Strongjaw & The Dish

6

Grog had returned with the rest of the group hours ago. The wedding had been nice, but really different than he'd imagined. He'd been so happy to be in charge of hurling flower petals, and seeing Vax again had been weird. It had all been weird, really. He felt off. He had gone to the Tipsy Quorum and hoped to see Trisha, but Shauna hadn't seen her for a couple of days. He was just thinking about going for another walk, maybe to the house of lady favors when a man entered the Quorum and after a few seconds of scanning, pinned to Grog and walked over to his table.

"I heard you made it back." He sneered and slammed his palm down onto the table. "For you." The man turned and walked quickly out, Grog rising to intercept but he noticed that there was a square of paper where the man's hand had come down. He opened it and stared for a few minutes, then dropped a handful of coins onto the table without looking and all but ran out of the tavern.

He ran, his heavy footfalls thudding as he barreled toward the castle. He reached the front gate, looking around. He wasn't sure where everyone was. He set his teeth in a snarl and reached up, setting his fingertip against the lobe of his ear where the earring still hung. "Pike?"

"Y-yes Grog?" Her slightly timid but warm voice wove into his ear.

"I need you." He was angry, he was upset, he was afraid, it was too much for his brain to hold and he needed help.

"Oh, okay... where are you?"

"I'm almost to the castle."

"I'll meet you outside."

She wasn't alone when he got there. When one talked into the earring, anyone who had one heard. The whole of Vox Machina, including Tary and Doty, who were going back home tomorrow, were standing in the courtyard as he passed the gate.

He panted softly, token of running the whole way, and he unfolded the paper. "I was at the tavern, and this man comes and slams this onto the table." He began to read. "So you did not die. I have your ... hoo-rah. Hoo-ree?" He frowned, not knowing the word and putting the sounds together didn't make a word he knew. He held it out to Pike who took it with a look of nervousness around the group.

"Uh....okay, okay, okay..." She began to read aloud. I have your ... whore..." She bit her lip and glanced up at Grog for a moment before returning to the page. "She was a pleasant diversion. How was the wedding? I am glad my Lord Briarwood let you live. I will be far happier knowing that whenever she looks at you, it is me she will see. Even if you save her, she is lost to you forever. This is your fault. Yours and your friends. She got what she deserved."

Grog was confused and filled with a directionless rage. He knew lots of whores. He never understood why people said 'whore' like it was a bad thing and 'tailor' or 'fisherman' weren't. They were all jobs after all. People doing things for money. Who had written the note? How did they know about Briarwood?

His questions seemed to sprout wings and fly invisibly into the throats of his friends as they began to ask the same questions that were swimming around his head.

"Who are they talking about?" Scanlan looked up at him, his little face serious and somehow older-seeming.

"I dunno. I know lots of whores." Grog shrugged faintly.

Keyleth was a little bashful as she stepped up a bit, her cheek pinking as she swallowed. "Um... are any of them... special? I mean, do you visit one more than any other .. lady?"

Grog shook his head faintly. "No. Whoever's not busy when I come by." His brow knit as he thought on it. He didn't like the idea of any of them being talked about like they might have been hurt. "There's only one person who I visit in Whitestone more than any other lady but she's not a whore, she's a guard." He admitted with a half shrug before he realized he'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag.