Derinden.  Aarnr has some inkling that this is another of the gudgeon's cities ... and from the sound of it a place infested with foul worshippers of the demon lord of undeath and ripe for being razed to the ground in a bloody conflagration.

"We must set out immediately," the priest can barely contain his enthusiasm. "We will need oil and tinderboxes," the latter being one of the few achievements of civilisation that a son of the fens can really appreciate.  Trying to light a funeral pyre with two sticks in a rain storm does wonders for one's perspective.

"If'n I's 'memberin' me maps, we's 'avin' ter pass through Derindin on the road ter Rappan Athuk.  Reckon as 'ow we'll be 'avin' plenty of chance ter sack the place." Colwyn says, with a grin that fades quickly as a stray gust of wind carries a new hint of rot and decay to his nostrils.  "Maybe as we can be burnin' this 'ouse down, jus' ter get our 'and in, so ter speak.  It's like as not the only way ter be gettin' rid of the stink."

Ozzy looks up, "Might be better not to burn Derindin until after we've passed it.  From what I heard, it's built on a lot of bridges over a gully.  If we burn the place before we pass, then we'll destroy the road across the gully, and we'll have to go out of our way to move on to the Dungeon of Graves."

"So no burning," Eilieen notes.  "Thank you, Oswald.  But if the town is on our way, certainly we can pay it a small...visit."  Something unpleasant glitters in her smile, mostly hidden beneath her hood.  "Chat up some people.  Poke around.  Find a hidden temple to Orcus.  Cleanse it.  That sort of thing."

Oooo, yesssss.

"Thank you, Kallana, this has been most instructive," she continues, still from the (relative) safety of the corridor outside of the room.

Kallana looks about, "Can we leave now?  I want to report this to the High Justicar, and we should also inform the City Watch - it may have been the result of a falling-out between criminal cultists, but it is still a murder.  The Watch will want to look into it, and have the means to obtain more information."

His expression sour, Ozzy responds, "I don't care if they class it as murder or not, I just hope they don't bury the body on holy ground.  They should just find a marsh somewhere, and dump him there."

Arkan nods at Kallana, as he digests all the information. He has no knowledge of this town Derindin, but it sounds like they will be paying it a visit soon.

"Yes, we should be off and away. If they were still working in the crypts yesterday, the guards at the gate may even have seen them leave. We could learn something useful on our way out of the city and towards Derindin." He says, flexing a gloved hand absently as he speaks.

Eilieen allows Arkan to take the lead speaking with Kallana, though she shoots a quick glance at Oswald.  "I would be more than happy to vacate this place, immediately," she adds, hurrying toward the door.  Once out of the stench, the priestess slows.

"But I feel we should do something for Feldon's body.  Perhaps the Justicars can take care of that."  Her lips thin.  "It's possible he was quite innocent of everything - nothing but a dupe.  If so, can we take the chance?  Isn't it worth erring on the side of compassion?"

Colwyn laughs, as he follows Eilieen outside, "If 'e were bein' innocent, then why'd 'e be lyin' ter the Justicars 'bout this 'ere bein' 'is 'ouse?  Yer seen the rooms upstairs.  No bugger's been livin' there fer months, so why were 'e bringin' the Justicars 'ere ter talk 'bout workin' in the crypt?"

Sighing, Kallana agrees with the rogue, "I'm afraid he's right.  The High Justicar was under the impression that Feldon lived here, an impression that Feldon apparently fostered, and made no effort to dispel."

Outside the garden, the group look about for a patrol.  Sadly there is no sign of one.

Then Kallana suggests, "We are near to the East Gate.  There will be guards there, and they may have seen the labourers leaving.  Shall we head there, or shall we go to the Guard House, near the middle of town to speak to Lord Herrin, their commander?"

Aarnr scowls.

Not that anyone is likely to notice for his normal expression is one of barely contained rage and incipient violence.  But after being denied the chance to kill cultists, save for some vague hope that they might be found in yet another of these decadent havens where civilised folk cluster together in a disgusting and most likely unsanitary fashion, he is now faced with the prospect of talking to not one, but two lots of guards.  And like as not his companions' favoured method of interrogation will not involve blades at the throat, cutting bits off, or other such means of encouragement.

And while it's the priest's god-given duty to rid the world of guardsmen, along with other hell-hated creatures such as undead, arcanists (whatever those hedge-pigs are¹) and lawyers, he's fairly sure his friends will not share his views on such matters.

Oh, the burden imposed upon him by his grandmother's spirit to be nice is a heavy one indeed.

The scowl becomes a sulk.  It is perhaps the best anyone can hope for.


¹ a person professing special secret knowledge concerning ceramics, especially concerning the making of porcelain (from http://www.dictionary.com/browse/arcanist)

Eilieen sighs.  "Perhaps he was guilty.  Perhaps he knew of the connection to Orcus."  Her lips make a small smile.  "Perhaps he merely took money from people who needed someone to stand as their spokesman, someone who would not carry with them the vile aura of one who has become a servant of Orcus.  Perhaps his only guilt is in not asking enough questions, or taking money when he knew his benefactor was up to no good."

She shakes her head.  "For myself, I will not condemn a man to the Abyss for that, nor would I risk his soul for the possibility I am wrong.  But it is not my decision to make."

Pausing a moment, Eilieen casts a worried glance at Aarnr.  Bowbe's priest looks...well...it's hard to judge, but much like a young child whose candy has been stolen from them.  Disappointment?  Frustration?  Hard to say.

"I say the East gate, first.  We are near there, and if we discovered signs of our quarry's passage, we can move to grab our gear and go, hot in pursuit!"  Eilieen lets her voice rise.  "Perhaps then we can run them down upon the road!"

She shoots a quick look at Aarnr out of the corner of her eye, seeking some sign of interest.

Eilieen's words do improve Aarnr's spirits somewhat, as Bowbe's priest hopes that perhaps he might be the one to decide to condemn the puttock of a mason to the Abyss if she's not going to do it herself ...

... even the mention of the east gate does not dampen his new-found enthusiasm, though in fairness that might be because he misunderstands the priestesses reasoning to mean that it is those slovenly lackeys of despots and thieves (ie the guards) that might flee and thus become targets for his ire.

Aarnr nods, smiling.

Shortly afterwards, the group stand before the East Gate, which is currently opem, as throngs of people pass through it (both entering and leaving the city) under the watchful gaze of the ever-vigilant guardians of the city.  A second group of guards are near the gate too, taking a brief pause to drink water from a fountain with steel cups chained to it.

Kallana points to one of the guards at the gate.  "Kaed there is the commander of the gate watch.  If anybody can answer questions about who has passed out of the city of late, it would be him."  The man in question looks to be about the same age as the recently departed Sir Galdean, but clean-shaven, and his face is covered by a tracery of old scars.

"Tell him you are under my guidance, and he should help you well enough.  If he knows where his next cinnamon roll is coming from."

"Meanwhile, I shall speak to yonder patrol about Feldon, and his death."

She gives a nod, indicating the men around the fountain...

Nodding at Kallana's instructions, Arkan strode forward towards the guards at the gate, making straight for Kaed, gesturing at the others the join him; together they might be able to dig out the maximum amount of information from the guards they could.

"Good day commander Kaed, I am Arkan. I and my companions are under the guidance of Justicar Kallana." He said by way of introduction as he stood with folded arms in front of the grizzled vet, pausing to let his words sink in.

"We seek news of any recent departures from this gate, anyone who might have left in a hurry. Especially anyone from a group of stonemasons who were working on the temple of Muir for the past weeks." Arkan added, gesturing towards the open gate and adding a note of urgency in his voice.

Kaed scratches at his cheek, "Aye, I thought I saw Kallana with you.  I don't know about masons, as such, but give me a moment lad."  He disappears into the gate tower, and is actually gone for about three moments and a heartbeat.  When he returns he is bearing a large, leather bound ledger.

"Yesterday, an hour or so before we closed the gate at dusk." he indicates an entry in the ledger, "Eight men in a group went out along East Road.  The watch leader warned them about bandits on the road, it being so close to nightfall and all.  It says here that one of them said they would worry about the bandits if they met them, but they needed to leave right away, because they had to be back in Derindin before Waneday next week."

"Might they be the one's you want?"

Near the drinking fountain, Kallana can be seen talking to the patrol leader.  The man is waving his arm towards the north end of the city, but the Justicar shakes her head, and points in the direction of the house where Feldon's body, presumably, still lies.

Gazing at the entry in the journal with a furrowed brow, Arkan clenches and un-clenches a gloved hand, finally nodding at Kaed.

"Thank you for that information Commander. Did you notice any armaments on them, weapons, armor and the like, and if so, did any carry large warhammers of a sinister style? And did any appear unarmed or carry simple staves perhaps?" He queried Kaed, recalling the earlier battle against the cultist with the nasty and oversized hammer and wondering if this group was led by any such.

Working the portal would also take knowledge of sorcery, and given his own knowledge about matters arcane, Arkan knows most who study the Art, dark or otherwise, typically are not given to arts of a more martial nature for any number of reasons, be it mere arrogance, not having the raw physical talent to stand and fight another face to face or simply not having the time to master two completely different disciplines.

"Another thing if you would Commander, were these men mounted or did they journey on foot?" he added another question, hoping against hope the latter was true; if so they might yet be able to catch them.

Ardens eyes narrow.  The guardsmen seem to be going out of their way to be helpful, which suggests that they are lying through their teeth and trying to send the party off on a wild pheasant chase.  Though he'll grudgingly allow they did mention the chance of meeting bandits, which always cheers the priest up.

Perhaps it is Arkan's clever questioning that has the bladders at a disadvantage ? Though they be untrustworthy pignuts, Aarnr decides to suffer them to live a little longer.  He knows where they may be found should their words prove false.

Eilieen remains silent, figuring that Arkan will do better without well-meaning (or not, in Arkan's case) leaping in to muddy up the waters of information.  Instead, she starts working through their next movement: returning to the (close) inn and regaining their equipment to pursue the enemies with all haste.

"Derindin," she murmurs.  "Good.  We know where they are headed, and we are ready to give chase."

"Aye.  We was 'avin' ter be goin' there any'ow." Colwyn confirms cheerfully. "I's reckonin' as 'ow we's bein' lucky they wasn't 'eaded fer Reme or Fair'ill, those bein' where we was comin' from."

"This way we can be goin' after them, an' still be goin' the way we's wantin' ter go."

Shaking his head, Kaed says, "I didn't see them myself.  This entry was written by somebody on the late shift.  But there's no mention of wagons or horses, so it's fairly certain, I'd say, that they were on foot.  Even so, they have a sixteen or seventeen hour start on you.  And there's nothing to say that they didn't pick up horses somewhere outside the city."

Kallana rejoins the group, with news of her own, "That house was not Feldon's home.  Word is that he bought it almost a year ago, after the previous owners died of old age.  He'd been repairing it since then, planning to sell it for a profit."

"I'm seeing Feldon less as worshipper of evil, and more as 'unethical but duped'," Eilieen murmurs.  "I cannot give instruction, of course, but I would advise a proper burial."  She shrugs.  "It is better to be safe than sorry, and a man's soul is at stake."

One eyebrow rises at Colwyn's cheer.  "Well, if you are so pleased," Eilieen continues, "best we be on our way in pursuit!  Sixteen or seventeen hours is a great lead, but not insurmountable.  Perhaps we may yet catch them on the trail.  If not, we shall find them in Derindin."

Her fingertips itch at the thought.

"We should leave as soon as possible," the priestess muses.  "My thanks, commander, my deepest thanks.  Your information has proven of great import to the cause of righteousness."

Again, Aarnr has no complaint ... though since the priest sees burial as a unclean thing, that's entirely suitable for a pawn of evil, whether willing or deceived.  Besides which, further argument would only delay the pursuit.

And for another thing ...

"We will take the cart," Aarnr avows.  While he's quite prepared to run all the way to the next pit of evil, he doubts his companions would survive and they too deserve to mete out vengeance upon the tardy-gaited masons.  Nor would he shame his blood-brother whose legs though doughty are short.  Besides which, if they get hungry they can always chop the cart up for firewood and slaughter the beasts.

Nodding in agreement with his companions Arkan says, "Indeed there is nothing to it then than going after them immediately. A seventeen hour or so head-start is quite a bit, we must not give them time to receive word of what transpired here; it may cause them to scatter into smaller groups and then we will never catch them all."

Scratching his chin he glances at Kallana and inclining his head to the garrison at the gate says to her in a low voice, "Lady Kallana, could the Order perhaps spare any mounts they may have stabled here, so that we might catch up to them faster?"

Even Aarnr is impressed by the boldness of Arkan's request.  While unlikely that anyone is going to give them one, let alone several of such rare and valuable beasts, he applauds his companion's audacity.

Laughing, Colwyn shakes his head, unconvinced by the idea of Feldon's innocence.  "Even if this were bein' a 'ouse what he was ownin', it's not bein' 'is 'ouse, is it?  The one were he were livin'."

"So why were 'e lettin' the Justicars think it were?  Kallana were sayin' as 'ow she were smellin' food cookin', an all.  An' she were seein' servants.  I's reckonin' as 'ow 'e were knowin' what were 'appenin', so 'e were runnin' it from that empty 'ouse, so's he could just be movin' out when 'e were sure it were bein' done with."

The rogue shrugs, and chuckles nervously.  "It's 'ow I'd be doin' it.  If'n, yer know, I were bein' a filthy demon worshipin' cultist.  Like what I isn't bein'."

Kallana gives him a hard stare, and then replies to Arkan.

"The Order doesn't own any horses, apart from a couple of old, spavined nags that we sometimes use for hauling a wagon.  Justicars provide their own mounts, weapons, and armour.  It's part of their commitment to Muir, and to the Order."

"Valid points, Colwyn, but still there is doubt in my mind," Eilieen returns.  "Yet the decision is not up to me.  It is in the hands of those in this city...and we will soon not be here, ourselves."

With the question of the horses solved - 'No.' - Eilieen nods decisively.  "We should leave now, then."  She pauses.  "Now.  Then.  Rather, just now.  To leave."  Her eyes narrow.  "I go to gather my belongings," Zadastha's priestess notes.

Aarnr can't follow the tortuous trail of Colwyn's logic, but it appears the gist is that Feldon was himself a filthy demon worshiper and the rogue probably isn't.  The lack of gift-horses is disappointing, but not unexpected.

"Oxen. Cart." the priest repeats in agreement with Eilieen, though he waits for someone else to make the first move as he's not sure where in this sheep-biting city of fools that he's left them.

Arkan cannot help but nod at Colwyn's logic, and gives Eileen an apologetic look as he says, "I must agree with Colwyn, I believe the mason was in league with the cultists. Why they killed him is a mystery that we can only guess at for now, but perhaps interrogating one or two of these vile scum shall bring their reasons to light."

Being used to traveling light as it were since beginning his journey to these lands across the sea, Arkan has all his belongings upon his person including spare changes of clothing as well as rations in his handy travel bag, snugly strapped to his belt along with the tools of his trade.

Thus Arkan simply stands next to Kallana as the others ready themselves for the coming chase.