A pained expression crosses Molly's face, and she pats Vastha on the shoulder.
"I wasn't trying to steal your thunder, luv," she says. "You're some kind of wizard, yeah? Big, flash spells and all? If something hits me, maybe turns me killing-crazy, there's only so much harm I can do. You...?"
Looking carefully at the graffiti, both Molly and Vashta came up dry. Whatever the vandals used, it was chemical in nature, and not magical.
Mariana goes in and begins to give the place a look around, particularly the graffiti.
"Let's see," she says to herself as she looks things over.
Storn grumbles at Molly but agrees. At the sound of Quill's shout of excitement, Storn stomps his way over to the next room. He stares at the graffiti for a moment before grabbing the note away from Quill.
"WORDS?!" he shouts a little too loudly before he furrows his thick brow to read the difficult letters. After a moment he blows out his cheeks.
"Quill! You got the key, who was staying in this room? And our list of people to care about grows."
He hands the note to whoever wants it and holds out several sausage-like fingers and taps each one.
"Rodrik, who is dead and therefore useless. Urnsul. Whoever was in this room, and someone called Melira who was conspiring with whoever was in this room."
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Quill jumps at the sound of Storn's yelling.
I think he yelled at me while he was setting my bone. I wonder if he thinks he can loud bones into re-knitting.
"What? Yes. What?" Quill jumpily repeats. "Yes, I got the keys. A 'human male' was in here. Cham might know more if you want to go yell at her."
Quill finishes looking around, returns the keys, and is ready to split up to accomplish next tasks.
'Which group am I with? Where are we going?"
"I have a fair amount of power at my command; I wouldn't want to face me in a battle," Vashta replies haughtily, looking Molly up and down. "Indeed, you don't look like you would be too much of a threat."
Turning her attention back to the dilemma at hand, she frowns.
"The clues are practically leaping out at us. Which should we look at first? The fiancee-to-be? The smith-who-wasn't? The dweller-in-mystery here? The first two seem to be the most accessible.
"Storn and Yelena, you might as well go deal with the smith; that seems to be up your alley. Mariana and Molly, you should talk to this Urnsel."
She looks around again and, realizing her misakes, sighs.
"Quill, do you know who might sell the materials to make this sword? Lead me there, and I shall see what I can find out."
[ooc]Sound like a plan? Feel free to propose something else. Vashta's a little bossy.[/oo]
"What are you doing? The WHITE sword," Vashta says crossly. "It didn't show up as magic, which means it must have been made with some sort of alchemical reagents!"
"C'mon then," Molly says, and she claps Mariana on the shoulder. "Let's go talk to the soon-to-be-grieving-if-she-isn't-already bride-who's-not-to-be."
Unless Mariana wants to spend more time in the room with the white sword, Molly proceeds to Urnsel's. She seems a little distracted on the way, though.
"Someone bothered to put up all those swords with some fancy alchemical muck... Why? What's it mean? Could it be part of some ritual? Is it meant to be recognized by other people for... who knows what? I get the feeling whoever's putting up white swords is the one responsible for Rodrik's death. An alchemist capable of making unremovable paint can probably concoct some kind of despair poison or something. But what's the point of it all...?"
"I'll catch up!" hollers Storn as the group try to determine where they're going. He heads downstairs.
"Cham, a question for you!" Storn beams his best yellow-toothed smile upon finding her.
He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "There's a room with 'human male' listed as the occupant. May have seen something. Can you explain that?"
Cham looks nervously at Storn, not the least because the man was huge to a wee halfling. "Um...are you sure? Normally guests write their names in the book. Remember, you did the same."
Storn does his best to be friendly, keeping his voice low despite the fact he is terrifying.
"I am very sorry. Wrong question. Do you know who signed that? It's very important." He smiles again. Awkardly.
Sara Morningstar glanced over at Yelena, sparing the sword in her hand little attention. "'S far as I know, she lived at the Ranblehouse, like everyone else in this thrice-damned town. And if I'd have seen her, I'dd have chained her to that bellows over there for running out on us after the militia placed that huge order for arrowheads. Speaking of which, why aren't you here, helping out with that. I thought you weren't on the patrol schedule until tomorrow. Those broadheads ain't gonna make themselves."
"Agrit," she calls out as she enters. "We're investigating the white swords that have been found around town. They're not magical, so I think they may be alchemical, and I thought you might know what could cause them?"
The female dwarf looked at Vashta with some curiosity. "Rodrik Grath and that drunkard Omast Frum have been all about those white swords for a week or more. I'll tall you the same as I told them, I haven't a clue. They're not magical in nature. Likely some alchemist whipped up a special brew."
Looking up from her notes, she freaks out a bit, realizing almost everyone has split up. Finally, she nods to herself more than anyone, "I suppose I'll go check with the Cham, as well."
Gathering herself and her book, she closes it and walks downstairs to join Storn and nods, "I hope I am not interrupting, but I was hoping I might inquire whether you could help me find someone..."
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"Damn. They are really hard to clean off, too. Is there anyone in town that you know that has the ability to make something alchemical like that? Or does anyone come in that purchases white or alchemical reagents for a mixture?" Quill asks.
Quill scratches his head.
"Does any other shop in town sell stuff like that?"
Vashta waits to hear if Agrit has an answer for Quinn.
Surely they must have gotten materials here! And why was he investigating with a drunkard?
Cham looked at Storn uncertainly, and then sighed with relief as Mariana and Molly approached. "Yes dear, what can I do for you?"
Sara stared hard at Yelena for a moment, then motioned her to follow. They went back to the blacksmith's office and Sara closed the door. "What is this about a hopeknife that Urnsal made? How do you know it was one of Urnsal's? You know that she was just beginning her apprenticeship here. She wouldn't be given anything other than test pieces to work on. Certainly nothing I'd actually sell to someone."
"Well, we're looking for a Half-Orc lass by name of Urnsel," Molly explains to Cham, a friendly smile on her lips and her elbow briefly in Storn's chest. (Not as an attack, more as a bit of interpunction and a signal to lower the volume a bit.) "Seeing as she's known to be new in town, we figured as she might've stayed here. Can you help put us in touch with her, ma'am?"
At no time does Molly's respectful way of addressing Cham even hint at irony.
The massive, iron-clad barbarian looks up to see Molly and Mariana approaching. He sighs in relief and steps back to give tiny Cham some space.
"You two. Weird-eye and Nosey. Talk to Cham. I think she's had an accident and can't hear my words properly."
"I think she can't understand your words because you're shouting them too loudly for her to make out meaning from the roar, Blood-'N-Guts," Molly shoots back.
Cham looked back and forth at the bickering tall folk, and interrupted with, "I don't recall anyone by that name here, but we had a half-orc woman staying in the common room for a while, with a bunch of other thuggish tall folk. Must be a week or so now. She moved to a room, but only stayed the one night. Left out yesterday during the hopeknife ceremony."
"Any idea where she might've been headed, ma'am?" Molly asks.
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Quill looks at Vashta, wondering if the woman has any follow up questions.
"Maybe we should go to the Sanctuary? See if the Iomedeans have any ideas? Maybe it's one of them?"
Assuming Vashta has nothing else, Quill will lead her there.
* * *@ Sanctuary* * *
Quill enters tentatively.
"This isn't my sanctuary," Quill explains to Vashta. "But maybe they will help us anyway."
Quill looks for someone to speak with.
"I was talking nice!" grumps Storn defensively, nonetheless he steps back, recognizing that strange short people are the best sort to speak with other strange, shorter people. "Cham is a good host and it is a grave sin to offend a host. Different customs is all. For example, you don't decide your town rulers by punching mammoths here."
"Why are we going to the Sanctuary? They're not going to be able to tell us anything," Vashta complains as Quill rushes forward, but she follows the elf despite her better instincts.
it is getting on in the afternoon as the investigation continues, and the three groups are making headway at their own pace.
The time at the House of Wonders wasn't particularly useful, but while they were there, Agrit had a few questions of an arcane nature for Vashta. The 'few questions' ended up taking nearly an hour of discussion, with Quill becoming more and more bored with the arcane nature of the discussion. Finally, he interrupted and practically dragged Vashta away to the only other place of magic he knew, Sanctuary.
The temple to Iomedae was realtively new in Trunau, having been rebuilt when the old temple - the one outside the walls, now known as the Plaguehouse - was burned down. This building was large enough to host a small Iomedaean mission, with a few clerics and paladins, and a dozen acolytes. When they arrived, a young acolyte met them, annd said "How may way of the Light serve you today?"
"Well, I remember that Rodrik came in to replace his lost hopeknife. Urnsul took the order, and once the blank was finished, I gave it to her to practice inscribing on. I was never going to give him that one. I was going to make another, but the girl needed practice, as you well know. I know nothing of these white swords, though I too have seen them daubed on walls and such all over town. Interesting indeed."
Sara chatted with you a little longer, then excused herself. "I really do have a lot of work to do. And you need to help me with those arrowheads when you finish this investigation, yes?"
Cham snapped, "She didn't say where she was going and I didn't ask. I am a good host, and know enough to keep my nose of of customers' business if I want to keep their custom!"
"Of course, of course," Molly says in a soothing tone of voice. "I never meant to imply the opposite. I just thought that, as a good host, you probably take an interest in your customers' wells and woes, so's to be able to anticipate their future needs, adding to the excellence of your reputation and the continuing good success of this, your Ramblehouse."
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"Why are we going to the Sanctuary?"
"Well, if it's not that magicky," Quill points at the House of Wonders, "...then it might be holy-holy pray-pray magicky, right? Or they might have a solution, right?"
Quill moves along.
* * *
"How may way of the Light serve you today?"
Quill looks at Vashta, then speaks to they acolyte.
"Hi. I...uh...don't worship here, but was wondering if you might be able to answer some questions for me? For us?" Quill stammers, slow to remember to introduce Vashta.
"I'm Quill...you might know me as the guy who makes arrows. And that's Vashta. We saw this weird white sword graffiti on the walls and was wondering if you know anything about them...or how to take them off."
Storn's patience with talking and not hitting clearly wearing thin, he speaks up once more from behind Molly, swallowing his pride to plead with the tiny halfling.
"Cham, someone is dead and there are questions. Help us. There was someone signed as human male and that is unusual. Can you give us anything on this person?"
Mariana smiles softly, "I respect your desire to be a wonderful innkeeper. And you are, and as such, we do not wish for you to have any negative marks marring your business."
With that said, she takes a glance about and leans closer.
"We are only seeking to make sure we can clear up the death upstairs. I personally do not believe it was a suicide and your help might be the only thing to help us clear it up."
+2 from aid
Cham looks back and forth between the three of you. Perspiration beads her face and for a moment, she looked as if she was trying to make up her mind to run away. Then, she burst out in a tearful sob, "He refused to give me his name, and he paid me a handful of gold. I didn't know anything like this was going to happen!" Then, wracked by hysterical sobs, she collapsed to the floor.
It took a good deal of time to calm Cham down in order to get her to talk more sensibly. Time, and a couple of shots of brandy. She explained that the man was human, of average height and build, with brown hair. She didn't see any distinguishing features. Basically, her description could fit any one of a few hundred Trunauan natives, and quite a few of the visitors in town as well.
The acolyte looked embarrassed. "Well, I'm new here, and don't really know anything about that. You probably want to talk to High Priestess Tyari, but she isn't here today. She went out to visit one of the outlying farms, and won't be back until tomorrow."
Storn looks incredibly saddened as the tiny innkeeper bursts into tears.
My mighty heart is breaking. Also, 'human male' and unremarkable features? Maybe someone pretending to be a human with magic. Should talk to Vashta.
"You didn't know," says Storn in his best attempt at a comforting voice. "It's not like this happens every day and you're helping now. When this has passed we'll engage in some acts of unspeakable violence together. That always cheers me up."
"You don't want to try to find this drunk ... Or maybe Storn knows who it is already. Good point."
Vastha nods and follows Quill back to the Ramblehouse.
Storn looks up to Yelena, Vashta, and Quill. Storn stands with Molly and Mariana and beside them Cham lies on the floor, sobbing hysterically.
"A bit. The man who called himself 'human male' was apparently completely nondescript; medium build, brown hair, brown eyes. Looks like everyone else to the point I'm suspicious. Everyone has a weird mole or an unfriendly vole living in their beard or something. If you call yourself human male and then look like everyone else, that sounds like some weird freak wearing a man suit."
He looks down at Cham.
"Cham's had a bad day."
"Or perhaps, we just make sure that you are not implicated with any such nonsense involved in this. That your inn is perfectly safe and sound and that you are an honorable innkeep. We need to make sure people have faith in their town despite the hardships."
Gently, the Pathfinder reaches out and firmly squeezes Cham's shoulder, trying to help give her resolve.
"Hiding your appearance isn't very hard; a simple spell would do it. And some can do with even less than that. Also, Quill seems to have already forgotten that we learned Rodrik was apparently investigating with some drunk named Omast Frum. Perhaps he can give us some leads?"