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[h2][color=6ecff6][i][b]Hugh Caphazath[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=6ecff6][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 24/24	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 17	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Darenby, The Infamous Pear
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/4a0uP44.png[/img][/right]
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Hugh found another thread of tension leaving his shoulders, as the Sheriff collected all the letters without comment, intently scrutinizing the contents before splaying them across the table, broken seals upwards. Hugh found himself raising an inquisitive -and perhaps relieved- brow at the departure of two of the shadier members of this entourage, reducing the gathered adventurers’ numbers to a far more comfortable… and [i]manageable[/i] six. Honestly, he was most particularly relieved at the departure of the Sprite. One less shadow of the past to deal with.

The ruckus from the kitchen provided a perhaps… charming ambiance to the otherwise quiet establishment, as their prospective employer gathered his thoughts.

The Sheriff was a deceptively sharp one, Hugh mused idly, as he briefly locked his brown eyes with the aged man’s own searching pair. It wasn’t often he got to meet someone of similar temperament, but here he was. In a way, that made things both more reassuring… and increasingly baffling, especially in regards to the caution being displayed by Gregory now in contrast to the otherwise lackluster operational security. The strange look of confusion Mr. Arbalest had shot them upon his entrance had not gone unseen by the Ki cultivator’s watchful gaze. However, the reasoning behind it would likely continue to elude him so long as he refrained from verbally approaching it.

While that lack of knowing irked him, he found himself able to put it aside for the time being, as the Sheriff dispensed quite easily with the pleasantries and launched into his contract pitch proper. Hugh chose to ignore the jab at “adventuring” types. Perhaps, on a technical level, this instance might include him, but he was hardly the type to look for or start trouble… unlike what could well be most of his companions.

Hugh absorbed the Sheriff’s words with closed eyes, leaning back in his chair, as he committed them to memory. Broadly simplified, the [i]town[/i] of Avonshire within this [i]region[/i]... also of Avonshire, was currently experiencing disappearances. Some returned. Some did not. And those that did return, were supposedly changed in sinisterly subtle ways while also now possessing what the Sheriff [i]claimed[/i] was unusual hesitation in interacting with him.

Hugh could buy that. Sheriff Gregory certainly seemed the reliable type, and the attitudes of the Infamous Pear’s current patrons spoke for themselves. However, he would withhold from making any particular assumptions for the time being. The entire basis of this contract’s creation was a lack of information; it wouldn’t do to make assumptions and accidentally lock himself into an unproductive line of thought.

The Sheriff’s mention of prior personal interaction with Victoria [i]did[/i], however, manage to assuage some of his concerns regarding the probable necromancer. Not all of them, certainly. After all, she was a Bard. It was entirely possible that she had worked some manner of Enchantment magic on the Sheriff’s mind. The fact that she’d obviously managed to get herself jailed for trespassing in the graveyard was mildly amusing though.

Honestly, the more he saw, however, the more he was inclined to consider the quality of Victoria’s hidden depths. She was a Bard, and, yet, in conversation, she was remarkably reserved. In fact, she was probably the least talkative Bard Hugh had ever encountered, which was honestly a relief, but he could have done without the looming potential danger that came with it.

Her earlier mention of Amenteph and Alhazred had piqued his memory. Though the great war was thirty years gone, the aftershocks could still be felt in the present day. Having been rather directly involved in a number of those aftershocks early on in life, he knew well of the old grudges and bad blood that flowed between the north and south. Even today, the undead that had been raised in seething hoards in those times had yet to be fully disposed of, and much land had been forever tainted and rendered foul and dead by necromancy. The scars of that war were still worn upon the land and its people.

Keeping such in mind, it was rather understandable that Victoria might worry about a… substantial -perhaps disproportionate- response to her practices. Certainly though, Hugh wasn’t one to particularly begrudge her them. When it came to survival, one used what they had and did what they must. Further, the idea that she was raised into such practices was hardly out of consideration. Were he to act against someone on such a basis, he’d be nothing less than a hypocrite. For now, she had a chance, one chance. In time, he might expand that to more, but at present, she had demonstrated no real ill will. Against his better judgement, he would abide her presence.

In the meantime, he listened with half an ear, as Marita asked her questions, all of them good ones. Once more rather grateful to have her establish a pattern to follow, he began to compose a set of his own inquiries, as he considered the Sheriff’s offer of additional compensation. Without knowing what the Bard had requested, it was hard to say what was reasonable, but perhaps it was best if he aimed optimistically, instead of lowballing things. After all, though the region wasn’t particularly [i]wealthy[/i], the Sheriff managed an objectively large amount of land as what amounted to the top authority in law enforcement. With that in mind, surely he had a fair amount of confiscated contraband or otherwise useful items that were simply gathering dust due to their lacking a place in standard military use.

He could understand -objectively, though certainly not empathetically- a Cleric might feel the need to reject additional compensation at first glance, but he wouldn’t dare throw away such an opportunity.

Opening his eyes, Hugh hummed and rapped his fingernails across the table top, as he spoke in turn, nodding. [color=6ecff6]"The terms of this contract appear quite sufficient as presented."[/color] Twenty gold coins was hardly anything to scoff at. That was nearly a full month of decent living, more if one were to be frugal.

Lacing his fingers together again, he leaned forward, forearms flat against the table. [color=6ecff6]"Although, if personalized requests are on the table... within reason -as per your offer, then I cannot deny that I am in search of a couple magical items, not especially common, but hardly rare. As the Sheriff of a sizable region, it stands to reason that you may have confiscated or unused items to spare. I'm looking for a bag with a smiling face and an extraordinary carrying capacity or a decanter of water that never runs dry. I'd far prefer the former, but if you possess a spare of either, I'd be hard-pressed to reject it."[/color]

He shrugged and nodded briefly Marita's way. [color=6ecff6]"That aside, before we begin our quest, I too have a number of preliminary questions, assuming you are at liberty to provide answers."[/color] As the Cleric had already obviously surmised, it was only reasonable to reach for any scrap of information they could at this early juncture. When the Sheriff did not deny him, Hugh began to list his own inquiries off.

Unlacing his fingers, he raised his right pointer finger. [color=6ecff6]"Firstly, what is the name of the Constable of Avonshire? Should we feel free to approach him about this matter, or is it preferable to keep the investigation below his notice?"[/color]

His middle finger came up to join the pointer. [color=6ecff6]"Secondly, regarding the Goblins, is that mere rumor and an excuse, or should we be expected to encounter them during the course of our mission?"[/color]

The ring finger joined in. [color=6ecff6]"Thirdly, are the disappearances limited to the Township itself, or is the surrounding area also suspect? I ask because I arrived several days early to perform some preliminary investigations, and I have heard tell of a conspicuous loss of contact with outlying farmlands. I hoped you could provide some insight into whether this is a red herring or a viable avenue of investigation."[/color]

His right hand fingers now splayed upwards, aside from the tucked-in thumb, Hugh continued. [color=6ecff6]"And lastly, should we be expected to provide results within any particular timeframe? The circumstances indeed appear suspect, but what shall be done in the instance that we uncover sufficient evidence to disprove any true foul play beyond coincidence?"[/color] The last question was of particular importance. After all, the very basis of this contract’s creation was a lack of information regarding its own credibility. It would be fairly illogical to proceed without asking for an alternative “win condition”. “Open ended” in these sorts of cases could result in them not being compensated simply due to the Sheriff’s paranoia turning out to be nothing more. Naturally, out of pure professionalism, Hugh would do his best to investigate the Sheriff’s claims and see his concerns dealt with, but the other possibility could hardly be dismissed given the circumstances. Better to be safe than sorry.

His piece said, Hugh rested his elbows on the table and his chin atop once more laced fingers.