Dien's Rrrise of the Rrrrunelords

Game Master dien

"He's fine!" E chimes in at the lingering question.

"And who is this?"

Seraka finagles the butt of her bardiche to rub a spot on her back. She freezes as soon as she spots the elf. Seraka quickly shuffled into standing at-attention. She salutes and grins. While the salute is clearly for the sheriff, the grin goes all to the elf.

"Deputy Seraka reporting. Everything under control here."

The samsaran glances over to the half-orc with a puzzled look.

"We've been together pretty much the whole time we've been in town. When did you find time to get deputized?"

He turns to look at the Sheriff with a smile, "Do we get badges?"

Sonya squeezes the bag tight to keep a grip on the squirming goblin, wincing slightly as it tries to gnaw her arm through the burlap. She gives a nod to the elven woman, and turns to Sheriff Belor.
"It looks like it might have crawled in during the attack, and stayed there since then. Sheriff, make sure the townsfolk know to get a guard if something strange is going on, Willis could have been killed trying to go after it."

The sheriff breathes out in relief at E's answer-- even if Willis doesn't look fine just this moment-- and glowers at the goblin in the bag before saying, "This is Shalelu. Our local... goblin expert, among other things."

The elven woman gives an assessing look around at all of you, pale blue eyes darting between your faces. She quirks a brow at E, nods with a sort of terse courtesy at Sonya in her Abadaran armor, looks Seraka's towering frame over with a somewhat cool glance despite Seraka's grin, and eyes Rokan (and his busted bow) dismissively before sheathing her blade.

Hemlock nods at Sonya's words, standing with a heavy sigh. "Can't blame a man trying to protect his house and family, but before the gods you're right-- even one of these little bastards can cause real trouble to someone who's not prepared."

Shalelu nods, moving to Sonya to help her hold the squirming bag. "People see their size, or watch them messing around, and don't take them seriously," she says in a low voice. "Not a mistake you make more than once. Are you going to tell me who these people are, Belor?"

Belor blinks. "Oh. Right. Sorry.... Sandpoint's newest distinguished goblin slayers: they killed several in the attack. And they're working to help us get to the bottom of who caused it. The Shoanti fellow is Rokan... and this is, uh, Seraka, and Sonya of the Valdemars, and... Ay?" he says with an uncertain glance at E. "Uh... do you want badges?"

Shalelu ignores that part, rubbing at her chin with a knuckle. Though she has the fine bone structure typical to elves, she hardly looks delicate, with dirt and possible dried blood smeared into her flesh. "Then we should probably all talk. Wish I'd gotten here yesterday in time to warn you."

"As do I," the sheriff says, "but no use weeping the wind."

Shalelu studies the burlap sack, then looks to each of you. "We might be able to get some information out of it, if it's hungry enough. And if it crawled here yesterday, it probably is. Any of you speak Gob?"

"I can't say I've had the opportunity to study the goblin language as of yet." E offers. "Perhaps, time permitting, Shalelu could offer some lectures on the language."

"Afraid not. A few of the goblins yesterday were singing in common, though I don't know how well they actually understand it."

Rokan looks at the woman levelly. She seemed to dismiss him, but Rokan was used to being dismissed. He'd prove his value soon enough.

"I don't speak its tongue, ether," he answers. Then he looks over to Hemlock, "And no, we don't need badges. At least I don't."

He then simply waits ... not sure if this followup conversation will happen here or somewhere else. As he waits, he finds the woman whose child and husband were maimed. "They will be fine. You did good getting us."

The wife in question is currently returning down the street with Father Zantus in tow, as Rokan can see when he glances out the window of the house. He murmurs his words to her when she arrives; she looks wan and shaken, but relieved when Zantus moves to her husband and begins further prayers.

Shalelu nods. "A lot of them do speak Taldane-- or some Taldane-- but I've found you can sometimes get more results talking to them in their own gods-cursed tongue. Sheriff, is there a place we can all talk... us to the goblin, and the group of us?"

Belor offers the garrison up as a secure place, but before you leave, Zantus has brought Willis around with the grace of his goddess. The man looks woozy, and his face may bear some scars from the ordeal, but he's alive.

His wife seems on the verge of relieved tears. She fetches a meat pie from her kitchen windowsill, pressing it into the hands of whoever accepts it.

"If I had more I'd give it to you!" she exclaims. "Please, anytime you need a home-cooked meal-- or anything sewn or stitched up-- don't hesitate to knock at my door. --Oh, I'm Rainie. If there's ever any way I can repay you..."

Shalelu pulls some rope from her battered travel-pack while the woman praises the four of you, helping to secure the goblin all the way within the sack.

"Townsfolk don't need to know one of these buggers was in a house," she says. But Belor snorts grimly in answer.

"Mistress Rainie was hollering at the top of her lungs in the street about it. I think they know," he says with a resigned sigh.

If you have anything more you want or need to do at the home of Rainie and Willis, feel free, but failing that:

Indeed, as Belor and Shalelu lead the way back to the garrison, the sheriff is accosted two separate times by worried townsfolk who are demanding to know what's being done about the goblins. As stories tend to, the rumor is flying and growing out of control: the second speaker, a tall blond man with an aristocratic bearing and mustache, shouts loudly at Belor about how he's heard a score of goblin spies are hiding in people's homes now.

"Master Scarnetti, that's not remotely true," Belor scowls in answer. "You're frightening the children. If you don't mind..."

(Sonya can recognize Titus Scarnetti, a family as nearly influential as the Valdemars. The Scarnettis essentially dominate the lumber industry of Sandpoint.)

Finally, the inside of the garrison is reached, and Belor shuts the door emphatically after him, with a little growl in his throat. Shalelu smirks.

"So.... goblin first," she says with a jerk of her thumb at the squirming sack. "Any of you want first crack at trying to make the little rotter talk, or shall I take lead?"

Rokan doesn’t accept the pie, but nod at her thanks. ”I”m glad we could help your family.”

Saying nothing else, he follows the sheriff out.

At the Garrison

Rokan is his usual quiet self on the way to the garrison, and he positions himself between the little killer and the door. He draws no weapons, but he looks prepared.

"Any of you want first crack at trying to make the little rotter talk, or shall I take lead?”

Without taking his eyes from the sack, Rokan nods over at Seraka. ”She’s scarier than most warriors,” he says without embellishment, ”I say give her a chance first.”

The first thing Rokan will do when the sack is opened is make the goblin his Studied Target.

Sonya laughs and holds up her hand to stop the gift. "Don't worry about that - I'm sure your husband is going to be starving when Father Zantus is done with his healing. Stay safe and that's the best thanks you could give."

---

Sonya meets eyes with Titus, and a few clever quips fly through her head in response to his shouts, but she decided better of making a scene, and heads into the garrison.

She nods in agreement with Rokan.
"You seem to have some idea of what is happening beyond Sandpoint's walls, and that is the information we most desperately need out of this goblin."

E stares at the meat pie and confusion as the other party members pass on it.

"That looks delicious!" he exclaims as he giddily holds out his hand. While accepting the pie he leans into the woman's ear "I'll make sure they all take at least a bite."

Leaning back, he takes a nice long exaggerated inhalated whiff of the pie, "This should be quite the reward!"

E will take a few minutes to scour the wardrobe and the room, to see if there might have been anything the goblin brought with it, or something it may have been after (seeing as it had been lurking here).
Perception (in case): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

Later...
"You go ahead and field questions. I'll sit over here and try not to get a headache listening to the stupid thing."

Earlier

Seraka nods at Rainie, stoically accepting her share of the food. She takes a healthy chomp and waves in regard towards Rainie, the cover of food in her mouth allowing her to avoid saying anything.

-----------------

Now
Seraka cracks her neck and bares her teeth at Rokan's endorsement.

"Heh. Yeah. I'll give it a go."

She kneels down next to the goblin, resting her arms on her knees. She holds her bardiche still, the blade out in front of her so the goblin can see his reflection.

"So, little guy, I don't know if you know who I am, but I just finished scraping one of your friends off of my polearm this morning. Chopped that anklebiter into a hell of a lot of pieces. Tell us what you know, and you can stay one piece."

Intimidate (bigger than target): 1d20 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 6 + 4 = 26

The goblin's eyes start out wide and only get wider at Seraka's simple but very effective threat. Shalelu, leaned against the wall, gives a thin smirk of possible approval.

"No kill! No kill! HUNGRY!" the goblin shrieks, clawing at the inside of the bag to no avail despite his kitten-sharp nails. The coaxing of information from the creature, who is at turns terrified and furious, is slow-going. But ultimately...

"Only follow orders!! Say to KILL! Kill all dogs and horses and bigfolk in town!! But too many! Had to hide!!"

"Who gave those orders?" Shalelu questions sharply. "You work for Big Gugmut? Or Rendwattle?"

"No!" screams the goblin. "Leader was bigfolk like YOU!"

Shalelu blinks in shock at this revelation, looking around the group to see if this is news. "Sure about that?"

"Yes! Tallfolk! Longshanks! Ugly stupid! He take crew and go to dead place! Not see him again!"

Shalelu frowns, but Belor's expression is thunderous. "Who?" he snarls at the little goblin, coming over to get in it face. "Who, damn your little red eyes?"

The goblin shrieks and squeals in a panicked fashion, squirming as best he's able and getting out, "Don't know name! Just call boss! AII!"

Rokan exchanges looks with the team, then the sheriff. "The bootprint?"

Not wanting to be cryptic, he turns to Shalelu. "Just after the attack, I followed the goblin tracks. The only really interesting thing I found was a human-sized bootprint that looked to have been left at the same time as the retreating goblins."

He gives the goblin a curious glance before looking back to the elf. "Do you know what it means by 'the dead place'?"

"The graveyard? We already knew someone had been there. Someone who wanted the bones of a dead priest. We need to know where they took the bones."

E listens as the evidence of his conspiracy theory falls into place.

"Unfortunately, it seems like my initial thought is proving more and more probable. Ask it where they meet this tallfolk boss. Perhaps he is still there. Why do they follow him instead of their own leader?"

Seraka never takes her eyes off the goblin, taking the bag and holding him as still as she can.

"What does the tallfolk boss look like? Long hair? Pale skin? Boobs? Claws? The more useful you make yourself, the more interested I'll be in keeping you alive, buddy."

She smiles, not a vicious grin as before.

"You might even get yourself some food."

The goblin huffs and whines against the bag that holds him and Seraka's hands, but there's no escaping.

"Tallfolk looks like...." he squirms around, then jerks a pointed chin at Rokan. "Ears like you! Dark hair. White skin. Male longshanks! Met boss out on roads! Many tribes come! More than three!"

Shalelu grunts. "Aye, that's part of why I've come-- news of the five local tribes massing together. Usually their own feuds keep 'em from ever being more than a nuisance, but something's brewing."

"Something already brewed," Belor grunts. "We lost three people! We had thirty goblins in the streets."

Shalelu shrugs slowly, digging out a knife from her belt pouch and using it to prise out some crusted blood or dirt from under her nails. "Here's hoping that's all it was, then." Her tone doesn't sound convinced. The elf continues speaking:

"There's five tribes hereabout, like I said: Birdcruncher goblins live the closest, but they're sort of cowards-- more so than most gobbos, I mean-- so Sandpoint usually doesn't have much trouble from 'em. To the south you've got Licktoads, down in Brinestump Marsh-- they can swim like dickens. East in Shank's Wood there's the Seven Tooth tribe.... they like to slink around the cliffs to the junkyard where Sandpoint throws its garbage and fish stuff out of it. Further east beyond them you've got Mosswood. There's a lot of those bastards, but for the last decade they've had some in-fighting going on that keeps them from really being a threat. Last but not least, there's Thistletop: live out on the coast, on an island."

She watches the goblin as she speaks: the little beast sort of puffs up at the mention of the Licktoad tribe. "You're Licktoad, huh?"

"Licktoad BEST TRIBE. Toughest!" the goblin screeches.

"Well, Tough guy, if I find you've lied to us I'll feed you to Vorka. Understand?"

This prompts off another round of screaming and gibbering, until the goblin subsides with whining mumbles about food and being hungry. Out of the corner of her mouth Shalelu says, "Vorka's a goblin gone bad down in Brinestump. Well, uh.... bad by goblin standards. Cannibalistic. Makes for a good bogeyman."

Belor is just rubbing at his head through all this. "Dark-haired and an elf or a half-elf? What elf would work with goblins?" he says helplessly.

"Don't know," Shalelu says flatly, "but I don't think this is over yet. I ran into some Mosswoods on my way here, pretty beat up-- strung 'em up and got it out of them they'd been part of the raid. Two tribes working together would be unusual, but from what your little squealer here says it was more than two. My weather-sense tells me that raid was a start of something, not the end itself. You need to keep your militia on high alert, send out patrols to check the outlying farms..."

Belor drops into a chair with a grunt. "What, and lose a group to a gob ambush in the woods? You overestimate our resources, Shalelu."

The elf shrugs, and looks from the sheriff back to the whining goblin, and then at Seraka. In a low voice she says, "Actually planning on letting it live, for real?"

…then jerks a pointed chin at Rokan. “Ears like you!

I was going to give Rokan make a Bluff attempt at hiding this reaction, but with no ranks in Bluff, and a CHA of 7, it’s likely everyone should be able to read him like an open book, anyway.

Despite a poor attempt to hide it, the young Shoanti’s features harden at the goblin’s observation. With a quick glance at the group, and realizing his reaction was likely noted, he just sets his jaw and doubles down on his glare at the tiny, big-headed creature. It's clear the young man took the goblin's description as some kind of insult.

His broodiness remains as the discussion continues, and he nods at Shalelu’s Licktoad guess. ”The tracks I followed went up the road by the coast,” he offers as agreement.

“Dark-haired and an elf or a half-elf? What elf would work with goblins?”

”One that has reason to break into an armed city to steal the bones of your old holy man. Either there was something unique about his remains, or I’m guessing this is somehow personal.”

He looks over at Belor and Sonya, ”Do you know anyone of,” brief, uncomfortable grimace, ”… that description that has reason to dislike your old priest?”

Seraka's eyes pop at Shalelu's question. She honestly hadn't even given the offer a second thought. Seraka merely shrugs and turns away, draping her arms over her bardiche again. She keeps her voice low.

"Killing prisoners ain't my style, especially helpful ones."

The elf gazes frankly and coolly at Rokan and his obvious reaction, but doesn't say anything, and Seraka's muttered answer draws her eyes back to the towering half-orc woman.

"Nice intentions. So you want to let it go after this? Have it scamper back to its tribe? Or you planning on keeping it locked up here in Sandpoint's jail being fed at Sandpoint expense?" Shalelu asks Seraka in the same low tones, leaned against the masonry wall of the room in a nonchalant fashion.

Belor ignores this exchange to answer Rokan, possibly glancing briefly at those ears on display. "I don't know anybody like that," he says with a little growl and a hand run over his face. "Nobody hated Father Tobyn. There's not that many full-born elves around here... present company excepted," he adds, with a tip of his head at Shalelu.

"Hannah Velerin," Shalelu points out drily. Belor looks irritated.

"Yes, I doubt the priestess of Gozreh is in league with the goblins."

"True. Also she's not dark-haired," Shalelu says with a smirk.

"There's Nisk Tander. And Rynshinn Povalli. Only half-elves I can think of living in Sandpoint," Belor adds on, ignoring Shalelu's commentary. "Not that I think either of them would be involved, gods. Rynshinn is a seamstress and clothes-seller and Tander is... is..."

The sheriff seems to be groping for a polite word. "...let's just say, if he were part of some sinister plot, I'd put a gold coin on it blowing up at some point. Or turning your skin bl--" (He coughs, eyeing E) "--bl...otchy... or... something. But... he is dark-headed," Belor finishes in a reluctant tone.

Shalelu shrugs, continuing to pick at her nails and watching the group from under her lashes. "So maybe it's nobody living here. Lots of folk come through Sandpoint."

Belor grunts. "Yes, but it's possible someone let these goblins into the town. They got in somehow. We think in wagons."

The elf hisses a little.

Will give a chance for reactions, then move us forward

Seraka grumbles and shrugs again. This time, she makes no effort to keep her voice low.

"If you want to do it, go ahead. I ain't stopping ya. But I ain't doing it."

She turns to Shalelu, a heavy scowl weighing on her face.

"I've met people that would be asking all those questions about me, were they to catch me."

She takes a hand off her bardiche and taps her green-skinned cheek.

"So maybe you can see why it ain't my style."

Sonya looks between the two women as they argue about what to do with their rowdy, albeit cowardly, prisoner. She wasn't terribly happy with the prospect of slaying a prisoner, though it seemed unlikely the goblin would learn anything from being in jail, either.
In battle or when there was no other choice was one matter, but... they were in town, captured by the sheriff.

"Perhaps this is best left to Sheriff Belor's judgement. Additionally, if someone has betrayed Sandpoint, a trial might be needed when they are brought to justice. The goblins fate, as well as any other prisoners, could be decided then."

Knowing that Shalelu would be unlikely to approve of the delay, Sonya adds, "Besides, if we catch someone, it would be good to have this one to identify them."

"What kind of callousness drives someone to work with these tiny beasts and the mayhem they can create?"

"Sonya is right, a witness could prove useful. Surely there's a cage that is goblin-proof."

Rokan nods along with the idea of letting Belor make the call. "He's the law-keeper here," he volunteers. He shrugs, "It sounds like Tander is our only real lead. Maybe we go ask him some questions?"

Belor grunts a bit sourly at the notion of keeping the goblin prisoner, but nods. "Damn things eat as much as two grown men." He doesn't say if he happens to still have any of those other goblins from the initial raid locked up, anymore...

As Belor busies himself with finding a longer-term solution for the prisoner, Shalelu finishes up 'cleaning' her nails and puts her knife away. "This is why I don't care to be in the cities," she says drily. "Out in the woods, justice is simpler. And quicker. I'll bid you luck in your questioning Tander-- I have resupplying to do before I head back out into the forest, so I'll be around, at least until morning. We should talk more-- I can give you a bit more history on the goblin tribes in the area, tell you who some of the greenest and meanest are. I kip at the Rusty Dragon when I'm within walls, so look for me there."

Failing further immediate questions, Shalelu takes her leave and sweeps out in a floomp of her travel-stained cloak...

Directions to Nisk Tander's are easy enough. It's just across the street from the Sandpoint Theatre, and a hop-skip-and-jump from the woodworking guild Rokan had visited the night before. The shop has a sign reading Bottled Solutions, and a pungent smell of stringent herbs reaches the nose on approach.

Inside the shop is a clutter of shelves crowded with various bottles and packets. The organization system seems chaotic at best. The door's chime brings a lanky half-elf scurrying from the back room-- a beanpole of a man with messy dark hair that doesn't entirely obscure his pointed ears. His eyes widen at the sight of the motley group-- especially the towering form of Seraka and her big bardiche.

"No no NO! That's going to knock a dozen bottles off my shelves as soon as you turn around, and you'll try and get out of paying for them! KINDLY leave that bloody great.... cleaver... propped at the door, THANK YOU."

Taking a breath, the half-elf plasters on an insincere smile after his small tirade. "Nisk Tander, Bottled Solutions, solving all your problems with a glug or a tug. You must be the group that everyone says killed a dozen goblins yesterday. Well done. If you're looking for a discount, however, that I won't do. Now, can I help you?"

Seraka just rolls her eyes at the Tander's histrionics. This wasn't the first time she's had a shopkeeper yell at her the second they clocked her green skin and large frame, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Hey, you don't need to shout, buddy."

Seraka sets her bardiche and her lucerne hammer against the door frame. She has Gorum looking out for her, and she's gotta be double the size of Mr. Beanpole, so she ain't worried about her safety.

"See? No problem."

She throws back an insincere smile of her own and leans her side up against the other side of the doorfame, arms crossed.

"Name is Seraka, by the way. Funny you should mention goblins, as we got some questions about them."

Seraka nonchalantly adjusts to block the doorway. Little guy like this Tander would more likely try to run than fight if he's the culprit.

As Seraka addresses the blustery little man, Rokan takes a moment to size Tander up (Tander is now Rokan’s Studied Target). Then, he walks a quick circuit of the shop. His dark eyes search for any clues that this man may be more than he claims to be … or anything that would be out of place or odd given recent events.

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

So we have this main room and a back room. Are there any more doors, exits, or rooms that Rokan can see?

E's head pokes through the door, peering in. Examining the room, he smiles as he sees the flasks and bottles about the room.

"Pardon me, Seraka..."

Squeezing in, he begins to peruse the shelves. He laughs quietly to himself, "Now Belor's joke makes sense!"

Rokan doesn't stop his inspection, but launches into his questions. "The Sheriff asked us to help him gather information about what happened yesterday. Hopefully you can help us out. Tell me. What do you know of goblins?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 8 + 1 = 24

Layout wise: this is a two-story building as is clearly obvious from the outside, though you don't see stairs going up from this front room. The back room might be a workshop judging by the brief glimpse you saw of it when the door opened. There are multiple windows, but they are all shuttered. The only two doors you currently see from this room are the ones you entered by and the one Nisk came in by. I'll throw up a map shortly! The combat map link now takes you to the shop.

Nisk nods smartly when Seraka sets down her oversized weapons, and looks mildly brow-archy at Rokan giving him a stink-eye as he stalks around the close quarters of the shop and its crammed shelves. E's cheerful words make his eyes snap back from Rokan to the smaller blue man though.

"The sheriff is making jokes about me?" he asks uneasily, crossing his arms. His slight frown deepens at the mention of goblins, the dark brows furrowed.

"What do I know of goblins? Greedy thieves. Cunning in a way. Murderers too, I suppose. Vicious. Obsessed with fire. What else is there to know of them?"

Rokan notes a half-dozen little tells-- the way his eyes dart around the room, the half-step he takes back towards the door of the workshop-- that convince him Nisk knows rather more of goblins than he's saying.

"oh. Um... " E ponders the question for a few moments before adding, "No. Actually he was advertising your skillset and I didn't understand until I looked into your store."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

"Hi!"

Rokan's eyes snap over to the fidgety man. "He lies. He knows more of goblins than he lets on. Maybe he needs help being motivated to speak truths."

Nisk Tander's eyes widen at Rokan's accusation and he backs behind the counter.

"What?? You- you can't just come in here and accuse a man of-- whatever it is you're accusing me of! This isn't whatever savage village you're from, Shoanti-- I'm a citizen, I have rights you know!"

Seems like a good time for a social roll of some sort from somebody. :)

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Seraka sighs and shakes her head. Little weasely guys like this Tander tried her patience.

"Look, buddy. I was planning on playing nice with you, but then you had to start lying and calling Feathers here a savage."

She walks up to Tander and cracks her wrists, showing off the cestus on her right hand.

"Last chance. Tell us what you know, or I'll drag you to the sheriff myself."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Blech D:

Nisk stands up straighter at Seraka's display of her cestus, his lips pressed into a thin line. He seems frightened by the potential for violence, but not willing to give in.

"Oh, let's. I'll be happy to tell the sheriff and everyone else we pass on the way there that this is how Belor gets justice-- sending people to make threats! Am I going to have any teeth in my mouth as we go, by the way?"

Heh. Them dice. Sonya, want to try a softer touch? (or E or Rokan are welcome to make any attempts they like as well? I'll move us forward later today if not.

Since we already have one bad dice roll on the board, I see no reason not to try another. :D

Intimidate: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18; ooh, I can roll with that. :)

"It sounds like we're in agreement, then," says Rokan, stepping towards the flippant man. "Though I think Sherif Belor is a bit busy to deal with you just yet. You know, with all the damage caused by the goblin attack. So in an effort not to waste his cell-space, we'll put you in with the other creature we've found that is responsible for the damage done. Maybe you've heard. It's a goblin. One of of your little green friends. So far he's eaten part of one man's face off today, but he still looked hungry. Your teeth are likely to be the least of your worries."

Rokan, now standing directly in the man's face—and somehow seeming to loom despite his smaller stature—folds his arms, "Or maybe you'd like to rethink helping us? Either way, you will tell us the truth."

Sorry, I'll try to get a post up later today!

Drastic! E thinks to himself, concerned about whether or not the Shoanti would indeed put Nisk in such a terrible situation.

E watches with interest at the interrogation.

"I don't know that the tactic of turning the people against Belor would work in a time directly following a threat to their security, especially when your complaint is against celebrated champions. Your best bet if your innocent is to speak honestly. If you're not innocent... then you might consider lying to us, but working with us may reduce the suffering you endure later."

Diplomacy (why not?): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18

Nisk goes somewhat pale around the metaphorical gills at Rokan's threat, and darts his eyes uncertainly between the glowering Shoanti and the less dire tones of E. The shopkeeper takes another step back only to find his shoulderblades against his wall of shelves and bottles.

"--let's be reasonable people," he says with a nervous swallow, drawing a hand across his face. "We've gotten off to a wrong foot... and the goblins are really not my 'friends'."

At the probable hard stares from Rokan and from Seraka, he takes a breath and continues. "...business partners, in a fashion, but for the love of the gods, hear me out before you go jumping to the wrong conclusions!

"There's a number of things I need in my work, reagents-- ingredients. The goblins are little monsters but they're also scavengers without equal. The junkyard, the woods, the beaches where the flotsam washes up... I hardly have the time to traipse around such places, even if they were safe to travel, which they're not! So-- so once a month-- I meet some of the little buggers out of town, and collect what they've found for me, in exchange for liquor or the like."

Nisk swallows again, his long fingers pressed together as he rapidly continues. "But that's it! I swear that I knew nothing of this raid, and had nothing to do with it-- the creatures are a menace to life and limb in any numbers, everyone knows that!"

Does Rokan sense any deception about his involvement with the raid? Does Rokan's previous Sense Motive still apply to this or do you need another? (If the latter)
Sense Motive, Studied Target: 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 8 + 1 = 25

Rokan searches the man's face for any lingering signs of deception.

Rokan feels that Nisk is telling the truth, this time-- the threat of a goblin eating his face in close quarter seems to have scared the truth out of him.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Seeing no sign of deception, Seraka grins.

"Now that's much better! Glad we could come to an understanding."

She leans in on the counter.

"Now, of course we won't need to make a big deal about this...if you can give us a little help. Why don't you tell us about where and when you're meeting up with the goblins next?"

Nisk discovers he can't back any further away from Seraka as she leans casually on the counter.

"...truth to tell I wasn't exactly... planning on meeting any of them again," he admits. "They-- they killed people in the town. I'd need to find some new way to get reagents but I could possibly purchase them from Magnimar. In any case, I, ah, I met with them once each lunar cycle, the night of the thinnest moon. I wasn't planning on telling them that the deal was off-- it's not as though I have a regular way of contacting the little green vermin, since they can't read-- I figured they would realize we were out of 'business' together after I didn't come to a few rendezvous."

Nisk rubs his hands on his thighs with a jerky shrug. "But we would meet off at the Pyre-- that rock outcropping about a quarter-mile out of town, to the south-west."

The new moon is two nights away.

"...are you going to tell the sheriff?" Nisk asks, his earlier bravado seeming evaporated.

"It sounds as though you didn't do anything wrong. Perhaps an ill-conceived attempt at profit margin increases, at risk to your own safety... but nothing malicious. And your information is more than helpful."

"I don't see any reason to bother this shopkeep with any accusations that would effect his business. I do see reason to visit the Pyre in a couple nights."

Does Rokan know when the next such moon is?
KNow (Nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Rokan looks over at Sonya, "Has he broken any local laws by his actions?"

If not, Rokan is not interested in pursuing this any further. If so, the Lawful side of him wants to drag the man to Belor, anyway.

Sonya groans and rubs her neck. "Maybe? I'm not sure, this isn't exactly a common thing - half of the trading regulations are about catching people trying to avoid taxes on the fish they catch."

"It might be buying stolen property, depending on where they 'scavenge' it from, there's no real way to tell. If you know where they were finding all of this stuff, I'd tell the sheriff just so he can make sure people know that area is dangerous."

Does Rokan know when the next such moon is?

The new moon is two nights away.

;)

Nisk nods fervently at the notion that he hasn't broken any laws. "No laws, no, but-- with the current... events-- you must understand that people are looking for a scapegoat... I'd just as soon not be lynched for something that really, really wasn't my fault!

"As for the where-- the junkyard down off the cliffs, which most folk know is rife with goblins anyway-- Sandpoint just tosses its refuse over the edge-- the woods, the beaches where the flotsam washes up.... if anything in the piles is stolen, it's not directly so by the goblins."

Logic would dictate that Nisk can't promise with 100% certainty that nothing he's ever gotten from the goblins wasn't stolen, but if what he says is true about the gathering locations (and it seems to be), then it's fair that most of the stuff is either natural ingredients such as mushrooms or seaweed, or scraps of metal, cloth, and other discarded odds and ends.

Seraka motions for the party to huddle up, turned away from Tander. Once they do, she speaks in a hushed tone.

"I say we show up next new moon and ambush those little bastards. Those goblins have been trading with townsfolk, so they might know enough common to tell us something more worthwhile about the situation.

She punches into the palm of her cestus'd hand, a few inches in front of her chest.

"If nothing else, we can make sure there are a couple fewer goblins there when we tear through the place."