DM Carbide's Giantslayer

Game Master John Woodford

Svarog examined the corpses for any other sign that they were sick, or poisoned - or had been bound and then let loose.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7 Yup, those are wolves all right.

Relevant skills to try include Perception, Handle Animal, Heal, and <spoiler redacted>.

Lidda follows along and also examines the corpses.

perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
heal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
survival: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Lidda, even through the stench of burning hair and flesh you catch a smell like an explosion in an alchemist's shop. These animals don't show any of the more subtle signs of rabies--they were poisoned with something that mimics the gross symptoms, knocked out with something else, and only recently revived using another alchemical remedy.

Lidda hunches over one of the corpses, focusing intently. "Kira, come look. This wolf smells like your shop - but not like the bomb you threw. Something else...but I can't quite place it. I know I've smelled it there before, though."

Kira comes up next to Lidda and kneels down, her gloved right hand moving over the wolves as she reaches into her pouch for a chemical solution, pouring it over the dog's mouth.

Craft Alchemy to know what was used on the dogs?: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
... HA!

Kira, since Lidda already made the roll, I'll assume you just took 10.

Despite the other unpleasant odors, Kira's trained nose picks out what Lidda was talking about. She can identify the ammoniacal tang of smelling salts, something that's probably oil of taggit (a drug that produces unconsciousness), and another concoction that, as noted above, will mimic the most obvious symptoms of rabies--hydrophobia and aggression. The latter is present in the animals' saliva in high enough concentrations to be potentially dangerous to someone who's been bitten, but none of the injured in the party are showing symptoms.

Jarrek nods. "Good catch, Lidda. That's a sharp nose you've got."

Lidda blushes slightly, unaccustomed to the compliment. She twists her mouth in a wry smile. "Thanks...but something terrible is happening here. These wolves didn't come in here by chance, and the timing right after Rodrick's...death. I'm scared."

Do you still want to split up and visit Brinya and Omast?

"We are being targeted. From this point forward, we should remain together as a group, and be on our guard. I suggest we visit the fiance first, then the smith.

Before they leave the gate area, Haftor will ask the guards if they remember seeing the group of thugs last sighted at the boarding house, and whether they were in a cart.

There are no magical auras on the wolves. What was that skill check?

Sorry, I had a weird blip and didn't see a bunch of posts. I thought mine was redundant, so I edited it away. It was a heal check 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 to determine whether it was really rabies or not. It appears that it wasn't.

Jarrek nods. "Guards first, though. We need to talk to them about this cart and those half-orcs. Also to let them know there's someone bringing dangerous items into town."

If necessary, here's a Gather Information check for getting info out of the guards about the cart and the half-orcs.

Gather Information: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

"Agreed. The timing is suspicious." Svarog stuck with the party as they left the wolves behind.

The guards are indeed interested in the information. Unfortunately, there are too many carts and half-orcs in town to make it an easy investigation, but the guards haven't seen any half-orcs with carts in the past day or so.

I won't be able to get a post up for the visit to Brinya until tomorrow--busy at work, and I have music practice tonight.

The five of you pay a visit to Brinya Kelver, Rodrik's fiancee, at her humble rooms in a boarding house near the Commons. She is in an unenviable state, and has obviously spent most of the time since Rodrik's death crying. She pulls herself together and greets you, then sees you in and gets you something to drink. "I'm sorry I don't have more to offer. It's just that--that--I still can't believe he's gone!" She sobs again, wiping her face with an already-wet handkerchief.

Jarrek goes over and helps her with the drinks. "Let me help with that. Please, you sit. We're sorry for your loss." Once he has the drinks ready he brings them back, giving Brinya the first glass. "Do you have everything you need? I'm sure your friends and family are taking care of you, but if there's anything, just let us know."

He's being very polite to start his Diplomacy check.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Jarrek is able to get her calmed down.

What do you want to ask her?

Haftor's mind goes blank in the presence of the woman. He finds an interesting spot on his boot and stares at it for a while, hoping someone else will provide conversation. He had no intention of bringing up the delicate matter of suicide with a woman who was not even the victim's wife.

Finally, he offers, "If you would like to pray, ma'am, I am here to support you."

Apologies for not pushing this; it was a very busy weekend, compounded by getting over a cold and sleeping a lot.

"Thank you for the kind offer, and thank you all for visiting. Tell me one thing--they're saying Rod killed himself. Is that true?"

Jarrek shakes his head. "We think there might be more to it than that. Did he ever talk to you about his investigations? Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?"

She shakes her head. "He was spending all of his spare time on something--he called it 'his greatest work,' but he wouldn't tell me anything about it. And of course once his father found out about us it was harder for us to make time for each other until he moved to the Ramblehouse."

"Why do you think there's more to it?"

Jarrek shakes his head. "We've found some clues that made us think things aren't what they seem. I think it's best to keep them to ourselves for now." He purses his lips. "Did he have a journal, something he kept only for himself? Anything else we can find out will help."

She looks off into the distance, remembering, as she toys with a heavy silver necklace chain around her neck. "You know, it was his writing that first drew me to him. He really i-was a fine poet, you know." Returning to the present, she adds, "He kept a journal, but I guess it wasn't in his room. He spent a lot of time at the Sanctuary, though--he said he had a--how did he put it? A 'thoughtful muse' there. I always thought he was talking about the Inheritor, but what if he was talking about a person? Maybe they would know more...or maybe they betrayed him!"

"Thank you ma'am. That was very helpful." Haftor fidgets, waiting to go speak with the blacksmith.

Anything else you want to ask her or tell her?

Kira pulls out the wrapped dull dagger, "One more thing Brinya, could you confirm something for us... do you recognize this dagger at all?"

Jarrek nods and waits for Brinya to answer Kira.

She shakes her head. "No. Why do you ask?"

Haftor inches, ever so slightly, toward the door.

Kira nods and unwraps more of the dagger, "We found it in his room. Were you two planning on exchanging hope knives soon?"

Lidda continues to watch the conversation, trying to stay quiet and out of the way as the much bigger-folk converse.

Brinya smiles sadly. "We already did." She takes off the chain around her neck, revealing a sheathed hopeknife that had previously been hanging under her shirt. She draws it so you can see the inscription on the flat--"For Brinya, my love". "We had Sara inscribe them. And then he lost mine, on one of his 'investigations!' He was trying to get it replaced, he said, when I found out yesterday. I was furious with him. First having to tiptoe around his father, and then this. I told him I didn't want to see him again until he made it right. And--and--that was the last time I saw him...." Her voice trails off in sobs, and she's only able to gasp out, "If--if I hadn't, he'd still be alive!"

Haftor's shoulders slump slightly, and he lets out a barely audible "Ugh". He knew there would be tears. Just when he thought he might get out of this without the crying, there it was. He chides himself silently, and looks longingly at the exit.

Jarrek does his best to comfort the bereaved woman. When she calms down, he nods to the others. "We'll leave you alone now, Brinya. If you need anything, though, several of us are staying at the Longhouse. You can reach us there."

She has calmed down a bit by the time you take your leave. As Jarrek turns to go, though, she draws him back with a hand on his shoulder and snarls, "If someone really did kill my Rodrik, give him--or her--one for me. Promise?"

Where to now? It's getting late in the day.

Lidda watches the last exchange between the half-orcs with curiosity before following Jarrek out of the house.

sense motive: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Lidda, it seems clear that Brinya wants revenge, but that's all.

Blacksmith? Something isn't quite right with the hopeknife situation. If it's getting too late, we should turn in. We need to stick together in any case. We seem to already be a target.

Paranoid much? Though paranoids have enemies, too. Those of you who are Trunau natives know that Sara Morninghawk's shop is open until quite late, but the only ones who are there are apprentices tending the fires. The neighbors frown on late-night forge work.

So, does that mean she would be there or not? If not, we can go talk to his partner, Omast.

Jarrek nods seriously. "Have no doubt about that, Brinya. They will know where their punishment came from."

She's unlikely to be there at this hour, and she lives some distance from the smithy.

Omast it is, then!

Agreed.

With the Diplomacy checks you've made so far, you have no trouble locating the Patrol Sergeant. He is, in fact, at the South Tower of Trunau's inner wall, dangling from a rope harness tied off to the battlements. Occasionally he sings snatches of soldier's songs (badly and off-key, with slurred words that suggest some degree of impairment) as he industriously tries to scrub off some of the white sword graffiti that's appeared around the town. Sadly, his efforts are as effective as his singing is in tune. As you approach, the lantern he was using gutters out, prompting him to pause. "Oh...where's my light gone?"

Are there other soldiers around or did he somehow tie himself to the tower and lower himself down? And is this white sword related to Iomedae or something more sinister?

Any chance Mending or Prestidigitation could get rid of the graffiti?

Jarrek chuckles. "You look like you could use some help, Sergeant. I've got a light if you can lower your lantern down here."

Diplomacy check begins: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

He seems to have tied himself off. Excellent question re the markings; you don't know. (However, similarly persistent splashes of white were found in the half-orcs' rooms at the Ramblehouse....) You could certainly try mending or prestidigitation, but I will tell you in advance that they won't work.

He looks down, obviously having some trouble focusing on who's talking. "Sh-sure, I can...I can...what was I gonna do?"

Haftor shakes his head in disapproval. "This man is drunk in the performance of his duties. His work is shoddy and he is a danger to himself. He should come down and sleep it off, not be provided with light to continue this mockery of a task."