[PF] Giantslayers of Bloodmarch Hill In Character Thread

[Amazo]

The sun is setting on another blazing day in Trunau, the heat compounded around you by the myriad torches ornamenting the town's amphitheater. Their oil-stenched flames add another layer of heaviness to the air, but the gathered townspeople pay it absolutely no heed. It is a night of celebration, and none of the small pains of their frontier living will dampen their spirits tonight. Upon the stage before the congregation is Chief Defender Halgra of the Blackened Blades, ready to bestow upon her youngest daughter the honor of the hopeknife. Even in her advanced age, the town's leader cuts an imposing figure, and even this joyous occasion can only barely force this stoic woman's grizzled face into a smile. Still, one is present, so you know that the pride beating within her chest must be immense. Alongside Halgra stand the two Patrol Captains and local celebrities, Rodrik and Kurst Grath, who both make much fewer qualms than their superior about beaming from ear to ear. Even had they not been twins, their relatedness would be easy to determine with just a quick inspection of each of their faces like that. Standing across from them stands the cause for the night's festivities, Ruby. She stands squarely in profile, eyes locked on her mother to avoid seeing as much of the crowd as she can manage. Her fingers are interwoven in front of her, and her hands are clasped so tightly together that her already pale skin grows more so. The flush of color on her face, visible even in the flickering yellow light of the torches, shows just how out of her element the night's proceedings are leaving her, unlike the easy stances of the adults officiating her rites.

The crowd grows restless as they have waited impatiently for this moment the entire day. Trade at the Barterstones was closed early today to make the necessary preparations for the evening with the townspeople offering to put up any extra potential revelers for free that evening, though there were few willing to risk staying even with such a gracious offer. The many farmers took the day off entirely instead, milling casually about inside the town walls and adding further to the air of anticipation that was building all day. Now the moment was upon them and their chattering could not seem to cease for an instant. Halgra's outstretched palms as she turns to face them instead of her daughter prove otherwise, however. The onlookers all know that the sooner these formalities are commenced, the sooner the festivities will too. This along with their profound respect for Halgra lead them to cooperate without any further prodding from her. Though she normally allows the brothers to officiate over these hopeknife ceremonies while she stands by presiding over them, the Chief Defender herself looks ready to speak for this particularly special coming of age.

http://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/7/7e/Halgra.pnghttp://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/7/79/Rodrik.pnghttp://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/3/3d/Kurst.png

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi bids his dwarf friends farewell and heads into the town of Trunau. He had no idea the weather would be so much hotter here than in Magnimar, which was continually cooled by the ocean breeze. Still, he felt at peace knowing that even though the sun was setting, it would rise again tomorrow to dispel the darkness. He was always reminded of the darkness of the Irespan at sunset, and while at times he yearned for his strange home, most of the time he was glad to be rid of it. He tried to walk around the city, but the crowds and guards kept directing him back towards the town amphitheater. Some event was happening, and no one would hear his assurances of Sarenrae this day. At least until this ceremony was over. He watched the elderly woman with curiosity, wondering if his own people had a similar ceremony, one that he had been robbed of. The young woman also interested him, and he noticed that she seemed to be one who hid from the light. "Perhaps she would come around," he said to no one in particular, which got some sidelong glances. He just shrugged, his scale mail jingling with the motion. He looked about for people of faith, noticing them somewhat absent from the ceremony taking place, and surmised that this ceremony must be more personal than spiritual. He again, found himself wondering about the customs of his own people. What had they been like?

Summarily lost in his own thought, he did a double-take as he saw a...man? The big guy seemed to be as tall as a horse, and built to be able to lift one, possibly with one arm even. Hanzi knew it wasn't polite to stare, but he couldn't help but try to size up the guy. "I would never be able to lay low such a man, without Sarenrae's aid." He said outloud, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "That's the baker's child, isn't it?" One of the villagers watching Hanzi said to him. "Best steer clear." Hanzi nodded, and refocused on the ceremony. He watched the old woman begin to gather her thoughts to speak, and relaxed slightly.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn's mother never could get over her discomfort of crowds. Throughout the morning, as the villagers frantically hurried to finish their day's work in preparation for the coming ceremony, the hustle and bustle at the barterstones became busier and more frustrating to her. Though she tried to hide it, her temper rose steadily until midday. Deurn's placating demeanor perhaps took the edge off of his mother's irritability with their ample customers. Odd. She's always most upset when we're making the most money... he wondered to himself, as the morning wore on.

When the bartering was officially ended for the day just after midday, the sudden dispersion of the crowds brought a complete change of mood for his small family. Whether good or ill, there would be no more baking or milling this day, and his mother quickly fell into a wooden chair, eshausted from the effort of dealing with so many people. When she fell asleep at the lunch table, Deurn smiled to himself, ruefully. "You push yourself so hard for us, mother. I wish you would relax, just a little," he whispers, as he carries his mother to her bed. Amazed at her perceived frailty and weakness, he gently cradles her slight frame, and lays her down to rest. Patting her head with deliberate tenderness, he decides to spend his afternoon enjoying the air of anticipation.

******
In the streets and byways, Deurn walks slowly, easily keeping pace with the humans around him- despite their seemingly frantic strides. At the sights of their modest decorations, his excitement only heightens- he's seen the ceremony several times before, having received his own hopeknife just over twenty years hence. He finds a place against a wall at the back of the crowd- easily seeing over the heads of the tallest of the other villagers. Looking up to the dais, he muses aloud in his deep, stony voice, "She looks so young- has she already reached her dozen years?" At the nods and polite smiles- some slightly condescending, some knowing- he grunts softly. "Seems just yesterday, we were celebrating her birth..."

He settles himself, standing silent sentinel over the proceedings, comfortable as he waits for the ceremony to end and the festivities to begin.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel watches the scene quietly from the edge of the crowd, apparently finding the close quarters uncomfortable. Smiling and watching quietly he waits expectantly for the ceremony to begin. As he notes the familiar faces in the crowd he recognizes Deurn, standing head and shoulders above the rest, and waves. Scanning the rest he notes a new face - that of a Shoanti man wearing scale mail. "Hmmm...I wonder who that is. He isn't from around here..." he says, just loudly enough for those near him to hear.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor wanders through the outskirts of town. He isn't looking for anything in particular, just enjoying being away from the hustle and bustle. Occasionally a stranger will enquire to his presence, and why he seems to be so far from the action of the ceremony. "Must have got turned around" he'll say and abruptly change course. After a while, and not wanting to seem too suspicious, he begins following the crowds. He knows asking what is about to happen will just make him look foolish, so he just watches and listens from the edge of the shadows, waiting for the meaning to reveal itself.

[Amazo]

Of the few outsiders in attendance, one more is of particular importance to the proceedings, though he would not know it yet. He is a most curious bard by the name of Toulorian Rouche. His confident swagger, charming smile, and agile maneuvers within the crowd all point to his one primary motivation for the evening: to experience the townsfolks' famed open arms and open beds. This, however, is not the case. Rouche is a self-styled collector of tales, particularly ones starring himself, and to his eventual delight, he has quite a story in store for him starting this very evening.

Nevertheless, despite the curiosities of some of the onlookers, the ceremony continues unperturbed. Halgra pulls down the neck of her own shirt to reveal two hopeknives dangling from two silver chains there. She unclasps one from her neck as she begins a clearly practiced but no less heartfelt speech. “Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.” Halgra stops speaking long enough to produce and open an
ornamental case from a belt pouch and lay the hopeknife atop its padded interior.

“But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns back to talk to the child beside her. “Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?”

Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and evidently painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question.“If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.” Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever on herself while Ruby watches. "The neck, to silence the voice and rob them of the pleasure of our screams. The wrists, to bear the stigmata of our cause willingly. The legs, to hold your ground and never run even until the end." When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife again and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.

“Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!” The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the formal end of the ceremony. Despite this, the officials on stage do not climb down while the crowd begins to chatter and grow restless once again. A few of additional guards take the stage, their builds as intimidatingly broad as Halgra's force of personality makes her seem. They carry with them a length of rope with one end wrapped around each of their wrists in sequence. The Graths take the other end and pass it to Ruby before taking their place alongside their men opposing her. She looks like a shivering leaf about to be blown by a stiff of breeze standing alone on her side of the stage.

Taking the attention back to himself, Rodrik Grath addresses the crowd even as a look of mock determination lights his features. His stance and those of his cohorts make it look like they're willing to rip Ruby from her feet with a single strong yank of the rope in her hands. "Now, Ruby, the guard has a question for you! Are you strong enough to defend Trunau?" With a pause and a audible wink in his voice, he inclines his head to the crowd and mentions matter-of-factly, "I think this seems fair, don't you?" The crowd's reaction is split between laughter and mock protest at the situation.

"We people of Trunau stand together in all things. I will not stand alone tonight, but I hardly know who should stand with me." Ruby's response is as practiced as her mothers, but the crowd needs to fall almost silent to hear her breathless voice, which they do obligingly. Her words are clearly false as her head immediately turns to Deurn, standing head and shoulder above everyone even at the back of the theater. She raises a shaking arm to point him out and give a crooked finger to tell him to come aid her. From there, her choices do seem more truly random as she whips her neck back and forth, scanning the crowd with her eyes and a limp arm. By chance, she selects Mickiel, Cawdor, Hanzi, and Toulorian to join her alongside Deurn. With her selections made, she waits patiently, in spite of the cheering crowd, for her summoned allies to respond.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"We people of Trunau stand together in all things. I will not stand alone tonight, but I hardly know who should stand with me."

By chance, she selects Mickiel, Cawdor, Hanzi, and Toulorian to join her alongside Duern. With her selections made, she waits patiently, in spite of the cheering crowd, for her summoned allies to respond.
Surprised at being chosen, Mickiel nods at Ruby and smiles as he makes his way up to the stage. Looking at the men and how they have the rope wrapped around their arms he does the same, placing himself near the end of the rope and saying, "Are we going to pull?"

[Farmerbink]

..."but I hardly know who should stand with me." Ruby's response is as practiced as her mothers, but the crowd needs to fall almost silent to hear her breathless voice, which they do obligingly. Her words are clearly false as her head immediately turns to Duern, standing head and shoulder above everyone even at the back of the theater. She raises a shaking arm to point him out and give a crooked finger to tell him to come aid her.

Deurn smiles, as he steps forward to take his semi-traditional role beside the newest member of the community. He rolls his shoulders, to loosen the knots that have developed from leaning against the building. As the druid's apprentice is chosen, he smiles knowingly at the man's brawny strength. Then, a few- outsiders? are chosen? "The girl is truly choosing at random?" he mutters under his breath, as he takes the stage. At the sight of a few of the newcomers, he nods approvingly. With a welcoming grin, and the extension of a huge- meaty hand he assists them to take their own places on the rope.


Surprised at being chosen, Mickiel nods at Ruby and smiles as he makes his way up to the stage. Looking at the men and how they have the rope wrapped around their arms he does the same, placing himself near the end of the rope and saying, "Are we going to pull?"

Deurn's chuckles deeply as his gravelly voice responds. "With arms like yours, you expected to sit this out?" He nods in response the question. "I suppose you've fewer of these than I..." he muses. He pulls the collected individuals to the side, and whispers in a huddle. "It's traditional to allow the newcomer to take the front position- and milk it a little, this is more show than test."

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi's scale mail jingles as he shifts his weight when being chosen. He has had many eyes on him before when speaking, but he usually had to call attention to himself through other, flashier means. He reveals his holy symbol as he walks to the stage. "'Tis not me she picks, but Sarenrae." He looks up at Deurn and accepts the big man's help getting up on the stage, but pulls against him making it clear he has some strength, even if it is less than the hulking form before him. "I take it you have done this before." He says to Deurn. He pauses, listening to Deurn, sees his hopeknife, then addresses Ruby. "You have chosen wisely, but your strength is still expected. I believe, given what little I know of your mother, that there is plenty within you. It's time to show that strength, like the sun breaking through the clouds! And you have undoubtedly seen Deurn perform this ritual before? Then there should be no question as to the outcome. Unless something else troubles you?"

[JBrock76]

Toulorian looks up from the two young, giggling ladies he had been sharing one of his favorite stories with, just in time to see the young lady on stage point in his direction. Ah fair citizens of Trunau! As you are all well aware, very few things could pull me away from such a lovely audience as this; however, it would appear that this lovely young damsel is in distress. And obviously she is well aware of my amazing feats of extraordinary accomplishment, and would now ask me to come to her aid. In fact, I am well versed in such demonstrations of strength having taught this game to the wild tribes of half ogres in the far off lands of Gulthwap! They found it most enjoyable. But that is a story for another day. Come hearty gentlemen and let us win the day for this precious young maiden's honor." Toulorian approaches the stage, then waits for the large man to offer his assistance. You young men over there. Do not judge this young lady harshly. For NOW you are clearly outmatched!

[DarkOne-Rob]

"With arms like yours, you expected to sit this out?

It's traditional to allow the newcomer to take the front position- and milk it a little, this is more show than test."

Come hearty gentlemen and let us win the day for this precious young maiden's honor."
After smiling bashfully at the enormous man's words, Mickiel then looks confused at the flamboyant man's directions. "So...are we pulling hard or not?" When he gets no clear answer over the noise of the crowd he shrugs and gives it his best.

Strength Check [roll0]

[KevSaund]

Cawdor hesitates. He wasn't looking for any attention. Yet he watches as the others begin moving toward the stage. A whisper in his ear say "Join them." He strains to keep from whipping his head around to see where the voice comes from, but he already knows. He quickly rushes to join the others, taking hold of the rope. Once he has a firm grip he looks back, and sees only shadows.

[Farmerbink]

Come hearty gentlemen and let us win the day for this precious young maiden's honor."[/COLOR] Toulorian approaches the stage, then waits for the large man to offer his assistance. You young men over there. Do not judge this young lady harshly. For NOW you are clearly outmatched!

Deurn looks at the man with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Ehhh... What?"

As he joins the impromptu huddle, the half-giant whispers, "It's mostly for show, mister. But do try to not lose, I'd be horribly embarrassed." he adds with a smirk.


"So...are we pulling hard or not?"

Deurn nods at the man, but thinks twice. "Yes- but maybe not first. Make sure it's worth watching; there's a lot of folks out there what came to see this."

He takes the spot at the back of the rope, and tightly wraps the rope around his hand. With a wink for the twins on the other side of the rope, he sets his feet. For several seconds, he feigns like they aren't able to keep pulling, when he suddenly finds himself holding a slack line, due to Mickiel's efforts. In surprise and shock, he scowls a little to himself. Shrugging, he shifts his weight to his back foot and draws the rope behind his companion.

I'm guessing this will functionally be an "assist other," since Mick rolled so high:
[roll0]

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi grabs the rope and doesn't let go, then simply leans back, using his weight and his armor to add to the pull the other side now needs, anchoring the rope to make it yet easier for Mickiel to pull. He starts stepping backwards as the rope moves back towards the druid.

[Amazo]

Deurn speaks truly about allowing newcomers to lead: Ruby makes way for Hanzi, Cawdor, and Toulorian to take point on the rope, never letting her eyes stray from the man once he begins his speech. When she feels Deurn gingerly offer her her length of rope, she snaps back into the moment, remembers the rush of the crowd around her, and promptly flushes a deeper crimson than before. Nevertheless, she seems determined when she sets her eyes towards the opposing team, her lips pulled tight in a grimace Deurn and Mickiel find reminiscent of her mother. Those two quickly fall in behind her with Deurn's anchoring position at the end seeming an obvious choice. He has to lean quite low forward to avoid pulling everyone else's resting position of the rope higher, but he makes due.

The crowd roars for the struggle to commence and arouses an instinctual yank from deep within Mickiel, catching both his team and their rivals off-guard. With but a split-second to recuperate the Grath's lean back in unison almost horizontally as if trying to reign in a wild mount refusing to be yoked while their lesser known allies scramble to contribute with them. Ruby, Cawdor, and Toulorian each take Deurn's advice seriously. They do not completely try to win immediately, but quickly have to readjust their tactics in the light of the actual fierce contest that Mickiel had accidentally made the event. In the end, the Graths can't hope to legitimately outmatch a team of actual adults with their allies barely being past their own hopeknife ceremonies, especially with Deurn's natural leverage opposing them. After a solid minute of true exertion, the Grath's lie completely flat on the wood of the stage before being forcefully dragged across it, skidding their heads lightly on the boards and laughing the whole way as your team tows their's a few steps for good measure. They jump to their feet almost in unison to take turns shaking Ruby's hand then all of yours. The rest of their team follows suit as the crowd is split between laughter and a chanting of Ruby's name that gradually encompasses the whole lot of them.

Kurst and his fellow guards turn to leave and let her relish the moment, but Rodrik decides he hasn't had enough fun. Hoisting the girl onto his shoulders before tossing her to the crowd. Although a risky stunt, the people know exactly what to do and begin shuffling her atop them towards one of the other carnival-style games set up around the town's square. Though their attention is no longer on you, the villagers' enthusiasm is infectious, and its hard not to want to join in the merrymaking. Still, you've been freed to attend to your own devices, but the night is young, as they say.

[JBrock76]

Ahh fantastically done good fellows! Your support was most welcome. Clearly I should have joined the other team to have evened up the match, but for now let us join this rowdy bunch of revelers. Clearly, as this young maiden's chosen champions, we shall enjoy the cheers and admiration of these fine folk. I shall endeavor to share a portion of the attention with each of you as we all share in a barrel of fine wine! Toulorian leaps off the platform and begins to follow the crowd. He looks around, then quickly joins a group of high-spirited townsfolk.

[Shadowsend]

"Well, you two made quick work of that 'challenge'." Hanzi says to the two rather large men still on the stage. "And I see someone is already attempting to claim more than his share of glory. Ah well." Hanzi sighs a bit, and introduces himself to Deurn and Mickiel, and anyone else still on stage. "My name is Hanzi Ivarisky. Sarenrae granted me hope even before I knew her under the perpetual darkness of the Irespan, and she led me here to spread that hope. If I can be of service, one simply has to ask, and Dawnflower permitting, I will do what I can."

"Now perhaps I can see about getting some help removing this armor." Hanzi steps down to join the revelers, especially of the available female persuasion. He is careful not to drink much however, given that he has rites to observe in the morning and is committed to rising to do so.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor brightens up at the mention of free wine. He turns to those left on stage and introduces himself. Greetings! That was fun! Am I to understand that is something all the adults here in town have gone though? I'm fairly new to town myself, but would love to learn more about your traditions. Maybe there is somewhere we could discuss them, perhaps over a beverage? He waits hopefully for a response, perhaps from the larger one, he seems to know the most about what's been happening.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn prepares to follow the girl's wake through the crowd, when one of the newcomers asks a question.


Greetings! That was fun! Am I to understand that is something all the adults here in town have gone though? I'm fairly new to town myself, but would love to learn more about your traditions. Maybe there is somewhere we could discuss them, perhaps over a beverage?

Assuming the question is more asked of him than the others, he turns to the man. Nodding, he begins speaking in his deep voice, "It is, indeed." He pulls aside the split of his shirt to reveal his own hope knife. "One of many lessons learned over the decades of violence is that death is something to be claimed on your own terms. When raids happen, the orcs will not take pity on anyone they view as an 'adult.' Occasionally, they leave children alone, and as such, they have little need for it, but the rest of us- well, we need to be ready to ensure that our deaths come swiftly and relatively painlessly. If you don't mind waiting for one last bit of presentation from the twins, the mead and ale should be flowing freely soon."

He guides the man in the direction of Ruby's movement, smiling and clasping hands as he passes congratulatory townspeople.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel smiles bashfully as the ceremonial challenge ends in victory for the party chosen by Ruby. "I'm sorry, you all didn't seem to be ready! At least we won, though, right?" When the others step off the stage he finds himself swept up in the crowd and guided towards the rest of the celebration. Hearing the scale-wearing man request help he stops for a moment to help him with the hard-to-reach straps before saying, "Are you going to join us for something to eat and drink? I haven't seen you in town before, though I have only been here for some few months. Come on!" Turning to rejoin the crowd, he whistles tunelessly, earning a couple of stares from the crowd but paying no mind.

[Amazo]

It is not difficult to find food or drink to partake in during tonight's festivities. An arm with an extended vessel is a welcome addition to virtually any of the smaller groups forming out of the townspeople. Whether it will be filled with wine, ale, or cider from a keg, barrel, or a personal bottle is difficult to say: the drink flows freely. Similarly, myriad home-cooked recipes have been brought to a potluck of sorts near where the game stalls have been set up. A banquet table long enough for royalty has been cobbled together from an assortment of styles of tables to contain the outpouring of support from the community. Best yet, there doesn't seem to be a spoon of siegestone spew in the whole lot, as Deurn and Mickiel have seen Rodrik jokingly add to the spread in the past.

Anyone splitting off to experience the sights, smells, and sounds of the food and the people enjoying it find Rodrik to be a ubiquitous presence that night. He seems to find time to mingle and laugh heartily with every group of friends and neighbors you run in to at least once, and despite having taken in enough alcohol to fell a small horse, he seems to be walking tall, cheeks only a tinge rosier for his trouble. He seems as much the man of the hour as Ruby is supposed to be, but the Trunaun natives amongst you know this to be the case at nearly every gathering. He is constantly receiving questions about when his latest poem or play will be finished or when he would finally stop playing coy and find someone to marry or how many orcs does he think he's slain since joining the guard and other things along those lines. Even with the flattery from the citizens of Trunauns, proud to call him one of their own, he remains relatively humble in the face of all the attention, deflecting the more personal requests with humor and sharp wit.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn enjoys the evening, often in the company of one or more of the newcomers. He drinks more than most, but weighs enough for three of them, and isn't seriously effected. As the evening and night wane, he settles into a comfortable silence- listening to the discussion around him rather than participating. Eyes closed, but too excited to sleep, he props his huge feet up on a bench to listen and relax, while his newfound friends enjoy the dregs of their evening.

[Shadowsend]

Hearing the scale-wearing man request help he stops for a moment to help him with the hard-to-reach straps before saying,

Not expecting any men to assist, Hanzi doesn't immediately turn around when he feels his armor straps come loose."Miss, I know this is a party, but there's no need to be quite so for...ward?!" As Hanzi turns, his armor falls off, revealing his bare back and chest with two tattoos, one a tribal bird motif, and the other a sinister marking of some sort. He sees Mickiel and then immediately steps back, bumping into another partier. He scoops up his armor, and pack, and begins putting the armor in the pack. "Oh, uh, thank you..."


"Are you going to join us for something to eat and drink? I haven't seen you in town before, though I have only been here for some few months. Come on!"

"I won't turn down food, but need to keep some of my wits about me so that I might rise tomorrow morning. And yes, I just got here today."

Hanzi begins thinking he might be better off around that boisterous fellow, but looks and cannot see him. "Do you see that glory hound anywhere?" he asks Mickiel.

[JBrock76]

The night becomes a blur of taverns and drinking, dances and songs, Toulorian makes his way from one gathering to the next. No matter where the night takes him, there is one mandatory stop he has to make, The Killin' Ground. Aside from being a tavern with some of the best moonshine in town, the proprietor, Rabus Clarenston, is a friend. Fortunately, the place is bustling with life. Fighting through the crowds worth a smile, Toulorian seeks out Rabus. Finding him behind the bar, frantically filing glass after glass, Toulorian waves him over. "Glad to see you finally working for a change!" he says with a friendly smile and a wink. "What say you to a bit of trade my friend? How about a few stories and a few songs for my food and lodging for the eve? You know I'll have this place roaring in no time!"

Not sure if you would need a charisma check or not, but just in case [roll0]

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Miss, I know this is a party, but there's no need to be quite so for...ward?!

Oh, uh, thank you..."
Mickiel hands the man his fallen armor and apologizes, saying, "Oh, um, my mistake. I didn't know you were specifically asking for help from some of the ladies. Here you are..."


"Do you see that glory hound anywhere?" he asks Mickiel.
Smiling in apparent relief Mickiel shrugs and then listens for a moment. "It sounds like he is over there, towards the Killin' Ground tavern." He then waves awkwardly and goes to sit quietly on the edge of the stage, smiling as he watches the townsfolk celebrate.

When he sees Ruby he waves and bashfully smiles. Shrugging he flexes his arms and smirks, remembering how the rope-pulling went and looking hopefully at the young woman to see her reaction.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi goes over to join Toulorian in the revel-making, though he guards his cup from stray bottles and flasks being emptied into it. He gives a loud whoop when the bard starts telling another tall tale, and invites anyone who doesn't seem to yet have a partner to dance to whatever music is playing.

[KevSaund]

Candor is a quiet drunk. He isn't particularly one for conversation but he loves to listen. As the evening turns to night he takes full advantage of the surplus of food, drink, and other people talking to soak up as much as he can. He doesn't look for secrets so much as the little details about what people do with their time. There are just so many things that people do, and he has missed out on most of them. Because of his tendency to stick to the shadows many don't even notice him. After a while the alcohol takes over his other faculties and the last thing he remembers is hoping to find a bed.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn joins in the revelry, more heartily than usual. Unsure what to think of his verbose new acquaintance, he asks the barkeep for more information. Surprised to hear that the young man's father was once close friends with Rabus, he spends most of the evening drinking, enjoying tales, and trying to decide exactly what he thinks of the bard.

Ale is not conducive to trying to decide much of anything, and as a result, all he succeeds in deciding is that dancing with the young ladies of Trunau is fun, and that he should do it more often. He stumbles on his own feet, chairs, other dancer, and his own partner more than once, but fails to spoil the mood with his clumsiness. The eventual cessation of festivities finds him preparing to wander back home in the early morning hours- regardless of his wishes, most of the tavern's beds wouldn't hold him anyway.

[Amazo]

When he sees Ruby he waves and bashfully smiles. Shrugging he flexes his arms and smirks, remembering how the rope-pulling went and looking hopefully at the young woman to see her reaction.

A bit too young to quite pick up on Mickiel's joking flirtation, he manages to earn a smile and a mouthed, "Thank you," before another woman draws her attention back in. The older girl's eyes flick back to the sitting druid's direction every so often as she speaks to the guest of honor. Eventually, Ruby turns back towards Mickiel, beaming and waving for him to come over and join the two of them.


Candor is a quiet drunk. He isn't particularly one for conversation but he loves to listen. As the evening turns to night he takes full advantage of the surplus of food, drink, and other people talking to soak up as much as he can. He doesn't look for secrets so much as the little details about what people do with their time. There are just so many things that people do, and he has missed out on most of them. Because of his tendency to stick to the shadows many don't even notice him. After a while the alcohol takes over his other faculties and the last thing he remembers is hoping to find a bed.

In his search for a bed, Cawdor first stops at The Killin' Ground like so many of the local farmers not looking to walk back to their homesteads in their disheveled states. However, they seem to have beaten the young man to the punch. Luckily at that moment, Rodrik Grath manages to swoop in and offer his well-inebriated assistance. He knows for a fact that the Ramblehouse has a few openings for the night if only because it's a bit off the path from the town amphitheater. He offers to walk with him there as he has already rented himself a room too. As the two stumble to get there half supporting each other, half standing with their own weight, Cawdor just barely manages to make it into his room and onto the bed without any further assistance.


Deurn joins in the revelry, more heartily than usual. Unsure what to think of his verbose new acquaintance, he asks the barkeep for more information. Surprised to hear that the young man's father was once close friends with Rabus, he spends most of the evening drinking, enjoying tales, and trying to decide exactly what he thinks of the bard.

Ale is not conducive to trying to decide much of anything, and as a result, all he succeeds in deciding is that dancing with the young ladies of Trunau is fun, and that he should do it more often. He stumbles on his own feet, chairs, other dancer, and his own partner more than once, but fails to spoil the mood with his clumsiness. The eventual cessation of festivities finds him preparing to wander back home in the early morning hours- regardless of his wishes, most of the tavern's beds wouldn't hold him anyway.

Deurn returns to the relative quiet of his home unperturbed. He actually runs into Rodrik on the way home, who seems to be stumbling and supporting a similarly
intoxicated friend on their way to the Ramblehouse. Though he can still hear the revellers outside and knows he likely will even through to the next morning, his mother has had no difficulty remaining asleep through the whole ordeal. The only evidence of her being inconvenienced by it all is the presence of the pillow over her ear as she rests on her side. Taking his cue, the half-giant settles down onto his own cot for a few hours of rest before helping his mother again whenever she wakes him.


The night becomes a blur of taverns and drinking, dances and songs, Toulorian makes his way from one gathering to the next. No matter where the night takes him, there is one mandatory stop he has to make, The Killin' Ground. Aside from being a tavern with some of the best moonshine in town, the proprietor, Rabus Clarenston, is a friend. Fortunately, the place is bustling with life. Fighting through the crowds worth a smile, Toulorian seeks out Rabus. Finding him behind the bar, frantically filing glass after glass, Toulorian waves him over. "Glad to see you finally working for a change!" he says with a friendly smile and a wink. "What say you to a bit of trade my friend? How about a few stories and a few songs for my food and lodging for the eve? You know I'll have this place roaring in no time!"


Toulorian finds Rabus slinging drinks more adeptly than the thunderpipes of Alkenstar, but even so, the crowd is demanding and restless. At his question, Rabus' smile is so saccharinely sweet that it could drill holes through your teeth. "That's just what this town needs at a time like this!" he yells over another round of orders, though his face never moves to actually stop concentrating on his hands as they fly seamlessly between bottles and glasses. "Someone who can lead a jig worth a damn!" An impossible slow point presents itself in Rabus' brisk business, and he takes the moment to address Rouche face-to-face. "Tell you what: if the business I'm doing is any indication, you should be getting more than a few tips and free nourishment tonight. I'll give you a special rate if you do well, but a man in my trade knows better than to give something away for nothing." He extends a hand, shockingly dry despite his frantic pace and dealing in liquids.

You can make one Perform check to earn money today as if you were working for a week using the Profession skill (In other words, you'll earn half your check result in gold pieces.) You can attempt more than one type of Perform check for entertaining purposes, but you need to mark which Perform check is your moneymaker.


Hanzi goes over to join Toulorian in the revel-making, though he guards his cup from stray bottles and flasks being emptied into it. He gives a loud whoop when the bard starts telling another tall tale, and invites anyone who doesn't seem to yet have a partner to dance to whatever music is playing.

Rouche's skills being more suited to spinning yarns than playing music, Hanzi has to wait some time for the dancing to pick up properly. Before then, however, he is approached by a young lady inquiring about his curious introduction to the crowd earlier that evening. Though she learned of the name of Sarenrae from the local mission to Iomedae before tonight, she seems inquisitive as to why one would worship a deity of the sun in a place so scorched by it. Hanzi may see this as a test of sorts: the girl is fairly attractive and speaks intelligently despite the relatively plebian upbringing she must have had, but she seems to be approaching him only in his missionary capacity.

[Shadowsend]

"I'm pleasantly surprised to find one interested in the goddess on the first day here. Your question is rather intense, and speaks well to your surroundings. I can tell you from experience that Sarenrae's light does not reach all the places on our world, and being from an area so blessed with light, you would sorely miss the sun, should you enter into the blackness and coldness of the earth below for any considerable amount of time, as the dwarves do. Despite the heat, the sun brings to life much of your surroundings. The fields of farmers would be completely barren with no sunlight cast down upon them. Grasses would not grow, nor the beasts that feed on them. Time would become difficult to tell, and the starting or ending of the day would not be clear. And in the uncertainty, other feelings would begin to grow, not all of which are beautiful. One of the other reasons to value the sun, is in its renewal. After night ends, the sun rises and is the beginning of the day. The light of the sun does much to renew our spirits, and allows us to look forward to the day ahead. True it may be filled with work, but it is also filled with life. And on those days when work is paused, the light allows us to enjoy the life around us."

[DarkOne-Rob]

A bit too young to quite pick up on Mickiel's joking flirtation, he manages to earn a smile and a mouthed, "Thank you," before another woman draws her attention back in. The older girl's eyes flick back to the sitting druid's direction every so often as she speaks to the guest of honor. Eventually, Ruby turns back towards Mickiel, beaming and waving for him to come over and join the two of them.
Unsure how else to react, the man stands and joins the pair of ladies. Smiling, he says, "Um, hi. I am glad you chose me to help, Ruby." Then, turning to the older woman he says, "I am Mickiel. What is your name?" For a moment he looks unsure of himself, and then he offers his arms to each of the ladies, one on each side, and hopes they take them.

[JBrock76]

Perform Oratory (higher pay) [roll0]
Perform Acting (for fun) [roll1]

[JBrock76]

Toulorian takes the stage and waits as the crowd settles. Once he feels he has most of their attention, he begins to speak in a low voice just audible to those closest. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there dwelt a fair young maiden. She was the treasure of the land, and all of the townsfolk loved her dearly... The story continued, growing in power, as Toulorian spoke of a terrible curse put on the town, a horrible monster sent to destroy the lands and all the people unless the maiden was sacrificed, the heroic man who came to the rescue of the town by slaying the beast, and of course his winning the hand of the maiden. Coincidently, the hero shared a surprising similarity to Toulorian. And as the brave hero swung his sword with his last bit of strength, the foul creature uttered it's final cry, and fell dead at his feet! The beautiful maiden ran to him crying "Oh Tulostian, you were so brave!" She fell into his loving embrace as the sun set off in the distance. Toulorian waited a moment for the ending to set in, then smiled with his arms out to indicate his conclusion, and bowed to the applause.

And now, my friends, that we have heard this beautiful tale of heroism and courage, let me liven your hearts with a recreation of our epic struggle of the day! I shall portray each roll myself! And even with no theatrics or costumes, you shall each clearly see all of the events clear in your mind's eye! Pausing just a moment to gather himself, Toulorian runs to the very edge of the stage, then begins walking on to the stage as if he were a large muscular man. And he begins speaking in a mean voice, Ha Ha Ha! This young girl won't stand a chance against us! He pretends to speak to imaginary men around him, them waves them over to pick up an imaginary rope. He stands flexing and laughing. Then, he stops and runs over to the edge of the stage again where he once against pretends to walk on as a different person, only this one looks scared and hunched over. "Oh no! Those men are so mean and strong, though I am a giant, how shall i ever defeat them?" He repeats the process until he is the last remaining to enter the contest besides Ruby. At last I stepped onto the stage. I looked over at the other team in all their smugness. A look of wonder and recognition came over their faces when they realized who I was, but clearly they had come for a battle as they settled in. I looked over at my faithful companions and told them to take courage. The story continued as Toulorian acted out the struggle. The dirty tricks played by the other team, the slip of one of his teammates, and their immenant defeat. And as I saw the look of defeat in my companions eyes, and the evil look of triumph on the faces of our enemies, we all looked over at the same time to see. .. (running to the side of the stage) "Who should come to our rescue?" He puts his hand to his ear and leans to the crowd just as the all shout together "RUBY!" "Light as a feather, she glides over, picks up the rope like a delicate flower, and begins to pull! Her might is too much for the opposition to bear! He runs over, picks up the imaginary rope, then performs the most epic fall. "With a great cry, "AHHHH!" they all topple to the ground!" The crowd of onlookers, unable to control themselves, run onto the stage and pick little Ruby up onto their shoulders and carry her off to victory!"
Toulorian runs to the middle of the stage, throws his arms out wide, flashes his best smile and shouts "The End!" and bows.

[Amazo]

"I'm pleasantly surprised to find one interested in the goddess on the first day here. Your question is rather intense, and speaks well to your surroundings. I can tell you from experience that Sarenrae's light does not reach all the places on our world, and being from an area so blessed with light, you would sorely miss the sun, should you enter into the blackness and coldness of the earth below for any considerable amount of time, as the dwarves do. Despite the heat, the sun brings to life much of your surroundings. The fields of farmers would be completely barren with no sunlight cast down upon them. Grasses would not grow, nor the beasts that feed on them. Time would become difficult to tell, and the starting or ending of the day would not be clear. And in the uncertainty, other feelings would begin to grow, not all of which are beautiful. One of the other reasons to value the sun, is in its renewal. After night ends, the sun rises and is the beginning of the day. The light of the sun does much to renew our spirits, and allows us to look forward to the day ahead. True it may be filled with work, but it is also filled with life. And on those days when work is paused, the light allows us to enjoy the life around us."

The girl draws pensive at Hanzi's thoughtful response. Though she must have some experience speaking with clergy, this new perspective is still evidently one she must consider carefully. Eventually, she grows confident enough to respond with a bold look. "What you say of our town's livelihood is true: we would be lost without the sun, both for our crops and our days out on the Barterstones. But I cannot accept the sun as a source of renewal as you believe, the end of the day, the departing of the sun is what brings renewal, for that is a time of rest, and here in Trunau especially, a time for community, celebration, and, er, love." She hangs on the word for just a moment to ensure her other meaning on the word is clear. "Surely it is those things, which often take place because of the absence of your patron, which reinvigorate us each day in preparation for your mistress' rise the next morn?" She sighs as her face indicates she thinks she's made a muck of talking to a nice new visitor to town. Reconciling with herself, she offers a hand before Hanzi can formulate his rebuttal to her reasoning, "My name is Larkin, by the way, and if you are as interested in continuing this discourse as I, I'd invite you to sit with me a while, perhaps over a bottle of wine? It'll help the thinking: helps the blood flow." She produces a small bottle of such from a simple sack tied at her waist and indicates a relatively quiet section of the tavern away from the rowdiness transpiring by the bar.


Unsure how else to react, the man stands and joins the pair of ladies. Smiling, he says, "Um, hi. I am glad you chose me to help, Ruby." Then, turning to the older woman he says, "I am Mickiel. What is your name?" For a moment he looks unsure of himself, and then he offers his arms to each of the ladies, one on each side, and hopes they take them.

Ruby latches on without a second thought, but her mysterious partner takes a moment to introduce herself before doing the same. "My name is Reina, and I'd love the opportunity to dangle from the arms that so effortlessly carried my little sister triumphantly into adulthood tonight." The woman's voice is nearly a whisper, barely audible over the ambient noise of the festivities around the square, forcing Mickiel to lean in and hang on her every word to hear them completely. "Come, friend. Ruby has a number of more trials to undertake tonight, and I'd love to show her to them with her most capable guardian in tow."

Despite being the one escorting two women, Mickiel is led around to the various fair game by Reina's persistent pull on his arm. She walks with precision and purpose, much as you'd expect Halgra to have in her younger years, but the refined smile adorning the corners of her lips make her seem as if she's proudly leading a champion stallion, hound, or other specimen through its paces than a fellow sentient mortal. She takes the small party to each of the games, most of them involving tests of strength of some kind: tossing a shot put at a target to plunge a heckling clown into a tank of water, using a hammer to strike a lever and propel a small metal marker up a considerable length of pole, things of that nature. As they pass through the crowd, many of its members offer their congratulations to Ruby and Mickiel for their special evening, with a passing cleric even offering a casting of bull's strength to Ruby so that she can more fairly compete with her companions for a while.

Eventually, despite the girl's excitement, Ruby's youth catches up to her and sleep weighs on her eyelids. Still accompanying her, Reina gives Mickiel a final offer, "It seems my little one is finally ready to turn in for the evening. I can take her myself to lay her to bed, if you want, or you could accompany me if it would please you. We need not say our goodbyes just yet..." Halgra's legendary promiscuity seems to run in her family because the expression on Reina's face makes her intentions quite clear. It seems all too obvious now considering some of the knowing looks the three of them had received from passersby when Reina was leading them around earlier.


Toulorian takes the stage and waits as the crowd settles. Once he feels he has most of their attention, he begins to speak in a low voice just audible to those closest. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there dwelt a fair young maiden. She was the treasure of the land, and all of the townsfolk loved her dearly... The story continued, growing in power, as Toulorian spoke of a terrible curse put on the town, a horrible monster sent to destroy the lands and all the people unless the maiden was sacrificed, the heroic man who came to the rescue of the town by slaying the beast, and of course his winning the hand of the maiden. Coincidently, the hero shared a surprising similarity to Toulorian. And as the brave hero swung his sword with his last bit of strength, the foul creature uttered it's final cry, and fell dead at his feet! The beautiful maiden ran to him crying "Oh Tulostian, you were so brave!" She fell into his loving embrace as the sun set off in the distance. Toulorian waited a moment for the ending to set in, then smiled with his arms out to indicate his conclusion, and bowed to the applause.

And now, my friends, that we have heard this beautiful tale of heroism and courage, let me liven your hearts with a recreation of our epic struggle of the day! I shall portray each roll myself! And even with no theatrics or costumes, you shall each clearly see all of the events clear in your mind's eye! Pausing just a moment to gather himself, Toulorian runs to the very edge of the stage, then begins walking on to the stage as if he were a large muscular man. And he begins speaking in a mean voice, Ha Ha Ha! This young girl won't stand a chance against us! He pretends to speak to imaginary men around him, them waves them over to pick up an imaginary rope. He stands flexing and laughing. Then, he stops and runs over to the edge of the stage again where he once against pretends to walk on as a different person, only this one looks scared and hunched over. "Oh no! Those men are so mean and strong, though I am a giant, how shall i ever defeat them?" He repeats the process until he is the last remaining to enter the contest besides Ruby. At last I stepped onto the stage. I looked over at the other team in all their smugness. A look of wonder and recognition came over their faces when they realized who I was, but clearly they had come for a battle as they settled in. I looked over at my faithful companions and told them to take courage. The story continued as Toulorian acted out the struggle. The dirty tricks played by the other team, the slip of one of his teammates, and their immenant defeat. And as I saw the look of defeat in my companions eyes, and the evil look of triumph on the faces of our enemies, we all looked over at the same time to see. .. (running to the side of the stage) "Who should come to our rescue?" He puts his hand to his ear and leans to the crowd just as the all shout together "RUBY!" "Light as a feather, she glides over, picks up the rope like a delicate flower, and begins to pull! Her might is too much for the opposition to bear! He runs over, picks up the imaginary rope, then performs the most epic fall. "With a great cry, "AHHHH!" they all topple to the ground!" The crowd of onlookers, unable to control themselves, run onto the stage and pick little Ruby up onto their shoulders and carry her off to victory!"
Toulorian runs to the middle of the stage, throws his arms out wide, flashes his best smile and shouts "The End!" and bows.

Toulorian's tale goes out with whimper instead of a bang as far as the crowd is concerned, but he does manage to rouse some excitement out of a group of three half-orcs. Their open shirts reveal that none of them are wearing hopeknives, indicating fellow travellers from abroad. They as a group approach a bald human man with an intricate tattoo across his face with palms outstretched. Too far away in the noisy crowd for eavesdropping, their request still seems obvious as the human, likely their caravan leader, reaches into a pouch at his belt and drops a few coins into each of the men's palms. They promptly turn back to Rouche and attempt to each take a turn shaking the bard's hand to deposit their contributions for his artistry. If he counts them after the fact, he finds he has received 3 gold, 13 silver and 20 copper pieces (or the equivalent of 4 gold and 5 silver pieces, if he seeks change from the bartender).

The bard has some difficulty rousing interest for another performance, but once he has drawn enough interest from his potential audience, his comedic acting attempt goes over much more successfully with his onlookers. Some of the locals offer to take the parts of some of the anonymous guardsmen, lending their own personal knowledge of the men to make the caricature more relevantly humorous. At the end of Rouche's tale, the crowd is in stitches and keep the performance going themselves with some impressions of other local figures, including Halgra, the Graths' father, the other town defense council members, and a number of the local business owners, including Toulorian's friend behind the bar. When his turn for the farce comes up, he showily quirks an eyebrow in his mocker's direction, but the smile never leaves his lips as his bardic buddy has secured at least another few rounds of brisk business.

[Shadowsend]

The girl draws pensive at Hanzi's thoughtful response. Though she must have some experience speaking with clergy, this new perspective is still evidently one she must consider carefully. Eventually, she grows confident enough to respond with a bold look. "What you say of our town's livelihood is true: we would be lost without the sun, both for our crops and our days out on the Barterstones. But I cannot accept the sun as a source of renewal as you believe, the end of the day, the departing of the sun is what brings renewal, for that is a time of rest, and here in Trunau especially, a time for community, celebration, and, er, love." She hangs on the word for just a moment to ensure her other meaning on the word is clear. "Surely it is those things, which often take place because of the absence of your patron, which reinvigorate us each day in preparation for your mistress' rise the next morn?" She sighs as her face indicates she thinks she's made a muck of talking to a nice new visitor to town. Reconciling with herself, she offers a hand before Hanzi can formulate his rebuttal to her reasoning, "My name is Larkin, by the way, and if you are as interested in continuing this discourse as I, I'd invite you to sit with me a while, perhaps over a bottle of wine? It'll help the thinking: helps the blood flow." She produces a small bottle of such from a simple sack tied at her waist and indicates a relatively quiet section of the tavern away from the rowdiness transpiring by the bar.

Hanzi picks up his pack and walks over to where Larkin is sitting, sits down across from her, and offers his cup. "My name is Hanzi, and I have enjoyed meeting you, and hope to continue to do so. I had been guarding my cup all night, but I feel safe sharing it with you." Hanzi pauses slightly, as she fills his cup, then continues the discussion. "As to the departing of the sun, I find it true that it is necessary for night to happen, and that good things can happen at night-time, but just as you find the long days unpleasant, there are some who find long nights unpleasant. And you yourself said that some of those good things can still happen during the daylight. A community can be formed during the day, by good conversation, or song and dance, or even shared work. And the light of the sun can reveal love so that the feelings can be acted upon. So while the sun and daybreak have special sentiments for me, others who worship Sarenrae may find the dusk to be just as beautiful. Sarenrae, however, is not the sun itself, but the goddess who guards it and is a conduit for its power. She uses this power for the good of all, healing the sick, curing the diseased, and even returning the fallen." He takes a drink, then looks at Larkin, wondering if she wants to talk about other things now, or continue along these lines.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As they go about the games and festivities Mickiel often finds himself a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. Keeping his eyes turned down he "escorts" the two ladies about, smiling and blushing at the same time. As Ruby starts to fade and Reina takes more of a lead he begins to whistle absently, thoroughly enjoying the evening.


"We need not say our goodbyes just yet..."
Blushing furiously, the druid stops whistling for a moment and coughs uncomfortably. "Um, well, that is..." he splutters, completely unsure how to handle the direct invitation. "This evening has been very entertaining, Miss Reina, and your invitation sounds very nice. How does this work from here?"

I am fine with Mickiel getting involved here, though I am also fine with him awkwardly excusing himself. As far as his long-term goals for a relationship are concerned, he is at least as interested in romance as physical attraction. However, his social ineptitude should make his ability to influence this situation difficult to say the least.

If something happens, Reina will need to take the "lead" so to speak. If not, I would prefer for Mickiel to not be insulting - rather cripplingly shy and expressing interest in something more lasting than a one-night stand. How would we go about determining this from here?

If it matters, here is a Charisma check (all social skills are untrained except Sense Motive): [roll0]

[Amazo]

Hanzi picks up his pack and walks over to where Larkin is sitting, sits down across from her, and offers his cup. "My name is Hanzi, and I have enjoyed meeting you, and hope to continue to do so. I had been guarding my cup all night, but I feel safe sharing it with you." Hanzi pauses slightly, as she fills his cup, then continues the discussion. "As to the departing of the sun, I find it true that it is necessary for night to happen, and that good things can happen at night-time, but just as you find the long days unpleasant, there are some who find long nights unpleasant. And you yourself said that some of those good things can still happen during the daylight. A community can be formed during the day, by good conversation, or song and dance, or even shared work. And the light of the sun can reveal love so that the feelings can be acted upon. So while the sun and daybreak have special sentiments for me, others who worship Sarenrae may find the dusk to be just as beautiful. Sarenrae, however, is not the sun itself, but the goddess who guards it and is a conduit for its power. She uses this power for the good of all, healing the sick, curing the diseased, and even returning the fallen." He takes a drink, then looks at Larkin, wondering if she wants to talk about other things now, or continue along these lines.

Larkin pays dutiful attention Hanzi's explanations, a polite smile gracing her features as she waits. When he finishes, she lets out a long sigh as if some great relief has just swept through her, which she quickly explains. "It is quite refreshing to have a religious visitor to town that understands that our people need a more personal connection and explanation like this. We've had more than our share of redeemers passing through here, but because of our standing as primarily a farming community, many of them approach us as if we're all a bunch of wild horses in desperate need of disciplining. Their "discourse" is almost always one-sided, accusatory, condescending, or a bit of each. What they don't understand is that we work hard for our own and even our visiting strangers alike. Its nice to see someone reciprocate for once, even if you don't know all this about us yet firsthand. I'll enjoy seeing you talk in the square when I bring my homestead's goods to market, Hanzi. If you're staying a while, that is?"


As they go about the games and festivities Mickiel often finds himself a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. Keeping his eyes turned down he "escorts" the two ladies about, smiling and blushing at the same time. As Ruby starts to fade and Reina takes more of a lead he begins to whistle absently, thoroughly enjoying the evening.


Blushing furiously, the druid stops whistling for a moment and coughs uncomfortably. "Um, well, that is..." he splutters, completely unsure how to handle the direct invitation. "This evening has been very entertaining, Miss Reina, and your invitation sounds very nice. How does this work from here?"

I am fine with Mickiel getting involved here, though I am also fine with him awkwardly excusing himself. As far as his long-term goals for a relationship are concerned, he is at least as interested in romance as physical attraction. However, his social ineptitude should make his ability to influence this situation difficult to say the least.

If something happens, Reina will need to take the "lead" so to speak. If not, I would prefer for Mickiel to not be insulting - rather cripplingly shy and expressing interest in something more lasting than a one-night stand. How would we go about determining this from here?

If it matters, here is a Charisma check (all social skills are untrained except Sense Motive): [roll0]

The walk from the Commons to Halgra's family's home, the Ivory Hall, is a relatively quick one. The trio arrive just in time for Reina to take Ruby inside and let Mickiel's question hang between them with just another characteristic smirk in response. Left alone to observe the Hall, Mickiel gets one of his first true chances to simply stand and take in the sight the seat of power in Trunau as his training and home reside near the Hopespring on the opposite side of town. Even without the orc skeletons adorning the property, its forward position, immaculate shine, and bold choice of color despite the environment around it show as much of a dare to would be invaders as the rest of the town's simple existence does on its own.

Before he can be left with his thoughts for too long, however, the front door cracks just a bit and Reina slips quietly back out to meet him. "To answer your question, Mickiel," she begins before turning to finish securing the door behind her, "these sorts of things usually go about the same way. We'll go to one of our quarters, yours preferably, I've never seen it and I'm curious as to how a druid lives when not being initiated into the artrs. Then one or both of us will take a brief tour of the Nine Heavens at some point of the night, though if the "one" is you and not me, I'll make sure your life is a living hell on this earth starting on the morrow." Her words are delivered lightly and and playfully, though she pauses with a reassuring smile and reaches a hand for a his when she notices how flustered the man is. "...and we can decide if we want to go further than that on the morrow too. A drunken dalliance is what I was expecting, but something warmer may be a nice thing to wake up to too."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"...these sorts of things usually go about the same way..."
Nodding in response to her words Mickiel's eyes grow wide at several points. "I am not really sure I understand what you mean about the nine heavens, but I will do my best..." he says as she continues to lead him towards his modest abode. Overwhelmed by her presence and directness he begins whistling again, his excitement and discomfort both plain as he allows her to guide his actions.

Mickiel will follow Reina's lead and do his best to avoid the "living hell on this earth" to the best of his inexperienced ability.

Otherwise, I am good moving on with the next day - do I need to make any further dice rolls?

[Shadowsend]

Larkin pays dutiful attention Hanzi's explanations, a polite smile gracing her features as she waits. When he finishes, she lets out a long sigh as if some great relief has just swept through her, which she quickly explains. "It is quite refreshing to have a religious visitor to town that understands that our people need a more personal connection and explanation like this. We've had more than our share of redeemers passing through here, but because of our standing as primarily a farming community, many of them approach us as if we're all a bunch of wild horses in desperate need of disciplining. Their "discourse" is almost always one-sided, accusatory, condescending, or a bit of each. What they don't understand is that we work hard for our own and even our visiting strangers alike. Its nice to see someone reciprocate for once, even if you don't know all this about us yet firsthand. I'll enjoy seeing you talk in the square when I bring my homestead's goods to market, Hanzi. If you're staying a while, that is?"

"Thank you. My plan is to stay for a while, but my goddess may have other ideas. If she leads me away, I must follow. Speaking of leading, one of the ways Sarenrae is celebrated is through dance. Would you care to?"

If Larkin says yes, Hanzi leads her and everyone else who wishes through a simple circular dance with a take 10 on dance for 13. If Larkin doesn't join, Hanzi is still going to dance at least a few dances, and then try to find accommodations to sleep and get up for his morning prayers.

[JBrock76]

Toulorian jumps off the stage and makes a beeline straight for the bar, after collecting any offered tips and such, of course. After acquiring a nice cold beverage, he immediately runs to join a group of young maidens who appeared to have taken a keen enjoyment of his previous performances. The night slips away into a hazy mist of dancing, drinking, eating delicious food, kisses, and hopefully ending in the arms of a lovely companion or two.

[Amazo]

With two dashing newcomers to town and a local to support their recruitment, it takes no time at all for Toulorian, Hanzi, and Larkin to rouse up some townspeople interested in a dance. In fact, it takes more time to find a spot away from the crowded tavern and teach the steps than it does to find the dance's participants! Still, as onlookers observe the teaching of dance some join in, and all are respectful enough of tradition to leave the dance's steps unchanged. Soon after, the trio are leading the group with ease, and with Larkin displaying a particular affinity for the fluid and joyous movements of it. Eventually though, the moment finds itself lacking one thing, though the smiles and laughs from those involved would make it seem like the moment was already grand. Larkin is the one to suggest it: "Music, Hanzi! A dance needs music!" She yells over the hooting and hollering of the festivities around them. "Perhaps a hymn? Is there one to match this fun we're having?"

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi smiles and laughs as Larkin starts showing him up with his own dance. "Nicely done!" When she asks him for a hymn, he thinks a moment and then says, "I'm not much of a singer. Perhaps someone can help me a bit, but I do have words."

Hanzi begins to sing and while isn't terrible, isn't particularly good at it.

Sarenrae the Light of Your Love is shining,
In the midst of the darkness shining,
Goddess light of the world shine upon us,
Set us free by the truth You now bring us,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Shine Goddess shine
Fill this land with the sun's glory
Blaze, Spirit blaze,
Set our hearts on fire
Glow, Goddess, glow
Fill the nations with grace and mercy
Send forth Your word

Sarenrae I come to Your awesome presence,
From the shadows into Your radiance,
By the light I may enter Your brightness,
Search me, try me, consume all my darkness,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Shine Goddess shine
Fill this land with the sun's glory
Blaze, Spirit blaze,
Set our hearts on fire
Glow, Goddess glow
Fill the nations with grace and mercy
Send forth Your word

As we gaze on Your kindly brightness.
So our faces display Your likeness.
Ever changing from glory to glory,
Mirrored here may our lives tell Your story.
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Shine Goddess shine
Fill this land with the sun's glory
Blaze, Spirit blaze,
Set our hearts on fire
Glow, Goddess glow
Fill the nations with grace and mercy
Send forth Your word

Shine Jesus Shine by Hillsong United (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OIwSQmyCg4)

[Amazo]

None of the dance's participants pick up the tune on their own, unlike the steps of the dance itself, but the group's overall synchronization improves dramatically with an audible beat to follow. Going through a few more repetitions with their newfound rhythm, Larkin's and the rest's enthusiasm seems to indicate that the song was indeed enough to match the fun they were having. However, in the process of teaching the dance, his reserved revelry earlier, and his philosophical discussion with Larkin, time seems to have slipped away from Hanzi. He'll have to rest soon if he wants to be fully awake and aware for whatever Sarenrae has planned for him tomorrow.

You can of course keep going, but if you don't rest soon, you'll be exhausted the next day.

[Shadowsend]

"Thank you everyone, for joining in. But I must retire, now. I look forward to seeing many of you tomorrow." He bows farewell, but keeps his eyes on Larkin's face and has a smile on his. "I bid you all good night."

[Amazo]

Larkin promises to catch any sermons of Hanzi's that she can after she finishes bringing her homestead's goods to market at the Barterstones before likewise bidding her comrades in celebration a good evening. She lets you know she has a bit of a walk ahead of her, and work starts at sunup with or without her. She also tells you not to worry after her, gentleman though you may be, as she's made the trip after dark many times before and, like all Trunauns, is ready and capable of defending herself.

Her final advice to you is to catch your rest at the Ramblehouse if there are any open rooms still available: it will be a much more peaceful and luxurious rest than at The Killin' Ground for the same price. If Hanzi goes to follow up on that advice, he does find out from the halfling proprietor that there is still room available. In fact, the rooms are private, furnished with a bed, desk, dresser, and chest, each with locks, and a night's stay comes with a complimentary, hearty-but-possibly-undersized home-cooked halfling breakfast in the morning all for the relatively low price of 2 gp.

Technically, you're being charged for a stay tonight if you're from out of town, but events the next day will reimburse you for the cash, so don't mark any of it down as a loss on the sheet unless you're planning on declining that offer.

[Amazo]

Each of you turn in for a few well-earned hours of rest before tackling whatever awaits you the next day. For some of you, you expect nothing more than another normal day in Trunau, at least what could be considered normal for such a town. For others, you expect to sample some more of the town's famous hospitality before following your callings to something else. No matter the plans, however, it would seem happenstance has conspired against another day of normalcy for both you and everyone else that calls this place home.

Hanzi is the first to be awoken the next day. In the bleak hours of the morning, before even the sun has risen, he is shocked awake from his preciously scant few hours of sleep by a piercing scream! He immediately recognizes the voice as belonging to the older halfling woman that owns the boarding house, even though he has not heard her under such duress prior to now. The cry cuts through the relatively still air of the morning. What few revellers remain outside have long since depleted the majority of their energy, and the shrill shriek pierces the meager sound produced by whatever merrymaking they have left to do.

Though he does not know the exact layout of the Ramblehouse or where the scream came from precisely, Hanzi can estimate that it came from no more than a floor above him, and he hears the scream is being followed by sobbing, whimpering, and pleading with the powers that be.

[Shadowsend]

Being of the divinely called, Hanzi almost immediately leaves his room and stumbles to the stairs in the dark, then rushes upstairs after muttering a quick prayer to Sarenrae (not the hour that he needs for spellcasting). He has yet to strap on his scimitar or armor either, in the interest of first understanding the situation. What is going on?" He barely gets out before he is confronted with whatever made the halfling matron scream in the first place.

[Amazo]

When Hanzi reaches the landing of the floor where the scream originated from, he sees a similarly confused throng of people gathering around the open door of the last room down the hall. The middle-aged halfling woman's face is paper white and drawn into such a severe grimace of anguish and grief that her few wrinkles are pulled tight. A few of the onlookers demand the same question of the poor woman, but she stares at them with blank eyes, apparently to stricken to give an answer. Those that look past her into the open room similarly blanche white as well. Eventually, a young man manages cry in a cracking voice, "He's d-dead!" R-Rodrick Grath is dead! By his own hand!"

At this the crowd ignores the halfling woman completely and they all crowd into the entrance of the room to see for their own eyes. The hero of the town dead by suicide? Surely it's impossible! But as the line of people take their turns to look, they all have the same disappointed and disillusioned looks on their faces. Even if Hanzi hasn't seen the sight himself, it's easy to imagine what it is. Two older townsfolk volunteer to summon the guard before brushing past Hanzi in their haste to descend the stairs behind him. Despite their speed, it's easy to see they are still numb from the discovery as they barely seem able to notice Hanzi is there at all.

[Shadowsend]

Upon hearing the sad and frightful news, Hanzi becomes concerned that there might be foul play at work. Hanzi steels himself for the visage ahead and begins calling in a more commanding voice."I'm a priest. Make way, that I might assess this scene." He goes to look, but tries to reveal as little as possible about his own thoughts or feelings on the matter other than concern.

[Amazo]

He finds little resistance to his advance as he wades through the dejected crowd in the hallway. He soon finds himself at the door, and with a final moment to steel himself, he peers inside. It is precisely as tragic as it seemed it would be. Facing the doorway, on the bed, is the body of Rodrik Grath. That man, so full of joy and life yesterday, lays there with deeply slit wrists and his hopeknife in his right hand. Atop the desk adjacent to him is a half drunk goblet of wine, a scrawled note, and the writing tools used to pen it. Looking upon possibly the last words of a secretly grief-stricken man, the note reads, "This night showed me what the people of Trunau truly think of me. A clown to prance upon a stage for them, a pauper poet for them to quote to their lovers without regard for the work's true meaning, a selfless protector to take for granted and never respect. They told me I was their beloved, but it was evidently not true. And so, I leave this wretched place behind and it's denizens to rot. May my little brother not have to shoulder these responsibilities in my stead."

[Shadowsend]

"Dear Sarenrae, please watch over this poor conflicted man's soul, that he may find the peace he lacked in life." Hanzi looks over to a few of the other onlookers. "Go fetch the other priests of the community. And find his brother. And who was in the rooms next door?" If they stand looking stupid, he begins nominating people to do the tasks. Then Hanzi asks the matronly halfling, "Can you prepare a room for his family and close friends? They shouldn't have to see him like this, but may wish to confirm his death. It should be big enough to hold the other priests as well, so that they may console the grieving. Everyone else please go back to your business, that the guard can have an easier time assessing the situation." Hanzi exits the room, but keeps the door cracked, that he may keep an eye on the room until the guard arrives. He begins thinking about what he will tell the guard. Luckily, he has people that will vouch for his whereabouts for most of the night.

If the people who were staying next door to Rodrick show themselves, Hanzi tells them to try to remember the events of the last night, so that they might tell the guard.

[Amazo]

With the dispersal of the grieving crowd, the news travels quickly around town as those initial people go about the tasks assigned to them by Hanzi. It is not an hour before the town is full of would-be criers announcing the death of the town's esteemed patrol leader. It is to this panicked commotion, very much unlike the festive revelling of the night before, that wakes the rest of you this morning. Scarcely a minute goes by before someone within earshot of each of you says the news, shouts the news, whispers the news, or sobs it. It is clear that the people of Trunau are taking the man's passing very seriously and personally.

Back at the scene itself, the halfling woman, Cham Larringfas, manages to steady her wobbling shoulders with a few deep breathes to answer Hanzi's questions. "My room was next to his..." she points to the room across the hall and staggered up towards the stairs a bit, "but I don't remember who was in the room next to his. Last night was such a blur of business, I was answering so many requests from guests and residents, I... I just don't know! The rest of the hall is mostly my family. I'll ask them to leave for the day for some room..."

The shuddering comes back to her shoulders as she slowly shuffles off to fulfill her promise as the first of the militia arrive. As luck would have it, it is Kurst Grath and one of his test of strength teammates from the night before. Kurst's face is set with determination, but the unshed tears in his eyes reveal something deeper whereas his cohort seems to be under the same forlorn haze that has swept up everyone else who's seen what's happened.



http://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/6/6b/Cham.png
You are of course entitled to Sense Motive on Cham's response. As you'll be taking part in an investigation, I expect this will come up often.

[Shadowsend]

As Hanzi sees Kurst come up the steps, he steps in front of the man. "My name is Hanzi Ivarisky, and I am a priest of Sarenrae. I know I am a foreigner here, and I wouldn't normally have intervened, but I was awoken by a cry for help, and I rushed to aid. I was not the first to discover your brother, and I saw him on the stage last night so I can bear witness that it is indeed him, but I did enter the room to try to figure out if anything had been disturbed, and I found details that will complicate matters for you. I think, for your sake and the sake of your family, that you should allow another from the militia to handle this investigation. Someone you trust. This could be extremely difficult for you, and you need to be able to go through your own emotions without the added complication of the investigation. Are you a religious man, Kurst?"

Lucky me, Hanzi is trained in sense motive. I'll take 10 for a 17.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As he wakes in his bed, Mickiel hears the yelling and calling from outside his meager dwelling and looks down at the still sleeping Reina beside him. Nodding silently to himself, he slips carefully out of the covers and makes his way to the doorway to listen to the news, doing his best not to wake the woman.

[roll0] (due to not wearing armor)
Once he understands the gist of events he quietly returns to the bed and sits gently on the edge, pondering what to do. After several moments he nods and turns to look at Reina, planning to wait till she wakes on her own.

When she does, he says in a low voice, "I hope I did not earn a 'living hell on this earth' last night, but I don't think you will like the news going around town..." He then tells her of the apparent suicide of Rodrick Grath and asks, "Do you wish to go now? Or would you rather a moment to sit and think first?" Regardless of her answer, once she is awake he moves to dress and prepare a very light breakfast of bread, cheese, and fruit for them both.

[Amazo]

Lucky me, Hanzi is trained in sense motive. I'll take 10 for a 17.

The woman was definitely hiding something in her response though its difficult to say what. Her eagerness to get away from further questions by volunteering to follow orders gave her away.



When she does, he says in a low voice, "I hope I did not earn a 'living hell on this earth' last night, but I don't think you will like the news going around town..."

She responds matter-of-factly but with her well-worn smirk still apparent, "The gods will be very familiar with you given how likely I'll be invoking their names, if you're still considering treading this road with me, but what's happened?"



He then tells her of the apparent suicide of Rodrick Grath and asks, "Do you wish to go now? Or would you rather a moment to sit and think first?" Regardless of her answer, once she is awake he moves to dress and prepare a very light breakfast of bread, cheese, and fruit for them both.

Like the rest of the people who have heard the news, she is instantly made morose by the news. "I think... I think a moment would be good, yes," she answers. The response is distressing: Mickiel has never seen Reina lose her confidence and sureness of action in such a big way before. She sits close to him throughout their breakfast, asking for comfort without ever saying it aloud, recounting a few tales of Rodrick growing up. The two were practically siblings with how often they were around each other. The older children of two of the leaders of town apparently had the run of the place, but to Reina Rodrick always seemed to be striving to earn the small privilege that that afforded him in town while Reina just threw any recognition away with her acerbic wit. She concludes, "With him gone, there's going to be a big hole in Trunau, even if he didn't actually do that much in service of her directly. I hope her people can fill it with their closeness, but even that has to have its limits eventually."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"The gods will be very familiar with you given how likely I'll be invoking their names, if you're still considering treading this road with me, but what's happened?"
Blushing furiously, Mickiel whistles quietly as he readies the food and listens to Reina speak. He doesn't speak about the deceased man, preferring instead to nod and console with his presence. When she looks ready to step outside he rises and puts away the dishes before following her to see what is being done. As he hears of the coincidental presence of the cleric at the site of Rodrick's death he silently makes his way there, whistling to himself as he goes.

If she comes along, cool, but Mickiel isn't going to follow her around too readily when there is more to be done - he isn't sure how such things work, but he knows she is independent enough to not need him every moment of the day. If/when they part he won't be forward, but will respond in kind to her displays of affection, if any.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor wakes to a very different commotion from the one to which he fell asleep. As he wanders into the common room of the ramblehouse he is surprised by the somber tone, in contrast to last night's revelry. After listening to the whispers of those who are still around he realized what has occurred. With urgency, but no sense of propriety, he quickly moves against the crowd to the center of the commotion. Upon taking in the scene, he says "This can't be right. when I left him last night he was still as jolly as ever." Knowing a thing or two about wrongful deaths, he quickly looks for whoever seems to be in charge. He spots the priest from the tug-of-war who is shouting orders to all those around. Cawdor pulls on his sleeve for attention. "This isn't right."

[Amazo]

If she comes along, cool, but Mickiel isn't going to follow her around too readily when there is more to be done - he isn't sure how such things work, but he knows she is independent enough to not need him every moment of the day. If/when they part he won't be forward, but will respond in kind to her displays of affection, if any.

Reina actually excuses herself to head back to the Ivory Hall. She knows that in a time of emergency like this, Halgra would want her to keep tabs on Ruby, and she wouldn't want her little sister to be scared by the commotion. She departs with a kiss, somewhat awkward despite what transpired between the two of you the night before. Evidently intimacy beyond the act itself seems to be something she needs to ease back into.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi feels Cawdor tug on his sleeve. "I know things are off about it. But until someone gets an investigation going, there's little I can do to address that. I'm just trying to make sure there's somewhere for that investigator or those investigators to begin. Go find the proprietor and try to talk to her somewhere alone. She knew more than she told me, but it might need to be told in private. When I asked her to prepare a room for the bereaved she went too quickly to do it." Hanzi continues to try to dissuade Kursk from going into the room.

[Farmerbink]

Early to bed, and to rise, Deurn has been assisting his mother with the day-in, day-out work of baking the day's bread. When runners begin appearing outside the city walls, he eagerly leaves his work behind to approach them, and see what news they carry. As he notices the man's expression, trepidation colors his stride. In a flat, even tone and a slight bow of acknowledgement, he says, "Runner Carson. I know that look. What has happened?"

The man relays the information, and moves on to continue to spread the news, Deurn becomes crestfallen. He returns home long enough to tell his mother, and hold the slight woman in a firm embrace. Holding her further away he looks into her eyes. "This is not right. I must go see for myself. You will be well without me?" Her nod and expression confirm his suspicions, and he leaves to find his answers.


Hanzi feels Cawdor tug on his sleeve... "When I asked her to prepare a room for the bereaved she went too quickly to do it." Hanzi continues to try to dissuade Kursk from going into the room.

Deurn arrives in the hallway, in time to catch the end of a conversation between two of the newcomers from last night. He presses through the few people present and places huge, reassuring hand on Kursk's shoulder. When the younger Garth turns to see him, he catches the man in his arms. "Have peace, friend. Your pain is ours as well." With a slight nod, he releases Kursk, having imparted as much reassurance as he is able.

He turns to Hanzi. "You there, priest. With what need can I assist?"

[Amazo]

As Hanzi sees Kurst come up the steps, he steps in front of the man. "Are you a religious man, Kurst?"

Kurst is struck completely speechless at Hanzi's explanation. He retreats within himself and blusters at all of Hanzi's questions until Deurn's arrival relatively shortly after. Those from Trunau know that Kurst has followed his brother's lead in virtually everything as long as he can remember. At the news that his brother is no longer there to guide him, the man seems utterly at a loss of what to do at all.


He turns to Hanzi. "You thereriest. With what need can I assist?"

As Hanzi seems destined to fulfill the role of investigator until a proper one arrives and prepares an answer for Deurn, Kurst finally breaks his silence and speaks up. His eyes snap towards Hanzi and Cawdor with a fire closely resembling rage, but his tone is even and bold as he bellows, "You three! I need you three to assist me! As well as the druid's apprentice and the bard from the stage last night! We must find them immediately!"

The man's voice and demeanor seem not his own as tries in vain to carry a fraction of the weight of his brother's bearing forward here. Nevertheless, the burning embers in his eyes tell that his resolve is strong despite his tepid delivery. It is at this moment that Halgra and another detachment of militia, four people in total, arrive on the scene, Halgra's authoritative strides belying her age. The same as the others who have wandered up here, Halgra demands enlightenment of the situation, but her request is an order. "Kurst! What's going on in this hallway? Who are these people?"

The next moment speaks a lot to the man's potential. Rather than apologize and retreat back to his spineless shell, he instead holds his ground and declares, "I am deputizing these men and two more in the investigation of my brother's suicide, Chief Defender!"

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi seems a bit taken aback at the thrust of responsibility, but isn't about to shirk it. "Sarenrae aid me...I suppose I can take on this role, but I was hoping someone more experienced would relieve me of it..." Hanzi introduces himself again to Cawdor and Deurn as well as Halgra. "My name is Hanzi Ivarisky, and I am a Sarenite priest from Magnimar. Young Ruby picked me last night to aid her in the ceremony, along with the other men Kursk just mentioned. Unfortunately, the criers message bears true from what information I currently have, but I only took a cursory look into the matter. There may be more information waiting to be revealed." He turns to Deurn. "Well I guess you heard him, see if you can find that well-built druid and that glory hound that were on the stage with us last night." Hanzi pauses a moment, and then asks Halgra a question. "I'm a foreigner here, are there any local priests in town? I have need of at least one of them to help Kursk get his thoughts together before I ask him some tough questions."

[JBrock76]

The glaring sunlight shining through the window, in combination with the comotion from outside is enough to pull Tulorian out of his deep slumber. The taste in his mouth leaves much to be desired, and as he rolls to the side, he notices the tell-tale lump of some sleeping next to him. He scratches his head and closes his eyes, trying to conjure a face, let alone a name, to put to his companion. Drawing a complete blank, he decides stealth is in order so as to not disturb her, and to hopefully avoid any awkwardness. As he rolls the other way out of bed, he's stopped at the last second by another lump.

He finally managed to exit at the foot of the bed, stumbles around finding his clothes, manages to splash some water on his face, then makes a hasty exit. He stumbles into the main room of the tavern, just then realizing where he was, walks up to the bar and orders food and a cold ale to take the edge off. Just as he sits down, a man runs into the tavern shouting something about a man killing himself. Not exactly the best news to start your day.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As Mickiel approaches the Ramblehouse he hears the commotion from inside and begins to move more quickly. As he walks inside he stops whistling and listens to the noise, trying to pick out voices. When he hears he is being deputized a confused look crosses his face and he walks upstairs, coming up behind Halgra about a half-minute after her request to Kurst. Standing silently, he doesn't hide but does not announce himself either...

[Amazo]

Hanzi seems a bit taken aback at the thrust of responsibility, but isn't about to shirk it. "Sarenrae aid me...I suppose I can take on this role, but I was hoping someone more experienced would relieve me of it..." Hanzi introduces himself again to Cawdor and Deurn as well as Halgra. "My name is Hanzi Ivarisky, and I am a Sarenite priest from Magnimar. Young Ruby picked me last night to aid her in the ceremony, along with the other men Kursk just mentioned. Unfortunately, the criers message bears true from what information I currently have, but I only took a cursory look into the matter. There may be more information waiting to be revealed." He turns to Deurn. "Well I guess you heard him, see if you can find that well-built druid and that glory hound that were on the stage with us last night." Hanzi pauses a moment, and then asks Halgra a question. "I'm a foreigner here, are there any local priests in town? I have need of at least one of them to help Kursk get his thoughts together before I ask him some tough questions."

Halgra regards Hanzi with an analytical gaze for a moment before parting her intensely frowning lips to speak, "A priest of Sarenrae may find good company with the mission of Iomedae stationed here. Their prayer hall is in the northeast corner of the walled town proper. At this time of day, they will likely be difficult to miss as it is the only other pure white building within the walls. If the crusaders are not to your liking, you could throw your lot in with the priest of Abadar. His temple, the Countinghouse, our bank, is located near the Commons, where you helped celebrate Ruby's passage into adulthood last night. However, I must insist that if you are to leave you should go depart Grath the younger and your new apparent coworkers. I imagine he will need that time to come to his senses, and would like to take the time to inform you of your duties, should you choose to accept them."

Her state is difficult to read. She seems contemptuous of Kurst's rush to action and possibly of her perceived cowardice in Rodrick, concerned for the well-being of Trunau with one of its champions slain, and too experienced with death to care about the passing of one more person near her all at once.


As Mickiel approaches the Ramblehouse he hears the commotion from inside and begins to move more quickly. As he walks inside he stops whistling and listens to the noise, trying to pick out voices. When he hears he is being deputized a confused look crosses his face and he walks upstairs, coming up behind Halgra about a half-minute after her request to Kurst. Standing silently, he doesn't hide but does not announce himself either...

She turns to indicate the door and spots Mickiel, quiet as a mouse, observing everything. She blinks twice, registering his presence. "It seems you've been drafted into service before your master has finished training you, Mickiel. I'll leave Kurst to explain what he is hoping to gain from this little stunt of his while Jagrin and I attend to the real matters of laying this poor man to his proper rest. You men, you remain here and preserve the scene until our return." With that, she decides the proceedings do not require her presence further and strides past Mickiel without another word.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi quickly steps in the room and picks up the suicide note before the militia enter. Remembering his discussion with Larkin, he decides some things might be better left in the darkness until dawn can banish them away. He folds the paper gently so that only the first line of handwriting can be read, and comes back out. "Kursk, is there anyone you feel comfortable speaking with about your brother? I strongly feel like you need to remember him for how he was in life before I ask you about this matter. Also, I'm still not sure you're ready to see him like this, and don't wish this hurt upon you. So please don't try to force it on yourself, and stay out of the room for now." Hanzi invites Mickiel into the room with him to view the body and begins looking for clues and evidence of foul play.

Taking 20 on perception to find signs of foul play, 27, then 10 on heal check to check the obvious things for a 17.

[Amazo]

Kurst allows Hanzi to usher him out of the room while the four of you gain the opportunity to investigate the scene fully away from his potentially disapproving eyes. Outside the thin wooden door, they can all hear Kurst blustering the remaining militamen with his bravado, "You see? This is why I've deputized this lot. They're taking action! They're trustworthy!" He continues on at length about how these men should have brought his brother home or kept better tabs on him or how they should act more like your newly-formed-by-force group while Hanzi spies about the room.

A cursory perusal of the furniture and its containers shows that he did not bring much with him save a bottle of wine, a goblet to drink from, his personal effects, and the clothes on his back. However, a closer inspection of the mundane items around the room turn up some interesting results. The hopeknife is engraved along its sheath, reading, "To Rodrik, my love." Those of you from Trunau find this quite peculiar as Rodrik is unmarried and was not seeing anyone, at least not publicly. Additionally, in the desk's drawer is a secret compartment accessed by pushing up the bottom board via a small hole underneath the drawer. Wedged between the normal and secret compartments is this slip of paper.

https://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee498/Bhaakon/RodrikClue1.jpg
Finally, there is a faint smell coming from the goblet of wine besides the scent of fermented grape. It smells vaguely of nuts and nutmeg, though it could very well just be because it has been left uncorked for so long.

Turning you attention to the body, a careful examination of the wrists leads to some conclusions. For death to be possible from horizontal cuts across the wrists, the cuts would have to be incredibly deep, which they are. The cuts themselves are even, implying a practiced hand with either swordplay or prior self-harming experience. Examining his arms shows no evidence of the latter. One peculiarity remains: the cuts are too deep to be matched so well. Once he cut that deeply on one wrist, it would have been too limp to apply the pressure needed to cut as deeply as it did on the other arm, though it is theoretically possible to achieve the same results with enough finger strength.

You may attempt a Knowledge (nature) check to identify potential causes for the odor of the wine goblet.

[Shadowsend]

"Hmm...if we can hear Kursk arguing through this door...perhaps someone might have heard an argument last night? Perhaps the halfling woman heard it?" Hanzi begins musing aloud, to try to work through things, and now that the other men are in the room, they might have ideas about these things as well. Hanzi looks through the clues that are being collected. He also shares openly his findings with the three other men in the room.

He shows them the suicide letter. "I was going to ask Kursk about the handwriting on this note as well, but not yet. I'm not ready to reveal the content until he's had a chance to grieve properly. The content is also very strange, and reading it might lead him to the wrong conclusions."

Hanzi considers the bottle of wine. "I wonder if this wine is a gift from someone, or if he purchased it here. If there's poison, is it from the goblet or from the wine? Is the goblet from this tavern or some other place? There was a lot of chaos last night, so both could have come from any number of places."

He considers the hopeknife's subtle differences. He spot's Deurn's. "Is it common to get new hopeknives as gifts? Or get them engraved with messages? I don't know these customs. Could this one be part of a set? Does anyone know the smith who signed this bill of sale? And why would he pay for his own engraving instead of both his and his love's?"

Hanzi explains his conclusions from the body. "Could the wrists have been brought together and then slashed at the same time? Isn't one deep cut enough to end a life? Why both? And the precision of both cuts..."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"It seems you've been drafted into service before your master has finished training you, Mickiel. I'll leave Kurst to explain what he is hoping to gain from this little stunt ..."
At the woman's fierce gaze and curt words Mickiel pales slightly and looks to the side. Nodding respectfully as she leaves he exhales audibly in relief once she has left before turning to the situation at hand.


It smells vaguely of nuts and nutmeg, though it could very well just be because it has been left uncorked for so long.
"May I?" he asks Hanzi, carefully taking the wine in one hand and the goblet in the other. After carefully exhaling through his nose he sniffs tentatively at the bottle of wine first, followed by a deep breath ones he is sure the aroma won't be too strong. Holding his breath and letting the drink's fragrance impact him he waits several long moments. Then, he repeats the process with the goblet, taking several clearing breaths first.

Mickiel is trying to mimic the way a tracking animal would differentiate smells, though in a more practiced and less instinctive manner. Does the bottle have the nuts and nutmeg smell, or only the goblet?

Knowledge (Nature) [roll0] to recognize anything unusual

[Farmerbink]

"You men, you remain here and preserve the scene until our return." With that, she decides the proceedings do not require her presence further and strides past Mickiel without another word.
Deurn faces the woman squarely, respect evident in his features. He nods simply, and takes up a position blocking quite a bit more than most of the doorway. Without convincing him to allow otherwise, most of the townsfolk will be thoroughly unable to access the room.


"Is it common to get new hopeknives as gifts? Or get them engraved with messages? I don't know these customs. Could this one be part of a set? Does anyone know the smith who signed this bill of sale? And why would he pay for his own engraving instead of both his and his love's?"

The huge man scowls in thought and shakes his head to the negative. "No. We do not usually exchange hopeknives outside of marriage- and Rodrik was unmarried. Not even betrothed, that I recall..." He begins wondering on the other questions, but is interrupted by the discovery of the note. "It seems it is not a set, if only one was ordered.... I know of the man, he will know more about the person who placed the order- though it seems that Rodrik did, indeed buy it. Perhaps the man was a secretly enamored... or tricked, maybe into meeting someone here?" His face becomes marred by undisguised anger at the thought of such betrayal.

[Amazo]

Mickiel is trying to mimic the way a tracking animal would differentiate smells, though in a more practiced and less instinctive manner. Does the bottle have the nuts and nutmeg smell, or only the goblet?

Knowledge (Nature) [roll0] to recognize anything unusual

The peculiar scent only emanates from the goblet, not the bottle. With his training in recognizing various plants and natural substances, Mickiel is able to to deduce that this particular bouquet of scents belongs to multiple doses of oil of taggit. Though technically a poison, the only effect of oil of taggit, even in extreme doses, is a few hours of restful sleep. Either way, Mickiel and Deurn both know that the only likely purveyor of poisons in town is at the general store, That 'N Such (known to outsiders as Meeson's General Supplies, according to its sign). While the woman in charge of the storefront, Jess Meeson, would not be knowledgeable about the stuff, she may know about its sale recently, as her husband, Gorkis Meeson, would be the alchemist that synthesized it if it was made in Trunau, as he is the only apothecary in town.

Mickiel, in particular, once believed he would be at odds with Gorkis' exploitation of natural resources for their alchemical properties but has since learned that the man merely has a scholarly interest in their use as reagents, barely keeping enough of a stock to run that part of his business.

[Shadowsend]

"Why don't we split up, then, so we can get more of these questions answered. We can meet back here in two hours." Hanzi hands the bill to Deurn.

"Deurn, will you speak with the smith about the purchase of this hopeknife?

Mickiel, will you try to find that bard?

Cawdor, will you speak with the tavern keeper and try to locate a matching goblet?

I will speak with Kurst about our findings and the note. Try not to add anything to anyone's knowledge, since we suspect foul play, we don't want to let the person who did this know someone is seeking them. We will reveal everything at once, in a blaze of truth, to wipe away these horrible rumors of suicide. But we must let them remain rumors until the truth is ready to disperse the confusion and doubt. Right now it would only increase the confusion."

With that, Hanzi goes out of the room to fulfill his part of the plan. "Kurst, we need to speak, and out of the earshot of these men and any eavesdroppers or rumormongers. Do you know a place?"

[KevSaund]

Cawdor, will you speak with the tavern keeper and try to locate a matching goblet?


Cawdor leaps at the opportunity to be helpful. He quickly snatches up the goblet and inspects and tries to implant it's shape and any desings into memory. He understands that removing it form the scene would not be the best idea. If he manages to find a maker's mark or any other particular design flourishes he pays special attention to them, committing them to memory. Once he is confident that he can remember them, he returns the goblet to its place and bypasses the very large man with little more than a mumbled "Pardon" searching beyond for the proprietor.

[Amazo]

With that, Hanzi goes out of the room to fulfill his part of the plan. "Kurst, we need to speak, and out of the earshot of these men and any eavesdroppers or rumormongers. Do you know a place?"

The man, still straining to stand tall despite the weight of his emotions, seems to legitimately be put somewhat at ease by Hanzi's attempts at guidance. He answers with certainty, "Yes: my father's quarters in the Longhouse. It's the only private room in the place, and it has stone walls. No doubt he'll have the rest of the barracks on active patrol while he handles this situation personally too."


Cawdor leaps at the opportunity to be helpful. He quickly snatches up the goblet and inspects and tries to implant it's shape and any desings into memory. He understands that removing it form the scene would not be the best idea. If he manages to find a maker's mark or any other particular design flourishes he pays special attention to them, committing them to memory. Once he is confident that he can remember them, he returns the goblet to its place and bypasses the very large man with little more than a mumbled "Pardon" searching beyond for the proprietor.

Cawdor's examinations discover an etching on the base of the goblet likely indicating it's owner. It is a relatively simple depiction of a dagger stabbing through the ground. Despite it's simplicity and Cawdor's relatively short time in town, he recognizes the similarity to the sign outside The Killin' Ground almost immediately. Quick on his feet to go follow the lead, Cawdor passes by Cham's room. The thin doors strike again as he overhears her angry pacing and muttering to herself from within. He makes out, "I'll be ruined. They'll find out about him. It's just a matter of time. I should never have taken that money!"

Though she could easily just be talking about Rodrick, hearing the woman's voice reminds the witch that. Hanzi had also asked him to pursue a lead with her. The man would certainly be impressed with his contribution to the effort if he managed to follow up on both leads, wouldn't he?

[Shadowsend]

The man, still straining to stand tall despite the weight of his emotions, seems to legitimately be put somewhat at ease by Hanzi's attempts at guidance. He answers with certainty, "Yes: my father's quarters in the Longhouse. It's the only private room in the place, and it has stone walls. No doubt he'll have the rest of the barracks on active patrol while he handles this situation personally too."

"Let us head there then, and fairly quickly. Time is against us." Hanzi follows his new boss to the Longhouse.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel is able to to deduce that this particular bouquet of scents belongs to multiple doses of oil of taggit.
"There is oil of taggit in his glass. It helps people to sleep, though mixing it with wine may not be the best idea," Mickiel says after carefully smelling the glass and bottle.


"Mickiel, will you try to find that bard?"
A momentary expression of thought and debate seems to cross the druid's face, though he nods and whistles quietly as he steps out past Deurn. Making his way down the stairs and out of the building he thinks for a moment before heading to the Killin' Ground in the hopes of finding Tulorian.

[Farmerbink]

"We can meet back here in two hours." Hanzi hands the bill to Deurn.

"Deurn, will you speak with the smith about the purchase of this hopeknife? "

As the others press by him, Deurn's face is a warring mass of confusion and incomprehension. Several moments after Mickiel leaves, he slowly nods his head. "Yes. I will do that."

He turns and marches resolutely from the room to find the blacksmith.

[Amazo]

"Let us head there then, and fairly quickly. Time is against us." Hanzi follows his new boss to the Longhouse.

Kurst insists on waiting for the others to depart first, to make sure they each have a task to do related to his brother before he leaves the scene. After the party splits off, he unerringly guides Hanzi to the Longhouse. Hanzi is actually familiar with the building: it is a huge, lumbering edifice easily seen from the stage in the Commons. It's not long after departing before the building can be seen towering above the surrounding houses, and less time before they are in its shadow. For better or worse, the militia leave the two of you mostly to your own devices even as you approach its base of operations. As you open the front door to the building, the sound of the door echoes against the wooden beams of the building's high ceiling. Shutting it behind you, the same echo greets you again, the only sound in the building. Kurst seems to have been right about the militia being mobilized.

A high pair of stone walls mark off your final destination within the large building quite conspicuously. Inside that compartment of the building lies a room in stark contrast to the rest of the barracks quarters. Whereas those beds and footlockers were spartan, as expected of a military facility, these quarters are relatively lavish by Trunau standards. Jagrin has kept a few trophies of dangerous beasts he has hunted in addition to the orcs, including sets of skins strewn about the floor and horns mounted on the wall. The furniture is of fine construction from handsome reddish wood and includes a desk, a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a chest. With that final door closed behind the two of you, Kurst's curiosity gets the better of him and he wears it on his face, though he waits for Hanzi to take the lead.


"There is oil of taggit in his glass. It helps people to sleep, though mixing it with wine may not be the best idea," Mickiel says after carefully smelling the glass and bottle.


A momentary expression of thought and debate seems to cross the druid's face, though he nods and whistles quietly as he steps out past Deurn. Making his way down the stairs and out of the building he thinks for a moment before heading to the Killin' Ground in the hopes of finding Tulorian.

The bragard bard is not difficult to find once Mickiel reaches The Killin' Ground. The man is quietly enjoying a simple repast at the bar along with a morning pint, no doubt to wash away either some of the night's events or some of his regrets for his consumption of even more liquor during it. Despite his rowdiness last night, the man is unassuming this morning, though his attire still makes him stand out strongly from the handful of other patrons milling about at this early hour.


As the others press by him, Deurn's face is a warring mass of confusion and incomprehension. Several moments after Mickiel leaves, he slowly nods his head. "Yes. I will do that."

He turns and marches resolutely from the room to find the blacksmith.

Sun-up marks the beginning of the workday for Trunau, and Clamor's head smith is no exception. She must rush to finish orders before midday to have a valuable enough stock of wares to have an associate set up a stall for on the Barterstones to entice passing traders. Being in service to a farming community, Clamor's primary production is of tools, but the need for self-defense means the tools of war are only a close second.

As Deurn seeks the place out, the telltale chorus of hammers on anvils from which the place draws its nickname greet him far before the sight of the place does. Nevertheless, the line of forges open to the air for ventilation is hard to miss, especially with the furnaces already burning at peak capacity even this early on. Sara Morninghawk is easy to find among her peers: she is taller them all as a half-orc, and her unprotected, heavily tattooed arms give her away as much as her green-hued skin. She regards Deurn with a welcoming smile, even stepping away from her work to greet him properly, though when she spots the receipt in his huge hands, she quickly broaches business. "It's good to see you, Deurn. Always a pleasure to know the folks outside the walls proper are still thriving. I must ask, have you come regarding that newest set of pans for your mother? While they are simple to make, it will still take me the week I original estimated for her given the number she requires."



Something else is common to the experiences of anyone walking outside in Trunau today. The town is covered in graffiti, and most of it was not there last night. While a little bit of vandalism is not uncommon from the youth during a night of revelry, the amount of it today is unprecedented. The militia is out in force trying to scrub it away to return the town to more normal proceedings on this of all days, but they are having difficulty removing it. Generally it's done with chalk or makeshift pigments derived from a few local plants, making them easy to remove with a splash of water, but these markings all seem to be done with real paints. Taking them down without damaging some of the wood underneath is proving difficult for the fighting men and women of Trunau. Even more curious is the subject of the graffiti. Each piece is the same symbol: a simple white sword, though the exact style varies somewhat as it was presumably drawn by different hands.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi looks on the strange white sword painted on the buildings in town, but doesn't recognize the symbol as having particular religious meaning.

"I will get to my findings in a few moments. For now, please, tell me about your brother. Also, spare no detail, as I can gather what he was like publicly from my new company."

Hanzi listens patiently and asks clarifying questions as possible to get a better idea about Rodrick's inner personality, as reflected by his brother.

"Besides you, did your brother have any other close friends?"

He then begins to ask questions that are more relevant to the circumstances surrounding Rodrick's death.

"Was there anyone special in Rodrick's life?"

If not currently, Hanzi asks, "Had there ever been anyone like that? Perhaps someone that has already passed on?"

"Describe your brother when he was upset."

"Are there any pieces of paper with his handwriting on it?"

[Amazo]

"I will get to my findings in a few moments. For now, please, tell me about your brother. Also, spare no detail, as I can gather what he was like publicly from my new company."

Though this line of questioning was inevitable, Kurst still squirms under the scrutiny of it. He takes a sobering breathe and releases that assumed persona of bravado entirely before beginning his tale. Rodrick as a young man started much more as a lover and creator of the arts than a fighter. It was only the orc ambush that killed his mother that spurred him to throw himself completely into the defense of Trunau more or less full time. As fate would have it, he proved as much an artisan with a sword as he did with a pen. His aptitude was so great he was able to pursue both of his loves simultaneously without much apparent difficulty. To further his artistic range, Rodrick threw himself into public service beyond his militia work. He found that helping the people around him in need always proved to be the best information for his greatest artistic works. While his explanation gives a great deal of biographical information about his brother, it does not necessarily reveal much into his actual personality, at least until he continues to elaborate at Hanzi's behest.

Kurst explains that he has always seen his brother to be proud of his stations in life no matter what they are. He hypothesizes that acceptance of his role in the town is what gave him the nearly tireless supply of energy he had to pursue all of his passions simultaneously. However, as a result of his humility as a public servant, Rodrick has known almost no criticism his entire life. Two particular moments challenging his self-perception stand out to Kurst: the death of his mother and the utter rejection of his latest stage play. When their mother died, it was their father's criticism that he would simply let her lay unavenged that made him "realize" his role as the next likely Chief Defender of Trunau. Unlike that instance though, the play's rejection had no such learning moment associated with it.

The play premiered no more than a month ago and featured a love story between an orc raider and a villager of a town quite similar to Trunau. The orc man eventually is "tamed" by his heart's emotions for the woman, and together they bring a modicum of peace to the war-torn village. Despite being well-written, full of more potent and masterful metaphors and themes than the simple plot would suggest, the people of Trunau were disgusted by the mere concept. The play was booed off the stage before its final act. Still, Rodrick seemed to take this setback in stride as well as any other negative event in his service to the town.



"Besides you, did your brother have any other close friends?"

Rodrick's duties, self-imposed and otherwise, keep him spread relatively thin across the town. Though he has a positive relationship with virtually everyone in it, those relationships are rarely particularly deep emotionally. Kurst does note, however, that Rodrick had been spending a great amount of time at the sanctuary to Iomedae in the month after his failed play. Kurst respected his brother's privacy too much to pry further beyond that though.



"Was there anyone special in Rodrick's life?"

Up until recently, Kurst was convinced that there was not, just like everyone else in Trunau. However, the play revealed an ulterior motive to its performance almost immediately afterwards: their father discovered that he was seeing a half-orc woman in town named Brinya Kelver. He was irate that his son could consider "sullying their family" by bringing orc blood into it. Kurst manages a weak scoff as he explains that it was only a matter of time before he was discovered anyway, since they had already exchanged hopeknives to betroth themselves. As far as he knows, they stopped seeing each other after being found out, though he suspects that if Brinya was as important to him as writing, it wouldn't have stopped him.



"Describe your brother when he was upset."

Every setback to Rodrick was an opportunity. When he was upset, it only seemed to motivate him to greater heights of effort. Thinking about it now, Kurst speculates that this may have been because he blamed himself for those failures and wished to better himself to protect those around him against his own weakness. He panics a bit at the possibility, his suicide seeming more possible at the prospect.



"Are there any pieces of paper with his handwriting on it?"

Still shaken from his self-given revelation, Kurst has to take a moment to settle his breathing before answering that Rodrick had several manuscripts and journals where he recorded his works in progress, though he does not know where he would store them, as his footlocker in the Longhouse would likely be too public a place to keep something so important to him.

[Shadowsend]

Though this line of questioning was inevitable, Kurst still squirms under the scrutiny of it. He takes a sobering breathe and releases that assumed persona of bravado entirely before beginning his tale. Rodrick as a young man started much more as a lover and creator of the arts than a fighter. It was only the orc ambush that killed his mother that spurred him to throw himself completely into the defense of Trunau more or less full time. As fate would have it, he proved as much an artisan with a sword as he did with a pen. His aptitude was so great he was able to pursue both of his loves simultaneously without much apparent difficulty. To further his artistic range, Rodrick threw himself into public service beyond his militia work. He found that helping the people around him in need always proved to be the best information for his greatest artistic works. While his explanation gives a great deal of biographical information about his brother, it does not necessarily reveal much into his actual personality, at least until he continues to elaborate at Hanzi's behest.

"Besides yourself, did he have any rivals in either arena?"


Kurst explains that he has always seen his brother to be proud of his stations in life no matter what they are. He hypothesizes that acceptance of his role in the town is what gave him the nearly tireless supply of energy he had to pursue all of his passions simultaneously. However, as a result of his humility as a public servant, Rodrick has known almost no criticism his entire life. Two particular moments challenging his self-perception stand out to Kurst: the death of his mother and the utter rejection of his latest stage play. When their mother died, it was their father's criticism that he would simply let her lay unavenged that made him "realize" his role as the next likely Chief Defender of Trunau. Unlike that instance though, the play's rejection had no such learning moment associated with it.

"On the manner of energy, did your brother sleep well at night, or ever complain of a bad night's sleep?"

"Did your brother bear ill will towards your father for spurring him towards a life of combat and away from his other passions?"


The play premiered no more than a month ago and featured a love story between an orc raider and a villager of a town quite similar to Trunau. The orc man eventually is "tamed" by his heart's emotions for the woman, and together they bring a modicum of peace to the war-torn village. Despite being well-written, full of more potent and masterful metaphors and themes than the simple plot would suggest, the people of Trunau were disgusted by the mere concept. The play was booed off the stage before its final act. Still, Rodrick seemed to take this setback in stride as well as any other negative event in his service to the town.

"Rodrick certainly wasn't the only person shamed by this failure. Can you describe some of the other people heavily involved in this production?"

"Do you remember anyone particularly angry about events presented in the play?"


Rodrick's duties, self-imposed and otherwise, keep him spread relatively thin across the town. Though he has a positive relationship with virtually everyone in it, those relationships are rarely particularly deep emotionally. Kurst does note, however, that Rodrick had been spending a great amount of time at the sanctuary to Iomedae in the month after his failed play. Kurst respected his brother's privacy too much to pry further beyond that though.

"I shall speak with the priest of Iomedae, then. Did your brother have any childhood friends? Just like looking directly at the sun, sometimes we are blinded by things that should be obvious, and we need people who see things from a different perspective to guide us. So while I think your description was accurate, I'd like to hear more perspectives given."


Up until recently, Kurst was convinced that there was not, just like everyone else in Trunau. However, the play revealed an ulterior motive to its performance almost immediately afterwards: their father discovered that he was seeing a half-orc woman in town named Brinya Kelver. He was irate that his son could consider "sullying their family" by bringing orc blood into it. Kurst manages a weak scoff as he explains that it was only a matter of time before he was discovered anyway, since they had already exchanged hopeknives to betroth themselves. As far as he knows, they stopped seeing each other after being found out, though he suspects that if Brinya was as important to him as writing, it wouldn't have stopped him.

"Can you describe Brinya for me, so that I can identify her while I'm out and about?"


Every setback to Rodrick was an opportunity. When he was upset, it only seemed to motivate him to greater heights of effort. Thinking about it now, Kurst speculates that this may have been because he blamed himself for those failures and wished to better himself to protect those around him against his own weakness. He panics a bit at the possibility, his suicide seeming more possible at the prospect.

"There is evidence for suicide, yes, but there is also evidence of the possibility of other explanations, so for the moment you should put the fear of suicide out of your mind, because there are quite a few oddities. Unfortunately, I and my new friends are yet unable to prove foul play and have no suspects, nor yet motives, for who would harm your brother. This is one of the main reasons I requested privacy. It is one thing to have someone so loved in town commit suicide, and quite another for them to be murdered. The new talk would certainly alert the perpetrator to our awareness of his or her involvement, and they might take precaution against being found, or worse. Better to be considered incompetent and then reveal otherwise, than to be made a fool of by revealing too much too quickly. The other reason was the delicate nature of the questions I must ask. If we are to get to the heart of this, we must understand your brother. But these events lead me to believe the sentries for the town and personal guard of officials and leaders should be doubled, including yours at least for tonight. I recommend stating the reason as being the strange graffiti that sprang up all over town last night. This may alert our unknown actor, but it could also make any foul plans of his or hers more difficult to complete."


Still shaken from his self-given revelation, Kurst has to take a moment to settle his breathing before answering that Rodrick had several manuscripts and journals where he recorded his works in progress, though he does not know where he would store them, as his footlocker in the Longhouse would likely be too public a place to keep something so important to him.

"Perhaps he showed such a cache to Brinya."

"One last thing, have you ever seen anything like this graffiti before?"

After getting answers to these questions, Hanzi heads back to the inn to beg forgiveness of Sarenrae for the interruption of his normal prayer time and to pray for an hour, while waiting for the others to return.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor's examinations discover an etching on the base of the goblet likely indicating it's owner. It is a relatively simple depiction of a dagger stabbing through the ground. Despite it's simplicity and Cawdor's relatively short time in town, he recognizes the similarity to the sign outside The Killin' Ground almost immediately. Quick on his feet to go follow the lead, Cawdor passes by Cham's room. The thin doors strike again as he overhears her angry pacing and muttering to herself from within. He makes out, "I'll be ruined. They'll find out about him. It's just a matter of time. I should never have taken that money!"

Though she could easily just be talking about Rodrick, hearing the woman's voice reminds the witch that. Hanzi had also asked him to pursue a lead with her. The man would certainly be impressed with his contribution to the effort if he managed to follow up on both leads, wouldn't he?

Cawdor pauses to debate his options. After a brief reflection he decides that The Killin' Ground will be there later, but this conversation could be useful now. He pauses outside the door straining to hear anything else, and if someone exits and spots him he knows he can just tell them he was looking for the lady to ask her some questions. And that was his goal, wasn't it?

Not sure if I need a perception check here, but just in case. [roll0]

[Farmerbink]

Deurn waves politely as he notes the proprietor's location and places himself to enable her to approach without disturbing the work taking place all around her. The big man nods in greeting, but cannot maintain an undisturbed visage.

"It's good to see you, Deurn. Always a pleasure to know the folks outside the walls proper are still thriving. I must ask, have you come regarding that newest set of pans for your mother? While they are simple to make, it will still take me the week I original estimated for her given the number she requires."
Shaking his head to the negative, he begins speaking in his ponderous, bass tones, "I have not. I assume you have heard the news, I-- I have been deputized by the younger Grath to inquire about a hopeknife that his brother, Rodrik purchased. I... do not know what information in particular I should seek, but suspect foul play was involved in the man's death. Do you know of anything unusual about this order?" He extends the receipt for the half-orc perusal, his keen eyes searching her face and stance for the meaning behind her response.


Sadly, diplomacy might also be applicable.... [roll0]
SM: [roll1]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Mickiel approaches the bard and taps him on the shoulder before saying, "Um, if you haven't heard, there has been a death in town. You were mentioned along with several others, including me, and made into a deputy of the guard. I know this may come as a surprise and shock, but if you would wrap up breakfast quickly, make yourself presentable, and come with me, we have work to do..."

[JBrock76]

Upon hearing the unfortunate news, Tulorian immediately grows serious. "Well, I would by lying if i said i expected to hear that. This is most disturbing indeed. And while my talents usually lie in telling stories, not solving them, i will attempt to provide whatever assistance I can. A deputy you say? Well that's definitely a first! Usually I'm the one avoiding the law, not that i make a habit of breaking the law mind you, but simply as a matter of course. In my travels, law enforcers usually hamper one's pursuits of a great tale. But it would appear the people in this town are in need, therefore we must put selfish needs aside and focus our efforts to the situation at hand. And who knows, there just might come a great story out of this after all! As for my appearance, this is about as good as it gets this early in the day."
Tulorian pays his tab, thanks the owner for his hospitality, and follows his companion out.

[Amazo]

He extends the receipt for the half-orc perusal, his keen eyes searching her face and stance for the meaning behind her response.


Deurn has cause to almost feel guilty for suspecting Sara of trying to hide something from him. As a half-orc, her and her own single mother had to face many of the same challenges in Trunau as Deurn did. Still, extenuating circumstances abound...

Sara, however, seems to be somewhat relieved at the presentation of the receipt after his lengthy invocation of legal standing, though her expression at having to discuss the sad news of the day becomes somber nonetheless. "I certainly do, Deurn. The first goes without saying: Rodrick had no children, so his purchase of a hopeknife is already a bit unusual. If he brought it to bear and was disarmed of his old one, it would've been in a battle with many other milita members around talking about it. I don't know why he would want a spare... However, more pertinent to your investigation is probably the fact that the knife was stolen from me before Rodrick could pick it up. I suspect one of those half-orcs that was squatting in Trunau probably took it on a dare from his fellows or because he wanted a souvenir of his stay here but couldn't afford it." She is likely livid at the prospect but hides it fairly well.

Deurn and Mickiel know of the occurrence she was talking about. For the past few weeks up until a few days ago, a veritable horde of half-orcs had descend upon Trunau to engage in trade. Though they seemed to be escaped slaves and children of war who had escaped their fates by fleeing to Lastwall, the mere mention of the orc hordes of Belkzen is enough to set most Trunauns off into wild speculation. Their leader was a particularly fierce half-orc with an elaborate tattoo covering most of his face, which he said was his orc father's way of marking him as an outsider permanently even should he escape the tribe. The group expressed an interest in excavating some of the dwarven ruins left in Belkzen and bought up all of the equipment they could from the town relevant to this venture. Though their presence was a veritable boon of gold and commerce for virtually every citizen, suspicions still ran high throughout their stay. They did leave without a fuss though, so to hear that this is more or less the only negative legacy of their stay is quite a testament to the charismatic ability of the group's tattooed leader.


Cawdor pauses to debate his options. After a brief reflection he decides that The Killin' Ground will be there later, but this conversation could be useful now. He pauses outside the door straining to hear anything else, and if someone exits and spots him he knows he can just tell them he was looking for the lady to ask her some questions. And that was his goal, wasn't it?


Her discussion with herself breaks down into deliberation with herself, her tone falling into hushed tones spit between gritted teeth. Cawdor is still capable of making out a good deal of her debate. "The ledger's the only clue. I could, ah, misplace it... But if the priest and his friends ask, then what? I could say that I don't keep one perhaps...? But literally anyone in town could tell them otherwise... Who else was on the page? Could I forge Rodrick's and the other's entries onto a blank page and cut the offending one out? Cousin Jeth might be able to pull that one off... He does still owe me a favor for letting him flub up the doors in this place..."

Her conversation continues in this vain for quite some time, as long as Cawdor cares to listen.


"Besides yourself, did he have any rivals in either arena?"

After a moment of consideration, he responds with, "Not anyone who dared to make it known publicly... If you're opposing as popular a man as my brother in the court of public opinion, you'd practically be writing your own excommunication, wouldn't you? Still... maybe one of Halgra's older sons could resent his ambition for the role of Chief Defender. They may believe their birthright should offer an advantage in the consideration for the title, but they didn't earn it like he would have... As for his poems and plays, he was the only writer in town! We're too focused on survival here to pursue things most would consider as frivolous as the arts... Only Rodrick in all his enthusiasm managed to muster up the motivation to succeed in both. In fact, his performances usually involved hiring a whatever troupe of bards or performers was wandering the area with a trade caravan to put the show on. They were so well-received he almost never had to offer any gold up front for their participation."



"On the manner of energy, did your brother sleep well at night, or ever complain of a bad night's sleep?"

He's confused by the question, "No. Never. Why do you ask? Did you find something?"



"Did your brother bear ill will towards your father for spurring him towards a life of combat and away from his other passions?"

"Actually, yes, at first. He knew Father was never the same after losing Mother, and knew that his new bloodlust was the result of misplace bereavement, but he eventually came around to the role as far as anyone could tell. His writing always helped people's spirits when times were especially rough. He just took to the sword as a way to protect people's body's long enough to experience his next work. His passions fed one another."



"Rodrick certainly wasn't the only person shamed by this failure. Can you describe some of the other people heavily involved in this production?"

"Do you remember anyone particularly angry about events presented in the play?"

"Brinya was certainly mortified over the reception, as it was meant to be an occasion for their relationship to be revealed in a more favorable light, but as for the performers themselves, they haven't returned to Trunau since the production. The troupe master was furious about not receiving a single copper from the ordeal despite pouring a fair amount of his own resources into the venture though. Quite a few people in town took offense to the idea that the orcs could be peaceful. Loss is a common them in people's stories here. The horde claims our lives often, so the notion that such a simple solution could have prevented all of that sorrow rubbed more than a few of our people the wrong way. Still, Rodrick was forgiven for his misstep almost immediately. It was bought one mistake, egregious as it was, in an otherwise illustrious record. His new play was meant to be a return to form, starring a daring investigator unravelling the mystery of a coven of troll witches, as I recall.



"I shall speak with the priest of Iomedae, then. Did your brother have any childhood friends? Just like looking directly at the sun, sometimes we are blinded by things that should be obvious, and we need people who see things from a different perspective to guide us. So while I think your description was accurate, I'd like to hear more perspectives given."

Kurst's face darkens immensely before responding. He can't even bear to look Hanzi in the eyes as he answers this one. "None that still live among us. Before Rodrick rose to Patrol Leader, our militia was being devastated on a regular basis because of Jagrin's crusade of revenge. That year we suffered the most losses in our defenses than we ever have in our entire history. Nearly everyone of our age died or deserted the town during that dark time of our lives."



"Can you describe Brinya for me, so that I can identify her while I'm out and about?"

He describes this woman, and tells you her place of residence and employment: as a live-in maid for another boarding house just northwest of the Commons.

http://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/9/93/Brinya.png



"One last thing, have you ever seen anything like this graffiti before?"

"No, never. We have expected this lot of half-orc scoundrels that were occupying the town previously to pull a stunt like this, but they left peaceably after a very politely conducted stay..."

If you ask about general information about the half-orcs, you'll get the same information I gave for Deurn and Mickiel above.

[JBrock76]

Once out the door, Tulorian looks over at Mickiel. "So where are we headed? And what exactly is it we are looking for?"

[Farmerbink]

"However, more pertinent to your investigation is probably the fact that the knife was stolen from me before Rodrick could pick it up. I suspect one of those half-orcs that was squatting in Trunau probably took it on a dare from his fellows or because he wanted a souvenir of his stay here but couldn't afford it."

Deurn makes no effort to hide his relief mingled with excitement. [A real-life mystery!] As he exhales his contentment, he smiles at the woman. "You have my deepest thanks for your help- I knew you would steer me right. It is... an odd relief to know that Rodrik was not so secretly depressed as it appeared. I know how to deal with thieves and murderers." For a brief moment, his eyes light up with deliberate fury. "Thank you for your time and aid." With a respectful bow, he turns from the blacksmith to report his findings.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi returns to the Ramblehouse, and heads back to his quarters to gather his belongings which are hopefully still there. He begins his prayers, then heads back upstairs to meet everyone at the appointed time.

I realize Hanzi could happen to run into Cawdor sooner and begin asking the proprietor some pointed questions, but I felt like Hanzi's had enough spotlight and should let some of the others shine some more. And this gives him time to do some of the things he needs to as a cleric.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"So where are we headed? And what exactly is it we are looking for?"
"There's been a death, and the man's brother is a member of the guard who seems to think the bunch of us have something to offer. Past that, I have no idea," replies Mickiel, carefully looking where he is walking as they head towards the Ramblehouse.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor makes a mental note to tell the others of the ledger, and maybe they'll have a suggestion about what it means. He certainly doesn't want to frighten the woman any more than she already appears to be. He leaves her to her ramblings, and makes his way to the Killin' Ground. Once he arrives (he continues on, even if he happens to pass the Bard and Druid) His first act is to order a goblet of wine. It's not that he wants to drink so early, but it seems the easiest way to compare the goblets here to the one found by the body.

[Amazo]

Deurn makes no effort to hide his relief mingled with excitement. [A real-life mystery!] As he exhales his contentment, he smiles at the woman. "You have my deepest thanks for your help- I knew you would steer me right. It is... an odd relief to know that Rodrik was not so secretly depressed as it appeared. I know how to deal with thieves and murderers." For a brief moment, his eyes light up with deliberate fury. "Thank you for your time and aid." With a respectful bow, he turns from the blacksmith to report his findings.

As he approaches the Ramblehouse, he is stopped by Charl, his small arms full of the fresh delivery of bread he always picks up to serve with breakfast at the Ramblehouse. "Hey, big guy. Not often I see you out and about this early. Your mom's finding it a bit unusual too. Maybe you ought to check in with her before she thinks you're playing hooky today?" He nods towards the multiple baskets hanging from each arm. "Speaking of which, I have to get these to whatever heavy sleepers aren't up yet after all the commotion this morning. We''ll talk summore later, right Deurn?"


Hanzi returns to the Ramblehouse, and heads back to his quarters to gather his belongings which are hopefully still there. He begins his prayers, then heads back upstairs to meet everyone at the appointed time.

I realize Hanzi could happen to run into Cawdor sooner and begin asking the proprietor some pointed questions, but I felt like Hanzi's had enough spotlight and should let some of the others shine some more. And this gives him time to do some of the things he needs to as a cleric.

Kurst accompanies Hanzi back to the Ramblehouse to await news from his appointees. To Hanzi's relief, the body has been removed from the scene, and there is no trace of Jagrin or the militia to further instigate the man as he finally has a moment to himself to grieve quietly.


"There's been a death, and the man's brother is a member of the guard who seems to think the bunch of us have something to offer. Past that, I have no idea," replies Mickiel, carefully looking where he is walking as they head towards the Ramblehouse.

The two men return to where Mickiel last saw the younger Grath: the Ramblehouse's top floor. However, they have caught the man grieving. They can hear his muffled sobs on the otherwise empty floor as he addresses his departed brother in this mistaken moment of solitude.


Cawdor makes a mental note to tell the others of the ledger, and maybe they'll have a suggestion about what it means. He certainly doesn't want to frighten the woman any more than she already appears to be. He leaves her to her ramblings, and makes his way to the Killin' Ground. Once he arrives (he continues on, even if he happens to pass the Bard and Druid) His first act is to order a goblet of wine. It's not that he wants to drink so early, but it seems the easiest way to compare the goblets here to the one found by the body.

It takes some negotiating to even get a serving of wine served to him. Apparently it's not too common a purchase over the tavern's own brand of moonshine or just some normal ale or beer. Then it takes even more deliberation to get it served in a goblet instead of a tankard. Apparently, a fair number of the specialized vessels went missing during last night's ruckus, and the bartender is hesitant to let another one out of his sight for a second. Nevertheless, as he uncorks a new bottle of wine just to serve Cawdor, a man apparently in possession of particularly refined tastes according to the bartender, the goblet standing before the witch on the counter tells him everything he wanted to know. The goblet certainly did come from here, though whether or not the bottle did remains to be determined.

[Farmerbink]

"Hey, big guy... -snip- ...We''ll talk summore later, right Deurn?"

Deurn smiles at the halfling. "Ah, I've been.. uhh... I've been asked to help with an investigation. I'm sure my mother will be... understanding... when she finds out how much I've helped!" His eyes give away an otherwise well-hidden excitement.

Recalling his friends' penchant for pranks, his eyebrows narrow in thought. As Charl starts to walk away, he calls out, "Say, you don't know anything about some thefts in the last few nights, do you?" As he realizes what that sounds like, he shakes his head and puts his hands up, placatingly. "No, not that I'm accusing you, no. I just- you tend to know when people are causing a ruckus, you know?"

[KevSaund]

"Perhaps a slice, or whatever you have for breakfast, as well?" Cawdor asks. He hadn't realized that asking for wine this early would make him stand out, which he hadn't really wanted. By ordering some food he hopes to make his presence at the bar seem a little more normal. "I find wine soothes my head best after a too joyous night. And what a night it was. I'm sorry it seemed to cause you some trouble. You say some of your other goblets went missing? I must imagine it was just folks getting carried away. These are fine indeed, but I will make sure this one is rightfully returned to your stock." As the bartender puts the bottle away Cawdor silently curses himself for paying no attention to the bottle found at the ramble house. He does his best to make up for the mistake now by focusing on the one his own beverage was poured from. Maybe he can compare them again when he returns to Hanzi with the information he has gathered. Cawdor finishes his meal as quickly as seems polite, pays and departs back to the ramblehouse.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Seeing the remaining brother mourning, Mickiel waits patiently outside the room after motioning for his companion to stay with him.

[Amazo]

Recalling his friends' penchant for pranks, his eyebrows narrow in thought. As Charl starts to walk away, he calls out, "Say, you don't know anything about some thefts in the last few nights, do you?" As he realizes what that sounds like, he shakes his head and puts his hands up, placatingly. "No, not that I'm accusing you, no. I just- you tend to know when people are causing a ruckus, you know?"

"Well, Deurn, I'd say you were the one causing the ruckus last night. On stage at least, hehe. But seriously though, I have heard a few things around town. A few of the local homesteaders around the town are waiting on replacement tools from Sara after theirs went missing. Mostly earthbreaking stuff: ploughs, hoes, that kind of thing. Normally, Sara would have a few extra just laying around for situations like this, but her stock of them also went missing, in addition to her not being able to handle such a big order so quickly. My two copper, that's why your mom's baking pans are taking so long: can't bake bread without planting flour first, right?"


"Perhaps a slice, or whatever you have for breakfast, as well?" Cawdor asks. He hadn't realized that asking for wine this early would make him stand out, which he hadn't really wanted. By ordering some food he hopes to make his presence at the bar seem a little more normal. "I find wine soothes my head best after a too joyous night. And what a night it was. I'm sorry it seemed to cause you some trouble. You say some of your other goblets went missing? I must imagine it was just folks getting carried away. These are fine indeed, but I will make sure this one is rightfully returned to your stock." As the bartender puts the bottle away Cawdor silently curses himself for paying no attention to the bottle found at the ramble house. He does his best to make up for the mistake now by focusing on the one his own beverage was poured from. Maybe he can compare them again when he returns to Hanzi with the information he has gathered. Cawdor finishes his meal as quickly as seems polite, pays and departs back to the ramblehouse.

At the mention of a slice, the bartender serves you a hearty slice of meat pie for your meal. It's fortunate he offered something with such heft to it, as a glass of wine on an empty stomach may have made finding his way back difficult for Cawdor. On the subject of the missing goblets, the man's response is grumbled and indignant. "You're probably right, fellow, but it really puts a hurting on the tavern. I have to order these things special, and people used to 'em will be getting mighty bent outta shape when I don't have enough to go around now." Despite his agitation, he takes Cawdor at his word and keeps less of an eye on him and the goblet. The wine bottles prove to be their own sort of conundrum. It is obvious that his collection has been assembled by purchasing bottles from travelling caravans given the different markings on the bottles. The one he served to Cawdor however, seems to be the one he has the most of by quite margin, so it would likely be the most prudent one to recall. It doesn't hurt to attribute a few more to memory before he departs though.

The man's walk back to the Ramblehouse is uneventful aside from the continued chatter of the townspeople even as they start to return their normal daily routines. When the he finally returns to his place for the night, he spies some of his fellow deputies already present, though he knows he still has some time before their designated meeting time and the relative quiet of his room to consult his familiar.


Seeing the remaining brother mourning, Mickiel waits patiently outside the room after motioning for his companion to stay with him.

The younger Grath is actually sobbing and speaking to his passed brother. He seems to be begging him for guidance, though his words are barely intelligible between choked sobs. He keeps mentioning that he's never had to make such hard decisions on his own without his brother to lead the way into something new or dangerous like this and then promising that he'll find justice for him before laying him to rest.

[Farmerbink]

..."can't bake bread without planting flour first, right?"

Deurn nods slowly as his small friend relays his own observations. With a fond pat on the halfling's head (which he knows good-naturedly annoys the young man), Deurn turns back towards the Ramblehouse to share his findings with the more reasoned members of this little squad.

The whole way, he doesn't notice his own mumbling as he attempts to put 2 and 3 and 17 together in his head while he walks. Only his familiarity with his hometown and the citizen's ability to see him enables him to arrive without incident.

[DarkOne-Rob]

The younger Grath is actually sobbing and speaking to his passed brother...
Made thoroughly uncomfortable by seeing the young man's show of emotion, Mickiel continues to stand outside the room, awkwardly giving him time to grieve.

[KevSaund]

The man's walk back to the Ramblehouse is uneventful aside from the continued chatter of the townspeople even as they start to return their normal daily routines. When the he finally returns to his place for the night, he spies some of his fellow deputies already present, though he knows he still has some time before their designated meeting time and the relative quiet of his room to consult his familiar.


Cawdor sits in his room, shades drawn, and with no candles lit. It isn't complete darkness, but it doesn't really need to be. There are always shadows. Cawdor eschews the bed and sits down on the floor. In the darkness, Cawdor's familiar crawls out of a pocket in his cloak. The greensting scorpion in incredibly small. Cawdor first found in in his cell many years ago. He once used to worry that it might die of old age, but that hasn't seemed to be a problem. The arachnid crawls along his hands, and the room seems to grow just a bit darker in its presence. "Yes, Simon, today has been a busy one. Sorry for neglecting you earlier. This is a new place we have found ourselves in, and I did not know if the locals would take to out kind. But we have been given a task and I could hardly imagine to complete it without your help. As the witch speaks, his own shadow seems to grow and pool around him, and then it begins to rise and take shape. The shadow rises up along his body enveloping him. As the darkness consumes him, he continues, "Ours may not be the only arcane hand in play here, and we shall the ability to seek out the presence of others. And with so many questions yet left to answer, we may need your guidance beyond this moment, and perhaps a spare hand. I hope it will not be necessary, but we may need some way to defend ourselves and others. Do you think we should require anything else? The Witch pauses. You think that is wise? But there he is already so large... If you insist. With this Cawdor falls into a trance and the shadows surround him and the scorpion. When they finally retreat he is prepared to face the day.

Preparing for the day:
Cantrips:
Detect Magic
Guidance
Daze

Level 1:
Unseen Servant
Enlarge Person

[Amazo]

Deurn nods slowly as his small friend relays his own observations. With a fond pat on the halfling's head (which he knows good-naturedly annoys the young man), Deurn turns back towards the Ramblehouse to share his findings with the more reasoned members of this little squad.

The whole way, he doesn't notice his own mumbling as he attempts to put 2 and 3 and 17 together in his head while he walks. Only his familiarity with his hometown and the citizen's ability to see him enables him to arrive without incident.

With the telltale creaking of the floorboards under Deurn's massive frame, the ragtag party has been reunited in the Ramblehouse, though not precisely in the same location within it. Nevertheless, the sun approaching halfway to noon, visible from each of your locations tells you that your agreed upon meeting time is rapidly approaching.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the meeting hour approaches, Mickiel coughs loudly enough to ensure that Kurst Grath hears him and realizes that they are there.

[JBrock76]

Hearing his companions obvious attempt to gain the attention of the poor man in the room, Tulorian looks over and asks if it is time. When the man nods, Tulorian visibly steels himself, then enters the room. "Come now my friend, were it possible to allow you to mourn your loss indefinitely, we would gladly allow it, but I think you are aware there is work to be done, and quickly. You have suffered a great loss, but though this may be the end of his story, this is the beginning of a new chapter in your own, and it must begin by answering all questions surrounding the circumstances of his death."

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi emerges from his room, feeling more ready for whatever comes his way. He notices his new companions have already arrived, and begins asking them what their findings were. He starts voicing all the lingering questions. He doesn't yet have enough information to assemble a timeline for the crook, but there are some strange and alarming details coming out.

He listens to Deurn first.

"People keep talking about these burglaries, even when one of the people they liked and most of them respected lies dead. But the stealing of the hopeknife indicates at least the possibility the robberies are connected to his murder. Also, what does that have to do with the bill of sale?"

Then Cawdor.

"So the halfling was paid extra to set the location up. And this room has a hidden drawer. The owner has to know about this. But why cover it up after the deed? What does she gain further by helping the criminal? And this Cousin Jeth might be the origin of the bill of sale. And why go through the trouble of placing a goblet from the other tavern here?"

Then Mickiel and Tulorian.

"Good, you found him."

Hanzi explains what he has learned from Kurst, and starts looking at the new tasks before them. This time he doesn't pick people for each task immediately. "These tasks seem to be getting more dangerous. The safer ones I see are speaking with the Ramblehouse owner, speaking with the priest of Iomedae to get more ideas about Rodrick, and following up on the oil of taggit at the store. It will be dangerous to try to speak with this Cousin Jeth, and Brinya may not be the safest person in town to speak with, but we should speak with her quickly. Then we don't have enough information about the burglars to assess their guilt or innocence regarding the murder. Perhaps from this point we should not split up. The problem is that the more we are together, the more people will begin to talk about foul play. Then if we are not quick to act, they may take out their frustration on Brinya, should it become known that Rodrick was seeing her. I believe speaking with the owner should be first, but I don't know what should be second on our list. Any thoughts about that?"

[Farmerbink]

Deurn pulls Hanzi aside briefly, voicing his explanation and further concerns regarding the purchase order. After a brief dialogue, he allows the priest to continue his assessment of the findings thus far.

"I think I would be confident speaking with Brinya. If she has nothing to hide- and I cannot imagine what she stands to gain by the murder of her lover- she and I may be able to see eye-to-eye, as it were, more easily than most. Otherwise, I agree, we should face the more hazardous tasks as a joint issue..."

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi looks at the notice again. "Good eye, sir. But If the knife was stolen, shouldn't a receipt of goods be unsigned? Would that then be a forgery?"

[KevSaund]

At Hanzi's request for information, Cawdor steps forward. "I didn't mention it earlier, because I wasn't properly prepared, but have we looked toward any supernatural causes? I know a bit about the arcane magics and if given a few minutes could possibly detect the presence of any magical forces within the room of the deceased. Might that be worthwhile?

[Shadowsend]

"I don't expect much magic to have lingered this long, but you can certainly check while I speak with the owner."

[Farmerbink]

With approximately zero understanding of the witch's suggestion, Deurn shakes his head slowly. "Errr... what?" he mumbles from the side, probably too quietly to hear.

Squinting narrow-eyed at the discussion, he tries his best to make sense of the unfamiliar words.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Good, you found him."
Mickiel silently nods, his face with a bland expression as he watches closely.


"Errr... what?"
"They are talking about magic - it leaves a mark that spell-casters can find with the proper spells," Mickiel replies, quietly, before speaking louder and saying, "I don't know much about all of this, but mixing wine and oil of taggit - which was only in the goblet, not the bottle - cannot be good. He would have not just been asleep, but practically impossible to wake. I don't see how he could drink that and then kill himself."

[Shadowsend]

"Who would have been able to convince him to drink the poison? Since the goblet wasn't from here, it might have been suspicious. And then said person didn't remove that evidence. Quite strange."

[Amazo]

Hearing his companions obvious attempt to gain the attention of the poor man in the room, Tulorian looks over and asks if it is time. When the man nods, Tulorian visibly steels himself, then enters the room. "Come now my friend, were it possible to allow you to mourn your loss indefinitely, we would gladly allow it, but I think you are aware there is work to be done, and quickly. You have suffered a great loss, but though this may be the end of his story, this is the beginning of a new chapter in your own, and it must begin by answering all questions surrounding the circumstances of his death."

The man sobers a bit at having been caught in such a state, but his grief is still evident in all of his features. Still, he manages a weak smile before nodding and thanking you all. "You're all a better fit for what's fallen on my shoulders than me, if what you've already done for me is any indication. That's why I chose you all: it was clear I could trust you to do the right thing." As the investigation continues on without him, he interjects to bow out of it entirely. "I'm afraid I must maintain appearances with my father as we begin our arrangements for my brother's cremation ceremony. If foul play is afoot as you suspect, and I dearly wish it to be so even if it means he was stolen from us before his time, I will abide by your wish to play things as close to the chest as possible." He offers a hand to shake each one of yours in turn before departing.


At Hanzi's request for information, Cawdor steps forward. "I didn't mention it earlier, because I wasn't properly prepared, but have we looked toward any supernatural causes? I know a bit about the arcane magics and if given a few minutes could possibly detect the presence of any magical forces within the room of the deceased. Might that be worthwhile?

Unfortunately, Hanzi's predictions pans out as the truth, and there are no lingering magical auras detectable in this section of the Ramblehouse. This of course does not rule out the possibility of magic having been employed as part of a murder attempt, but the evidence has since disappeared back into the aether.


"I don't expect much magic to have lingered this long, but you can certainly check while I speak with the owner."

Hanzi and anyone else curious to speak with her know precisely where Cham Larringfas is, as you each had to pass her on the way to your designated meeting place in the Ramblehouse. She stands on a high stool at the entrance to the Ramblehouse checking out travellers. attempting to sign new ones for new stays, collecting due payments from current residents, and directing her family and coworkers to keep the place running smoothly on the other floors. She did make the time to give each of you a particularly nervous, "Good day," as you entered and saw her, but she otherwise did not call attention to the events of the morning.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi steps up to Cham Larringfas. "Excuse me, might I have a word? And could you bring your logbook for last night as well?"

[Amazo]

Hanzi steps up to Cham Larringfas. "Excuse me, might I have a word? And could you bring your logbook for last night as well?"

She delays answering until a lull in the workflow, clearly hoping she can deter the investigation with by ignoring it for a while. Her fingers ball up on the page of her ledger at the mention of bringing it along. Her voice is saccharinely sweet as she responds, "Why, what would you need that for?" It is clear she'll need some convincing.

I'll need some kind of social skill check to persuade her to cooperate much more than answering a few likely unhelpful questions.

[Shadowsend]

"Because the doors in this inn are extremely thin." Hanzi pauses a beat, to let that sink in. "Someone could have easily overheard when Rodrick came in, and if he came in alone. I need to speak with that person. And that person's mark is on that ledger there."

Hanzi takes 10 on diplomacy for a 17?

[Amazo]

"Because the doors in this inn are extremely thin." Hanzi pauses a beat, to let that sink in. "Someone could have easily overheard when Rodrick came in, and if he came in alone. I need to speak with that person. And that person is on that ledger there."

Hanzi takes 10 on diplomacy for a 17?

The woman eases a fair bit, assuming you know less about her unscrupulous behavior than you do. Her grip on the small leather book relaxes to a normal grasp before the fingers slide underneath one side of it. With a single fluid flick of her fingers and wrist, the book is closed and offered up on her hand for Hanzi to take. With newfound confidence, she requests, "Fine then, we'll have it your way, but do bring it back soon, will you? It's hard to conduct business in a boarding house when you don't know how much to charge for anyone's stay."

[Shadowsend]

"I do have some other questions, but I think they can wait for a few moments...except for this one. Have you spoken with cousin Jeth yet?"

[Amazo]

"I do have some other questions, but I think they can wait for a few moments...except for this one. Have you spoken with cousin Jeth yet?"

The woman's face blanches, and her eyes grow wide at the inquiry. The air is tense as she considers her next words carefully, an errant boarder arriving and then awkwardly shuffling away from the intense staredown. Finally, the small woman seems to regain control of her facial features before letting out a sigh that seems bigger than her little lungs should be able to hold. Defeated, she hangs her head and breaks eye contact entirely to answer, "No, no I haven't. And if you find what you're looking for in there, I expect I won't need to. Just know that I didn't know anything like this would come to pass and that none of this need fall on my family should the Council decide anything needs doing to me for this..."

She speaks in ominous tones, clearly more knowledgeable than she first was willing to let on. Still, the revelation seems to have broken her spirit, leaving her open for further questions if you deem them necessary.

[Shadowsend]

"Start from the beginning and it will go much better for you. Sarenrae is the redeemer, and I follow her. I may not have to reveal everything to the council, so long as the right person ends up paying for this deed, and the truth can be told. Cawdor, do you mind copying down the page with Rodrick's name in the logbook, the one before it and after it, while we listen?"

[KevSaund]

"Cawdor, do you mind copying down the page with Rodrick's name in the logbook, the one before it and after it, while we listen?"

Cawdor flips through the book, looking for last nights entries. He begins copying the notes in a neat, if unadorned, script. Once the ask is finished, he begins looking over the rest of the book for any irregularities, wither in the entires, or perhaps the pages themselves. He has read of marbling along the edges of a book to make the finding of missing pages easier, and checks for that. He also looks closely in between the pages of the book to see if any pages have been removed.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn looks on, as confused as anyone, as the small woman spills her proverbial beans.

When Cawdor begins working on the text, his interest becomes decided, as he attempts to follow both hpthe penmanship and Hanzi's dialogue. He fails utterly at both, and gains little for his trouble but a tension headache from scowling his eyes for so long.

[Amazo]

"Start from the beginning and it will go much better for you. Sarenrae is the redeemer, and I follow her. I may not have to reveal everything to the council, so long as the right person ends up paying for this deed, and the truth can be told. Cawdor, do you mind copying down the page with Rodrick's name in the logbook, the one before it and after it, while we listen?"

She waves her hands frantically to fan herself as tears threaten to roll down her cheeks, but she maintains her composure enough to speak clearly despite her hysterics. "I didn't know this man! I swear it! But he came in and looked in the ledger to spot an open room and... when I asked him for his name to register him, he just shoved me a pouch of gold to not ask too many questions. I knew it was suspicious, but... it's not the first traveller we've had come through Trunau looking to evade their past. We're happy to let them through normally. I didn't think anything of it! He was human. Very plain looking, nothing I really remember. His head was shaved from what I recall, but there wasn't anything about him that stuck with me once he gave me his money. His room was the one next to Rodrick's, but he didn't seem interested in it at the time, so I don't know if he's important to you. Check the room if you want! He left at first light this morning before I found Rodrick... me and my staff haven't been there yet!"

Her eyes search each of yours in turn to look for any hint of a sign of what you're thinking. Her tone shifts from pleading to frantic to frightened at different moments. When she notices Cawdor reading through the ledger, she adds a bit dejectedly, "He won't be in there. He's the unlabeled stay in Room 37. He never signed in or out either, so his writing won't be in there either." She seems to think her fate's been sealed.


Cawdor flips through the book, looking for last nights entries. He begins copying the notes in a neat, if unadorned, script. Once the ask is finished, he begins looking over the rest of the book for any irregularities, wither in the entires, or perhaps the pages themselves. He has read of marbling along the edges of a book to make the finding of missing pages easier, and checks for that. He also looks closely in between the pages of the book to see if any pages have been removed.

Her story seems to bare truth to it. The only record of the mysterious man in Room 37 is a small note from presumably Cham herself, considering it's the most common hand in the book otherwise, indicating he wasn't to be disturbed in the space where his name ought to have been signed. Likewise, the log people checking in for the night ends with Rodrick's name, and Cawdor's before that.

[Shadowsend]

"What about his clothing? That can tell much about a man."

"Also, tell me about the secret drawer in Rodrick's room. Who knows about it besides you?"

[Amazo]

"What about his clothing? That can tell much about a man."

"Also, tell me about the secret drawer in Rodrick's room. Who knows about it besides you?"

"He had the clothes of any old traveller! A tattered brown cloak, blue tunic, leather boots, a few weapons... Handaxes, I maybe? I don't know. A belt of pouches at his waist for sure... I swear I can't remember anything more useful about him!" She seems desperate to remember something that would appease Hanzi. When he asks his next question, she latches onto it immediately, "Every room's desk has a drawer like that! We wanted to offer a little extra privacy. Like you said, the door's are a bit thin." The attempt at humor is weak, but still present.

[Shadowsend]

"I know last night was rather crazy, but do remember when he came into the inn? And who was in the inn at the time he came in? They might remember more about this man."

[DarkOne-Rob]

As he listens and starts to put together the pieces from the conversation, Mickiel begins whistling and walking about the entry room, doing his best to politely discourage visitors and guests from listening to the interrogation. "Perhaps you all should discuss this somewhere less public...?" he suggests before asking, "Can someone else man the desk?"

[Amazo]

"I know last night was rather crazy, but do remember when he came into the inn? And who was in the inn at the time he came in? They might remember more about this man."

"I was abed by the time half of the boarders came in last night. I'm not usually one for most of the festivities when I have to be up so early to run the house, you see. If you give me some time to ask my staff, maybe they'll have more answers for you about him, but I need time! I swear to you I know nothing else!"

[Shadowsend]

With nothing else really to go on, Hanzi agrees with the woman's plan to ask her staff. He hands her back the logbook. "I think you will feel better now that you have told the truth. Please encourage your staff to do the same."

He then asks about cousin Jeth. Where can I find cousin Jeth, and is there a way I can address him to show I don't mean him harm? I have need of his trained eye for linguistics."

He looks to the group, and says "Let's check on some of the other things now." Once they get out of earshot, he says, Cawdor, can you speak with the shopkeeper about this oil of taggit business? Tolourian, can you talk to people in the tavern and around town about the fellow Cham described? Mickiel and Deurn, could you speak with Brinya? I'm going to speak with the priest of Iomedae."

[Farmerbink]

Mickiel and Deurn, could you speak with Brinya? I'm going to speak with the priest of Iomedae."

Deurn nods slowly, and looks at Mickiel with a half-smile. He faces Hanzi knowingly, as he answers, "Certainly. She will be more amenable to us than most." With a polite nod to the proprietor, he ducks underneath the lintel and exits into the early-afternoon sunlight.

[Amazo]

With nothing else really to go on, Hanzi agrees with the woman's plan to ask her staff. He hands her back the logbook. "I think you will feel better now that you have told the truth. Please encourage your staff to do the same."

He then asks about cousin Jeth. Where can I find cousin Jeth, and is there a way I can address him to show I don't mean him harm? I have need of his trained eye for linguistics."

Without a moment's hesitation, she whips out a necklace from beneath her shirt: a rabbit's foot, white save for a single black spot above the left toe, on a simple, delicate chain. She raises her hand so that the foot dangle before her eyes, regarding it a moment, before her attention flicks back to Hanzi. "He's at the Barterstones and will be until trede closes for the day. He's sending travellers looking for a room here for the night. Show him this. He's got one with a spot on the opposite side. He'll believe you when you say I sent you to talk to him." Sentimental trinkets are more common among halflings than among other folks. That she is entrusting Hanzi with one of hers is a sign of dealing in good faith, which may be a bit surprising considering the circumstances. She does clarify after handing it over, "I need this back though. May as well be my hopeknife, I'm handing over, outsider."

[Shadowsend]

"Thank you, I'll look after it."

Before Hanzi can head to see cousin Jeth, he needs a sample of Rodrick's writing. He heads to the priest of Iomedae, to ask him about Rodrick and if the priest happens to have any of Rodrick's writing. The questions Hanzi asks are looking to make sure Kurst hasn't missed some things about his brother, and to try to figure out how Rodrick would have made such a deadly enemy.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor takes his new assignment with pride. He must be doing alright if he's being sent out again for more information. He decides the direct route might be better after all that mess with ordering wine for breakfast, so as he makes his way to the general store he begins listing questions he plans to ask the shopkeeper and her husband:

Are there any customers who regularly purchase the oil?
Have there been any large orders or new customers asking for it lately?
What would be the effects of mixing the oil with wine?
Does it have a noticeable taste?
Is anybody else in town capable of making the oil?

[JBrock76]

Glad to be of some help to the group, Tulorian heads out to do what he does best - Gossip! He bounces around from gathering places to eating and drinking establishments, mixing into groups, mingling. He manages to work into conversations simple queries about strangers in town, plots against the higher-ups of the town, and pretty much anything out of the norm.

[Amazo]

Deurn nods slowly, and looks at Mickiel with a half-smile. He faces Hanzi knowingly, as he answers, "Certainly. She will be more amenable to us than most." With a polite nod to the proprietor, he ducks underneath the lintel and exits into the early-afternoon sunlight.

The trek to Brinya's place of work is relatively uneventful. The town is mostly empty within its walls at this hour, as most of the business owners and tradesmen have assembled on the Barterstones to hock their wares and services. Still, those few that are still around go about their business as if the morning's events have not phased them. The people of Trunau are nothing if not resilient, after all. If the loss of a loved one weighed them down for very long, the whole town would have been overrun long, long ago.

Arriving at the Firstwall Inn, a mockery of the country that abandoned the settlement at the first sign of trouble, the human proprietor is happy to direct you to Brinya's room. He informs you that she is rarely finished with her duties after midday. Whether this is because Brinya is truly that dedicated a worker or because the inn in reality pales in popularity to the Ramblehouse and the Killin' Ground, it is easy to say. Within a few strides, Deurn and whomever accompanies him arrive at the door of the room in question.


"Thank you, I'll look after it."

Before Hanzi can head to see cousin Jeth, he needs a sample of Rodrick's writing. He heads to the priest of Iomedae, to ask him about Rodrick and if the priest happens to have any of Rodrick's writing. The questions Hanzi asks are looking to make sure Kurst hasn't missed some things about his brother, and to try to figure out how Rodrick would have made such a deadly enemy.

The moans of the wounded can be heard even from outside of the prayer hall to Iomedae. Inside, the building's large common room looks more like an army field hospital than a place of worship, but the vestmented healers scurrying to and fro between ailing warriors provide the evidence to the contrary. A raven-haired young woman in particularly elaborate gowns sits in prayer at an altar facing the entrance. Even over the cacophony of pain echoing within these walls, her eyes snap open at the sound of someone entering the temple. She moves to meet Hanzi where he stands walking with the measured elegance of born nobility, though now supplemented by some measure of divine grace. The woman introduces herself as Tyari Varvatos, head of the mission to Iomedae here in Trunau. Spying Hanzi's holy symbol, she offers a greeting common to followers of Sarenrae and greets him in welcome. When Hanzi explains his purpose to her, she directs you to an elderly half-orc man named Katrezra. The woman explains that he is actually one of the oldest people in town, aside from the mysterious elven druid who presides over the Hopespring, and that recently Rodrick had been coming to speak with him. She lets Hanzi approach on his own time before returning to her deep meditation.

http://i.imgur.com/z6NGvg2.png

As Hanzi approaches Katrezra, he notices a few open sores on his face and many vicious scars around his face and neck from where old sores have healed as well as numerous burns on his arms. He seems to be functioning normally despite this and reacts pleasantly to Hanzi's introduction. Katrezra admits to not knowing Rodrick particularly well other than his frequent consultations with the man over the past few weeks, so he defers to Kurst's expertise on his brother. When asked about Rodrick's recent trips to visit him, Katrezra takes a moment to explain that a good number of Iomedae's faithful come to see him because of his visions, which he had been afflicted with since his younger days. Rodrick himself had never been one of them until he was particularly baffled by an investigation he was conducting into the nearby Plague House. Rodrick had apparently encountered a flood troll there late one night when he was attempting to secretly meet with Brinya. Katrezra himself wrote the incident off as an isolated one, but Rodrick became convinced that there was some deeper plot at work. The nightmares that Katrezra has been plagued with since the troll's appearance seemed to confirm his suspicions. A particularly bad nightmare hit the old half-orc the night before last, and he implored the young man to leave his journal with the priest, which he complied with. He produces the journal from a small cubby beside him and hands it over with a final piece of advice: the truth of Rodrick's death likely still lies in the Plague House, if his visions and nightmares are of any indication.

http://www.endlessrpg.com/pathfinder/images/0/0c/Rodrik-journal.jpg



Are there any customers who regularly purchase the oil?
Have there been any large orders or new customers asking for it lately?
What would be the effects of mixing the oil with wine?
Does it have a noticeable taste?
Is anybody else in town capable of making the oil?

When Cawdor enters Meeson's Goods & Salvage, his first impression is that of a junkyard. The shelves are lined with various curiosities and trinkets from much farther afield than one would expect in such a relatively isolated settlement. Alongside them are works-in-progress of old devices and alchemical gizmos all only mostly deconstructed. The woman behind the counter comports herself like she ought to have been a pixie in another life, with cascading, curly red hair and wide blue eyes that dart around quizzically and enthusiastically at all of the things around her: an enthusiasm that rolls straight over into her greeting of the young witch entering her store. Her expression sours just a touch when he reveals that he is there to speak to her husband about alchemical concoctions instead of some sort of salvage from some nearby ruin, though she fetches him without delay anyway.

http://i.imgur.com/bYgbwBU.png

The two seem to be quite the matched set, as her husband also has blue eyes and an untamed mop of blonde hair, as well as an air of minor clumsiness to compliment his wife's curiosity. Broaching the subject of oil of taggit, the man's own eyes light up with that same whole-hearted interest his wife had when Cawdor entered the store. He mentions he is surprised that two people would ask about the stuff so close together, but listens to each question patiently before answering earnestly. There had been one other customer of the stuff recently and none for several months before that, but he elects not to divulge too much information about his appearance or they spoke about out of respect for the man's privacy. As for the more technical questions, the alchemist begins to offer rather complex explanations, proving incredibly difficult to follow, but he ends each verbose reply with a succinct summary made with more plain words. When taken with wine, oil of taggit produces a more immediate, longer lasting sleep than normal due to the natural sedating effects of alcohol. The oil does not have a taste when it is ingested, but it leaves a residue on the tongue and the vessel it was contained in that both smells and tastes of nutmeg. Of Cawdor's last question, the man is particularly proud: this man, Gorkis Meeson, is the only person in town capable of crafting the oil. With a toothy grin, he asks if the other customer was a friend of yours and if he recommended him to you.

[Amazo]

Glad to be of some help to the group, Tulorian heads out to do what he does best - Gossip! He bounces around from gathering places to eating and drinking establishments, mixing into groups, mingling. He manages to work into conversations simple queries about strangers in town, plots against the higher-ups of the town, and pretty much anything out of the norm.

The talk of the town, what little of the town is actually still within the walls at the hour, are the white swords graffitied all over town. Most of the people willing to talk are militiamen on breaks from their so far fruitless attempts at removing the large insignias. Nearly every group of guards is able to point you to at least one more new group to talk to, and from them, Toulorian gleans a good feel for the stirrings of thought in town. In addition to the swords, local chatter is directed towards the rash of thefts of digging implements recently. A great number of people believe the two to be connected to each other and to the mob of half-orcs that occupied the town the week prior. A fair number of particularly indiscriminate guardsmen lump the local half-orcs, even ones that have lived there for years, in with that group, assuming that they must all be in communication somehow. The most vocal supporter of this notion is the Patrol Sergeant in charge of the clean up effort, Omast Frum. Frum is especially receptive to Rouche's questions, as he is so inebriated he can barely stand, even though he is on duty. Every other sentence seems to bear at least a passing mention of Rodrick and how tragic his death is to him though.

https://40.media.tumblr.com/f67bcd2dbf1a4b3f3f0b1cc83ebdf9c9/tumblr_nq58ovqKtu1uqhshmo1_400.png

By the end of his investigation, Toulorian is keenly aware of the racial tension underlying Trunau's public facade and is aware that recent happenings threaten to bring it to a head. Given the town's vicious reputation, this has the possibility to become very violent very quickly. Additionally, he knows that the most prominent and largest white swords are placed in the Commons, the easternmost Barterstone, the wall beneath the waterfall of the Hopespring, the rock wall behind the Sanctuary of Iomedae, and 30 feet up on the southernmost guard tower of the town. All of these particular swords are visible from quite some distance, some being more noticeable than the landmark they're painted on or near.

The map will be updated to reflect these locations.

[JBrock76]

I'm not sure if anyone has tried, but I'd like to try to detect magic from anywhere around the graffiti. I'll try two or three, just to be sure.

Tulorian quickly heads back to the group to report his findings. Greetings friends, I am growing concerned with these strange markings around town. Coupled with the missing digging equipment, and the general disposition of the townsfolk, I fear there is something bad brewing. The markings would appear to be strategically placed on mainly defensive structures and buildings. Exactly the places one might want to damage in anticipation of an attack. Perhaps we should pass this along to the authorities?

[Shadowsend]

After speaking with Katrezra, Hanzi now has what he needs to compare the suicide note with the journal. He confers with whoever has returned to the meeting spot, and sees Tulorian. "The size and type of symbol made me concerned as well, when I noticed it didn't seem to have any religious significance. The town's mood means we will need to be extremely careful. Perhaps Tulorian and I should try to defuse some of the racial tension, but that's a matter for after this imminent attack. Maybe Cawdor can find some universal solvent at the general store. We might be able to remove the mark on the wall near the waterfall. I wish someone had been willing to speak about that stranger though."

He begins discussing his own findings.

"The suicide note looks more and more like a forgery now. Rodrick clearly had further plans to go investigate the Plague-House. Perhaps after this attack we can take a look. There's no indication of the feelings listed in the suicide note in the journal, instead concern about his relationship with Brinya and how he misplaced an important gift from her. But who we tell about this may cause trouble."

Tulorian, see if you can find one of the Graths or Halgra and inform them of the details. I'm headed to the Barterstones to speak with cousin Jeth." Hanzi heads that direction.

[KevSaund]

Of Cawdor's last question, the man is particularly proud: this man, Gorkis Meeson, is the only person in town capable of crafting the oil. With a toothy grin, he asks if the other customer was a friend of yours and if he recommended him to you.

"Actually, I am new in town and do not know many other folks here," Cawdor replies. "I understand your desire to protect your customer's privacy, but I'm afraid I must insist. You see it pertains to the unfortunate death from this morning. I and a few others have been deputized to investigate the incident as there are a few confusing loose ends. I need to track down the other person who purchased the oil, as he may know more about what happened."

[Amazo]

I'm not sure if anyone has tried, but I'd like to try to detect magic from anywhere around the graffiti. I'll try two or three, just to be sure.


The graffiti itself is sadly non-magical.



Tulorian, see if you can find one of the Graths or Halgra and inform them of the details. I'm headed to the Barterstones to speak with cousin Jeth." Hanzi heads that direction.

The Barterstones are at the peak of their business at this hour, having attracted at least three travelling caravans to peruse their wares and potentially spend some coin to stay the night. The tents and stalls of Trunaus merchants are far from their ostentatiously colored brethren in the more civilized parts of Golarion. The craftsmen here know the quality of their wares and know that they are the only possible source of supplies for some distance in the region, and with little in the way of competition even between different craftsmen from Trunau, there is virtually no need to attract undue attention from the other natives of Belkzen.

Cousin Jeth is simultaneously difficult and simple to find amidst the browsing customers and loitering negotiators of the various stalls. He is the only halfling in the bunch, making him hard to spot amongst the taller folk but easy to recognize as the person Hanzi is looking for. The small man certainly looks the part of a scurrilous connection of some kind, with an eye patch and a scarred upper lip marring his otherwise oh-so-cheery halfling demeanor. Spotting Hanzi approaching, he wraps up a pitch to a passing group of caravaneers, "Ah! A satisfied customer coming my way to share his lovely experience at the Ramblehouse no doubt! You'd be remiss to miss out on the accomodations! Food, shelter, and privacy! What more could you ask for, ladies and gentlemen!?"


"Actually, I am new in town and do not know many other folks here," Cawdor replies. "I understand your desire to protect your customer's privacy, but I'm afraid I must insist. You see it pertains to the unfortunate death from this morning. I and a few others have been deputized to investigate the incident as there are a few confusing loose ends. I need to track down the other person who purchased the oil, as he may know more about what happened."

The mention of the guard and today's untimely passion clearly move the man, as his grin leaves him immediately, "Really? The guard... in my shop? Why- I, I had nothing to do with it! I swear! He was just a traveller... I couldn't have known what he wanted to use it for! Of course I'll help! He was a human man with no hair, shaved or bald I couldn't tell you. He had a number of scars on his face. All over really. When he mentioned he wanted a good night's sleep free of the nightmares that plagued him... I couldn't help but believe him with all of those scars, you see. He seemed to have been worn by the world a great deal. His clothes looked similarly rundown: a battered cloak, well-worn breaches and leather armor, a pair of chipped handaxes, and a belt of pouches with the clasps nearly falling off. He didn't care to give me his name though, so I can't help you there." His face shows real concern. Not for his business like Cham, but real remorse for contributing to someone he clearly meant no ill will towards. It's difficult to think otherwise when he finishes his story with, "That's about all I know, friend. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help..."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Within a few strides, Deurn and whomever accompanies him Mickiel arrive at the door of the room in question.
Mickiel steps forward, assuming he is the less intimidating of the two, and knocks on the door politely. When the door opens, he is careful to avoid eye contact and says, "Miss Brinya? We have unfortunate news, and would like to speak with you on behalf of the Grath family and the watch. May we come inside, please?"

[Shadowsend]

"You're Jeth I take it. Privacy would be most welcome, perhaps now, in fact. And don't worry, no harm has or will come to you and yours, as long as good faith is presented." Hanzi shows Jeth the rabbit's foot.

Assuming Jeth cooperates: Hanzi explains how he knows about Jeth's other abilities and asks him to compare the suicide note and Rodrick's journal. Hanzi is willing to pay the halfling for his service, but doesn't have much immediate coin. He might entertain notions of a service for a service, though, as long as no one is harmed in the process of fulfilling said service.

After the business with Jeth is concluded, Hanzi looks for Larkin, and explains why he won't be speaking today, if he sees her.

[KevSaund]

His face shows real concern. Not for his business like Cham, but real remorse for contributing to someone he clearly meant no ill will towards. It's difficult to think otherwise when he finishes his story with, "That's about all I know, friend. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help..."

Cawdor didn't mean to upset the alchemist, and apologizes for his harsh tone. Your honesty is helpful and revealing. No one will hold your contribution against you, especialy since you have been so helpful in bringing the truth to light. His excitement at finding this new information means he chooses not to stay any longer, and leaves to tell the others what he has discovered without even waiting for a response.

[Amazo]

Mickiel steps forward, assuming he is the less intimidating of the two, and knocks on the door politely. When the door opens, he is careful to avoid eye contact and says, "Miss Brinya? We have unfortunate news, and would like to speak with you on behalf of the Grath family and the watch. May we come inside, please?"

The green-skinned, red-haired woman, beautiful even by conservative human standards, answers the door with a tear-stained visage of fury. She seems ready to explode at whoever was disturbing her at this moment, but when she sees quite possibly the two most unassuming men in Trunau, her countenance softens considerably. She puts on a brave smile and offers, "If it's about Rodrick, I'm afraid I've already heard the news... over and over again... Oh gods, do you mean there's more!? Tell me, did Jagrin put you up to this, Deurn? I don't know if I care to hear anything that man has to say at a time like this."


"You're Jeth I take it. Privacy would be most welcome, perhaps now, in fact. And don't worry, no harm has or will come to you and yours, as long as good faith is presented." Hanzi shows Jeth the rabbit's foot.

Assuming Jeth cooperates: Hanzi explains how he knows about Jeth's other abilities and asks him to compare the suicide note and Rodrick's journal. Hanzi is willing to pay the halfling for his service, but doesn't have much immediate coin. He might entertain notions of a service for a service, though, as long as no one is harmed in the process of fulfilling said service.

After the business with Jeth is concluded, Hanzi looks for Larkin, and explains why he won't be speaking today, if he sees her.

Having been down enough lopsided deals to know when he's thoroughly been pegged down, Jeth agrees to perform the analysis, "in good faith," of course. He does ask for some time while he tries to manage both wrangling customers and reading both pieces of writing closely enough to detect the possible forgeries, at least until he finds another family member to take over his spot.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi waits patiently for Jeth to finish before asking him about the stranger. "Were you in the inn when a bald stranger with two handaxes wearing a brown cloak and a blue tunic came into the Ramblehouse? If so, what can you tell me about him?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Tell me, did Jagrin put you up to this, Deurn? I don't know if I care to hear anything that man has to say at a time like this."
At the mention of Jagrin, Mickiel's eyes get a little wider as he looks at the enormous man beside him. "We were deputized by Kurst and know nothing of their father's involvement so far. Have you spoken with him today? What did he have to say?" asks the druid, cautiously.

[Amazo]

Hanzi waits patiently for Jeth to finish before asking him about the stranger. "Were you in the inn when a bald stranger with two handaxes wearing a brown cloak and a blue tunic came into the Ramblehouse? If so, what can you tell me about him?"

With a small laugh, he explains, "He was definitely a shady one, that man. I happened upon him when he was entering his room for the first time. Eyeing me up and down, he looks a bit disappointed and says to me, 'I didn't know someone was already casing the place.' Pretty keen of him to pick up on someone who's been on the straight and narrow for a few years already, but still I had more than half a mind to have Cham toss him out on his ear right then. When I heard about his, err, circumstances at check-in, I had to hold my peace. though."

Another snort of derisive laughter, his eyes hazed in reflection. "I kept tabs on him as much as I could the rest of the night, but we were so busy there were a lot of periods I couldn't. Still, nobody was missing nothing when morning broke, so I guess that halfling charm goes a long way. He may have looked the part of a brute, but I'm certain that he barely had a fighter's bone in his body, so I doubt he's your man. Those axes for all their 'weathered chips' hadn't seen a speck of blood in all of their days. Either way, when you cut as imposing a shadow as him, you're much more likely to clear out of his way."


At the mention of Jagrin, Mickiel's eyes get a little wider as he looks at the enormous man beside him. "We were deputized by Kurst and know nothing of their father's involvement so far. Have you spoken with him today? What did he have to say?" asks the druid, cautiously.

"If Kurst sent you, then do come in." After inviting them in from the hall and almost noiselessly closing it behind the two broad men, she turns to address them more privately. "I'm sure Kurst has told you, but Rodrick and I were in love. Bless him, he tried to convince his father and the town of the notion with his play, but it all exploded in his face. It was soon after then that Jagrin found us on a return from a walk outside of the walls. He was furious and has spared no opportunity to hurl insults and degradations my way since that night. I'm almost surprised he hasn't tried to arrest me for Rodrick's death somehow. I'm sure the notion has at least crossed his mind."

At the mention of Rodrick, the tearstains on her cheeks are wet anew by fresh drops. Her rage at Jagrin keeps her voice steady despite her obvious grief. Fists balled in rage, tears streaming from her eyes, Brinya takes a moment of heated silence to steady herself again. As the seconds pass, her clenched muscles relax gradually, but the tears do not stop. Eventually, she manages to force the same smile she greeted you with and asks for the news you came to bring her, now knowing it will not nearly be the worse things she was dreading.

[Shadowsend]

"On that same note, did you see Rodrick come in last night?" Hanzi asks Jeth.

[JBrock76]

"Tulorian, see if you can find one of the Graths or Halgra and inform them of the details. I'm headed to the Barterstones to speak with cousin Jeth."

Tulorian heads out to find someone in authority to tell them the group's theory about the immenant attack.

[Amazo]

"On that same note, did you see Rodrick come in last night?" Hanzi asks Jeth.

"As a matter of fact, I did. Aside from stumbling around relying on another fella to hold each other up, he wasn't too worse for wear when I last saw him either. I didn't watch that hall the whole night, of course. I have other floors to keep track of and I did need at least a cat's nap before dawn broke to make it through today." Jeth goes on to describe the young man that Rodrick came in with. From his description, it's obvious that he means Cawdor, though Jeth doesn't know it.


Tulorian heads out to find someone in authority to tell them the group's theory about the immenant attack.

The guards are easy to find again, still uselessly slapping water against the white swords and scraping at them with various tools. The young militiamen Toulorian first ask about this all balk at the news and request that Toulorian be the one to speak to the superiors instead of them. They direct you back to Omast, as he is the ranking officer on duty. Heading back to where you last found him, you see that he is somewhat preoccupied. With him is Jagrin Grath, leader of the entire militia and father of the recently departed Rodrick, though Toulorian is unaware of this. All the bard sees is a drunk man being chewed out by his superior for drinking on the job. That does still mean he's the best person to tell about this though...

http://orig00.deviantart.net/de94/f/2013/312/7/6/jagrin_by_mattiasfahlberg-d6th23r.jpg

The older human man remains seething with fury throughout Rouche's entire explanation, the rage bubbling up further at a few key points. He is irate at his son for circumventing his authority and launching an investigation in what he is convinced should be a family matter. He dismisses the notion that Trunauns would ever attack each other in an instant, as every person in town has sworn a Standing Oath to protect the settlement and each other at all costs. His concern finally shows itself when Toulorian's evidence for a possible attack finally penetrates the haze of anger clouding his perceptions. Though he is upset with him, he does trust his son Kurst's judgement and believes that in light of this, Kurst's trust was well placed in all of you. He promises to withdraw his men from their posts uselessly trying to remove the graffiti and instead have them patrolling actively outside the walls.

[Farmerbink]

Eventually, she manages to force the same smile she greeted you with and asks for the news you came to bring her, now knowing it will not nearly be the worse things she was dreading.

Deurn breathes deeply, looking to Mickiel for something resembling moral support. He turns back to Brinya, and gently begins speaking in his melodious bass. "It may be best if you sit down, miss." He waits long enough to allow her to do so, or decline, and continues.

"As you know, Rodrik perished sometime late last night, or early this morn. Due to his own emotional state, Kurst has enlisted our aid and three others to investigate the... events. As you may not know, it has become more and more apparent that Rodrik did not commit suicide. It is extremely likely that he was murdered. While we have no reason to suspect you, we likewise have precious few other leads. Please, understand I mean no disrespect. If anyone can relate to your struggles in Trunau, I can." He gestures to himself, emphasizing his size and obvious tendency to both stand out, and resemble one of the native's most recognizable foes.

"What can you tell me about Rodrik in the last few days?"

Deurn has not yet heard anything about the man with hand-axes or cousin Jeth, but is willing to corroborate or reassure Brinya with all the information he does have. Namely, the presence of oil of taggit, the unusual depth of both cuts (as well as the direction of the cuts), the hope knife purchase order, and the fact that the blade was both stolen, and found on Rodrik's person.

However she responds will largely determine what information Deurn confirms and how he attempts to reassure her.

As is sadly likely to matter, to assure her that my intentions are in her best interest, and if applicable, make a request: Diplomacy: [roll0]
Sense motive: [roll1]

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi has thought about what Jeth said about the mystery man, and brings it up again, but quietly so that only Jeth can hear. "It's odd that you don't think the unnamed man is capable of this deed, because he was gone this morning and your cousin was going to have you try to erase his presence from her logbook. Also, while you were keeping tabs on him, you didn't overhear anything?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Eventually, she manages to force the same smile she greeted you with and asks for the news you came to bring her, now knowing it will not nearly be the worse things she was dreading.

Deurn breathes deeply, looking to Mickiel for something resembling moral support.
Clearly uncomfortable, Mickiel begins to whistle for a moment before catching himself and deliberately stopping. "What we are trying to ask, is can you tell us anything that will help us find what happened? We want to put this to right..." he says, awkwardly.

[Amazo]

"What can you tell me about Rodrik in the last few days?"

Deurn has not yet heard anything about the man with hand-axes or cousin Jeth, but is willing to corroborate or reassure Brinya with all the information he does have. Namely, the presence of oil of taggit, the unusual depth of both cuts (as well as the direction of the cuts), the hope knife purchase order, and the fact that the blade was both stolen, and found on Rodrik's person.

However she responds will largely determine what information Deurn confirms and how he attempts to reassure her.

As is sadly likely to matter, to assure her that my intentions are in her best interest, and if applicable, make a request: Diplomacy: [roll0]
Sense motive: [roll1]

Brinya visibly lets out a breathe she was holding at the news of Rodrick's apparent murder. Uncharacteristic chuckle rings from her lips before she explains, "That's actually a little bit of a relief Deurn. Thank you. Rodrick and I were actually quite at odds with each other last night. I was deathly afraid that our last argument is what drove him to..." She pauses as the wave of negative emotion washes through her. "...but I don't have to think that way anymore. Thank you, though I suspect that bears a bit of explaining..."

She explains in a rather poetic fashion that Rodrick and her primarily used to meet out in the Plague House when they first started courting around six months ago. Their relationship became so serious that they secretly exchanged hopeknives three months ago with a promise to break their silence and marry publicly when the time seemed right. Two months ago, they happened upon a flood troll on one of their moonlit dalliances and quickly vowed to start meeting within Trunau instead despite the increased risk of discovery. Despite this, Rodrick took it upon himself to continue investigating the Plague House to the detriment of all other facets of his life: writing, his militia duties, and even his relationship with Brinya. This came to a head three weeks ago when, during one of their meetings, Brinya discovered that Rodrick had lost the hopeknife she had given him somewhere in the Plague House during his expeditions. Their relationship became more or less estranged at that point until Rodrick approached her last night after Ruby's hopeknife ceremony and promised that he would be making things right that very night with one final investigation into the Plague House to put his obsession to rest permanently. To this end, he even assured her that he would reclaim her hopeknife as a symbol of his commitment to their love over whatever else was going on.


Hanzi has thought about what Jeth said about the mystery man, and brings it up again, but quietly so that only Jeth can hear. "It's odd that you don't think the unnamed man is capable of this deed, because he was gone this morning and your cousin was going to have you try to erase his presence from her logbook. Also, while you were keeping tabs on him, you didn't overhear anything?"

He seems hurt at the questioning of his self-styled area at expertise. "Stranger, I only know what I know, and I know thieves fairly well. You humans always seem capable of the best and the worst deep down inside when the moment calls for it, but when that man walked into the Ramblehouse, I was certain he was just a thief on the lam. If that were you, wouldn't you be gone at daybreak without a word too?"

At hearing Cham's hasty plan to hide evidence, he smiles as if regarding a child attempting something futile, "As for what Cham wanted to do with the books, I can't say I know what she was thinking. I saw she was in a right state of fits this morning, so maybe that's it? She seems to have spent a lifetime of foresight building this place for the family and held on to none of it to actually run the damn thing. I hardly heard a peep out of him once he was in his room. Mostly grumbling to himself and the sounds of drinking. I did catch him dictating a letter to himself. Sounded like he was writing a sweetheart of some kind. Poor fellow probably wanted to drop it with the post service in Freedom Town out east."

[Shadowsend]

"Of course, my apologies. I just have this feeling that I need to speak with him to at least confirm he didn't play a role. Somehow this happened to Rodrick. And in order to protect your cousin, I have to clear this man off the list, too." Hanzi continues waiting, hoping Jeth will be done with his assessment of the texts.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Their relationship became more or less estranged at that point until Rodrick approached her last night after Ruby's hopeknife ceremony and promised that he would be making things right that very night with one final investigation into the Plague House to put his obsession to rest permanently. To this end, he even assured her that he would reclaim her hopeknife as a symbol of his commitment to their love over whatever else was going on.
Mickiel nods and responds, "I think we should consider investigating this site - Rodrick's efforts to do so may have inspired his murder, and he was a good man trying to both protect his home and those he loved. Thank you for your help." Looking to his large companion, Mickiel waits to exit until he is sure the conversation is over, his eyes down the entire time.

[Amazo]

"Of course, my apologies. I just have this feeling that I need to speak with him to at least confirm he didn't play a role. Somehow this happened to Rodrick. And in order to protect your cousin, I have to clear this man off the list, too." Hanzi continues waiting, hoping Jeth will be done with his assessment of the texts.

Seeing that the holy man plans on holding the spot until he completes their agreed upon business, Jeth grumbles and cracks open Rodricks journal first to get a feel for the departed man's handwriting. He reads the first few pages intently before skimming through the rest of the book. He looks more like he's searching for a something in particular than actually taking in the writing. He reaches the end of the book and starts flipping through the opposite direction, more slowly. His lips seem to be mouthing something silently to himself, but looking down at the small man from above, Hanzi can't tell what.

It takes him more than a few minutes of flipping even with the relatively quick pace he scans each page. Finally, one entry gives him causes his head to bolt upright and beam at Hanzi. "Aha! For a moment I thought our writer friend never penned a word while under the influence of spirits! His writing in style and appearance is a quite a fair bit more refined than most others you'll find in Trunau, even when inebriated. Now let's take a look at your note for comparison..."

The sun has passed its peak and progresses steadily into its decline to the west as Jeth very carefully switches back and forth between the two pieces. He checks the back of each page, apparently for checking the amount of ink used for the different strokes, measures letters against others with his small fingernails serving as useful measuring tools. Finally, after applying each method against seemingly every letter in each writing sample, Jeth rubs at his strained eyes before tucking the note back into the book and offering both back to Hanzi. "Whoever tried to write that note is crafty. Likely, they had a sample of Rodrick writing while drunk to go by, just like I did, but its almost impossible to imitate the style completely. The secrets in the smallest details: their ink was a bit too heavy in some places, too light in others. It is however as you suspected a forgery as far as I can tell. I'm sure Cham won't like to hear this, but I'm sure the rest of Trunau would be less disheartened by his passing if they knew that the frontier life itself didn't break his spirit."

[Shadowsend]

"Thank you for confirming my suspicions. If you or your family are ever in need of my services, you have but to ask. May the light of Sarenrae keep you on your path." Hanzi takes back the two documents and leaves Jeth to his previous occupation. He heads to the Ramblehouse to return the rabbit's foot to Cham. "Thank you for your assistance with Jeth. He confirmed my suspicions about the note. There are a few other things you can help me with, however. Has Rodrick been staying at the Ramblehouse often? And on a different note, can you have one of your staff open the window of room thirty-seven and put a shiny copper piece in the windowsill and then come back for it in an hour or so?"

Assuming Cham complies with the second request, Hanzi begins trying to find out if someone could climb into the Ramblehouse from that window, and what their route might have been.

[Amazo]

"Thank you for confirming my suspicions. If you or your family are ever in need of my services, you have but to ask. May the light of Sarenrae keep you on your path." Hanzi takes back the two documents and leaves Jeth to his previous occupation. He heads to the Ramblehouse to return the rabbit's foot to Cham. "Thank you for your assistance with Jeth. He confirmed my suspicions about the note. There are a few other things you can help me with, however. Has Rodrick been staying at the Ramblehouse often? And on a different note, can you have one of your staff open the window of room thirty-seven and put a shiny copper piece in the windowsill and then come back for it in an hour or so?"

Assuming Cham complies with the second request, Hanzi begins trying to find out if someone could climb into the Ramblehouse from that window, and what their route might have been.

Cham actually produces a copper and the key to the room from a drawer behind her stand and offers them to Hanzi, as he seems keen on investigating the matter further. Opening the window to examine the exterior of the building, Hanzi immediately sees a potential route up. Room #37 looks west over the walls towards Varisia, eliminating the sign post hanging above the ground entrance as a means of ascent. However, between each story of the building lies a decorative protrusion of stonework around the non-entrance sides of the building. While it is clearly wide enough for the halfling who built the Ramblehouse to stand on, larger folks would have to sidle along the outside slowly and carefully. Still, the construction seems to imply it would be able to support the weight of such a person if the time called for it. Finally, the window to the room adjacent to #37, the one the mysterious cloaked man stayed in, is still open, though whether this is due to the staff leaving it open or something else is impossible to say.

[Shadowsend]

On a whim, Hanzi checks the secret drawer in this room. He puts the copper in the sill of this room, hopefully in such a way that it is visible from the ground. He then goes out of the Ramblehouse to walk around the building, looking up for the reflection of the copper piece.

[Farmerbink]

"Thank you for your help."

Deurn nods solemnly. "I agree. We will see what Rodrik found that endangered him so. I only wish he had asked for aid before this." With a concerned face, he begs his leave and returns to the other companions.

[DarkOne-Rob]

The two quiet men walk from Brinya's home towards the Ramblehouse, approaching at about the time Hanzi and the rest are investigating the possibility that an intruder came into Rodrick's room from the ledges. Once they find the others, Mickiel summarizes the half-orc woman's story and says, "We need to investigate the Plague House and soon. If whoever killed Rodrick didn't want him to find what was there, it is likely more important to the town than his death. I suggest we go immediately." He then looks expectantly at the others, making eye contact in an unusually direct way with each of them as if to impress upon them his seriousness.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi considers Mickiel's plan. "I agree that the Plaguehouse warrants much concern; however, there are signs that an attack on the town is imminent, that one of the major targets is the town water supply, and that the guards are grieving a beloved commander. Given how late in the day it is, I think it would not be proper to leave the town before the attack, as we may not make it back in time to prevent loss of life. While it is highly likely that whatever Rodrick was investigating at the Plaguehouse led to his death, there seem to be other forces at play. Rodrick's diary mentions that he and Brinya were scared away from meeting there by a troll and that he had been back there a few times since. A half-orc oracle dreamed about something dark happening to him."

Hanzi pauses, redirecting his thoughts. "As to our investigation, there was an unnamed man here in the Ramblehouse that boarded next to Rodrick. The building is built such that it would not be terribly challenging to climb up and inside or out and down. So the question becomes whether or not Rodrick had a pattern of staying here and reserved the same room. If so, one could observe his comings and goings, then when the time was right, scale the building. The murderer would only need the location within the building of the target. My theory is that two people were involved in this crime. The unnamed man arranged it, but was only an accomplice. Another carried the deed out. It is also highly likely that the unnamed man is the source of many of the robberies of the smiths and farmers around town. Whether or not he was working with the band of half-orcs that left the town remains to be seen."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Looking bewildered by the stream of words, Mickiel stares at the man intently. "Look out past the walls - do you see forces assembled to attack? I don't. Besides, the town relied on Rodrick only so much. Men and women have died before and will again, but Trunau will survive without them..."

Staring Hanzi in the eye, Mickiel finishes, "...and us. We should not spend more time here when the answers to both your questions and - more importantly - what happened to Rodrick and threatens this town lie in the Plague House. If you won't go, I will, though I hope not alone." he turns to the others and looks for someone to join him.

We have investigated very thoroughly, but our PCs aren't forensic scientists and we lack the divination spells to catch the killer by investigating his entry method, especially when it is unlikely he is even still in town. The Plague House is a clear direction that involves action for all of us, as opposed to further social investigations that (as mentioned already) won't solve this mystery on their own. Both as a PC and player I think we need to transition to what I suspect is our first dungeon.

[Shadowsend]

"On further thinking about it, I agree. However, in case we do run into foul play, I must inform Kurst of all our findings. That could take a while."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Looking confused, Mickiel says, "Um, sure. I'll let you do the talking, though...In fact, I will meet you at the gate."

Trailing off and starting to whistle, Mickiel begins to walk in the direction of the only gates to the city, on the north side of the walls, opposite the ruined Plague House. Once there, he whistles quite loudly and shrilly several times until a small, brown bear comes lumbering towards him. Smiling at Biorna, he approaches her and begins talking to her comfortably, much more freely than he does with other humans. Together they wait for the party to exit the city.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi goes to find Kurst, to explain all of the details and present his theory of the crime, as it exists at the moment.

[Amazo]

Hanzi goes to find Kurst, to explain all of the details and present his theory of the crime, as it exists at the moment.

Finding Kurst's location is as simple as asking the nearest guard patrol: it's common knowledge to them that the warning of an imminent attack has sent all of the patrol leaders into a war meeting at the barracks. Hanzi follows that familiar path back to the impressive stone building to find his impromptu employer in an intense strategy planning session with his father and the still-inebriated guard captain from earlier. Kurst is visibly distressed at having to contribute without that extra person to run his ideas past, but he does not shy away from his father's questions entirely. Still, when Hanzi's arrival offers him an excuse to remove himself from the situation if only for a moment, he takes the chance eagerly. He hangs on the priest's every word, taking solace in the mounting evidence supporting his suspicions of foul play. Finally, at the end of his explanation, Kurst inadvertently lets loose a single tear from each eye, his relief evident despite the display. He thanks Hanzi earnestly for all of his assistance in the investigation and thanking the gods that he chose the right group of men to trust with a task so important to him and his family. He asks Hanzi to wait while he relays the news to his father.

[Farmerbink]

"On further thinking about it, I agree. However, in case we do run into foul play, I must inform Kurst of all our findings. That could take a while."

Looking confused, Mickiel says, "Um, sure. I'll let you do the talking, though...In fact, I will meet you at the gate."

Deurn nods at the gruff human, an amused and knowing look in his hooded eyes. "I will travel with you, holy man, to inform Kurst. I agree, he needs to know all we can tell him."

Finally, at the end of his explanation, Kurst inadvertently lets loose a single tear from each eye, his relief evident despite the display. He thanks Hanzi earnestly for all of his assistance in the investigation and thanking the gods that he chose the right group of men to trust with a task so important to him and his family. He asks Hanzi to wait while he relays the news to his father.

Deurn places a huge hand on Kurst's shoulder, and gently turns the man's face to his own. Smiling sadly, he holds the gaze for a moment before saying, "you would not be the brother he loved if you were unable to mourn him. He would be proud of you." Finally, he releases the man, perhaps a few seconds later than would have been comfortable and more easily appreciated.

"We will wait, but cannot wait long. The Plague House must be searched. Soon."

[Amazo]

Deurn places a huge hand on Kurst's shoulder, and gently turns the man's face to his own. Smiling sadly, he holds the gaze for a moment before saying, "you would not be the brother he loved if you were unable to mourn him. He would be proud of you." Finally, he releases the man, perhaps a few seconds later than would have been comfortable and more easily appreciated.

"We will wait, but cannot wait long. The Plague House must be searched. Soon."

Deurn's words seem to have a profound effect on Kurst as he walks back to address his father. He asks the stern man something in a normal tone, not quite audible from the entrance of the barracks where Hanzi and Deurn wait. The relative calm lasts only a moment though as Jagrin explodes in response to whatever Kurst said to him. "I will not be dragged down into your abuse of power and the trust of the people of Trunau to hear whatever else your lackeys have to say! We are already mobilizing our entire standing militia on their likely-baseless warnings, all because of your appointment of them! This is the second Grath to lose their life to this damnable place, and I will not sully our name further with your crackpot theories!"

Kurst is cowed into silence by his father's outburst. His eyes are wide with fear, as if the orcs were at his doorstep at this very moment. The silence is thick, as even the drunk guard quits his incessant mourning of the late Rodrick to let the moment pass as painlessly as possible. In a instant, Kurst's countenance fiercens as he decides he has had enough. His response is likewise loud enough to be heard from the entrance, perhaps even a ways outside. "What these men have done for Trunau has cleared the Grath name of cowardice and proven that Rodrick was a hero even unto his death. They are about to embark on a mission to thwart whatever plot let to my brother, your son's, assassination! What they find in the Plague House is likely to save everyone in this "damnable" place that we love and swore upon our lives to defend!"

It is Jagrin's turn to fall into a shameful silence. All at once the man seems to realize the foolish and blind state to which his firstborn son's apparent suicide had lowered him. He hangs his head and mumbles something with a dismissive, limp-wristed wave of a hand before spinning on his heels and barreling towards his private quarters. Kurst is left fuming while his fellow captain is remains speechless.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi's mouth comes open in shock. "Dear Sarenrae, guide us, what have we gotten ourselves into?" He then hears Kurst's retort and almost whispers to Deurn. "I fear if there are no answers there, we may be run out of town by the elder Grath."

If Kurst returns to them, Hanzi does what he can to calm the man down. "Everyone grieves in their own way. I'm certain the pain is still too close for your father for him to begin the process. That said, his demeanor and actions will certainly disrupt the men, at a time when they need to be at their best."

If not, he assumes that the information gathered is now in more protected hands, and goes to meet Mickiel and the others at the gate.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn smiles to himself as the younger Grath son stands up for himself, not grasping the social complexity of the situation.


"I fear if there are no answers there, we may be run out of town by the elder Grath."

Deurn nods slowly. "If there are no answers in the Plague House, I fear there may be no Trunau from which to be exiled before long. Rodrik was not untrained with his blade; I would be hesitant to explore inside the place without you and Mickiel's aid. Come, they await."

[Deurn is ready to join the others and investigate the Plague House]

[Amazo]

Hanzi's mouth comes open in shock. "Dear Sarenrae, guide us, what have we gotten ourselves into?" He then hears Kurst's retort and almost whispers to Deurn. "I fear if there are no answers there, we may be run out of town by the elder Grath."

If Kurst returns to them, Hanzi does what he can to calm the man down. "Everyone grieves in their own way. I'm certain the pain is still too close for your father for him to begin the process. That said, his demeanor and actions will certainly disrupt the men, at a time when they need to be at their best."

If not, he assumes that the information gathered is now in more protected hands, and goes to meet Mickiel and the others at the gate.

Standing up to his father seems to leave Kurst as drained as a prolonged day of battle would have. He slumps into his chair as his fellow captain throws an arm over his shoulders to console him, though he is still quite perplexed by the turn of events. Kurst turns his head back towards Hanzi and Deurn's waiting spot at the entrance, but he doesn't move to speak with them again. He mouths them a silent, "Thank you," and offers a reassuring smile.

[KevSaund]

Watching the outburst between father and son reminds Cawdor that more is at stake here than solving a murder. He finds himself somewhat ashamed at how much he has enjoyed parts of this task. Having been without purpose for so long, Finding one overwhelemed any sense of perspective. He composes himself and puts on what he hopes is a somber expression as he joins the others at the gate.

[JBrock76]

After delivering his observations and warnings to the captain, Tulorian heads back to join the others to find out what he's missed. Upon learning of the circumstances at the inn, along with the stolen knife, the forged letter, and the peculiar circumstances surrounding the relationship with the half-orc girl, Tulorian concludes there is much more going on beneath the surface than he imagined.


Staring Hanzi in the eye, Mickiel finishes, "...and us. We should not spend more time here when the answers to both your questions and - more importantly - what happened to Rodrick and threatens this town lie in the Plague House. If you won't go, I will, though I hope not alone." he turns to the others and looks for someone to join him.

"I too feel this Plague House requires further exploration, and should my gut feelings speak true, as they usually do, danger awaits us. It is imperative we guard each other's backs! All frivolity aside, this town is in danger, and I do not doubt the danger is great enough that a man was murdered to keep the threat hidden. While i aim to catch the criminal, i must agree, I do not believe we shall find him, or them, here. And if the guard will not take the warnings we have given them seriously, their blood is on their own hands."

[DarkOne-Rob]

If not, he assumes that the information gathered is now in more protected hands, and goes to meet Mickiel and the others at the gate.

[Deurn is ready to join the others and investigate the Plague House]

He composes himself and puts on what he hopes is a somber expression as he joins the others at the gate.
From his spot outside the gate with his bear companion, Mickiel sees the party exit and moves towards them calmly. "We are ready. Biorna will be of great help tracking and can help watch our back," he says casually, before noting the concerned looks on several of their faces. "Oh, and she is not a pet, so don't try to feed her or anything. She's not mean, but she is a bear, so...yeah. Is everyone ready?"

Without waiting for an answer, he walks back to Biorna, places a hand gently on her shoulder, and together they turn and begin walking around the outer walls. Carefully observing everything as they go, they comfortably take the lead at a determined but careful pace.

As we approach the Plague House itself, Mickiel and Biorna will slow down and more carefully attempt to spy any danger that might threaten. Obviously, if they spot any signs of an impending attack they will also slow down and react. Taking 10 for Perception results in a 15 for Mickiel and a 16 for Biorna (plus Scent for her).

[Farmerbink]

"Oh, and she is not a pet, so don't try to feed her or anything. She's not mean, but she is a bear, so...yeah. Is everyone ready?"

Deurn smiles knowingly when he joins Mickiel and Biorna. He stays a few feet away from the bear, favoring her with a slow, deliberate bow to his knee. "Hello, noble Biorna," his baritone voice rumbles a greeting. He smiles widely, with his lips carefully forced shut as she appears to be completely unimpressed.

Without concern, Deurn falls in behind Mickiel, drawing a glaive- apparently meant for someone much larger, and comfortably setting his grip upon its haft. As they walk, he sets the long spear at ease on his shoulder, an elevated marker of the big man's presence.

[JBrock76]

"Oh, and she is*nota pet, so don't try to feed her or anything. She's not mean, but she*is*a bear, so...yeah. Is everyone ready."

Umm, clearly you wouldn't have brought a ferocious beast into our midst if it were a danger. And your proximity to her shows you are not afraid of being eaten. But I'm sure all would agree I'm much more appetizing, so please ensure she remains properly fed at all times! Looking at the bear, "Good day Bear Biorna! You have very lovely fur and your strength is mighty. I hope to remain on your good side, which, consequently, is your outside. Now, without delay, lead on!"

Tulorian atrings his bow and readies himself for any surprises.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Shaking his head, Mickiel responds to the good natured ribbing by Tulorian by saying, "Oh, Biorna terrifies me - I just know better than to show it. And she doesn't understand you guys any better than you do her..."

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi seems unfazed by the development. "I'm guessing you haven't introduced Biorna to the town yet. Given what I've seen of it so far, I can't say I blame you." Hanzi also seems to accept Mickiel's leadership in the wild.

[Amazo]

Some travellers have elected to camp outside of Trunau's walls instead of paying for a proper room and safety within the town. Judging from the colorful tents and decorated wagon, they are likely traders who arrived late too late to conduct as much trade on the Barterstones as they would have liked. Other than them, the only thing Mickiel and Biorna pick up on the approach to the ruined Plague House is the sound of the patrolling guardsmen on the walls overhead. Some take a moment to observe the group's progress, some turning to fellow militiamen to point out a member of the group and say something beyond earshot. It takes only a short walk to get to the Plague House itself, but when the group arrives, how anyone could think of this place as a romantic rendevous point likely escapes some of the non-natives.

The Plague House’s front doors sit three feet above the ground. Charred wooden beams and ash are all that remains of a small porch and stairs that once led to the entrance. The small windows flanking either side of the doorframe are broken, but a large stained glass window dominating the face of the building to the right remains in fine shape, and shows a varicolored image of Iomedae holding her sword aloft. To the left of the front entrance, a wall has crumbled, splintered, and rotted away with time. The opposite side of the House rests along the rocky side of the hill that Trunau resides atop, with another decimated wall on the same side as the first broken wall. A fire pit with fresh ashes lays to the right of the main entrance, but otherwise, there are no sounds of coming from within the House that can be heard from this distance.

[KevSaund]

Cawdor is actually excited by the presence of the bear. "Well, if we're introducing multi-legged friends," he pauses as his scorpion crawls out of his hidden inner pocket and settles on Cawdor's shoulder, "this is Simon. He helps me with my magic. He too can be dangerous, but he is also very shy. Usually he doesn't come out unless I ask him to, but I feel safe enough with you all. Other than you, he has been my only companion for many years." Cawdor falls in line with the others and begins the journey to the plague house.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi regards the sight of the Plaguehouse. "The glass has a certain beauty to it, but it would be shrouded at night time." He keeps what Rodrick's diary has said about the place in mind, and draws his scimitar and readies his buckler. Hanzi looks at his companions, and sees only the bard possibly suited for stealth. As the building is likely not to have many chambers, Hanzi announces their presence. "To any in this place who wish to receive Sarenrae's mercy and redemption, call out and step forth." He shouts into the doorway.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn frowns an appraisal of Cawdor's companion, before shrugging the concern from his features with an odd expression of acceptance. He looks to the primary means of entry, and back to his companions. With the floor at roughly waist-height to the rest of them, he smirks a bit.

Turning to face the party, but especially Mickiel, he says, "I suspect I would have little trouble hoisting you all into the doorway, or climbing in myself, but Biorna may have to account for herself. I am unaccustomed to assisting climbing bears."

As Hanzi calls out his mixture of a challenge and offer of mercy, confusion lowers Deurn's eyebrows. He looks back to the opening, and even goes so far as to carefully approach- surprisingly quiet for such a big man- listening for any sound of movement beyond. Midway to the door, he notices the recent ash, and points it out. "This place is certainly not as abandoned as it may appear. Have caution."


One perception check from about 15-20 feet from the opening before approaching: [roll0]
If I hear nothing, attempt to sneakily approach the door. Stealth: [roll1]
At the doorway, peering through and listening beyond (with benefit of low-light vision): [roll2]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Grimacing at Hanzi's announcement, Mickiel mumbles, "If there is a next time, please let us look around and get a better clue of what is going on before announcing our presence to presumed enemies..."

Not waiting for a response or responding to any of the other PCs for several moments, Biorna and Mickiel walk around the building, both staring intently at the ground and sniffing at various spots as they search for tracks or other signs of inhabitants.

Mickiel will use Survival (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/skills/survival.html#survival) [roll0] to try and get a read of the ground and an idea of what may or may not have been going on around the Plague House. Meanwhile, Biorna will smell around using scent (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/glossary.html#scent) to see if anything she recognizes as hostile or dangerous is around.

[JBrock76]

"Brave companions, while I certainly won't complain about you putting yourselves forward to approach any dangers head-on, please know I am not without certain skills. Particularly those which allow me to go unseen when the need arises. Merely say the word and I shall gladly scout ahead. And fear not, should I come upon anything untoward, I will most certainly alert you post haste!"

[Shadowsend]

"My apologies. Perhaps that was a bit too heavy handed." Hanzi also uses his powers of observation around the building.

Perception: [roll0]

[KevSaund]

Cawdor puts what meager skills he has at hand, looking around as the others do. He doesn't actually expect to find anything, but he wants to fit in.

Perception check: [roll0]

[Amazo]

Mickiel will use Survival (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/skills/survival.html#survival) [roll0] to try and get a read of the ground and an idea of what may or may not have been going on around the Plague House. Meanwhile, Biorna will smell around using scent (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/glossary.html#scent) to see if anything she recognizes as hostile or dangerous is around.

Mickiel's skills as an outdoorsman have been kept razor sharp despite his stay in a relatively civilized place due to his tutelage under Silvermane. It is a simple matter for him to find multiple sets of tracks leading to and from the Plague House. The tracks are always in pairs and each pair always consists of one set of tracks left by something hulking in size and bipedal while the other set are from a normal humanoid of some kind. Eventually, each pair of tracks splits at about the same point. The humanoid's tracks had back towards the main gates of the town, and the remaining set all lead south away from Trunau.

As the young druid attempts to put these clues together, Biorna alerts him to potential danger with a low snarl and an aggressive stance towards the collapsed wall to the party's left. Deurn and Hanzi's attempts at observation flesh out the nature of the potential threat further. Hanzi can hear a faint sound of slimy squirming and writhing, while Deurn additionally hears the skittering of small, pointed feet against wood.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Biorna alerts him to potential danger with a low snarl and an aggressive stance towards the collapsed wall to the party's left.
Drawing his scimitar, Mickiel turns and carefully prowls closer to the sign of danger, ready to either attack or flee at a moment's notice.

[Farmerbink]

"Something is here!" Deurn relates to his companions, in a harsh whisper. In a sudden motion, he steps towards the collapsed wall and straightens his grip on the massive glaive. "It sounds fairly small, actually... Whatever you are," he calls out much louder, "show yourselves in good faith and you will not be unduly harmed!"

Intending to be the closest person to the opening, but still 5 feet distant, to make best use of the reach weapon, FYI.

[KevSaund]

Observing the drawn weaponry at hand, Cawdor steps behind Deurn and places a hand on his back. "I am not much for a using a blade, but perhaps this will help should you need to swing yours." He then whispers a short incantation under his breath.


Casting Guidance on Derun (+1 on the next attack, skill or saving throw of his choice)

[Shadowsend]

"I am not sure it will understand us. I'm going to flush it out, be ready." If there is no response to Deurn, Hanzi begins casting a spell. When he is finished a ball of water appears over the opening in the wall, then seems to just fall.

Create water over the opening in the wall.

[Amazo]

With each verbal jab at whatever danger lays beyond the crumbled wall, a peculiar hiss rather unlike that of a snake can be heard. As Hanzi finally approaches to cast his spell, the hisses suddenly multiply to become three separate voices hissing concurrently. Hanzi's spell seems to have no immediate effect, but after a moment, the cacophony hissing, slimy squirming, and scrabbling digits reveal themselves to be a trio of giant centipedes crawling down from what remains of the room's ceiling.

http://www.dodecaheathens.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Giant_Centipede.jpg

Their beady red eyes are trained on Deurn and Hanzi, as the closest threats to their home. Once they are within striking distance, it becomes clear that they aim to vacate the threat to their home or die in its defense.

Roll Initiative

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi holds his scimitar defensively, and watches for an opening to aid another combatant by using his footwork to feint at one of the centipedes.

I guess initiative first, then aid whoever would go after me in initiative?

Init: [roll0]

Aid another: [roll1] VS AC10 (if successful adds +3 (trait) to an ally's attack roll), probably aiding Mickiel or Biorna if they close to melee, as it seems like Cawdor is helping Deurn. That person gains the bonus on their next attack roll.

[JBrock76]

"Mind my arrows friends!"
Tulorian takes aim at the creature closest to them and fires away.

[KevSaund]

Doing his best to keep Deurn between him and the creatures, Cawdor lets loose with an Evil Eye hex at the nearest target.

Targeting: saving throws, -2 for 7 rounds. Unless a will save is passed, then it is only 1 round.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=189767)
Male Neutral Human Druid, Level 1, Init 2, HP 14/14, Speed 20 ft (30 ft base)
AC 18, Touch 12, Flat-footed 16, CMD 16, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 2, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 0
Scimitar +4 (1d6+4, 18-20/x2)
Sling +2 (1d4+4, 20/x2)
Scythe +4 (2d4+6, 20/x4)
Hide Armor, Heavy Wooden Shield (+4 Armor, +2 Shield, +2 Dex)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 7
Condition None

Biorna (Bear Animal Companion)
Male Neutral Small Animal
HD 2d8, Init +2, HP 14/14, Speed 40 ft.
Abilities Str 15, Dex 15, Con 13, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
AC 14, Touch 12, Flat-footed 12, CMD 14, Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1, CMB +2, Base Attack Bonus +1
No Armor (+2 Dexterity, +2 natural armor)
Bite +3 to hit, (20/x2), 1d4+2 damage
2 Claws +3 to hit, (20/x2), 1d3+2 damage
Feats Toughness
Skill Ranks Perception 1 (+5), Swim 1 (+6)
Class Skills: Acrobatics, Climb, Fly, Perception, Stealth, and Swim
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spells
With a roar matched in volume and intensity by Biorna, Mickiel lays into the nearest centipede, naturally cooperating with his bear companion as they both attempt to savage the enormous vermin!

None of the attacks include the flanking bonuses that I hope are appropriate.

Mickiel will move as necessary to reach a centipede to attack, preferring to avoid AoOs (via 5-ft steps) and flank (preferably with Biorna) if able.
Scimitar [roll0] attack, [roll1] (18-20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage (Natural "1" - Miss)

Biorna will take the most direct path to attack a centipede she can without incurring AoOs, using a 5-ft step to flank if possible, before making a full attack
Bite [roll3] attack, [roll4] attack (20/x2), [roll5] damage (probably a miss)
Claw [roll6] attack, [roll7] attack (20/x2), [roll8] damage
Claw [roll9] attack, [roll10] attack (20/x2), [roll11] damage (probably a miss)

[Farmerbink]

Deurn Greyson (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179728)
Half-Giant Slayer 1 NG
HP 13 / 13 Speed ft Init 0
AC 16 Fort 4 Ref 2 Will 4
CMB +6 BAB 1
Falcata +6 (2d6+5, 19-20, x3)
Glaive-Guisarme +6 (2d8+7, x3)
Falcata (OH) - (1d8+2, 19-20, x3)
Stomp 1/day DC 11 reflex or prone (2d4 nonlethal, )
Hopeknife +6/+1 (1d6+5, 19-20, x2)
Str 20 (5) Dex 10 (0) Con 14 (2) Wis 16 (3) Int 8 (-1) Cha 8 (-1)

Deurn wastes no time, and strikes at the nearest centipede as soon as it reveals its presence. "Careful of the stingers!" he warns his allies, unnecessarily.

move action to study the nearest centipede. Standard action to attack
[roll0] atk
[roll1] cc (26, x3)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

AoO: (+1 to atk and damage if studied target)
[roll4] atk
[roll5] cc (26, x3)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[Amazo]

Targeting: saving throws, -2 for 7 rounds. Unless a will save is passed, then it is only 1 round.

Cawdor's magic-laced glare meets the gaze of the nearest centipede dead-on, but it seems to not even need an instant to ignore the effects it ought to be having.

move action to study the nearest centipede. Standard action to attack
[roll0] atk
[roll1] cc (26, x3)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

AoO: (+1 to atk and damage if studied target)
[roll4] atk
[roll5] cc (26, x3)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

Deurn's glaive chops down cleanly towards the skittering beast before him. His observations note that aiming between the segments of the creatures' tough hides would yield the best chance at successfully damaging them, and he gets a chance to validate his theory with his blow! The glaive strikes true with a wet chunk and doesn't stop until the beast is rent in twain. It wriggles like a worm on a hook for only a moment before lying still.

I guess initiative first, then aid whoever would go after me in initiative?

Init: [roll0]

Aid another: [roll1] VS AC10 (if successful adds +3 (trait) to an ally's attack roll), probably aiding Mickiel or Biorna if they close to melee, as it seems like Cawdor is helping Deurn. That person gains the bonus on their next attack roll.


Hanzi takes a step away from his group, hoping that their presence would keep the vermin's attention while he moves in to pin the creature down with his blade's placement. However, he is caught by surprise when the creature coils itself around once to protect itself from his attempt even as its eyes look elsewhere.

"Mind my arrows friends!"
Tulorian takes aim at the creature closest to them and fires away.

Tulorian's arrow strikes its mark, but sadly is unable to pierce the creature's plated skin. This attempt seems to finally spur the centipedes into following through on their threats. The two creatures spring forward to encircle the closest combatant to them, the priest! They seem to have the same choice for target in mind as the each lunge forward to sink their stinging fangs into each of Hanzi's legs! Only one of them manages to worm a wet tooth past the metal protecting the man's legs, but mercifully, he can feel that same stinger get harmlessly caught up in the cloth of his pants before the creature withdraws to attempt another bite entirely.

Centipede 2
Attack:
Critical (20/x2): [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] + Poison
Fortitude Save vs. Poison: [roll3]
Poison Damage: [roll4] Dexterity damage

Centipede 3
Attack: [roll5]
Critical (20/x2): [roll6]
Damage: [roll7] + Poison
Fortitude Save vs. Poison: [roll8]
Poison Damage: [roll9] Dexterity damage


None of the attacks include the flanking bonuses that I hope are appropriate.

Mickiel will move as necessary to reach a centipede to attack, preferring to avoid AoOs (via 5-ft steps) and flank (preferably with Biorna) if able.
Scimitar [roll0] attack, [roll1] (18-20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage (Natural "1" - Miss)

Biorna will take the most direct path to attack a centipede she can without incurring AoOs, using a 5-ft step to flank if possible, before making a full attack
Bite [roll3] attack, [roll4] attack (20/x2), [roll5] damage (probably a miss)
Claw [roll6] attack, [roll7] attack (20/x2), [roll8] damage
Claw [roll9] attack, [roll10] attack (20/x2), [roll11] damage (probably a miss)

Mickiel and his companion move in to claim blood for that almost spilled from their ally. Sadly his scimitar meets the same fate as Hanzi's attempt, glancing uselessly off of the vermin's carapace. However, he and Hanzi prove to be an able enough distraction for Biorna to strike a critical blow. Bringing her paws down with her full weight behind them, she forgoes any finesse in favor of brute force. Her exchange proves worthwhile as she slams her body down onto the beast from above, producing a slimy squelch inside the hardened scales of the centipede. Like it's broodmate before, it squirms as much as it is able for only a moment. The final centipede shows no traces of fear and no sign of backing down from the odds so clearly stacked against it.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn Greyson (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179728)
Half-Giant Slayer 1 NG
HP 13 / 13 Speed ft Init 0
AC 16 Fort 4 Ref 2 Will 4
CMB +6 BAB 1
Falcata +6 (2d6+5, 19-20, x3)
Glaive-Guisarme +6 (2d8+7, x3)
Falcata (OH) - (1d8+2, 19-20, x3)
Stomp 1/day DC 11 reflex or prone (2d4 nonlethal, )
Hopeknife +6/+1 (1d6+5, 19-20, x2)
Str 20 (5) Dex 10 (0) Con 14 (2) Wis 16 (3) Int 8 (-1) Cha 8 (-1)

As the second centipede is mauled by Biorna, Deurn spends just a moment watching the third and final vermin move. Subconsciously noting an odd sense of instruction, he brings his glaive crashing down into the creature's path!

move action to study the last centipede. Standard action to attack- yay reach. Using guidance from Cawdor
[roll0] atk
[roll1] cc (26, x3)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

AoO: (counting studied target, since it's the only one left.)
[roll4] atk
[roll5] cc (26, x3)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[KevSaund]

Having seen the arrow bounce away, Cawdor reaches out to Tulorian with a touch, saying, "Perhaps this will help you with your next shot."

Cast Guidance on Tulorian, +1 on next attack/saving throw/ability check if you want it.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=189767)
Male Neutral Human Druid, Level 1, Init 2, HP 14/14, Speed 20 ft (30 ft base)
AC 18, Touch 12, Flat-footed 16, CMD 16, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 2, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 0
Scimitar +4 (1d6+4, 18-20/x2)
Sling +2 (1d4+4, 20/x2)
Scythe +4 (2d4+6, 20/x4)
Hide Armor, Heavy Wooden Shield (+4 Armor, +2 Shield, +2 Dex)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 7
Condition None

Biorna (Bear Animal Companion)
Male Neutral Small Animal
HD 2d8, Init +2, HP 14/14, Speed 40 ft.
Abilities Str 15, Dex 15, Con 13, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
AC 14, Touch 12, Flat-footed 12, CMD 14, Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1, CMB +2, Base Attack Bonus +1
No Armor (+2 Dexterity, +2 natural armor)
Bite +3 to hit, (20/x2), 1d4+2 damage
2 Claws +3 to hit, (20/x2), 1d3+2 damage
Feats Toughness
Skill Ranks Perception 1 (+5), Swim 1 (+6)
Class Skills: Acrobatics, Climb, Fly, Perception, Stealth, and Swim
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spells
Mickiel moves around the remaining centipede with a hunter's look on his face as he gets into position to flank with Biorna and attack!

Mickiel moves to V9 by way of S9-T8-U8 to flank with Biorna and attacks the centipede
Scimitar [roll0] attack, [roll1] (18-20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage

Biorna makes a full attack
Bite [roll3] attack, [roll4] attack (20/x2), [roll5] damage
Claw [roll6] attack, [roll7] attack (20/x2), [roll8] damage
Claw [roll9] attack, [roll10] attack (20/x2), [roll11] damage

[Shadowsend]

Round 2

After Father Ivarisky's armor saved him, he looks at his scimitar and wonders for a second, then brings it down towards the centipede.

Might as well try an attack roll.

[roll0]
Crit on 20-22: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit damage: [roll3]

[JBrock76]

Having seen the arrow bounce away, Cawdor reaches out to Tulorian with a touch, saying, "Perhaps this will help you with your next shot."

My thanks friend. Let's see how it likes one in the eye!

[JBrock76]

Tulorian pulls another arrow out and takes aim. Being careful to avoid the other combatants.
[roll0]

[JBrock76]

Eventually I'll realize that I might as well put everything into one message all at the same time because this stupid system doesn't let you go back and add rolls in on an edit. Which i understand keeps people from cheating but it makes it darn frustrating for an honest person!
Damage: [roll0]

[Amazo]

move action to study the last centipede. Standard action to attack- yay reach. Using guidance from Cawdor
[roll0] atk
[roll1] cc (26, x3)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

AoO: (counting studied target, since it's the only one left.)
[roll4] atk
[roll5] cc (26, x3)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

The falling of the other two centipedes seems to have put the last one on alert to Deurn's massive polearm. It manages to deftly avoid the incoming blow entirely.

Might as well try an attack roll.

[roll0]
Crit on 20-22: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit damage: [roll3]


His hand guided by his mentor's memory, Hanzi manages to strike a significant blow against the final creature square across its face. However, it is not enough to fell the beast outright.

[roll0]

Eventually I'll realize that I might as well put everything into one message all at the same time because this stupid system doesn't let you go back and add rolls in on an edit. Which i understand keeps people from cheating but it makes it darn frustrating for an honest person!
Damage: [roll0]

Unlike his last attempt, Tulorian's next arrow is successful in striking a vulnerable area of the remaining vermin. He can feel his arrow guided by an otherworldly power, but its evident benevolence lulls him into a sense of ease at is its presence. Unfortunately, even with this aid the arrow does not manage to finish slaying the creature either! It rears back in a barely-conscious stupor to strike at the only target within range of its fangs: Hanzi! A stroke of luck shines through though as it once again fails to penetrate the cleric's flesh with its needle-sharp pincers.

Centipede 3
Attack: [roll0]
Critical (20/x2): [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] + Poison
Fortitude Save vs. Poison: [roll3]
Poison Damage: [roll4] Dexterity damage

Mickiel moves to V9 by way of S9-T8-U8 to flank with Biorna and attacks the centipede
Scimitar [roll0] attack, [roll1] (18-20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage

Biorna makes a full attack
Bite [roll3] attack, [roll4] attack (20/x2), [roll5] damage
Claw [roll6] attack, [roll7] attack (20/x2), [roll8] damage
Claw [roll9] attack, [roll10] attack (20/x2), [roll11] damage

Finally, Mickiel takes his opportunity to attempt a finishing blow against the weakened creature. Strafing around his allies and the fallen centipedes, he attempts a swing while the creature is distracted by Hanzi and his own animal companion, but the momentum of his movement carries his swing to far and sends it skittering harmlessly off a plate of the centipede's exoskeleton. Biorna suffers no such impediment. As the creature turns to hiss a challenge back at Mickiel, the ferocious companion lays into its flank with both clawed forelimbs and her vicious jaws. A few moments of writhing is all it takes for her assault to lay out the beast at her master's feet.

Victory! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3suGfhnT2Sg)

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi breathes a sigh of relief, and then looks his new friends over for injuries. Seeing none, he is quite heartened and ready to continue searching. He starts with the centipede's nest.

perception: [roll0]

[Amazo]

The centipede's nest occupies a chewed out corner of the room where the ceiling meets the floor of the next story of the building. It seems to be comprised of charred wooden splinters of various sizes made sticky by some kind of excretion of theirs. The most prominent feature though is the huge clutch of eggs contained within, explaining the centipede's quickness to aggression. Tucked in within the eggs lay some things of potential value too. Small bundles of silver coins occupy spots of sizes similar to the eggs adjacent to them, as well as one bundle which contains a gold locket and most notably what appears to be a hopeknife!

[Farmerbink]

Deurn notices the glint and Hanzi roots through the centipede's nest. Approaching behind his new companion, he sees the handle and chain and immediately recognizes the trinket. "May I see that?" he reaches out, expectantly.

Looking over the dagger, he searches it for any identifying features- family crest or engravings that might tie the dagger to a particular owner.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi does the same with the locket.

[KevSaund]

As the others cast their inspections towards what was found in the nest, Cawdor stretches his arcane senses outward to find any lingering trace of magic elsewhere in the Plague House.

Cast detect magic

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel shakes his head as if to clear his head before standing up straight and looking around intently. "These didn't make the tracks I found. Wrap up your business quickly," he says while Biorna absently begins to eat the remains of the centipedes, looking uninterested in the searching of the rest of the company.

Mickiel will continue actively searching for signs of danger until they are sure the Plague House is clear of threats. If you need me to roll Perception checks, I will do so - just let me know.

[JBrock76]

"Well fought my companions. And good fortune for us having this faithful and furocious bear with us! I am inspired to compose a quick verse in honor of our triumph. Clearing his throat...
"They wiggled! They squirmed! They pinched, and they Hissed!
We parried! We poked! We shot, and we missed!
The foes were plentiful,
But our strength was insurmountable!
All because their vissage left Biorna Pissed!"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel looks annoyed at the impromptu performance, turning away and trying to listen through the noise for signs of other threats, but saying nothing to the bard...yet...

[Farmerbink]

..."
All because their vissage left Biorna Pissed!"

Deurn snorts loudly. He chortles for several seconds before seeming to take his queue from Mickiel's dismissal. He grunts one last time, and returns his focus to the hopeknife and their surroundings.

[roll0] perception

[Amazo]

Deurn notices the glint and Hanzi roots through the centipede's nest. Approaching behind his new companion, he sees the handle and chain and immediately recognizes the trinket. "May I see that?" he reaches out, expectantly.

Looking over the dagger, he searches it for any identifying features- family crest or engravings that might tie the dagger to a particular owner.

As a resident of Trunau, Deurn knows he is not likely to find much when examining the knife. While every adult resident of the town carries their own knife, most of those residents have a relatively simple, unadorned hopeknife, though being one of Sara's, they are still masterworks all. Halgra personally delivers payments to the blacksmith to cover her costs and labor expenses in the production of new hopeknives, but it falls to the recipient and their family to chip in for any additional ornamentation. Still, the half-giant looks over the piece diligently to do his duty as a proud citizen. His tenacity does pay off as each link of the fine silver chain holding the sheath has a letter etched into it. Unfortunately, the script is not one the uneducated youth recognizes.

Hanzi does the same with the locket.

The locket contains a simple inscription of little consequence to Hanzi, but other members of his party may be interested in it. The engraving reads, "Reina, my muse."

As the others cast their inspections towards what was found in the nest, Cawdor stretches his arcane senses outward to find any lingering trace of magic elsewhere in the Plague House.

Cast detect magic

A cursory sweep of the premises for better or worse reveals no traces of magic on the floor the party currently occupies, nor on the floor above. However, there is a faint aura of abjuration emanating from beneath the party's feet in what is likely the Plague House's cellar. Curiously, there did not seem to be an entrance to such a room accessible from the outside.

Mickiel shakes his head as if to clear his head before standing up straight and looking around intently. "These didn't make the tracks I found. Wrap up your business quickly," he says while Biorna absently begins to eat the remains of the centipedes, looking uninterested in the searching of the rest of the company.

Mickiel will continue actively searching for signs of danger until they are sure the Plague House is clear of threats. If you need me to roll Perception checks, I will do so - just let me know.

Despite the short burst of the sounds of combat, nothing seems to have stirred in the rest of the Plague House yet. The only noise audible to Mickiel are the few sounds of the city that carry over the nearby walls.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi shares the silver found amongst the group. "Does anyone know a Reina? This seems to be hers." Hanzi says about the locket. Hanzi looks concerned when Mickiel mentions the tracks. "Perhaps you can describe these tracks and point out where they're going to and coming from. It may give us more direction with regards to this place, as we have very little to go on other than ominous feelings."

Hanzi thinks about his previous mistake. "Let's enter the way the tracks did. If they already know we're coming, we might as well go in the front door together as a group."

[JBrock76]

Stepping into the room, "Here, allow me to cast some light on things. Perhaps we may have missed something.

Cast Dancing Lights. All four spheres in a 10ft radius if possible. Perception Check [roll0]

Keeping his voice lower, "Look, there are stairs leading out of this lower room. It would appear we are in a middle level. I would suggest the stairs to the upper floor which should take us to the front door. Let us see what is there, then decide how to proceed. Shall I scout ahead and see what awaits, or do one of you want to shout out and give them fair warning?

[Amazo]

Stepping into the room, "Here, allow me to cast some light on things. Perhaps we may have missed something.

Cast Dancing Lights. All four spheres in a 10ft radius if possible. Perception Check [roll0]


The magical lights reveal a tarnished, soot-soiled statue of a proud warrior woman in a space obscured by the stairs leading up. The woman is clad in full plate and a flowing cape, brandishing a sword triumphantly and clutching a kite shield tightly in her other hand.

[Farmerbink]

"Shall I scout ahead and see what awaits, or do one of you want to shout out and give them fair warning?

for the second time in short succession, Deurn finds himself amused by the talkative fellow. "Go on up," the big mans says. He looks around the group, noting the others' complete lack of preparation for such activities. "I'll give you fair clearance, and follow shortly behind."

He does exactly that, trying to keep Tulorian in sight where possible, but no closer than 20 feet.
stealth

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi just sighs. "I'd much rather be patient than attempt not to be seen. It isn't like my armor is particularly quiet. But if you feel you must rush ahead, possibly into danger, and without forming a plan to deal with said danger, then by all means."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"We haven't been particularly quiet, so if anyone other than centipedes are here they will likely be expecting us. Let's go together," Mickiel says as he begins walking around the building, looking for an easy entrance for Biorna.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi walks with Mickiel, also looking for an easier way inside or signs of movement.

[Amazo]

"We haven't been particularly quiet, so if anyone other than centipedes are here they will likely be expecting us. Let's go together," Mickiel says as he begins walking around the building, looking for an easy entrance for Biorna.

Given that Mickiel has seen two of the buildings three sides, with it's last face completely wedged against the stone to the north of it, it takes the druid only a moment to scan his eyes over the remaining side. After the breach in the wall where the centipedes issued out from, the rest of that wall seems to hold until where it is supposed to meet the stone backing. Instead of the expected architecture, a sinkhole seems to have claimed that corner of the house as a deep crevice is filled with some rubble from the fallen wall. Even so, the hole is not completely filled in and still offers a sizable 10 or so foot drop before hitting the ruined masonry below. The edge around the 10 foot by 5 foot sinkhole would be easy enough to sidle along for the bipedal party members, but it would take Biorna a miracle not to tumble down because of her bulk, if she could even be convinced to attempt the maneuver. Leading her up the stairs by the statue of Iomedae seems an altogether safer route physically for her, at least at this juncture.

Above the hole, still attached to the remaining wall is what appears to be whatever is left of a second floor. Given that it does not extend further into the house along the rock-backed side of the building, it seems likely that the area lead to a small windowed balcony or other sitting room of some kind directly above the hole, though it's impossible to tell just from examining the debris below. Further inside the house, the lack of any lightsources aside from the distant glow of Tulorian's dancing lights make the space a bit hard to define visually. Further confounding vision into the room, though perhaps telling a story about what awaits all on their own, are the thick cobwebs strung about the place. Aside from their claustrophobic, arachnophobic presence, the space itself seems to be relatively open.

[Shadowsend]

"Let's head down these stairs then."

[Farmerbink]

"Let's head down these stairs then."

Deurn puts out a huge hand in front of the cleric. "I will go first. I am of no use behind you." Again, displaying surprising ability for a man of his size, Deurn creeps down the stairs at the head of the motley column. He stops for several seconds at the top of the stairs to listen, before continuing into the depths.

Top of stairs perception: [roll0] (presumably sound only)

I'd really like to use the old stealth check, but if I need new rolls:
[roll1] stealth <- d'oh. Had to run out eventually.
[roll2] perception

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel and Biorna wait till the end of the group, deliberately taking up rear guard. "Should you find enemies in the front, do what you can to allow passed you - neither my scimitar nor Biorna's claws are of use back here save to protect us from ambush..." he says with a growl.

[Amazo]

Passing by the statue, the piece looks to have actually been crafted rather masterfully. It seems odd for the church to have sent a talented sculptor along with a mission to such hostile lands as Belkzen or to weigh down a new missionary group with something so hefty, but here stands a now-sullied testament to the church's tenacity in any case. The stairs themselves protest slightly under the weight of use, but they seem safe enough to proceed on. The landing at the top of the short set of steps branches directly to the left and right. The left path leads down a short hallway back to the ruined corner of house you just came in through while the right side turns a corner around the wall the stairs were against to lead to an open doorway. The glint of the setting sun is visibly playing along the silky strands of webbing to the north of the door, but the rest of the hall south of that seems to still be clear. About 10 feet opposite the doorway is another wall, though it stops to give way to the webbed area immediately as well.

[JBrock76]

Tulorian peaks up the stairs to see what's ahead. Then on tippy toes, silently heads up, arrow at the ready.
Stealth Check [roll0]
And Perception Check [roll1]

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Do you see anything up there besides webbing? From the outside I saw enough to concern me. We have already fought centipedes, and I would not be surprised if large enough spiders dwelt in the webbing to be a threat. If you light a torch, it should burn away the webbing itself easily enough, though..." Mickiel says from the back, raising his voice loudly enough to be heard at the front and no more.

[Amazo]

Tulorian peaks up the stairs to see what's ahead. Then on tippy toes, silently heads up, arrow at the ready.
Stealth Check [roll0]
And Perception Check [roll1]

Creeping forward as far as he dares, Tulorian makes it to the door at the end of the right hall sure that he had done so expertly. As he peers through the door, he further confirms what the mere glimpse from earlier in the hall gave. Immediately to the north of the doorway lies the room overrun by webbing and south of that space is the modest foyer leading up to the Plague House's front door. On the opposite wall and south a ways stands a relatively ornate pair of double doors. Their knobs, likely some kind of semi-precious metal, seem to have been looted long ago. Likewise, the ornamentation of the door itself is heavily obscured by scorches and dust, but its basic outline is still observable. Aside from the still hallway though, Tulorian detects no signs of movement nearby.

[Farmerbink]

"Hmmmm, that may be a good idea, Mickiel. Does anyone have any torches? I am sure I could get some, but do not usually carry them."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Hmmmm, that may be a good idea, Mickiel. Does anyone have any torches? I am sure I could get some, but do not usually carry them."
Mickiel nods and grabs three from his pack. "Here's what I have on me," he says as he lights them and passes them forward to the rest of the party. "Conserve them - if we go underground we will need their light."

[Shadowsend]

"I need them more for flame than for light." Hanzi says.

[Amazo]

The flames crackle to life with just a few seconds of work on each torch. Looking back at the hall now, the reflection of your new light sources off of the hundreds of small skittering creatures in the webs makes their volume much more discernable. The mere sight of the flames cause them to flee your presence though, leaving you instead with the beautiful glittering of the webbing instead. The density of the network of silk makes peering more closely through them difficult, but possible for those wanting to make an attempt.

Otherwise, the rest of the hall is mostly unremarkable. A set of double doors makes up the main entrance to the house and stands directly south from the webbed room, while a vandalized set of double doors adorns the opposite wall closer to the main entrance than to this other chamber.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Mickiel and Biorna look around the space with very different expressions - his one of intensity and hers of nonchalance. As the many arachnid eyes appear he readies himself to fight and then deflates as no threat emerges from the webbing.

[Farmerbink]

Deurn looks on the scene with something resembling disconnected indifference. Making an effort to avoid disturbing the webs unnecessarily, he approaches the scarred doors. He stops for a long moment, if allowed, attempting to listen at the joint of the two wooden obstructions.

1 full round of listening- again, if allowed
[roll0]
[roll1]

I will likely open the doors, at this point, regardless of what I hear. However, I will report what I hear to the rest of the party, and if I hear movement of any sort beyond, I'll exchange the glaive for my falcata and shield first. (Just trying to help facilitate exploration)

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi waits for the large man to decide to open the door.

[Amazo]

Deurn looks on the scene with something resembling disconnected indifference. Making an effort to avoid disturbing the webs unnecessarily, he approaches the scarred doors. He stops for a long moment, if allowed, attempting to listen at the joint of the two wooden obstructions.

1 full round of listening- again, if allowed
[roll0]
[roll1]

I will likely open the doors, at this point, regardless of what I hear. However, I will report what I hear to the rest of the party, and if I hear movement of any sort beyond, I'll exchange the glaive for my falcata and shield first. (Just trying to help facilitate exploration)

Deurn hears nothing listening at the door, but he does feel something. Standing there, he feels a flash of cold send shivers up his spine followed a few seconds later by the opposite sensation of a wave of heat uncomfortably washing over him. If he takes any time to center himself or waits to detect any further sensations of temperature, he detects nothing. The feelings flee without staying long enough to tell if they were real or the result of nerves.

[JBrock76]

Tulorian, being handed a torch, begins to burn away the lower hanging webs. He keeps a wary eye out for larger arachnids that might feel threatened enough to attack. As he begins to burn away, anyone standing close enough might hear him softly singing "The itsy bitsy spider...."

[Farmerbink]

Deurn shudders as the mixed sensations affect him. Turnin to face the group, he whispers, "Something is in here, though I know not what. Be prepared for the worst."

He turns back to the doors and pushes them open.

[Amazo]

Tulorian, being handed a torch, begins to burn away the lower hanging webs. He keeps a wary eye out for larger arachnids that might feel threatened enough to attack. As he begins to burn away, anyone standing close enough might hear him softly singing "The itsy bitsy spider...."

With a faint hiss, the webbing shirks away from the heat of the torch as soon as the flame draws near it. Likewise, the small spiders astride those strands continue their retreat further into the lattice of silk. For better or worse, no particularly large or threatening spiders make themselves known from this attempt.


Deurn shudders as the mixed sensations affect him. Turnin to face the group, he whispers, "Something is in here, though I know not what. Be prepared for the worst."

He turns back to the doors and pushes them open.

Inside, two rows of scorched, wrought-iron bedframes take up most of the space in this soaring chamber, at least 25 feet high, resting between a fire-blackened altar to the south and double doors to the north. A single iron door exits the chamber to the east. Brightly colored holy figures stare down from the stained-glass windows built into the blackened stone walls, their visages noticeably less damaged than the rest of the room.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"It's the room where the sick received care, I'll bet," says Mickiel quietly as he continues to stand read guard.

[Shadowsend]

Hanzi considers the room. "I believe you are correct, Mickiel. Perhaps the feeling of dread was a restless spirit of one of the ones who perished in the fire? At any rate we should do what we can to secure the place, and then look for clues." Hanzi considers the bard's burning of the webs. "For your information, Sarenrae has not granted me the ability to cure the poison inflicted by such animals. Thus, it could be a very costly mistake to anger or endanger them."

[JBrock76]

"For your information, Sarenrae has not granted me the ability to cure the poison inflicted by such animals. Thus, it could be a very costly mistake to anger or endanger them."

"He tells me this AFTER I've begun my thorough eradication of their vile, stringy, stickiness! Fine then, I don't see any danger of us falling into any webs as long as we mind our steps."

[JBrock76]

Walking into the room, "Ahh the stories a place like this could tell! More than likely they would be of such a color as to make most weep. Faith and despair, hope and death, such contrary, yet familiar companions."

Tulorian looks around for anything out of place or unusual.

[Amazo]

Hanzi considers the room. "I believe you are correct, Mickiel. Perhaps the feeling of dread was a restless spirit of one of the ones who perished in the fire? At any rate we should do what we can to secure the place, and then look for clues." Hanzi considers the bard's burning of the webs. "For your information, Sarenrae has not granted me the ability to cure the poison inflicted by such animals. Thus, it could be a very costly mistake to anger or endanger them."

As a cleric and as a person who has had a life like his, Hanzi's senses are more keenly attuned to the suffering of souls. He feels the truth behind his words in the air itself while the grasping fingers of the restless dead reach for it.


"It's the room where the sick received care, I'll bet," says Mickiel quietly as he continues to stand read guard.

At the mention of the sick people previously occupying the room, Mickiel feels a searing heat engulf him, as if he himself were the proverbial flash in the pan. The feeling lasts long enough for Mickiel to realize the sensation has no pain accompanying it, then disappears as quickly as it set on.


Walking into the room, "Ahh the stories a place like this could tell! More than likely they would be of such a color as to make most weep. Faith and despair, hope and death, such contrary, yet familiar companions."

Tulorian looks around for anything out of place or unusual.

Tulorian quickly spots some more valuables left strewn about in random places about the room. Primarily, he spots coins, but on one bed lies what appears to be a torn brooch.

[Amazo]

He proves too distracted by the "riches" aspect of his dreams of riches, women, and fame to notice much beyond the immediate treasure scattered about though.

[roll0]

[Shadowsend]

"I don't think it's wise to touch anything in here." Hanzi says, looking rather concerned. He does look around for anything related to the current situation, however.

[roll0] (+2 if the light is considered dim)

[Amazo]

"I don't think it's wise to touch anything in here." Hanzi says, looking rather concerned. He does look around for anything related to the current situation, however.

[roll0] (+2 if the light is considered dim)

Hanzi spots an oddity after a moment of scanning the room. All of the beds have nothing underneath them save for the fire-scarred wooden flooring. One bed, though, has a relatively pristine blanket bunched up beneath it.