"The white swords? What?" Cromwin nods in agreement with Zove. "She's right, this is incredibly suspicious, he would never have done this." Cromwin goes over to where Cham is crouched in a corner next to Maurie, dropping down in to a crouch next to her and trying to talk as comforting as possible. "Cham, look at me. I know its shocking, but its going to be ok. Do you know if Rodrik was alone here when this happened? Did anyone ask you where he was last night, or come to visit him?"
Cham sniffles, "He asked me to give him a wake up call and when he didn't answer..."
Turning to Maurie she replies in common, "No he was alone, I keep a log of everyone as checks in, he was on his own..."
You all recall being listed in Cham's guestbook upon entering, save Zove who Cromwin recalls being listed.
To Cromwin she replies tearfully, "No, no..."
Brin stumbles awake at the commotion outside the room and falls down onto the floor. He grabs his shield from the side of the bed and moves into the hallway.
Late to another party...Oh, no.
Maurie looks at the woman intently, firmly, but gently.
"Now isn't the time to hold back anything. It will not aid anyone or protect them... only the truth can do that."
Okay, that makes a bit more sense.
Grok arrives at the ramblehouse early to find it in commotion, a pair of grim faced Guards heading out and a torch burning on the ground beside it indicate that things are not as they should be. He finds his way to the source of the commotion and looks around, seeing the dead body of Rodrik, all cut up by his hopeknife. Grok looks unfazed by the corpse, though he shakes his head slightly. He was good. He notices the halfling woman distraught on the floor, and kneels down next to her, looking pained himelf. Maybe you can help us find who did this. Do you know if the window was cracked before? Does anything in this room look different from the way that it was when you last saw it? Grok struggles to get the words out, finding himself choked up more because of the halfling's crying than the dead man on the bed.
He stands up and walks over to the window, looking down at the torch below. Did anyone check for tracks outside? I might be able to find some in the dust inside, but by now so many people have gone over it that even if I could it would be a tangled mess. Grok's face is emptied of emotion; he is all business now. He doesn't look like he did this to himself, no other wounds on him and I think someone would have noticed the horde of orcs it would have taken to convince him he ought to kill himself without a fight. Probably just some fool who didn't like his book, wanted to kill him. Are these cuts the kind that a Trunau native would make?
As Grok enters he sees what appears to be an elderly guard passing him out of the door with several brown glass bottles of what, from the smell, is clearly potent liqor before him. He is holding one above his head and gulping the contents down as he walks.
Chem looks everywhere but at Maurie, "I, I, don't know what you are talkin' about moi Dear. Not my fault if these..."
The cuts seem to roughly approximate what you saw Halgra demonstrate to Ruby.
Maurie takes the hint and switches back to halfling again herself.
Maurie looks at her companions and switches back to common. "I know you cared about him. And I know that as hard as it is to find out, it is harder to find him here in person. You have my support."
"No, no, I am not leaving Trunau the place would fall apart without me," Cham says, a trifle vaguely.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped. If you don't know why he was here perhaps his brother or father will. I am sure they will be happy to ask you questions about the matter in an official capacity."
Maurie shrugs as she says this, and turns as if to leave.
Grok looks at Maurie awkwardly for a second. Avoid conflict, just ask her what they were talking about later.
He walks over to the corpse and touches its neck, feeling for warmth. Maybe we can figure out when this happened.
Chem scrunches up her face, "Look I didn't think anything of it really, but there was a man last night he... Well, he paid me a hand full of gold to check in without a name, I didn't see any harm, I mean if he was up to no good why not just give a false name? So I took the money. But Rodrik committed suicide right? But it was a little strange is all..."
From finds Rodrink's body cool to the touch.
Maurie nods, thoughtfully. "That is helpful to know. Do you remember anything distinct about him? Smell, facial feature, height, hair color... anything that could be used to recognize him if we found him? Furthermore, could I see one of the coins he paid with?" "I wager that he must have been a stranger, otherwise she probably tell us his name. On any other night that might be enough to find him by, but on the night after a major celebration I'd wager there are more than a few strange folks." Looking around at her companions, she mentally adds, "I should know, a team of us were staying together at a discounted rate."
Grok is glad to see that Chem has calmed down, approaching her less awkwardly now. And do you know which room he was staying in? Did he talk to anyone who might remember something while he was here? A handfull of gold isn't exactly forthcoming, it probably wasn't just some angry idiot...or if it was they were planning for a long time.
"Just a man, brown hair, too tall, not fat or thin, just a human..."
"But what room, Cham? Before we jump to any conclusions, we should see if this mysterious man is still here. Also, make sure noone touches the knife; if Rodrick didn't kill himself, that knife was almost certainly planted by someone who wants us to think he did. I've trained my share of hunting dogs, and I'm almost certain that if we can get a bloodhound here, it will be able to tell if someone else has touched his hopeknife recently." Cromwin hesitates briefly. "Zove, Cham -- neither of you touched it, right?"
Cham looks down, "He left in the night, had the small room at the end of the hall, but his bed hadn't even been slept in. I checked by the room first, cause it was strnasge and all, and the door was open. Feel free to look,"
With the situation well in the hands of others Brin heads back to his bed. He grabs his kit and straps his armor on. He steps through the group and heads for the front door. When passing Maurie he tells her, "I'm going to check with the watch at the gate and see if anyone left in the night."
Grok looks around the room a little bit more, examining the blood on the floor closely and comparing it to Rodrik's position on the cot. How still were you when you died? He mutters, his voice barely audible.
Thank you, Grok says sincerely, crouching again near Cham. I'm going to go poke around his room and see what I can find. Grok nods at the woman and turns as though he's about to leave, then looks back at her. And Cham, I'm sorry you had to find him like this. That could not have been pleasant.
Grok looks at Brin before he leaves, maybe you can get a doctor or someone else who might be able to tell us when this happened. Might give us some idea of how far away the murderer could be.
Grok heads over to the room the nameless man booked, looking to see what's inside.
Brin is heading out just as a pale faced Kurst Grath approaches The Ramblehouse and at Brin's question replies duly, "We do not open the gates at night."
Making his way upstairs he examines the scene for a long moment in silence, before saying, "That is not my brother's knife..."
Maurie nods to Brin as he leaves.
"Come back if you find anything."
Turning to the approaching Kurst she bows apologetically to the man as he enters the room.
"I am sorry for your loss." She watches as he examines the room.
"First, how can you tell it was not his? Second, can you tell who it belonged to?"
Brin, not really seeing any way he could be of help, stands back behind his group while they investigate.
How to help...how to help...?
Expressionless Kurst replies in a numb voice, "Rodrik's hopeknife was inscribed, this one is not, and it looks cruder and the blade is shaped slightly differently, more rounded. I do not recognize this blade."
Maurie nods. "Please forgive the question, but are inscriptions a common thing for these knives? I mostly ask because there were a lot of people here yesterday who got a crash course in performing this ritual who might not have had a proper hopeknife." After a moment's pause, she adds, "Myself included in that company, though I will solemnly swear by the Master of the First Vault that I went to bed after arrival and awoke only when Cham found your brother in this condition."
"Common for lovers, they exchange knives..." Kurst replies, hands clenched into fists, "forgive me, but could I ask you all to wait up here for a time? I must go and meet my father, he should not see this."
Grok bends down, still standing in the doorway, and looks as closely as he can at the floorboards, taking in everything. Was the dust disturbed anywhere? Were there any squished bugs or droppings? Had there been a man in this room?
Maurie nods to the surviving brother. "Of course, though I would ask that you come back when you are finished. I would know what funeral arrangements will be made so that I can pay my respects more properly." Giving what she hopes is a comforting smile, she adds, "Well, that and I want to be of assistance in any way that I can be during this trying time."
Cromwin follows Grok to the room the man rented, watching as Grok begins to search the room for signs of passage. He's looking for signs, a trail someone might have left. That is going to be near impossible with an inn like this, but maybe I can help him. Cromwin squats down next to Grok, eyes searching over the boards. "Grok, you're an experienced hunter, aren't you? I can tell from the way you're searching. I've done a lot of hunting myself. Let's work together to see if we can figure out what happened here.
Cromwin will help search the room, trying to help point out anything he sees and discussing anything interesting with Grok.
Indeed, I survived for years out in the mountains before coming here. Grok's eyes glaze slightly for a moment, but that was before. I'm better at finding the orc tracks as well, I can almost smell if they've been in a room. I don't expect to find much, if we had a few hours I could be absolutely certain what was here, even with this hard floor. Not really even sure what I'm looking for, just trying to keep busy. Thank you for the help, by the way. Grok scrutinizes the floor carefully, mostly keeping quiet, occasionally squinting and brining his face almost to the ground. When he does this he covers his mouth and nose with his hand, so that his breath doesn't disturb any lines in the dust.
Brin leans against the wall, bit a ways now from the group. He lightly recites a poem to himself while fidgeting with his nails.
"Here I lay, amongst past heroes of battle,
Here I stay, the fight still long gone,
I hear the bards, I hear their prattle,
From my death, they string a proud song.
The spirit sings, it dances away,
The spirit sores, it cannot stay,
The spirit flies, is joins the gray,
The living continue, it's just that way."
Brin sighs to himself, lost in melancholy.
Maurie shrugs at Zove.
"If he is right and his brother's blade was inscribed, and this one isn't, than that is pretty convincing evidence that this blade was not his. Unless there is something about the etching process of your blades that makes them vanish upon the owner's death that is... being a non native I wouldn't know if some such magic wasn't common here."
The halfling looks up at Zove with a semi-serious look, as if demanding a serious answer to the implied question contained within that statement, before turning again to look down upon the fallen man. "I know only a bit about you from the day before, so I will not judge harshly. I will merely point out the fact that if Kurst is not taking the death of his brother, of all people, seriously... well, I somehow doubt your accusations of gamesmanship will rectify that discrepancy."
Walking past her to Brin, she takes his hand. "Thank you. If now is not the time for a dirge, it soon will be." Smiling at him, she returns to their common room to fully arm herself and ensure that nothing from her pack was taken during the commotion.
Glancing back over his shoulder Kurst says blankly, "Rodrik's hopeknife is Brinya's, the inscription reads "For Rodrik my Love." Then he descends to head off Jagrim.
The room is unfortunately simply too clean to make Grok and Cromwin's tracking efforts viable.
Examining the hopeknife Zove sees that it is, while still a fine blade, clearly not up to the standards of the majority of hopeknives, there also appears to be a space left for an inscription that has been left blank.
Beyond the fact that this revelation contradicts Zove's assumptions that Rodrik was single, "Easily explained if he just kept that information under his hat for whatever reason," this revelation completely fails to impact the out of town halfling.
"I am sure she will be devastated by this loss as well. Strange that he did not mention it, but I guess he just wanted to have a private life. I can respect that."
Well, I can't find anything good. Let's go see if the others have found anything, maybe we can come back to this later. Grok stands up, walking back to Rodrik's room.
Where's Rodrik's knife? Maybe it was taken from him? Maybe the person who took it still has it. Grok's words are slow, but rise in intensity and excitement slightly as he speaks.
We should talk to Brinya, find out if she knew where he was and how her knife got here.
After some time searching, Cromwin sighs and stands up, stretching his arms up and shaking his head. "Good search Grok, but I agree, I don't think we're going to find anything here. There just isn't enough to go by to determine if anyone was in the room last night. " He glances one last time around the room. "Wooden floors are tough, especially if you need to both find the trail and determine how old it is. Lets head back to the others, see if they've found anything."
Cromwin returns to the room of the murder as Zove finishes examining the knife. "Nothing in the rented room. Grok and I searched it pretty thoroughly, but it is hard to tell if it was even used last night. Any luck with identifying whose hopeknife that is, or if it is a hopeknife at all?"
The nameless man's room is clean with a neatly made bed and a desk almost identical to this in Rodrik's room.
Once it is clear there aren't any tracks, Cromwin will do a thorough search of the room for more straightforward evidence before returning.
Perception, take 20: 24
Spending a good amount of time searching the room, lifting the matress, checking beneath the bed, even pulling the furniture away from the walls Cromwin finds a secret draw in the desk much like the one in Rodrik's room. Inside the secret compartment is a slip of dirty old parchment containing what appears to be an unfinished letter in a sloppy, but decisive hand.
Melira,
I shouldn’t be away for much longer. We still haven’t found what we’re looking for, but it’s only a matter of time, and the other preparations are proceeding as planned. A meddling militia patrol captain has been poking around, but I don’t foresee him being a threat for much longer. Once our work is done, it won’t matter anyway, and I can return to you. I marvel that I found you in the midst of all this, and think of you constantly. Soon, my beloved.
Cromwin returns to the scene of the murder, reading the letter as he walks. As he enters the room, he proffers the letter to the group. "Grok and I searched the room the man rented out last night. We weren't able to find a trail, but we did find this in a secret compartment in the room's writing desk. It doesn't look good. Does anyone here know who Melira might be?"
Rodrik seems to shine with a faint green luminescence to Zove, brighter about his lips, revealing that he has indeed been poisoned.
Maurie returns to the others, backpack strapped to her back and weapons ready to wield.
"I take it that something was discovered in the strangers room? And what is this about poison? Do you mean a sedative agent to keep him from struggling or something that actually did the deed, with the wounds applied after for show?"
Are you sure that's not just the drink? I mean, are you sure that spell isn't just telling you he was drinking hard last night? We can always go find some drunken fellow and double check. Grok looks at Rodrik, examining him for a moment. That's good though Zove, not sure anyone else could have figured that out. He nods at her, look at her eyes then looks up at her face, smiling so that she knows his thanks is genuine.
Grok looks over at Cromwin, who is just returning. He tries to read over Cromwin's shoulder, squinting and mouthing the words to himself. He shakes his head faintly, looks down for a moment, and then says, I'm not so good at reading, you mind reading it aloud for us all? He then adds I've no idea who Melira is, if it's a person and you don't know her she's probably from out of town though, right? Some good eyes there... use his name Cromwin, Grok says, awkwardly. He does not feel the need to look up or smile, feeling slightly closer to Cromwin now that he knows he's a hunter.
"Sure Grok. Ahem." Cromwin holds up the letter and begins to read. "Melira, I shouldn’t be away for much longer. We still haven’t found what we’re looking for, but it’s only a matter of time, and the other preparations are proceeding as planned. A meddling militia patrol captain has been poking around, but I don’t foresee him being a threat for much longer. Once our work is done, it won’t matter anyway, and I can return to you. I marvel that I found you in the midst of all this, and think of you constantly. Soon, my beloved."
Cromwin lowers the letter. "I don't know about the rest of you, but this does not sound good. Most importantly right now though, this really does not sound like Brinya. I don't really know her, but referring to a man she's close enough to swap hopeknives with as "a meddling militia patrol captain", even if there was something nefarious taking place? It just doesn't seem to fit. I think we should get over to Brinya's and see if she can shed any light on this situation, and to make sure nothing unfortunate happens."
Maurie shakes her head. "I understand your desire to spring into action, but Kurst did ask us to remain here for the time being while he informed his father of Rodrik's fate. While by his own admission there has yet to be a codified version of the laws for this town, I would be loath to go against the direct licit orders of a lawman, especially when they are reasonable. Besides, if he needs to question us regarding the night it would be better if we were here, where he can find us quickly. Furthermore he might have further insight as to who this Melira is."
The halfling woman sighs. "I know it is probably far from all of our minds at the moment, but perhaps it would be wiser to eat breakfast here while we have the chance. Who knows what such a day has in store, and we may need our strength later."