Andoran, Spirit of Liberty (Inactive)

Game Master Kiora Atua

Keeping his eyes on the Shunned, Tarkus was not surprised when the human sheriff placed them under watch for the night. He didn't doubt that in the morning this situation would blow over, as truthfully outside of a few busted tables and overturned tankards there wasn't much damage done.

~Except for the Professor's shroud. I don't have the heart to tell him that if the image had been captured in a better medium that it wouldn't be so quick to burst into flames.~

Grabbing his plate of food, which was all he really wanted before the fight broke out, he went up to his room wondering what the morning would bring.

The date is Starday, 27th of Sarenith, 4708. It is 7:27 am. Severe wind and rain means that you take a -4 to perception outdoors, and also a -4 to all ranged attacks outdoors. Movement is not impeded.

There is no cheerful sunrise to greet you in the morning. The weather outside is wretched, as the region is beset with a fierce summer thunderstorm. The winds batter against the wooden walls of the Inn of the Wood as you emerge downstairs to a small crowd gathered in the tavern.

Laurel sits cozied up near the hearth in a large armchair, sipping tea. Upon seeing the group she remarks idly, "Looks like we aren't leaving until this storm blows over. And I don't mean just the weather outside."

Sheriff Blunnde is at the center of the crowd, pacing back and forth. When he notices the group's approach, he barks, "There you are! Finally! It appears we have a situation on our hands, and frankly it doesn't surprise me that your lot is at the center of it all."

He continues, "That magical dagger you found has gone missing! I went to sleep with it under my pillow for safe keeping, and it was gone when I awoke. I have lined up here all the suspects for this crime." He gestures to a group of individuals sitting on bar stools at the far end of the room. Lined up is Grelm Hammerlock, looking furious with his arms crossed, a nervous middle-aged farmer, the gnome with the green hair and eyes, the bald red-faced innkeeper, and an elderly woman. He names them as he goes up and down the line.

"We have... none other than Grelm Hammerlock, leader of the Company of the Black Banner. Local farmer, Huckaby Trent. Traveling tinker, Lorkyhay Ganderhoddle. Ostler Merinwaite, the innkeeper. Ester Winterbloom. And..," The thunder booms outside for particular dramatic effect, as he points right at the halfling, Herral Hinn. "Halfling merchant, Herral Hinn!"

Several members of the Company of the Black Banner chortle from nearby, before Cage Blunnde glowers at them. "These are people who have been implicated in the crime only! Don't think for one second that any of you," he growls, his eyes firmly on the black-caped mercenary company, "are off scott-free just yet."

"Anyway," he continues, softer this time as he addresses your group. "The way I see it, your lot has two options. You can sit tight under observation of the Diamond Regiment," he points at a number of soldiers in the room, dressed in drenched blue and gold regalia. "while I try to get to the bottom of this, or you can help figure out who did this and you can get back to your own business more quickly. Keep in mind that if you try to just run off, in my mind, you are admitting your guilt and a warrant will be placed for your prompt arrest. We have a number of witnesses in the room rounded up already."

In addition to the Company of the Black Banner and the suspects, the witnesses include Sara the barmaid, Doctor Phineus Krane, the well-dressed human merchant who was in the brawl last night, and the stable boy who took care of Davi and Herral's donkeys.

What a way to start the morning Anthony thought to himself. His brow furrowed in a look of concern at the halfling and he asked, "What were you doing last night after everyone went to bed? He shook his head and interrupted himself, "No, that's the wrong question. Sheriff Blunnde, What evidence have you against this halfling?"

Sighing, Tarkus felt he knew what the human sheriff was doing, but he had not seen anyone other than dwarves successfully execute the hammer and anvil routine when dealing with criminals. His group was being used as the anvil, allowing Sheriff Blunnde to be the hammer forcing the others to bend to his will in this matter.

~If this is what it must be to keep the peace, so be it.~

"Sheriff Blunnde, I have no objection to helping you find the dagger, but by my family's name and honor,there is no way that Master Hinn had anything to do with the theft. I am sure that he would not object to having his room, as well as belongings immediately available to you to clear his name of this accusation."

Sheriff Blunnde nods at Tarkus. "That very well may be what it comes down to in order to prove his innocence. However, Doctor Krane here has a pretty damning story.... Phineus?"

Phineus Krane points accusingly at Herral Hinn. "I stayed up late last night in the taproom trying to see if any magic remained in the ashes of my shroud when I saw Herral Hinn walk in from outside, covered in blood and holding that dagger!"

Doctor Krane is currently considered unfriendly because he is still upset about his shroud.

So you say Professor, aka Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Looking up to the Professor, Tarkus noticed the slight squinting of the eyes and the dabbing of the brow where sweat was beginning to escape even thought the inn was still mild.

"Professor, please tell the Sheriff how you spent the evening mourning over the loss of your shroud with a bottle of elderberry wine in your room, not the taproom. I am not sure of many things, but I do know the look of a hangover when I see it."

~Especially since I was that way yesterday morning.~

"Emotions were high all around and perhaps while sleeping off the drink, you thought you saw Master Hinn, but you never really did?"

Doctor Krane fidgets uncomfortably.

"I...well..! No! I know what I saw and I stand by it!" The professor appears to be in too sour of a mood to let go of his story.

Sheriff Blunnde sighs, giving the group an apologetic look. Can't leave a rock unturned.

Careful not to insult the professor further, Anthony moves onto the other suspects. He eyes Grelm and utters, "You wanted that dagger this whole time. When Adrac handed it to the good Sheriff, you knew you might never see it again, despite the fact that you believed you had a rightful claim to it. That gives you motive. Now what is the evidence against you, Grelm of the Black Banner?"

Grelm gives Anthony a wide, cruel grin. "Yeah, yeah yeah, save it, horns. He ain't got nuthin' on me, else I'd be in manacles by now, huh?"

"Th-that's not true!" Sara pipes up, bravely. Grelm scowls at her while she continues, "I was making the rounds last night checking the locks and windows and I saw Grelm standing outside the sheriff's room!"

Grelm laughs gruffly. "I was nowhere near there, girl!"

Sara frowns, adding, "Well, I don't know. I saw Farmer Trent wandering up and down the halls at night too..."

"Hmph. Hearsay! Need something a little more substantial than the word of some tavern wench!" Grelm says, grin firmly plastered on his face once more. Sara blushes, and turns away from the group.

Stepping down the stairs and entering the heavily laden atmosphere, even that bumpkin Herral picks up that something is very wrong. "Allo sheriff. You gots a problem?"

He sits down on a small chair and smiles at Sara while the jist of the theft is explained. Then when the Professor pipes up with his story, the merchant rubs his chin. "Search me room, but if'n that bloody great meatcleaver is thar taint much use for little old me, is it? P'haps Lorrel could help search so I not get fitted up for something I didn't do. Or mebbe young master Adrac who holds the wisdom of the ages in 'is 'air."

Herral shows his clean hands to everyone.

"So zur Krane, you saw me cummin' in with blood an' the dagger late in the night. But then waited til mornin' to bother anyone about such an important sight - not verry bright is youm? This would be hafter youm be going to bed with that there bottle of wine. I seed less 'oles in a net, Mister Professor who lost his treasure lass' night. Must be a fearful shame to make up such a whopper on me. Someone musta paid youm plenty to shove that heap on me. So tellus who be cut or dead?"

Sense Motive on the Professor: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

"Mistress Sara, I be jess loike dem other 'alflins I be hungry in the morning twice over. Could I be gettin' some grub while the truth is found. I'll stay right 'ere at the table if'n it will help, since I be 'onest and me reputation as a trader is most important of all. P'haps a small pot of tea too. Jess to wet me whistle so to speak."

Sara seems relieved to have something other to do than be glared at by Grelm Hammerlock.

"Of-of course Master Hinn! Just one moment!" She rushes off into the kitchens.

Professor Krane stammers, "I.... I...." He frowns. "Well I did drink that whole bottle of elderberry wine last night. And then I ate a whole jar of pickled eggs! Perhaps I just dreamt the whole thing up...," he adds, sheepishly. "Oh, darn it, I'm sorry to have accused you!"

The Sheriff nods, having expected this in the first place. "Sounds like you're off the hook Master Hinn. Though I can't let your group leave just yet. You must understand that as the people who brought the dagger in in the first place, you are still considered suspects until this is cleared up. I'd appreciate it if you reported any leads you can find for me." He frowns, glancing at Grelm. "And as much as I'd like to cuff that snide boy and haul him off to Olfden, this is Andoran, and we believe in justice. And that means we need some actual evidence before we go around infringing on people's rights."

Sara comes back with a whole pot of vegetable stew and enough wooden bowls and spoons for everyone. "Please, help yourselves! I'll be right back with your tea and some freshly baked rolls."

Adrac finally comes down the stairs as he smiles, looking around. "My sincerest apologies. I had to complete my morning meditation before I could even fathom coming down." He clapped his hands as he looked around, before spying the stew and moving towards it. "Aha! Delectable stew. Nothing offsets a wet morning like warm bowl of it."

Taking a seat, Adrac pulls up a bowl and spoons some into it, before stirring it with and pulling up a spoonful, blowing at it. "Now then. What events do this morning bring us?" he asked, looking around as he took a sip of his stew.

Sheriff Blunnde nods at Adrac.

"The dagger you turned in has been stolen. I have been working on the case. Our current list of accused suspects include Grelm Hammerlock, leader of the Company of the Black Banner. Local farmer, Huckaby Trent. Traveling tinker, Lorkyhay Ganderhoddle. Ostler Merinwaite, the innkeeper. And Ester Winterbloom. Though really, anyone who stayed at the inn last night is a suspect, until we have found the culprit. If you have any information, it is appreciated."

Sara comes back with the tea and rolls. "Anything else?"

Adrac grimaces a little at the news, sipping his soup thoughtfully before nodding and looking a bit more enlightened. "Unfortunate news, it would seem. But, luckily, we have a few solutions to this predicament! This is not the first investigation I've taken part of."

Adrac smiled as Sara brought out tea and rolls, pouring a cup of tea and sipping it gently. "Excellent, my dear. Thank you." Taking another sip, he set the cup down, leaning back. "Does anyone happen to know what time this awful rain started last night?"

Sara looks thoughtful. "Not until after I went to bed, which was a little past midnight. Why do you ask?"

"Hmph. Hearsay! Need something a little more substantial than the word of some tavern wench!" Grelm says, grin firmly plastered on his face once more. Sara blushes, and turns away from the group.

"Hmph. I trust the 'tavern wench' on this one." Davi takes a sip of tea before continuing. "Although to be fair I'd sooner trust the noises out of a pig's backside than the words that come from your mouth Grelm. I've heard more convincing lies from my younger siblings. You were outside the sherrif's room, you might as well admit to it.

Sense Motive Sara: 1d20 ⇒ 14
Sense Motive Grelm: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Any chance that 20 tells me more about Grelm's motives?

Grelm looks exasperated, throwing his arms up. "Didn't know it was illegal to take a piss in the middle of the night in this inn, eh?"

Soroza enters the room at a pace best described as "groggy shamble". Still in her pajamas, she massages her temples, her face sporting an exaggerated look of despair.

"Oh no no no. Why? Why are you all up and loud and doing business? Does anyone in this country sleep? You are all positively mad."

She flops down despondently at a table, sees the stew, and with sudden vim grabs a bowl and begins scooping food into it.

"At least there's breakfast. Sara, you might be the only sane one in this tavern."

Seeming to notice the rather serious tone of the room for the first time, she moves her gaze across everyone assembled. "What's all the fuss?"

Sheriff Blunnde is standing a little aways talking to the human merchant about his story, which apparently requires that he gesticulate wildly the whole time.

Sara shrugs. "Someone stole that magic dagger you guys found."

Adrac smiles as he sets down his spoon, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Then, the dilemma is made considerably easier!" Adrac watches with a neutral expression as Soroza arrives at the table, observing her fill her bowl before returning to his thoughts.

"It's a simple matter, really." Adrac said, taking a gentle sip of his tea and sighing in content. "To find the dagger in question, one would simply have to do a little magical detection. It's a magical dagger, after all. Oh, it may take a little while, but eventually, it's location will become apparent."

Adrac took another sip as he leaned back in his chair. "But, the dagger's location is not the key issue. The true trouble is finding the culprit. But luckily, Mother Nature has been so kind as to provide us with a way to narrow the suspects." Adrac nodded to the rain visible through the window. "Simply check the Sheriff's room for mud traces, and then check who has traces of mud on their shoes or clothing. If the culprit was outside in the mess, he'll have left traces of mud in the Sheriff's room while acquiring the dagger. If no mud is found, our culprit is someone who wasn't outside last night."

Another sip of his tea as he set the cup down, taking another spoonful of soup to his mouth. He looked about, smiling at Grelm before speaking. "I, for one, would advocate for Mr. Hammerlock's innocence." He let that statement sink in for a moment before explaining himself. "I do believe has plenty to hide, but I believe he has the presence of mind to realize that if the dagger went missing, he would be the prime suspect. I may not care for his attitude, nor the behavior of his Consortium of the Bloke Banters - whatever it was called - but I do not believe him to be an idiot."

"Black Banners!" Grelm snaps. "But the old man--I mean-- experienced geezer is the only one talking sense around here!"

The Sheriff, to his credit, is on the other side of the room, now talking to the merchant and to the innkeeper. They appear to be having some sort of argument, which Cage is trying (miserably) to defuse.

"I-I could show you the Sheriff's room!" Sara adds, helpfully. "Umm.. please don't make me go alone though! Whoever did it might be listening..." She looks around timidly.

Soroza is gracelessly wolfing down the bowl of stew in front of her. Between chewing, she mumbles, "We'never sen you'n there...", she swallows noisily, "...alone. But some of us should stay out here, as well. In case whatever idiot is ruining my morning tries something."

She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her tunic. "So, who wants to go look for mud?"

Herral stands up and goes upstairs with Sara. He scouts around the room looking for clues obviously and otherwise. Being the halfling that he is he is a lucky soul and usually finds whatever there is even if it is a fluke.

Touch of luck on self 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11, 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20

Sara takes the halfling, and anyone else who wishes to go with them, up to the Sheriff's room. She pauses to pull out a hefty keychain and unlocks the door. The room is a nicer version of the rooms your group stayed in, as the Sheriff is a regular fixture at this inn.

Taking a bowl of soup and a chunk of the bread, Tarkus handed the breakfast items to the older woman.

"It would seem my new companions have this matter firmly in hand. Forgive our bad manners Mistress Winterbloom in not giving you something to eat as well."

Getting himself something to eat as well once Ester has been served, Tarkus watched the others head up to the Sheriff's room.

"Master Hinn and the bloke Grelm I understand getting blame sent their way, but why would the Sheriff drag you into this?"

Ester smiles gratefully, though some of the serving girls whisper amongst themselves at Tarkus' kindness.

"Oh, I'm an old woman who never married and never had children, so people around here assume I'm a witch. So when anything goes wrong they point the finger at me." She laughs softly, but there is a touch of sadness in her eyes as she says this.

Kindness of Strangers, aka Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Unsure of why the serving girls are whispering and opting to risk trust over further accusations, Tarkus takes a bite of his bread and chews thoughtfully as Ester explains.

"When this matter is settled, and I am sure it will be settled quickly, if there is anything I can assist with before leaving I will do so. While some have lost their sight and sadly some lose it without meaning to, not all have."

Honey catches more flies than vinegar, aka Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Unsure if the words of a stranger will bring her any peace or not, Tarkus resumes eating his soup thinking of the Shunned who willingly tossed aside the path and the Sheriff who must offend all in order to offend none.

Ester smiles warmly.

"Oh, I try not to judge folks too harshly. People distrust what they don't understand. Take wolves for instance. Valers have a long, dark history when it comes to wolves. Men of the Fangwatch are apt to kill a wolf on sight, just in case. Yet, the wolf is on our proud nation's sigil, is it not?"

She dips a piece of bread in her stew before continuing, "You know, I've always had a way with animals. If you ever need any help with one, let me know. It hurts my heart to see any living creature suffer. It is our way."

Survival 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Herral chuckles to himself at the door and footprints. He will pass on his thoughts to whoever accompanies Sara and him. Or just tell them on his return.
Above all he makes sure the sheriff Blunde sees what he has learnt.

Sheriff Blunnde is the middle of interrogating Tab, the young stable boy, when Herral returns.

"What? You're saying an eagle stole it? That makes no sense."

Feel free to read under the spoilers from Herral's investigation, folks, since he rocked all the skill challenges.

She dips a piece of bread in her stew before continuing, "You know, I've always had a way with animals. If you ever need any help with one, let me know. It hurts my heart to see any living creature suffer. It is our way."

Before Tarkus can comment, Herral came back down and explained the strange markings of a bird of prey in the Sheriff's room. Looking to Ester, Tarkus was surprised that he was going to be taking her up on her offer so soon.

"Mistress Winterbloom, your kind offer may be needed far sooner than expected. I know this is an odd question, especially as I am not sure when the good Sheriff brought you in this morning, but have you seen any birds that fit Master Hinn's description recently?

~Although if she hasn't, perhaps the stable lad has in his hay loft.~

I am assuming the stable does have a hay loft. If not, then Tarkus will get some assume egg on his face.

Ester shakes her head. "Hawks and eagles are common all throughout the countryside. Falconry is a national past-time. I know that Ostler here practices, but he is hardly the only falconer who stays at the Inn."

"Don't you be pointing no fingers at me, you old spinster!" Ostler bristles.

Tab pipes up, "There's a nest of owls in the stables! Does that help? Does it?"

"Taint natrul, that sick smell at the door and big footprints of an eagle. Summat that cud get in that door an' steal from under sheriff's pillow musta been a bit human too, loike a shapechanger or half man, half eagle. Taint natrul loike spring followin' autumn. Us shud be watchin' for summat strange, loike that there smell mebbe?" Herral tidies up the plates and bowls of stew making sure to bring back any leftovers forhimself so long as Sara doesn't mind.

"Tis a rare stew that makes me want thirds!" he adds, patting his belly.

A large, amused grin spreads across Soroza's face. "So does this mean we'll have to round up all of the local birds and line them up on barstools as well?"

The sheriff frowns at Herral.

"A shapechanger? The only shapechangers I know of are druids, and there are none here. Inns aren't really their thing, now are they?" He seems dissatisfied with Herral's investigative skills so far, and walks over to one of the Diamond Regiment soldiers to have a hushed, serious conversation with them, giving Ester a suspicious look as he goes.

Anthony stands up and starts heading to his room.

"I'm going to get a book I have on animal prints to see if I can identify just what type of bird it was. I'm doubting it was a shapechanger, but something about it was intelligent and knew the dagger was there. Better to check if one of them has a familiar while I'm up there.

Anthony spends the next five minutes consulting his Footprints Book to see if he can identify the type of bird that left the tracks.

Knowledge (Nature) Untrained: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

As the halfling starts to finish the last of the soup, Tarkus stands up and thanks Ester again for her company over breakfast and her offer for assistance should he ever need it.

Seeing Anthony pouring over a picture book of animal prints, Tarkus smiled at the man's serious face of concentration and walked over to the stable hand Tab.

"You said there was a nest of owls in the stables? Now I will admit I wouldn't know an owl from a falcon most times, but it seems you are a bright lad and most certainly do. Would you mind showing me that nest? Just so we can rule them out? I know the weather outside is miserable, but the sooner we start, the sooner we finish this matter."

Paging Det Columbo, aka Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Tab says, "Oh, okay, no problem Mister Stoutfolk sir! And I don't mind being out in the mud cuz I'm in the mud most days anyways! So it's no problem sir!"

Tab walks Tarkus, plus any other interested party members, out of the inn and into the rain. The road outside is a muddy morass that gets all over your boots. Thankfully, it takes less than a minute to trudge out into the barn.

The stableboy points up at the ceiling on a support beam at a large nest. "There's Mister Owl!"

Inside is an angry looking owl peering down at the group, curiously. Underneath the support beam is a half-wall, covered in hay-infused mud. There are bird droppings everywhere, as well as footprints similar to the ones found in the sheriff's room.

Herral follows them to the owls.

"Tis time for this little chap to stretch his legs."

Meanwhile, back inside the inn...

Anthony returns after five minutes and shakes his head.
"I can't figure it out. Could've been a hawk a falcon or an owl or something else that large."

After discovering the group hasn't moved forward he resumes the interrogations. He turns a curious brow to the innkeeper, addressing him by his first name.

"Mr. Ostler? I'm a little surprised the Sheriff would have reason to believe you stole the dagger. Who testifies against you?"

It's gonna take a miracle

Sense motive: 1d20 ⇒ 17

"Because this featherless son of a devil has a beef against me, that's why!" Ostler points at the merchant, Jobe Flint.

"I'm tellin' you, you're wasting your time with this talk of owls! Ostler stole it with his falcon! I saw 'im hiding in the storeroom next to the sheriff's room last night! Up to no good!"

Ostler glares at him, and says, hotly, "I was restocking the clean linens!"

"Sure you were! So he says! I'm tellin' ya, this whole inn is a con! 1 silver a night! Who pays those prices?!"

"Stuff it, Flint! You make 5 gold a day! You cheapskate!"

Anthony raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Gentlemen, please, relax. I need to hear everyone's story to figure out who did it and we're going to to be here all day if you keep arguing. Now, Mr. Lorkyhay Ganderhoddle, was it? What evidence have we against you?"

Unfortunately, the two angry men cannot be calmed, and continue insulting each other from across the bar.

The greenhaired gnome looks nervous, his feet dangling a few feet from the floor.

Sheriff Cage says, "Tab claimed that he saw Mr. Ganderhoddle here sneaking around under my window last night when he went out to check on the animals."

"I was merely taking a late night constitutional!"

Davi follows Tab out to the stables. She whistles when she sees the owl. "Whew. That's a big sucker alright. Big enough to carry that dagger at least. Let's see if he left it here..." Davi begins poking around.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Two minutes later and she lets out a whoop. "Aha! And here it is!" She holds up the dagger for everyone to see. "Nice work kid, letting us know about the owl." She ruffles Tab's hair before making her way back to tbe inn. Davi holds up the dagger as she walks back inside.

"Hey Sheriff, I found.you a present in the stables!"

Anthony narrows his eyes at the gnome. Something didn't add up. "What's that on your sleeve then? It looks like the mud in the Sheriffs room. Anthony takes a deep breath through his nostrils and says, "I can smell the magic on you, gnome. Where's your Familiar?"

Here we go again: Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Bluff to make him believe Anthony knows he's a caster.: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Herral follows them back inside the doorway and watches the room for anything or anyone acting suspicious at the big reveal.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Rooting through the hay, bird droppings and wondering if perhaps his Paps had something to omitting this from the tales of high adventure in his youth, Tarkus looked up when he heard Davi let out a satisfied hiss.

"Good job lass. Good job indeed."

Reaching into his pocket and pulling out one of the thick gold coins, Tarkus placed it into Tab's hand.

"And you lad, it seems your keen eyes carried this day for us. You have my thanks and you should be rewarded more with more than just words."

A little something for your time, aka Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Following the others back in, he sees Anthony closing in on the green haired gnome.

~What is happening here?~

Soroza claps while laughing sincerely, "Oh, good work Claws. Truly brilliant."

She sinks back in her chair and kicks her legs up to comfortably rest across the table. "The guilty party best come forward now. We're moments away from you at this rate, and I imagine it will look favorably upon you if you come clean of your own accord."

Bluff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Soroza has no idea if this is true, as she has zero experience with local law enforcement. But she's hoping that it seems reasonable enough that the guilty party, the net closing around them, will take it into serious consideration.

Edit: Probably not, with that roll, haha. But I tried.