its condition. It matched the aura of the rest of the town for sure. Sturdy and well-built, even if not aesthetically striking. For those who grew up in these kinds of environments or felt a connection to simpler rural life, it would be quite comely, comforting even. Marita belonged to neither of those categories. Her eyes swept across the room and took in the various deities who had their own small corners of the room with dedicated shrines and small offerings. It was about what she expected and had become accustomed to seeing since moving out to the country. In villages like this they hadn't the time or people to devote a separate church for multiple gods, and the culture in these parts wasn't strongly tied to a single divine so this would have to make do.

Unsurprisingly those enshrined here were mostly agricultural gods, along with a few scattered miscellaneous deities, sun, peace, love, mercantile. Surprisingly most of them were from halfling pantheons. Evidently that demographic was the most religious here. Or perhaps cultural osmosis just lead to this outcome. It didn't particularly matter to Marita. Although she would have preferred a shrine to Pholtus, as long as all the gods worshipped were legitimate she didn't care who exactly these people worshipped. She was an outsider and she was not here on missionary work. If anything, attempting to proselytize in every settlement she visited would only disrupt the holy work already being performed and sour local opinions on Him, she had learned that the hard way.

On the opposite side of the temple was a frumpy middle aged halfling woman dressed in clerical vestments sweeping the floor. She was either lost in thought or so focused on what she was doing that she did not notice Marita enter the building until she made a show of clearing her throat. The halfling flinched to attention, directing her eyes towards Marita, first at the amulet on her chest before meeting her narrowed eyes.

"Sorry for not noticing you earlier, dear. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Sister Michele. What does a Lady of Blinding Light require?" Marita looked down at the priestess who barely came up to her belly button. Michele was all smiles, but her words and tone carried a faint hint of suspicion, perhaps even aggression. Understandable considering they were technically rivals in the same field, but irritating all the same.

"I'm merely here to pay my respects. I have no intention of trying to convert the townsfolk or impede on your work. If anything, if I am still in town feel free to call upon me for assistance. Marita Bärbel at your service." Marita performed a shallow bow, and this seemed to pacify any worries the halfling might have had. Her expression remained unchanged, but her body language shifted ever so slightly.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you down on that, but feel free to come back any time." And with that she returned to sweeping. Marita turned to leave, glad this particular chore was over and done with. She was halfway out the door before she stopped in her tracks and turned back around.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Infamous Pear is, would you?"

"I'm surprised a woman like you would want to go to a place like that. Head West from here on the other side of the fort. Look for the sign with the masked pear." Wordlessly, Marita exited the temple back into the cool sunset. She took out the letter from the Sheriff and gave it one more read. She was surprised to have received such a message from Father Restoff, the priest of Bleakriver, a village about 10 days North where she had been staying for the past few months. As much as she loathed being lumped in with the crowd one step above banditry and mercenaries known as adventurers, she couldn't find it in her to refuse the summons. Something about the wording gnawed at the back of her head. There was no doubt that there was a lot more here at stake than simple goblins and she couldn't in good conscious leave it up to a lot of would-be criminals.

When she arrived at the Infamous Pear and asked about the Arbelest party, she sat silently through the barkeep's spiel, sneering and rolling her eyes through his speech but otherwise silent. It was all so tiresome to put up with. She looked over to the table and saw only one other seated, a rather large Tiefling who looked a few years her elder. Contrary to her expectations he had quite the well groomed look about him. Perhaps the son of a well off merchant? No matter, she took the seat to his left. It was only once she was seated that it occurred to her that maybe she had parked herself too close and this might be interpreted the wrong way, but it was too late to back out now. Quickly, she racked her brain for something to say before any awkwardness could set in.

"Any word from the Sheriff?"