Ham comes up behind Ruby and taps her opposite shoulder, trying to get her to look in that direction (away from him) before she sees him. She falls for the ruse and looks away before turning towards him. He puts on a mock VERY SERIOUS VOICE and says
Do you understand the magnitude of the responsibility you now bear?
Then he cracks a smile and winks.
Let's embarrass these clowns. HO!
And he takes his place.
Init is +1
With the teams set, Ham's words bring a beaming smile to Ruby's face. Everyone settles in for the match.
The crowd laughs a bit at Whistle Pig being on the team. There's some finger pointing, and even a few "oinks". Both Grath brothers give sharp rebukes to the crowd before turning to Ruby "We can't take it easy on you you know. You're part of the town now!" says Rodrick.
Ruby smiles back.
But when the game starts, the wisdom of Ruby's pick becomes obvious. Being the quick halfling he is, Whistle Pig gets the jump on the team, helping everyone's reflexes rise to the occasion!
The crowd begins to roar, and money changes hands!
Team Grath!
Team Ruby (on Whistle Pig's go):
Team Ruby!
Ham: +2
Raen:-2
Ushyle: +3
Vael: +0
Whistle Pig: +2
Doxon: +3
Ruby: -1
Whistle Pig's initiative bonus: +2
Σ of Team Ruby= +9
Σ of Team Grath = +7
Everyone takes 10!
It's a hard fought game, but eventually Ruby's team pulls Team Grath across the line! HUZZAH!
After the game is complete everyone has a hearty laugh and the day turns to other games. There's much to do and many people to talk to.
For a few of you, this is the first time you've really interacted with each other. The crowd somewhat pushes you together when you're seen. Often times it includes a free drink (Vael has outdone himself with this current brew.) Later in the afternoon, both Rodrick and Kurst join in on a conversation with you.
Rodrick, "I've been watching you all over the last bit o'time. Ye've all got some serious talent, and the potential to be great defenders of Trunau's future. I mean, I've seen Whistle Pig on patrol. I've never seen anyone do so much with a sling!"
Kurst, "Indeed, we're fortunate to have you all. We are remiss, however. Please tell us about yourselves."
The tall half-orc looks about and feels as though all eyes are on him. Not unusual, in Trunau. He is every bit of six feet tall, probably more, well-built and solid in frame, though he stoops slightly as though self-conscious of his height, and has a blood-red scar on his left cheek that resembles a rose. He is clad in simple clothes, with a seal pinned to his dusty cloak of the Trunau Countinghouse. Locals will recall his frequently ferries coins back and forth from there to the Barterstones. He is also a frequent diner at the Ramblehouse, often in company of Whistle Pig. Er, ah... he begins hesitantly, his hands a fidgeting bundle of obvious nerves, the name's Ushyle , for those who don't know.
Ushyle chuckles nervously as he tries to be tactful yet at the same time remind the brothers that he has offered to join the militia in the past.
He trips across his words several times, giving those unfamiliar with him the impression that he stutters. Frustrated, he finally says, As I told you a few weeks ago, my axe remains at your disposal, should you finally ask!
Red-faced, the half-orc snaps his mouth shut and looks miserable, aware he has made a small scene but with no knowledge how to fix the situation.
The brothers smile at Ushyle's reminder about the offer, but don't comment, just a hearty smile.
The brothers seem to genuinely like Ushyle, but there's something about him that makes them uncomfortable at the thought of him joining the militia specifically.
Raen shoots the brothers' smiles a quizzical look, but is more eager to break the awkward silence than to ask uncomfortable questions.
"We're all ready to come to Trunau's defense, of course," she interjects. "Even little Ruby now. Though I'm not one for axes myself."
She nods in Ushyle's direction. She looks over the small circle, her eyes settling on Vael only a little longer than the others.
"Raen, by the way, though I think I've met everyone at least once before. I help out with the more sophisticated defenses, over at Agrit's House of Wonders." She pulls a small vial with fizzing green liquid from inside her robe -- more utilitarian and drab than most, made of tough fabrics -- and shakes it with a small smile.
"Councillor Staginsdar, that is," remembering who's talking with. She puts the vial quickly away.
|
Whistle Pig made his way to Trunau from Cheliax via Nirmathas. He has been a resident of the Ramblehouse for roughly two years. He earns his keep as a hunter of game and scout for the Militia. He knows Ushyle the best out of the group. He knows Vael from his work at the Alehouse. WP enjoys ale as much as any halfling, maybe more so. He is proud of his halfing heritage especially when it comes to his slingcraft. He has been known to take part in the militia's "archery" practice and more than hold his own, even at long range.
Whistle Pig smiles at the mention of his slingcraft. Just trying keep the archer's egos under control. He gives a friendly nod and a wink to one of the archers in the crowd.
...Said random archer makes a high pitched whistle sound while making the exaggerated motion of spinning up a sling.
Vael is always listening, and talking where welcome. He picks up on what scuttlebutt he can.
"And I suppose ye ken say I help with tha morale. Ye ken, with Rabus of course," Vael grins. The dwarf adjusts his wide-brimmed hat and strokes his reddish brown beard. "I dinna have much of a story, but I'm happy ta share it."
"I hail from Janderhoff, as part of tha Oakfist family. We're all brewers, and makin' a fine dwarven ale be a longstandin' tradition. I'd probably still be thar if nae for me avian friend here," Vael says. Tulia, his thrush familiar, lands on his shoulder as if emphasizing the point. "Strange as it sounds, this little bird gave me tha idea ta leave and explore. She and I were drawn here, and I've got ta admit that I really like Trunau. It feels like home. Right, Tulia?"
The bird cocks her head sideways, then in a perfect Taldane says, "That sounds about right, yes. A bit simplified, but accurate."
Janderhoff is not that close to home... but not too far either. Hmm. Raen tries to put the suspicious thought out of her mind. She's helped by the talking bird, and even more so by Whistle Pig trying to talk to it. She lets out a brief bark of a laugh, "Ha!", before turning a little red herself. "Er, sorry," she adds quietly with a low chuckle.
"Oh! Well that's not quite right, though I appreciate the effort. Our call is more of a tsip," Tulia says, trying to help Whistle Pig. "The seep you did is for migratory calls, which we're obviously not doing. More useful is chook-chook which translates, roughly, to mean danger is nearby."
Tulia the Song Thrush will happily explain the limited vocabulary of bird calls.
An individual male may have a repertoire of more than 100 phrases, many copied from its parents and neighbouring birds. Mimicry may include the imitation of man-made items, and the song thrush will also repeat the calls of captive birds, including exotics such as the white-faced whistling duck.
The Shaman catches words everywhere he goes:
“The hopeknife is more than a weapon—it’s a symbol. To Trunauans, earning your hopeknife is a mark of your place in the community. When you earn your hopeknife, it means you are wise enough to make adult decisions, old enough to know what it means to fear, and strong enough to protect your neighbors, even if it costs you your own life.”
“Even though she’s the Chief Defender’s daughter, Ruby has to pledge to uphold the Standing Vow in order to receive her hopeknife, just like the rest of us. She must agree to hold Trunau against all comers and to never forfeit her homeland willingly. That is the Vow.”
“Rumor has it that Rodrik Grath is next in line for the position of patrol leader after his old man Jagrin retires. Jagrin’s a good commander, but he’s getting old, and it might be time for some new blood in the militia’s leadership.”
“Shame about the graffiti all over town. The militia’s got better things to do than clean up youngsters’ messes, but even stranger is how long it lasts. Try as one might, soap and water don’t do a thing to those marks!”
“Have you read Rodrik Grath’s latest work, ‘The Other Side of Contempt’? He’s our own home-grown writer. It’s a controversial poem, but that’s what makes Rodrik’s writing so strong—he’s not afraid to push limits.”
“Rodrik Grath is slated to replace his father as patrol leader, but from what I hear, he’s more concerned with his poems and plays than with militia matters. He’s diligent, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not quite sure either of the Grath boys is ready to lead the town’s defense.”
Kurst Grath seems especially intrigued. While Rodrick laughs heartily at the exchange, Kurst seems fascinated.
Rodrick quickly turns to the remaining dwarf and halfling, "So friends, complete the round and tell us about yourselves."
As Rodrick turns to him, Doxon realizes that no one has heard the soft, mumbled introduction he had been providing.
Doxon clears his throat and stands tall, at least as far as his 4' stature allows. Jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail reveals a sharp and craggy face. His small eyes are set a little too far apart, above cheekbones cut like glaciers and a large hooked nose, broad even by dwarf standards. A dark black beard extends below his jaw in three long plaits, several rings woven into the braids. A few other rings also pierce the dwarf's ears.
My apologies and greetings to you all. The effort to speak loudly and clearly is quite evident, and the words spill out quickly. Doxon Greyforge at your service. Priest of The Father, may His forge ever burn and His hammer always strike true. I'm relatively new to Trunau, but have found the hospitality here quite generous. I too hail from Janderhoff and have been here these past few weeks seeking new purpose in the Father's service. A pleasure to make all of your acquaintance.
Doxon gives a curt nod of his head to the group. You notice his hands unclench from his sides and a visible relaxing from his just rigid stance as he takes a step back.
Rodrick gives the dwarf a hearty bow, "Well met! Priests of the Forge are welcome here, and always will be. I had thought I'd caught glimpse of you headed to Sanctuary. Well met."
Kurst turns to Hamilton, "I believe that leaves you my friend."
Sense Motive:
Ham is a man with a short cut of brown hair, highlighted red. He's in his early 20s and has an easy demeanor. He makes eye contact and is bright and optimistic, but not very talkative unless engaged with first.
When Kurst addresses him he visibly tightens up a little--there's a crack in his demeanor but he catches himself and his manners before it becomes disrespectful.
Captain. You know me. I ride for Trunau, and my sword is yours. For the benefit of our carpetbagging new friends: I serve on the militia at the pleasure of The Chief Defender. I'm good with the animals and I'd put my riding skills to the test against anyone. I've had my own hopeknife for 10 years this fall. I know orcs, and I know horses and if you need a good fishing guide you could do a hell of a lot worse. I'm Hamilton Renaud, Ham to my friends. I'm greener than some, but I've fought alongside both Captains more than once.
"Well met! Indeed we do know you, but I'm not sure everyone else here does. We can also vouch for his skill at fishing, and it takes a special kind of man to brave the waters of the Kestral."
The brothers turn and take their leave. Throughout the day though you run into them and they're quick with a nod.
As the celebrations wind down for the night, the people of Trunau head back to their homes. Rodrick happens by you on the way back. It's clear that this has been a long day for him as his shoulders sag and his step isn't quite as sharp. "Hey Doxon, Whistle Pig, and Ushyle. I'm staying at the Ramblehouse tonight. Join me for the walk back."
Rodrick sighs, "I love this place." It's the only thing he says the whole way back until you get to the Ramblehouse door. He holds the door for you and gives Cham Larringfass a nod and a "G'night". before he makes his way to his room. Cham gives you each a cheery goodnight. "Special breakfast treat in the morning. It'll put skip in your step. Looks like Rod is going to need a double helping!"
Cham and Whistle Pig share a pint (or two.)
Ushyle looks nearly as tired as Rodrick does after the festival. The half orc silently grabs a fresh biscuit from the basket, dropping a handful of silvers into Cham's waiting hand, and gives Whistle Pig a nod before retreating upstairs to his room.
...Crack of dawn, the 29th of Neth, 4716 AR.
.
Screams at the Ramblehouse.
Vael, Raen, and Ham hear the commotion outside, but Ushyle, Doxon, and Whistle Pig are already on the scene.
A large crowd has gathered outside the Ramblehouse, and the citizens whisper words like death, horror, shock, and most surprisingly, suicide. The Guard has roped off the Ramblehouse, but upon seeing friends of the Grath brothers, let the trio inside.
With the sextet of you together the news sinks in, though the shock rolls on. Cham Larringfass, discovered Rodrik’s body in his room, his wrists fatally lacerated and his bloody hopeknife in his limp hand. Suicide.
Milling about in the room are a few guardsmen, Cham, and in the corner, Kurst.
"I kinna believe it," Vael says, his expression somber as he removes his hat.
"Tulia, look around please. If ye see somethin', come back ta me right away."
The thrush will fly off and scout around where she can.
Vael walks over to Cham. "Ken ye tell me what ye ken? Sorry, I mean what ye 'know'"
Only for its intended purpose... Raen is reminded, looking in shocked disbelief at the hopeknife in Rodrick's hand. He did not seem the type to go this way. She moves to stand next to Kurst and puts a hand on his back, and they both stare at the scene.
I wonder... Raen's other hand performs a small flick, and her eyes gleam a little brighter as she scans for any lingering auras.
Ushyle, as surprised as everyone, gives a look to his friends and to Kurst as he makes his way to the body, stooping to study it closely.
Maybe it's because of your personalities. Maybe it's some kind of primal response, but the people in the Ramblehouse begin to look at you.
No, not look at you. They look to you. Kurst stands shocked to the side. Vael and WP's words hit him like hammers.
When Vael walks over to Cham, she wipes tears to talk to him. But before he can get there. Kurst pulls it together and approaches the 6 of you....
“You know now that my brother, Rodrik was found dead this morning, and I’ve had my hands full since. Right now, the official cause of death is suicide, but I just can’t believe that. Something else has to be going on. Unfortunately, Rodrik was the best investigator in Trunau; if he were on the case, solving the mystery of his death wouldn’t take long, but with just me left, we might never know what really happened.” Kurst sighs heavily.
“I simply can’t handle the investigation and tend to my family duties at the same time. I may be a patrol captain, but right now, I feel my responsibilities as a brother outweigh my other duties. Still, I can’t just let this lie. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all my other options—the members of Trunau’s militia are competent defenders during siege times, but they’re not sleuths by any means. I need your help. Will you investigate my brother’s death?”
He sighs again, and his eyes reflect the morning light through tears barely contained. "Before you go to Cham, do you have questions for me?"
Ham nods gravely at Kurst.
I agree--something feels off. Don't worry, Captain. We'll sort this out.
And he goes to look at Rodrik's body.
Ushyle nods at once, then realizes he shouldn't speak (er, nod) for everyone else. We should have a look at Rodrik, he says, the late patrol captain's name getting caught in his throat.
If allowed, Doxon would like to examine the body.
He'll cast Guidance, hoping Torag's aid will help him.
He's trying to determine if the wrist lacerations were truly the cause of death. Also, looking for any other signs of injury. Anything out of place.
Which hand is the knife in? Do we know if he was right or left handed?
The militia wrapped him in a shroud not long ago and it's likely at Sanctuary by now. You're welcomed to go."
Ushyle will check the room carefully, then grab Ham and Doxon and head out to the Sanctuary.
So as of this moment I'm reading your order as:
1. Talk to Kurst.
2. Search Rodrick's room.
3. Go to Sanctuary.
(Cham also wants to talk to you.)
Kurst is at his wits end, but he clearly wants your help. His mind is fried, so he doesn't have much to offer up, but will answer questions.
"Of course, Kurst," Raen intones solemnly, bowing to the Patrol Captain's request. "Be with your family, and may the gods keep you."
Raen thinks this is an odd group for an investigative team, but she's pleased Kurst asked for help. Seeing that the others have a few questions too, she joins. "Kurst, I know this is hard, but you knew your brother best. Has anything been out of the ordinary recently? Any new faces in his life? Any strange happenings the patrols have uncovered?" Raen thinks back to what she heard about someone coming in and out of town.
Raen thinks this is an odd group for an investigative team...
It takes a bit for Kurst to gather his thoughts, but he answers the questions as best he can. "No one new, though I feel like I should poin tout his relationship to Brinya. She and Rodrik were engaged to be married, but only a few people, myself included, knew about their relationship. Brinya’s a half-orc. Her heritage doesn’t matter to me, but it does to my father, which is why Rodrik kept it secret. That’s why Rodrik was staying at the Ramblehouse. My father somehow found about the two of them, and he and Rodrik had a falling out over it. Since my father has forbidden me to visit her, could you check up on her and make sure she’s okay? You can also ask her whether anything seemed strange about Rodrik the last couple of nights. I don't think the patrols have uncovered anything yet. Our father knows all of their coming and goings, but he.... he couldn't bring himself to stay here. Besides, he's with me, and thinks this is a homicide, not suicide. But we're trained to fight orc hordes, not.... this. We have seen anything out of the ordinary lately. I mean Rodrick's been busy, but I assumed that was more to do with spending time with Brinya.”
It's all the same.
Ushyle hears Kurst's words and knows the pain he mentions about rejection first-hand. He says nothing, merely nodding; but his eyes betray his thoughts.
"Of course, Kurst," Raen says, reaching out to touch his arm. "We will see that she is safe."
"I advise we speak to Brinya before visiting the Sanctuary, once we are done here."
Raen thinks she knows the name. She thinks she lodges at the hostel.