Mortoth does likewise. Also, as the group prepares to leave the inn, he also consumes his extract of heightened awareness.
Sam also heads back to his room. Yawning and bleary eyed. But he too dresses in his armour and gathers his things.
Yverstrix reaches back into the room to grab his pack, stretching as he steps back into the hall, "I'm after thinking Sam is having the right of it, to ensure we're not being accused of murder ourselves."
You gather together and go hunting for your would-be assassins. Pulling a rhino out of the stable and trouncing through town brings a lot of attention. Before you get very far, lots of people come stumbling out into the night to see what is going on, and some of the city watch show up to find out what is happening. Unfortunately, the trail grows cold as it gets contaminated with the other people, who are now all staring at you looking for answers.
Yes, they are asking a few easily answered questions, and no one recognizes the assassin, but they do accept your explanation of what happened.
The soldiers do see quite concerned with Malthu's demands, and shortly one goes off to get the captain of the watch while two others go inside to roust the still sleeping guests, search every room, and examine the assassin.
After 10 minutes, more of the city watch come, and they start patrolling the area and asking more pointed questions. As it turns out, very few of them trust a group of half-orcs with a large, dangerous beast, and so while they seem to be going through the motions, too many of them simply don't have their heart in it.
Eventually Kurst shows up, vouching for you halfheartedly, and that calms tensions enough. He looks a little embarrassed by his actions.
After a few hours, they turn up nothing useful. One person does recognize a tattoo on the assassin, however, that leads him to believe she is a member of a gang in Lastfall. As such, she is probably a hired mercenary.
Well I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep tonight. the doctor says sadly. Maybe we should look into any connections between Lastwall and Trunau and why they might be after us. he offers.
The attack was around midnight, and the followup took a few hours. Assuming you resume your watch schedule and sleep in late, you miss breakfast, but otherwise suffer no ill effects.
As the party heads back to catch some shut-eye, Grod jerks a thumb at Kurst "Don't know what he's on about. He's the one that asked us to check into things. Was he expecting subtlety from a crew like this?" he says to the others, with a gesture that takes in the group; two barbarians, a rhinoceros, a scantily-clad witch, fish-out-of-water researcher, etc.
Sam gratefully returns to his bed after ordering a stiff drink from the bar. For a while he just lies in the darkness, finishing at every sound but eventually weariness overtakes him and he slips into a dreamless sleep.
Yver sighs, "I be thinking he was after expecting we were the last ones anyone would be asking to solve a crime... Maybe commit a few...". He shrugs and heads back into the room, throwing his pack into the corner, then kicking his boots off, before lying back on the bed to stare at the ceiling in the darkness.
The sun rises, and a new day has begun. There are no further incidents.
You head back over to Clamor, and Sara is there, working on a tool of some sort.
"Hello, again, friends. How can I help you this fine morning?"
She nods, expectantly, and motions to a door behind you. As you turn to look, you see an old half-orc struggling to walk out the door.
Katrezra was raised among the orcs of the Empty Hand tribe, and now suffers from painful afflictions and weeping sores gained from his time at the Brimstone Haruspex, an orc temple in the caldera of a smoking volcano in the Kodar Mountains, whose highly caustic fumes supposedly grant insight into the future.
"Yes, young ones. You have the right of it," he says. "I am Katrezra. When news of Rodrik’s death reached me, I knew it must have been foul play, so I fled the Sanctuary, fearful that whoever targeted Rodrik would come after me as well."
"Chain me in the Ninth," Mortoth mutters, "Finally."
More loudly, the bounty hunter goes on, "I'm glad you recognize that Rodrik's death was murder; that will save us some time. It's good to meet you at last, friend. We've spent no small amount of effort trying to locate you, and here you were, under our noses the whole time." Mortoth sniffs theatrically, but the carbon tang in the air makes him cough. "Ah, that is... we'd hoped that Rodrik might have confided in you what it was that he was investigating. We're fairly certain that whatever it was he was chasing is what got him killed, and that's the answer we need to find his killer."
"It is no great secret that I was cursed with preternatural visions many years ago, during my time with the Empty Hand. Since I left those savages, many have sought my counsel into matters ranging from the mundane to the dire, but I’m afraid the omens that assault my dreams are nigh indecipherable, even to me, and I have no means of directing them.
“Rodrik originally approached me to ask for advice while courting Brinya Kelver. The love-struck fool—bless his soul—thought I might have some special insights into the traditions of her people or visions of the couple’s everlasting happiness... but come now, do I look like the romantic type?" He smiles wryly, then shakes his head and moves on. "I couldn’t help him with his relationship, but we gradually became close friends. I’d been experiencing vivid hallucinations of white swords or crosses, and dreams of the Plague House outside town. When I told him of them, he seemed to think my dreams might help with his investigation. I told him about my visions as best I could, but the muse of my nightmares is as abstruse as she is unkind."
“To be truthful, I don’t think even he knew exactly what he was looking for. Rodrik had run afoul of a flood troll in the Plague House not long ago, and the poor fellow was convinced it was not just an isolated incident. He came to me seeking guidance, and his curiosity was piqued by my visions. I told him that flood trolls are native to Belkzen, but they rarely roam this far south of the Flood Road. Since learning of his investigation, though, I have had nightmares unlike any before, and I fear that some greater evil may be at play within Trunau’s walls.” "
"Rodrik had plans to go back to the Plague House, but because of the unease I felt from my visions, I suggested he leave his journal with me, which he did. The night of his death, my visions were even more terrible, though still indecipherable. When news of Rodrik’s death reached me in the morning, I knew it must have been foul play, so I fled the Sanctuary, fearful that whoever targeted Rodrik would come after me as well. His death grieves me to no end, but at least my efforts bought me enough time to share this information with you."
He pulls out a journal and hands it to you.
Well it seems they came after us! Sam says, Oh, Doctor Samuel Ballard by the way, lovely to finally meet you. he adds offering his hand. So you were probably right to do so.
But a Flood Troll..... that doesn't sound good at all. What would it be doing there? How did it even get in?
He whispers excitedly to Grod;
The Plague House though, we knew that was the place, intuition you see, can't teach that!
After the fright of the assassins, Sam seems back to his over-excited self at the prospect of investigation and discovery.
"I have seen visions of the Plague House many times these past few weeks, and though I can’t say with any certainty what these divinations might mean, I believe there is more beneath the ashes of the Burned Church than soot and rubble."
"I believe this is our cue to get Kurst and whoever he deems trustworthy, then come down on that place like a cartload of bricks," Shivarra observes. "Immediately, I should note."
Grod nods at Sam's whispers, absentmindedly scratching his rhino behind her ears. "Yeah, sounds like there might be something there. Good to have confirmation." he says, quietly, then, to the whole group "We should definitely check out the Plague House. If there's anything to be found we'll need to look quickly. Those assassins, or whoever hired them, might've tried to remove some of the evidence already."
Mortoth rubs his broken tusk in frustration. "After last night," the bounty hunter replies to Shivarra, "I suspect Kurst'll be exceedingly wary of any claims we might make without proof. He's already had to stick his neck out for us in front of the town, and we had basically nothing to show for it then. We have a little more now, but I'd bet he's given us all the rope he's got to spare."
In addition, you know:
They have darkvision
A flood troll's regeneration functions as long as the flood troll is touching flowing water or precipitation.
Even a slight drizzle is enough to activate the flood troll's regeneration. However, any acid or fire damage dealt to the flood troll suspends its next round of regeneration.
A flood troll's flesh is highly resilient to the stresses of long dry periods. A flood troll who has gone without touching flowing water for at least 24 hours gains a +2 natural armor bonus to AC. A flood troll who has touched water within the last 24 hours gains cold resistance 5 instead.
They also swim well and can hold their breath longer than normal.
"Flood trolls aren't technically trolls," Mortoth explains to the others, "but there's few other than our good Doctor here who'd worry on the difference. You ever heard of scrags? Sea trolls or river trolls, they call them sometimes? Flood trolls are deformed runts from scrag litters - they rarely grow any taller than Grod, here, and they only regenerate when they're touching running water. Otherwise, though, they're pretty much what you'd expect from trolls: nasty, smelly, and you want fire or acid to make sure they can't heal. They like to make traps, and if they're in water, they're almost impossible to hurt through freezing. That about covers it, I think."
Well then. the doctor says, the spirit of adventure never waning. Perhsps we should be about it? Should we stock up on lamp oil if ummm... well... you know.
Yverstrix says, "They heal and eat people? I'm thinking that's after being troll enough. I think the doctor be having the right of it -- some oil would be a wise purchase, and one of us should be carrying a fire brand."
I have a little alchemist's fire although brewing that thing is too expensive to use it at will," the witch notes. "There will probably be more than just the troll there, too. When do you want to get started, anyway?"
"I'm with Sam. Let's get to it."
"The sooner we get started the better."
Sam gathers his arrows and places them carefully in his quiver, wondering if for the first time he may have to shoot at something that isn't just a target butt.
Slinging the rest of his things in a bag that goes over his shoulder, he is ready for adventure and steps out into the morning sun where he finds most of his new-found colleagues already gathered.
Well then. No time like the present.
When the others arrive, he leads off confidently striding down the street, hoping that one of them will point him in the right direction.
You make your way outside the town and all the way around to the back of it.
The Plague House’s front doors sit three feet above the ground. Charred wooden beams and ash are all that remains of a small porch and stairs that once led to the entrance. The small windows flanking either side of the door frame are broken, but a large stained glass window dominating the face of the building to the right remains in fine shape, and shows a varicolored image of Iomedae holding her sword aloft.
Though clearly a fish out of water, the scholar is still at home when investigator ruins and barrows and he hops up easily onto the burnt porch before turning and helping anyone else up who might need it.
He then gingerly pushes open the doors and peers inside.
Mortoth also scrambles up, readying his falchion.
You find a long hallway, with door both north and south, and opening into a larger room or hall at the end.
Mortoth swiftly drinks down an extract, then peers around, looking and listening for any signs of movement or activity nearby.
You do not see or hear anything.
While Malthu seems to have a hard time seeing it, many of you notice lots of signs of traffic through here, although nothing more specific. For an abandoned, burned out building, it does seem to get some use.