The Baron smiled at Skye, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.“My dear. You misunderstand me.” He sipped his wine, then continued talking. “I did not order the elimination of the Lizardfolk tribe. I merely want their attacks on our woodsmen, hunters, and fishers to stop. I am willing to pay your group good money to ensure that outcome.

1200 gold coins if you stop the Lizardman attacks. If you meet with their chief and negotiate a treaty, then the reward is yours.” Adrian extended his hands out toward Skye in a benevolent flourish. “Now, given the…feral nature of the tribe, there may likely ensue violence. If that happens, and your party emerges victorious, then the reward is yours. Perhaps even more for your efforts.”

The halfling looked at the Baron with an even glare, but nodded. "I suggest you make your intentions clear, lord. When you pointed out the ghouls and hag coven, you eluded at a similar outcome - which was my thoughts was to destroy them." She allowed a smile, but like the baron, it did not reach her eyes. "Please forgive my misunderstanding - i'm a simple hunter by trade. "

She sat back and looked at Grog, Azatch and Simon - no doubt her thoughts mirrored theirs.

“Certainly. Merely a misunderstanding between us,” Baron Lederborn said with honeyed tones. “Now, what say the rest of you? I understand that we need a trial for the Hag. We must decide what to do with her.” He waved his hand airily, as if the matter were a mere trifling.

“While you discuss trials, see about arranging a hanging for Benny! Tara Inkfingers found evidence that he conspired with the Hag against my poor Robert, and nearly framed me for the plagues!” Sheila stood and stomped over toward the Baron’s table, wagging her finger in righteous indignation. Two burly guards stepped before her, although one looked nervously at her finger as if hexes might go off.

The Baron sighed. “Sheila Blackmoor. Sister Mercion and Pockets insisted that you join us.” He looked down with a bored roll of his eyes. “This is neither the time nor the place for your complaints. My staff will arrange a meeting where you can formally file your accusation.”

“We stand face to face in the same room, you dithering dilettante! Why shouldn’t we discuss this now?!” Sheila’s voice rose, and the guards held her from stepping onto the platform.

Sister Mercion rose and approached. She shook her head at the guards. “Please let her go. Her temper only comes naturally from her own near brush with death. The Hag Coven attempted to frame an innocent woman and stir this town into a violent mob, tried to goad the people you govern into murdering this woman for crimes she didn’t commit. Surely her voice can be heard this night. Let it be a moment that moves us toward returning Peace to Deadwater.”

The Cleric spoke truths that the Baron couldn’t deny. He sighed and nodded. “Very well. Again, I am overruled in my own home. I would settle my business with these travelers, but I offer my word that Goody Blackmoor’s concerns shall be addressed in timely fashion.” He looked at the group. “First, though. I need an answer from your guests, Mercion. Will they accept this job?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:20, Mon 10 Jan 2022.

"There are markers in the swamp.  Masks on trees.  The lizardfolk only attacked us when we were in their territory.".  Cela says.  At least the food is good.

"They were likely here before this town was founded.  Why should we interfere?"

“Yes, although I know a scholar in Demihuman races that questions whether or not Lizardfolk even use such markers.” Lederborn sipped his wine. He wiped his lips with a gold-embroidered napkin. “Whatever the masks mean, Lizardman raiding parties have struck some of our lumber sites that are most certainly not in their territory.”

Laredon nodded, although he appeared a little reluctant to side with the Baron against heroes that he’d come to respect. “It’s true. Their strike slowed down my men, else I wouldn’t have needed so long to provide the lumber you purchased.”

OOC:

Everyone who saw the mask can roll Intelligence or Nature checks.

Simon's attention snaps to Sheila, as she moves toward the Baron. ~This could prove interesting,~ the warlock thinks as he puts down his mug, freeing his hand for casting.

Once the Baron agreed to deal with that matter, Simon took another sip of tea.

The Baron's words echoed in Simon's mind as he thought back to his years in the library, and whether he had seen any similar information.

"It is a matter for each of us to choose as individuals, Baron. We are companions...and friends...we are not a mercenary company.

I will take up your offer, if others also join, and as long as the goal is coexistence not extermination. I have no love for the lizardmen, they attacked us and we retaliated...but I still would not commit to mass slaughter.

And, of course, we will need time to recuperate and to prepare."

---

Simon rolled 3 for INT check.
Simon will also try to use his Researcher Feature from his Sage Background:
When you attempt to learn or recall a piece of lore, if you do not know that information, you often know where and from whom you can obtain it. Usually, this information comes from a library, scriptorium, university, or a sage or other learned person or creature.

Skye, her gaze still cold at the baron, sat back. "I'm with Simon on this one....We TRY and broker a coexistence between you and the lizardfolk, as long as you give us the power to negotiate farely for the town and for them."

“Very well. What say the rest of you? If you refuse, I could always send a summons for mercenaries from back West.” He smirked over the rim of  his goblet. “While they would not arrive for weeks, even months, they would resolve this situation to my complete satisfaction.”

"We should certainly investigate the situation," said Tara.  "It's important that we stop the raids, regardless of what else is going on.  Of course we'll go.  This land should know peace."

"I don't know," said Lenelle, having been silent up to this point.

"I was empowered to intervene against evil, like the hags and the undead.  This is different. And we are, to re-emphasize, certainly no mercenary company. Though I argue not at all, the raids must end. But, in some ways, I'm more of a liability out in the swamps, and the sort of diplomacy I was schooled in won't be helpful with primitive reptilians." She was silent a moment.

"I'll have to think on it.  I might opt to remain here, and instead serve as defense for the lumber sights.   In any case, I plan to ask certain questions around town, before making my decision.  I hope that doesn't bother you?"   

“If you don’t feel comfortable venturing into Lizardfolk territory, I could join you at the logging camp.” Sheila stared back ar the Baron through the heated dark slivers of her eyelids. “After his Lordship settles my grievance against Benny, of course.”

Azatch gnawed the turkey leg with a grunt. When he was satisfied, he tossed the bone on his plate and wiped his mouth with the back of his thick forearm. “Our troubles started with the Lizardmen. Seems fitting that they end with them, too.

I think I’ll take the gold for dispatching the Witches.” He looked at Sheila & Tara, then quickly added, “I mean, the Hags. Might take a stroll through those woods again on my own, though. See for myself if they’re trouble like you say.”

“Lady Toreth. If you don’t care for further peril in the Swamps, you would be welcome to remain here as my guest. I cannot bear the thought of a sublime woman like you sullying her feet in that swamp.” Adrian cocked his eyebrow and smiled almost playfully. “Your feet should be adorned in silken slippers, not mud.”

The flirtatious smirk dissolved into a puzzled frown when he looked at Jennet. It seemed as though the Baron almost recognized Jennet, but the moment passed. “And what about you? You enjoyed my food and wine. Would you enjoy my gold after a little honest work?”

"Aye," Lenelle said to Sheila, "your company would be welcome. And if I can help smooth your re-introduction here at all, it would bring me joy to do so."    To the Baron:

"You're too kind, sir.  But I should tell you, my reluctance isn't because I think my smooth behind is too good to slog though a swamp, with these esteemed allies.  But simply because I don't wish to hamper them in any way, when my talents may be better used elsewhere.   And Midwife Blackmoor is practicing understatement, in saying she has a grievance with Benny.  I could think of stronger words for conspiracy in murder."

For a moment, Jennet's cultivated thoughtlessness slips and he focuses on the Baron very intently: "It was a very lovely meal, Lord Lederborn, thank you. I have a keen interest in helping secure Deadwater's economic interests," Jennet begins, before pondering for a long moment. "And my own, of course. I'll go with the delegation to negotiate with the lizardfolk for you, and do my best to broker an advantageous peace." He glances briefly at Simon, and Skye, and Lenelle, and carefully smooths down his bristling anger at the Baron's condescension and veiled threats.

"Of course, my Lord, we cannot possibly promise to satisfy your interests as completely as a whole troupe of sellswords would," He raises his own goblet in a silent toast to the Baron as he concludes, "... but I think my friends and I will satisfy your subjects and estates a lot less completely, too."

"His Lordship sets a remarkable table for a barony so far removed from the capitol. I think I'll be looking forward to enjoying His Lordship's hospitality again."

The moment passes.

"Oh, this fish soup is delicious!  How did the cook keep the knucklehead roe so fresh?"

The Baron snapped his fingers at the woman who’d helped greet the party earlier. She dashed over with a meek urgency. “Bettina, send word to Edwin that his efforts are most appreciated.” Bettina nodded and left the dining room, while Adrian stared at Jennet. “You speak as one familiar with the Capitol. While I confess that I find myself curious about how you found yourself so far removed from civilization, as my aides informed me that you did not arrive with these people…I am afraid that particular conversation must wait for another time.

Enough of you seem interested in my offer. I will arrange payment upon proof that you accomplished the task. Robb will pay the reward for capturing the Hag…and Laredon will assemble a unit to bring in that tavern owner for questioning. Laredon, Robb will also send two of my guard with you.” Robb brought a paper and quill so the Baron could write the warrant for Benny’s arrest.

“Now, we’ve a dessert course of pastries, roasted pecans, and chilled fruit to enjoy. Unless you have any pressing questions, let us enjoy the treats that my cook so lovingly prepared!” Baron Lederborn clapped his hands, and got the last trays out. He flashed quick grin at Lenelle, encouraging her to partake.

Lenelle listened and looked as Jennet spoke.

Azatch was what she would expect in a half-orc. Albeit with a pronouncedly heroic heart.

And Jennet was not.  Jennet was a cipher.  She didn't understand him. Or the peculiar magic she'd seen him work.  The latter which didn't mean a whole lot; she wasn't the arcane scholar that Tara or Simon were.

He was more articulate than she'd have supposed. In a way that suggested some birth status above commoner; especially one possessed of orcish blood, and the stigma it tended to carry.

Where it came to the food:  "Oh, I'm so sorry. But I just don't think I can.  A touch of the swamp flu, you see.  Several of us got touches of it, not having been exposed before."   

The color drained from the Baron’s face when Lenelle mentioned “swamp flu”. He struggled to keep that genteel smile in place, but only managed a queasy grimace. “Swamp flu, you say? Oh…well…Robb, Bettina, our guests clearly need their bed rest. At that inn down the hill.”

Adrian hastily stood, motioning the group to do the same. “I shan’t keep you any further. Rest and recover. When you all regain your strength, you may undertake your mission. I will supply a week’s rations, and any traveling supplies you may need. Good evening.”

Simon stands, "Our compliments to the chef and serving staff, Baron."

He starts chuckling as the pompous noble leaves. He holds his arm out to Lenelle, as if at a formal occasion. "On that rather malodorous note...my lady, will you do the honour of accompanying me to the Inn? We can, of course, make a stop at the jakes if you have the need of clearing your bowels!"

"Thank you, M'Lord," said Tara.  Well.  She ought to talk to Sheila, once she was done with her complaints about Benny... and also copying those spells into her book.  Luckily, her magic was good for that kind of thing.

Skye, wordlessly, stood up and walked out behind the others, her face a mask of seriousness. Though the food was good, the company of the host was not worth it. Hearing simon, the halfling allowed a wry smile. "I think our host spoke enough of that to cover that area." she muttered

Away from the manor and Baron, she snorted. "Pompus blowhard thinks that killing things is the only option. Not an ounce of creativity there. Probably never fought a fight in his life, or he'd never suggest that."

"His da, maybe his grand-da or his uncle, commands enough soldiers to clear this swamp in less time than it takes them to walk here. On a wink and a nod. The Baron has to hire thugs--" he mock-curtsies "-- and then threaten to hire more thugs to keep his thugs in line."

"Imagine you're some kind of high and mighty liegelord out West, even your stablehands sleep inside the house. Now imagine what kind of son you'd force to sleep in this outhouse and make him buy his own pinecones."

As the group left the manor house, Simon responded to Skye. "I think you have a good measure of the Baron. Too many nobles who are born into their wealth and position rarely understand the weight of their choices.

He sits in that house, eating the finest foods and drinking the finest wines with no thought to the hazards the people of Deadwater were facing only days ago!

I hope that we can come to an amicable solution with the lizardmen, but don't forget we fought them not that long ago...they may hold that against us or they may just want Deadwater to be gone."

Pockets remained strangely quiet during the dinner. His silent observation and passiveness seemed largely out of character. He didn’t even flirt with Skye. As the group. walked, he followed them with his head low, a thoughtful frown darkening his face.

When Jennet offered his opinion of the Baron, Pockets hustled over beside him. “For a newcomuh, you sure got an accurate fix on the Baron.” The Halfling smiled up, but with only a tenth of the gregariousness the party came to know. “It wasn’t exactly a promotion for that guy, if you know what I mean.”

Jennet shrugs. "Nope. Sounds like you do, though."

"I just know the difference between what he is and what he thinks he is. I've seen the real thing. And the world would be better off without both kinds."