Gong doesn't pick up on anything not already apparent.
Wendell's bystander, a burly tradesman of some sort, turns and glares at him.
"Bloody guard says Lady Berezi can't be buried in her own family's bloody tomb is what! Damned stupid business, the council throwing its weight around just to show who's in charge. Bad luck, stopping a funeral! Gods'll curse the town for this!"
He turns back around and repeats as much, at significantly greater volume, in the direction of the mausoleum.
Elaric will attempt to approach the ashen faced priest. Is any check required to reach him?
Between you and the priest is a dense crowd, as well as a row of 4 or 5 guards. You can move through the crowd by dint of force or agility, but getting past the soldiers might be a different story. The guard sergeant is out in front, with the priest standing a few steps behind him.
Elaric makes his way to the guards and addresses the sergeant. "Sergeant. I am Elaric Carsalon, mage and agent of Sir Marius Van Der Wuulf and the Council. What is happening?"
Before the guard sergeant can respond, a broad-chested, white-bearded nobleman in black robes, who had been berating the soldier moments before, rounds on Elaric and splutters "And who the devil are you, sir?" obviously not having heeded the elf's introduction. He bears in his hand a staff of some civic or ritual authority you don't recognize, and wears a medal on his chest that indicates that he, like your patron, sits on the city council of nobles.
A black-veiled woman to Elaric's right bursts into sobs, and the hubbub of the crowd increases.
Balasar follows Elaric up to the guards, and stands close enough to hear Elaric's conversation. He does not, however, say anything or otherwise interject himself into the discussion.
Noting the medal, Elaric switches from a brusque tone of authority to one of stern respect and replies, "Good sir, I am Elaric Carsalon, an agent of Sir Marius Van Der Wuulf. Though I am on an assignment at this time, I would offer what aid I am able to a member of the Council. What is happening here?"
Skoth shoos away the vagrant attempting to pickpocket Wendell. He then motions towards the entrance to the catacombs and says, "I believe I saw a strange child inside the entrance for only just a moment. This mob is strange. They should not be so exercised over such a simple matter as this. This is getting ugly quite fast." Skoth motions to his companions to move away from the crowd.
Elaric's words carry over the hubbub of the crowd, and suddenly all is still, the calm authority in his voice silencing the the restless mob. Every eye rests on the elven wizard; the bearded noble regards him thoughtfully.
"I do not know you sir, or your companions," he says, "but Sir Maurius is a respected friend of my house, and any man who acts in his name is welcome. I am Baron Ariston Odalis, fifth seat of the Council, and this..." he turns toward the bier, his face heavy, "...is the funeral of my beloved granddaughter, Berezi, who died only last night of a terrible illness." He breathes slowly, gathering himself. "We come to bury her. And this fool," he growls, turning toward the guard sergeant, "denies us entrance to the ancestral tomb of the Odalis!" He jabs a finger at the man. "On whose authority, sir?" he barks.
"Captain's orders," the guard replies impassively. "He's inside, with the priests. Can't let anyone in until his say-so, all due respect my lord baron, but the Captain's orders..."
"Your captain is appointed by the council, you dog!" snaps the baron. The crowd begins to murmur again.
Wendell steps forward and gestures conspiratorially to Odalis, "Baron," he whispers, "I offer my sincere condolences for your granddaughter, but it is not in the nature of a priest to turn away any man, let alone one in mourning unless the need is dire. I do not know how much of Sir Marius's assignment we can discuss with you, but it may be that our task and this event are not unrelated. Please grant us leave to speak to the priest. Even if we cannot convince him to permit the burial, we might ascertain a motive that might justify the delay."
Wendell steps forward and gestures conspiratorially to Odalis, "Baron," he whispers, "I offer my sincere condolences for your granddaughter, but it is not in the nature of a priest to turn away any man, let alone one in mourning unless the need is dire. I do not know how much of Sir Marius's assignment we can discuss with you, but it may be that our task and this event are not unrelated. Please grant us leave to speak to the priest. Even if we cannot convince him to permit the burial, we might ascertain a motive that might justify the delay."
[Persuasion check please - take Advantage, since Elaric has already created a favorable impression.]
Baron Odalis frowns a moment, then pecks his head in a quick nod, stepping back.
"Very well, gentlemen, I place this matter in your hands. My family and I will be grateful for whatever you may accomplish here. The guard captain is a friend of Sir Maurius, and was appointed by him personally - you might be able to persuade this lackey to let you pass."
The girl's parents bow their heads in sorrowful gratitude. With the baron no longer fuming at the guard, and the remainder of the funeral procession in a state of dazed resignation, the crowd of commoners seems to lose steam. Some begin to drift away, though many remain, still curious to see the result of this unusual evening's entertainment.
Wendell walks up and approaches one of the bystanders at the outskirts of the confrontation, "What is happening?"
Balasar will receive his observations via PM.
Gong doesn't pick up on anything not already apparent.
Wendell's bystander, a burly tradesman of some sort, turns and glares at him.
"Bloody guard says Lady Berezi can't be buried in her own family's bloody tomb is what! Damned stupid business, the council throwing its weight around just to show who's in charge. Bad luck, stopping a funeral! Gods'll curse the town for this!"
He turns back around and repeats as much, at significantly greater volume, in the direction of the mausoleum.
Elaric will attempt to approach the ashen faced priest. Is any check required to reach him?
Between you and the priest is a dense crowd, as well as a row of 4 or 5 guards. You can move through the crowd by dint of force or agility, but getting past the soldiers might be a different story. The guard sergeant is out in front, with the priest standing a few steps behind him.
Elaric makes his way to the guards and addresses the sergeant. "Sergeant. I am Elaric Carsalon, mage and agent of Sir Marius Van Der Wuulf and the Council. What is happening?"
Before the guard sergeant can respond, a broad-chested, white-bearded nobleman in black robes, who had been berating the soldier moments before, rounds on Elaric and splutters "And who the devil are you, sir?" obviously not having heeded the elf's introduction. He bears in his hand a staff of some civic or ritual authority you don't recognize, and wears a medal on his chest that indicates that he, like your patron, sits on the city council of nobles.
A black-veiled woman to Elaric's right bursts into sobs, and the hubbub of the crowd increases.
Balasar follows Elaric up to the guards, and stands close enough to hear Elaric's conversation. He does not, however, say anything or otherwise interject himself into the discussion.
Noting the medal, Elaric switches from a brusque tone of authority to one of stern respect and replies, "Good sir, I am Elaric Carsalon, an agent of Sir Marius Van Der Wuulf. Though I am on an assignment at this time, I would offer what aid I am able to a member of the Council. What is happening here?"
Skoth shoos away the vagrant attempting to pickpocket Wendell. He then motions towards the entrance to the catacombs and says, "I believe I saw a strange child inside the entrance for only just a moment. This mob is strange. They should not be so exercised over such a simple matter as this. This is getting ugly quite fast." Skoth motions to his companions to move away from the crowd.
Elaric is inclined to agree with Skoth and move away, but he waits long enough to see if the bearded noble will respond in any meaningful way.
Balasar is also inclined to depart, but waits to see what response Elaric receives from the bearded noble.
[Elaric, please make a Charisma check - in your case, an unmodified d20 roll.]
20
Gong stays close to his companions, silently waiting for the noble's response.
Elaric's words carry over the hubbub of the crowd, and suddenly all is still, the calm authority in his voice silencing the the restless mob. Every eye rests on the elven wizard; the bearded noble regards him thoughtfully.
"I do not know you sir, or your companions," he says, "but Sir Maurius is a respected friend of my house, and any man who acts in his name is welcome. I am Baron Ariston Odalis, fifth seat of the Council, and this..." he turns toward the bier, his face heavy, "...is the funeral of my beloved granddaughter, Berezi, who died only last night of a terrible illness." He breathes slowly, gathering himself. "We come to bury her. And this fool," he growls, turning toward the guard sergeant, "denies us entrance to the ancestral tomb of the Odalis!" He jabs a finger at the man. "On whose authority, sir?" he barks.
"Captain's orders," the guard replies impassively. "He's inside, with the priests. Can't let anyone in until his say-so, all due respect my lord baron, but the Captain's orders..."
"Your captain is appointed by the council, you dog!" snaps the baron. The crowd begins to murmur again.
Wendell steps forward and gestures conspiratorially to Odalis, "Baron," he whispers, "I offer my sincere condolences for your granddaughter, but it is not in the nature of a priest to turn away any man, let alone one in mourning unless the need is dire. I do not know how much of Sir Marius's assignment we can discuss with you, but it may be that our task and this event are not unrelated. Please grant us leave to speak to the priest. Even if we cannot convince him to permit the burial, we might ascertain a motive that might justify the delay."
[Persuasion check please - take Advantage, since Elaric has already created a favorable impression.]
16
Baron Odalis frowns a moment, then pecks his head in a quick nod, stepping back.
"Very well, gentlemen, I place this matter in your hands. My family and I will be grateful for whatever you may accomplish here. The guard captain is a friend of Sir Maurius, and was appointed by him personally - you might be able to persuade this lackey to let you pass."
The girl's parents bow their heads in sorrowful gratitude. With the baron no longer fuming at the guard, and the remainder of the funeral procession in a state of dazed resignation, the crowd of commoners seems to lose steam. Some begin to drift away, though many remain, still curious to see the result of this unusual evening's entertainment.
Nodding, Wendell turns to the guard. In a considerably colder tone, he asks, "What is your name?"