It is early morning and you are on the stretch of road that runs between Olfden and Falcon’s Hollow. The Darkmoon Wood is to the north of the river and in the distance still. You've heard that it used to come right up to the river's north bank, but it's been cut back miles from the Foam River after years of logging. The southern river bank is dotted with outcroppings of trees too small to attract a lumberjack’s axe.
It’s promising to be a clear day with deep blue skies, perhaps even a good day, cool, but sunny. A breeze, but not too chill.
The road you’re on passes Falcon’s Hollow from points north. It crosses the Foam River, and, then, runs south-southwest for about twenty miles, and, then straight south to Olfden, for another 30 miles or so. It skirts the Arthfell Forest, which remains to the west of the road.
You’re a mile south of the River Foam now, and, that means, a mile from the river crossing to Falcon’s Hollow. If Falcon's Hollow is your destination, you're almost there.
If you are travelling north from Olfden, you probably slept along the way somewhere along the way, probably near the Arthfell, or rode all night if you came directly from Olfden. Stories are told about the old druids of the Arthfell forest, so you may not have slept under the branches of the Arthfell. The stories probably aren’t true, but the forest is generally left alone anyway. It lacks Darkwood trees, which means the Lumber Consortium has little interest in it. The Darkmoon Woods are to the north and that's where the Lumber Consortium's interests lie.
If you are travelling south, you could have been coming from Falcon’s Hollow, or you may have passed Falcon’s Hollow on the way, coming from Isger, Druma, the Five King Mountains, or Kyonin. If you are travelling south, You would have just crossed the river in the last hour.
You’re here now, it’s morning, and you’re standing on a well-made road under a blue sky surrounded by green and living things looking at a dead body. You didn’t kill this man, who is lying just off to the side of the road, and you don’t know who did, but you are one of a growing number of people gathered around him.
perception
untrained heal
Arriving to the scene while the crowds were still sparse, Odd'n shrugged off the load of wood he was hauling back towards Falcon's Hollow and knelt beside the man's still form.
Hmmph, hope the local wolves aren't the cause of this.. the burly, scarred man thinks to himself; ..or the crew will have my head. I ensured them I would keep these roads safe from predators. Without disturbing the mans form, Odd'n maneuvers around him looking for any tell tale signs of what may have transpired.
"Well, this never was my area of expertise anyway.." Odd'n mutters under his breath as he stands up to inspect the poor soul and surrounding scene.
Seeing the sizable crowd that has begun to gather Odd'n quickly leans down to snag his belongings and steps aside as others begin to prod and pilfer the dead man. Coulda been me if not for my crew.. wouldn't have pissed myself though.. Odd'n thinks with a smile as be moves a little ways down the road to observe the local vultures pick apart one of their own kind.
A Wonderfully dressed young half elf, light blonde hair and violet eyes comes riding, a wagon in tow with a lovely tan horse. He jumps off and peeks over the crowd, What's going on here...? Oh well this certainly doesn't look good. He works through the crowd and looks things over, not touching the body, Working clothes...this was recent, they look wet... these clothes are fairly new, his hands aren't working hands so he's likely fairly new... too bad those are nice boots, except that blood stain of course Scipio has a magical flair to his voice and how he moves as well as a perpetual smile
One half of a set of identical female human twins looks down upon the dead body before turning to the other.
"Am I thinking what you're thinking?"
Then she heads for the river bank, weapon held at the ready.
"Yes, you must be. This IS just so terribly sad."
The other of the set of sisters kneels down and checks the man carefully.
After a couple of minutes of close scrutiny, she stands back up and pronounces mournfully "he is very dead."
A woman sees Odd'n looking to snag any belongings and says, "I wouldn't. Someone's coming."
She indicates two men on horses riding up from the river through the grasses, about 100 feet upstream from where you are.
They're heading towards the eight people gathered on the road, that is, towards the eight of you: the dead body, a pair of twins, a wonderfully dressed half-elf, a halfling, a large human, a dwarf, and a human woman in a robe with many pockets.
The woman has a scythe tucked into a belt.
Trom stands back a bit as he glances over the situation. Something seems a bit odd though as he glances over the body.
Kneeling down to get a closer look, Trom focuses less on the body of the man. Examining the boots, he takes a look at the emblem on the leather.
"'Tis no blood stain. Emblem of a red falcon, 'tis," Trom responds to Scipio. "Likely a cobbler, one that be right proud of his work to give it such a marking."
Standing, Trom pulls out a small flask and takes a sip, makes a face, then grins over to Scipio. "Rightly so, I imagine. They do be right handsome boots."
Is that so? good catch pal, Names Scipio Valiere... That rules out robbery gone wrong, they would have taken the boots. Scipio makes room and jumps back to sitting on his wagon, So the murder of a new lumberjack, that Emblem, might be able to track it back to the cobbler to find out about this guy and go from there. Can't let a murder go unanswered after all. He pulls out a book and details the findings quickly, doings a crude drawing the the red falcon emblem. For a younger man, he keeps himself oddly composed even in the face of such a scene of violence.
Two men on horseback ride up. One of them looks likely to have won the prize for the ugliest son-of-an-ogre in vale and the other looks like a runner-up.
He nods to the woman, "Laurel."
He looks at the body.
"All right," he shouts, "Who are you lot then and where are you coming from on such a lovely morning?"
"Oh hello there, Mister Horseman and such. I am known as Gimble Strapfellow, and I was just on my way to town when I came across this poor dead person. I have it on good authority," Gimble makes a general wave towards the others, "That he is quite deceased. How that came to be, I can't help you, unfortunately. "
Gimble speaks with a clear and fairly high timbre, his Taldane (Common) carrying just the hint of an Andoren accent.
sense motive
Livlena instinctively steps in front of her sister, leaning casually against her weapon without appearing threatening.
"My sister and I are two simple but well-armed travelers seeking the nearest inn. And who might you gentlemen be?"
Odd'n drags his load of wood over beside the uglier of the horsemen and gestures to it as if that alone would explain who he is and where he is coming from.
Hmm, only time I wasn't surprised by a corpse in the pits and holding cells was when I put it there.. he thinks as he studies the pair. Expecting the riders to be aghast or at least surprised at the dead man, awaits their response to the salutations and questions from this gathered cohort.. in particular who they are. Setting his load back on the ground Odd'n stretches his arms above his head and rolls his wrists a few times, the non-concern demonstrated by the mysterious riders putting Odd'n somewhat in edge.
The other sister glances at the long spear she's carrying, seemly almost in surprise, at her twin's words to the horseman. It's as if she'd forgotten what the spear is for.
Although the two are identical twins, they aren't precisely identical any more. The one speaking to the horseman may be the same height as the other one, but she seems a bit bigger. Certainly her body looks more powerful and athletic, obviously toned from plentiful exercise or physical labor.
On the other hand, the sister with the spear seems mismatched to her big weapon. She's quite slender, almost gawky. This makes her head seem more prominent, especially her face. Her demeanor is more open than her sister's and very kind. She glances about at the other people gathered there with friendly, eager curiosity.
"Yes, well armed for the perils of the road, and looking forward to a bed in Falcon's Hollow" she adds. She can tell the horseman isn't surprised to see a dead man, and to her it means one of two things. He's either an authority who has been informed of it, or he has knowledge of the killing, possibly some responsibility. Either way it's better to keep things easy and pleasant with him right now.
Trom looks the men on horseback up and down thoughtfully. "Travelling, like the wee one said," He replies. "Comin' tae Falcon's Hollow sae that mah poor back does nae have ta spend another night on the cold ground."
Trom chews on his mustache and glances back down at the body. "And since turnabout is fair play, who might ye be, and is the road clear whence ye came?"
The man turns his gaze to the woman, already bored with your explanations, and asks, "Don't you have work you should be doing?"
She looks annoyed and says, "That's none of your business, Payden. The Consortium doesn't own my shop."
He changes his tone a bit, "I thought you'd be busier dealing with the afflicted."
"I am," she said, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a handful of herbs. "I'm gathering nimbleweed for tea."
Payden turns from Laurel to the rest of you, "I'd turn back if I were you, the lot of you. There's a disease running through Falcon's Hollow and it's taking lives."
He gestures to the man on the ground as evidence of the deadliness of the disease.
"And, the town's healer is hiding out in the country gathering nimbleweed."
He pauses, and decides to answer your question regarding what he is doing on the road. "We were coming out here to warn travellers away. And, now that you've been warned ...."
From the distance, you hear someone shout, "I found his horse!" A third man is trotting up with a spare horse following his own. The horse is saddled. Strapped to the saddle is a bed roll with the hilt of a sword poking out of it.
Payden winces at the interruption to his obvious lies. "Well, then, take my advice and stay clear of Falcon's Hollow."
Payden then turns to Odd'n and talks slowly and loudly, "You're one of ours, right? Drag this poor unfortunate disease victim up to those hills and burn the body. Use the wood you've gathered. Then burn his clothes too. We wouldn't want the blackscour to infect any more travellers."
"Give me some of that nimbleweed," he says to Laurel, taking a sprig and chewing on it.
"All right then," he says, turning to leave.
"You know what, we should probably dispose of his horse's tack and whatnot as well. If this disease is as rampant as you say, I'm sure the saddle blanket and bedroll and stuff is just as nasty as his clothing."
Gimble steps forward and confidently makes to take the reins of the animal, then gestures to the big human carrying the wood.
"Whaddya say, big new pal, how bout you sling this dead fella up there and we can attend to his disposal?"
perception
appraise
bluff (or diplomacy if applicable, they're the same bonus) to convince them to let him take the horse.
Assuming no-one makes hostile actions, Gimble impatiently directs Odd'n to haul the dead guy and helps to strap him down, ideally covering the sword attached to the saddle.
Payden looks stupefied and, then, very quickly annoyed at the halfling that outsmarted him. He resorts to an intimidating tone, which usually convinces people not to try outsmarting him.
"I don't think blackscour works that way ... I mean, through horses. Isn't that right, Laurel?"
Laurel looks aghast but concurs with him anyhow, "Yes, right ... horses having natural healing properties form a protective barrier against disease."
She looks at you all with eyes rolling, "... as everybody knows."
Despite his apparently successful attempt to intimidate Laurel into agreeing with him, Payden gestures to the man with the spare horse to hand him the bedroll. He takes the sword from it and throws the bedroll to Odd'n. "Burn the bedroll too."
This does afford Gimble another chance to see the sword and to see it from more than one angle as Payden straps it to his saddle.
Unless anyone intervenes to stop him, Payden and his men start heading back towards Falcon's Hollow, but are looking into the long grass on both sides of the road as they go.
perception
Well, well, well. At least I learned who to rob right away in this place.
"So, big new pal, you gotta name? Seems we gotta drag this here dead fella out and burn him to bits. Oh well, dead is dead, right?"
Gimble offers a small hand to Odd'n, preparing to help him dispose of the dead man (and his belongings).
[B]"Any other civic minded folks looking to do a good deed for this town? I'm sure we could use some extra hands for the job.
bluff to convey secret message
Livlena turns to the older woman. "I thought you said nimbleweed was used in tea, yet that fellow tried to eat some. No matter--perhaps he intends to wash it down with some crumpets."
Her flippant attitude is gone moments later. "Seriously, Lady Laurel--what was that about? Who were those men and who is the dead man lying in the grass? He came from the river, as it witnessed by his wet pants. Then these men come from the same direction minutes later. That is no coincidence."
Trom lets out an irritated snort at the men after they've walked off. pulling out his dagger, he moves over to the boots and begins pulling off the one marked with the red falcon.
"'Tis likely a hunted man he was," Trom says, tugging at the boot. "And they make poor criers if disease be what they hope tae warn us of."
Looking around, Trom hefts the dagger for a moment. "I hope nae one will have a mind if I cut this falcon out. A shame it is tae ruin such fair leatherwork, but the danger in wearing them prevents it, though this poor soul has nae a need for them."
"What's up with the emblem? Some kind of gang affiliation, or army markings or something? That fella that took the sword, he seemed like some kind of shot-caller at the least. Someone who's used to not being questioned or challenged. I think I don't like him. Nah, definitely not."
Gimble moves over to where the men left, also looking into the grassy area.
"Wonder what they were looking for."
He heads back to speak with the naturalist.
"So, spill. What's the story with that blowhard and his fake 'this guys sick' spiel? I'm guessing hes a big shot in town, maybe a boss or a foreman or something. "
Gimble moves over to where the men left, also looking into the grassy area.
perception (+1 vs traps)
Eyeing Payden as he and his comrades turn back towards Falcons Hollow, Odd'n quietly asks Laurel if it is safe to handle a corpse- and a bloodied one at that- of someone infected with blackscour. "How.. how contagious is this.. blackshower? Wouldn't it be best to burn the body where it lays?"; the name of the disease awkwardly stumbling from Odd'ns mouth as he rubs the scars running through his hairline.
His mind focused on the body and the task at hand, Odd'n is slow to respond to the little man. "Odd'n. I.. I guess I work for those men, or they are at least in charge of those that saved me some time back." Taking Gimble's hand in his, Odd'n offers a toothless smile, "Let us be done with this task. Normally we bury the other woodsmen when a tree is felled atop them, but we have burnt the bodies of unfortunate crew-men while out looking for untouched lumber stands to avoid drawing in scavengers."
Turning his attention back to Laurel, Odd'n lowers his head before continuing; "Might you have treated a man such as myself some months back?" His hand moves once again to the scars criss crossing his scalp as he looks up at Laurel, squinting his eyes as if trying to see her clearer. "My crew.. they said they saved me. I.. I fell, I don't remember but they said I owed them. I.. these men, my crew, are like me... we don't have experience in treating illness and injury. How could they have.. was it you?"
Livlena turns to the older woman. "I thought you said nimbleweed was used in tea, yet that fellow tried to eat some. No matter--perhaps he intends to wash it down with some crumpets."
"Nimbleweed helps with the pain that all of these men feel. Some chew it, but it tastes bitter. I sell it in a tea," she said. "Doesn't do anything about the blackscour though."
"So, spill. What's the story with that blowhard and his fake 'this guys sick' spiel? I'm guessing hes a big shot in town, maybe a boss or a foreman or something."
"That's Payden. He's Kreed's man. I'd avoid him. If he isn't the meanest son-of-a-hill-giant, he's got that son-of-a-hill-giant on his payroll." With that, she turns her attention to Odd'n.
"Might you have treated a man such as myself some months back?"
She looks at Odd'n sympathetically. "Looks like a tree fell on you. Or the blunt end of an axe. No memory, heh? Just as likely one of those men hurt you as helped you. But, if you got any healing it wasn't from Falcon's Hollow. The divine healing of Lady Cirthana is not abundant, but it doesn't leave scars like this. Even I could have done better."
"How.. how contagious is this.. blackshower? Wouldn't it be best to burn the body where it lays?"
"BlackSCOUR. Is contagious but no more contagious than most of what will take hold of that body in a day or two. No more need to burn this body than any others. It could be buried just as well. Especially since it's not blackscour that killed him!"
She stands back from Odd'n seeming a little frustrated, points at the body, and looks at you all, "Am I the only one who has noticed the large gaping holes made by what were probably large sharp objects? I realize I have some advanced training as a healer, but, I think it's perfectly obvious that this man did not fall victim to blackscour."
"Oh no, I figured he didnt die from illness or whatnot. That's pretty darn clear, especially as how that fella Payden was so quick to dispose of the body. And how quick he was to grab his horse and sword, to boot."
Now that the local toughs have departed, Gimble settles down on his haunches and gives the body a thorough search.
"So, what did dead guy here do or say to get himself in such a state? Payden or his flunkies got a short temper, something personal, maybe debts or leverage? I'd say he was broke, but his clothes and gear puts that to the lie. And if his hands are so soft and the like, good chance he's a noble. Or closest thing as passes round here, not sure what the politics looks like honestly. "
Odd'ns brow furrows at Laurels words, the pieces of this non-puzzle slowly coming together in his rattled brain. "So, his body is no danger. Hrmm.."
Kneeling alongside Gimble, the task appointed to him by Payden now forgotten, Odd'n begins slowly scanning the ground around the body for footprints () and if he can make out some tracks through the mud and grass to follow (), making a mental note to disregard the tracks from Payden and his crew back towards town.
In private to the party. first off. Im going to be straight here. I dont think this was a disease, and i don't trust anyone affiliated with the Consortium. Among Tradesmen and merchants they have a bad reputation. That said, i do plan on acting and doing something about this. Whose with me
"Oh I am all for that plan, lad. Most certainly, especially if that Payden fella is one of this Consortium boys. He had the look of a bully, and that's something I cant stand. Plus, that sword he nicked from me was worth a pinch or two."
"Oh no, I figured he didnt die from illness or whatnot. That's pretty darn clear, especially as how that fella Payden was so quick to dispose of the body. And how quick he was to grab his horse and sword, to boot."
"I'm relieved," says Laurel, relaxing visibly. "Sometimes I think I'm losing my mind around here."
In private to the party. first off. Im going to be straight here. I dont think this was a disease, and i don't trust anyone affiliated with the Consortium. Among Tradesmen and merchants they have a bad reputation. That said, i do plan on acting and doing something about this. Whose with me
"Oh I am all for that plan, lad. Most certainly, especially if that Payden fella is one of this Consortium boys. He had the look of a bully, and that's something I cant stand. Plus, that sword he nicked from me was worth a pinch or two."
"I'd be careful of Payden and Kreed. Sheriff Baleson may wear the badge in Falcon's Hollow, but Kreed holds the gavel. He is the law; and Payden does whatever Kreed tells him. If Payden or his friends were involved in killing this man, it was on Kreed's orders.."
"Most creatures catch a sickness when pointy bits o' metal pass through'em," Trom grunted as he cut his dagger through the leather boot. "'s called death."
Trom lifted the emblem and examine it before setting it in a pouch at his waist. Taking a moment, he goes through the pockets of the man to see if there was anything important, or any way of notifying the man's kin. "There's wisdom in caution. No sense in kicking the hive before you've smoked it," he offers.
Oh trust me miss, i'm no stranger to opposing the law or those who hold some semblance of power. i do have some kind of plan, to deal with this. There's clear signs of foul play, just a matter of securing official proof and seeing it brought to light or authorities that can handle it.
Hennie arches a skeptical eyebrow at the cocky, fancy half-elf.
"So you're just going to take care of this for everyone? I don't think you were listening she just said. You're going to have a sheriff with no real power, arrest a man who works for the real law in town? Then you'll see to it that this judge finds the man guilty of a murder he probably ordered the man to commit?"
"So after your plan A falls apart what will be your next move? A duel with them in the street?"
She turns away from the obviously self-absorbed young man and tells the big guy who Payden had ordered to burn the body. "I'll go with you. Someone should say some words over the body. Maybe we can find a place for a decent burial."
Losing himself in the grass searching for clues, Odd'ns attention is snagged and he pops up when one of the two mirrored ladies says she will help with a burial. Looking between them, unsure of who to address, he agrees to them both; "Uhm, yes? Yes! Please, I would like to see if those I've been working for are indeed the cause of this...", he pointedly kicks the mans ribs to indicate that the body is indeed the "this" he is referring to, the sound of a rib breaking causes him to visibly flinch. "..and repay them in kind so we should work quick. I am not a pie man, but if they expect the body burnt perhaps we should bury him unmarked and burn some leaf and brush to give off smoke. Don't need them suspicious of us as we look into my bosseses, and I am certain I could relocate the grave if we find his family and they desire to memorialize the man after all this is taken care of."
Grabbing the man by his collar and pant waist, Odd'n waits for the others to finish their investigations of the body then heaves him up onto his shoulder. Turning to the two mirrored ladies, Odd'n nods to them. "Lead on.. whichever of you was to help.."
Towards Hendrina: "Ya know how real change comes to small towns and villages? Either a big guy on a horse rolls in, squares up and fights everyone to be the boss, or a buncha the small folk work in the background to make those big fellas lives miserable. Barkeeps serve em 'just bad enough' beers. Nightwalkers skim a bit, maybe dump some powder in their scivvies. Laborers bring in a bit less wood, or wheat, or ore. Not enough to be noticed in the moment, but enough to make a difference."
Gimble wipes his hands on the dead man's coat, the stands a stretches.
"Get em riled up, make em make mistakes, irk the townsfolk. That's when the baddies friends start turning up with 'sharp pointy hole disease', or get lost in the woods, or have terrible accidents involving heavy things falling on em. Happens enough, and that big fella up on his horse ain't got so many friends. Maybe his bigger fellas back home ain't happy, cuz hes not sending back enough coin anymore. You get the idea: destabilize, then topple. Just like felling a tree, cut the base enough and the whole thing comes down."
"Then ya just gotta make sure you ain't underneath the trunk, hope it falls just right. Boom, fallen tree, profit."
Gimble's eyes sparkle as he thinks about some friendly insurrection, and the shiny sword that rightfully belongs to him.
Trom chuckles a bit at Gimble's words as he stands up from examining the body. "Perhaps it would be best to see what the situation is in town before we start makin' our plans, eh? I'd wager that folks are already unhappy with their situation, but there's still a chance them what's in charge to push'em just a bit further back down."
Trom nods in agreement with both Hendrina and Scipio. "Oh aye, ye're both making a fair point. We'll either have to find a way to push the people beyond their breaking point or figure something else out." Trom pulls out the piece of leather with the red falcon on it. "First things first though. We should find out who this poor soul was and why them lads wanted to kill him."
Odd'n finds nothing else on the body: no possessions, no tattoos or marks. His pockets are wet and empty.
The ground is cold and you have no shovel, but there are loads of high grasses and you're able to provide some sort of cover for the body on the side of the road.
By the time you're ready to leave, the men on horses--who were travelling slowly towards Falcon's Hollow--have disappeared in the distance.
Laurel helps and seems to want to travel back to town with you. She doesn't get involved in the anarchist insurrection being plotted, but doesn't seem to disagree. She waffles between expecting everyone to be outraged by Payden and his goons, but also being completely unwilling to risk herself.
Along the way to town Scipio's and Odd'n's searches come to fruition. Scipio sees some blood on a plant leaf and Odd'n picks up the trail. You're able to find where the man came up from the river on horseback, fell from his horse, and crawled towards the road.
perception at the scene of the crime.
Gimble stoops down and looks through the area where the man fell, searching for clues as to how it went down. Lost arrowheads, dropped coins, or any other details.
"Good work, Odd'n. At least we know where dead guy caught his case of the dead."
Hennie arches a skeptical eyebrow at the cocky, fancy half-elf.
"So you're just going to take care of this for everyone? I don't think you were listening she just said. You're going to have a sheriff with no real power, arrest a man who works for the real law in town? Then you'll see to it that this judge finds the man guilty of a murder he probably ordered the man to commit?"
"So after your plan A falls apart what will be your next move? A duel with them in the street?"
She turns away from the obviously self-absorbed young man and tells the big guy who Payden had ordered to burn the body. "I'll go with you. Someone should say some words over the body. Maybe we can find a place for a decent burial."
I don't recall saying anything about having the sheriff arrest anyone miss. Nor did i say anything about proper trials. You see, i have little faith in law as a standard, i prefer taking justice and righteousness into my own hands. I also don't fight when i can avoid it. In this case, the Authorities happen to be the general public, when proper law fails, the people will eventually rise up He keeps his cool 100 percent as he speaks with a perpetual smile. All i really need to do is find something so atrocious that either they fall in line with blackmail or i reveal it to the general public and nation then riots take care of them He pulls out a Banking manifest and merchant papers, Tip of the trade, if there's no longer a profit in it, get out of it. The Consortium are the same, just Dirty merchants with no respect for the world pr its people.
Once at the Crime scene, Scipio jumps down and looks around, i'm betting he was attacked. He fell off here, there's blood on that leaf. we might find something if we follow the opposite direction he was crawling
A person of human height might have missed the cloth hidden among the tufts of grass and wildflowers, but Gimble's gaze was at the right angle. Following the man's trail through the grass, Gimble sees some red cloth wrapped around a rock and tossed into a thornbush where it would have stayed undetected until the fall when the grasses died back.
Bloody handprints disappear into the redness of the cloth. It appears to be a flag of some sort, but you don't recognize the imagery: a black heart quartered by a red cross. The wetness of the blood tells you it was placed here recently, no doubt by our dead man.
Hennie just snorts derisively at the half-elf's changes to his story.
Typical braggart. When caught out looking foolish in what he says, he claims he meant something else entirely. But the thing that doesn't change is casting himself as the hero of his story. Slippery as an eel that one."
Hennie goes along to where the man's laid is laid to rest. When it is done she says "It is a sorrowful thing to take one's last rest with only strangers as company. I am sorry this is your fate. We don't know what faith your placed your belief in, so I will call on Pharasma, since you will surely be judged by her, as all of us will be someday."
"Lady of Graves please be gentle when you consider this man's fate, and listen favorably to whichever deity lays claim to his soul. May your decision be one that brings him the kind of peace he desires."
"Goodbye Sir. Be at peace and take some comfort in knowing I will never forget where you are."
"And this, ladies and gents, is what you call a clue! I dont recognize the flag itself, but it looks pretty similar to the dead guys sword decorations too. Anyone know where it comes from? Does he have people or anything, maybe someone who might wanna pay for justice, or wanna know where hes buried?"
Trom pulls out his pipe and begins to prepare it for a smoke. "For all the talk of rebellion and heroics, under what flag do we fly ourselves, and for what reason should we trust each other? Not to offend, but I wouldn't know any of ye from the lifeless lad we've found."
Trom puffs on his pipe for a bit. "Add to that, talks of rebellion are worth a fair price to the right person. It'd be nice to not have to sleep with one eye open, if ye ken my meaning."
"Lady of Graves please be gentle when you consider this man's fate, and listen favorably to whichever deity lays claim to his soul. May your decision be one that brings him the kind of peace he desires.""Goodbye Sir. Be at peace and take some comfort in knowing I will never forget where you are."
Hennie senses that this strapping young man's soul will not be at peace for a while. She senses his disquiet--a frightened urgency.