"You know you all make a good team, I hope those of you who are not already will consider getting involved with the Militia. Trunau can always use more stout hearted defenders, and I have faith that all of you would do us proud," Rodrik says between slow sweigs from a stein of honeyed mead. Kurst rolls his eyes behind his brothers back.
Bupkis knew he'd upset the dwarf somehow. Bupkis says something wrong! It sounded like something very bad had happened at Ivan's home, with Orcs and long-longshanks. It seemed best not to say anything more.
He tried to follow the rest of the conversation. When Scrabbler asked them what they were saying, he replied, "Ruby say some boys go Plague House. Old spooky place, ruins. Burns long ago time. Older childs go sometimes for dare. Bupkis go there once. Big rats there, Bupkis not go very far!"
"Oh, Ruby say we can sleep Ramble House." He paused for a moment, before asking, "What's Ramble House?"
"Not at the moment. Go home, rest. Captain Kurst should be able to handle it. Most of the time boys go down to the Plague House and dare each other to go into it. Most of the time they don't."
Daseem nodded, Captain Kurst could handle it. Besides he had Tessa to look after, and to his chagrin she was attempting to sing. Badly. "Show me the way to go home..." she slurred, "Hick! I'm tired and I wanna to go to bed. I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it’s gone right to my head!"
Half carrying her, Daseem guided Tessa back to Lessie Crumkin's house. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night as he went to find her a bucket - just incase.
Ivan downs what could have been his 15th or more mug of drink. He was one of the last there, and, finally as the reminder started to trickle out, Ivan made his way towards the commonhouse. Muttering a small song. However, he only made it half way before tumbling over and falling into his shield. Fast asleep. His snoring was loud enough to saw a tree down.
As he turned to leave, he heard the one goblin ask what the Ramblehouse was. Turning, he looked at the two goblins - one that had climbed him, and the one Rodrik had taken a liking to, and said, "The Ramblehouse is a big house that the militia typically sleeps in. I'm heading there now. If you would like, you can both follow me there."
Bupkis hesitated; maybe he should go to the shed where he normally slept. But his friend, Rodrik was staying at the Ramblehouse, as were his new friends (he had never had so many friends!). After a moment, he followed Menrozzar.
"Ummm, I think you got that a bit mixed up Mister Menrozzar. The Ramblehouse is Trunau's only Inn, though it is more of a Boarding House, run by Cham and lots of other halflings. It is a bit odd that Rodrik is staying there though... You are confusing it with The Longhouse where the guards stay." Ruby injects nervously.
"Anyway goodnight, and thanks again! I do not think anyone ever won so quickly before!"
Ivan is awakened after only an hour or so by a combination of heavy rain and Kurst Grath kicking his shield,
"Good grief, I thought you dwarves were meant to be able to handle your liqor. You will catch your death... I sound like a mother hen. Come on get up, I will dump you at The Ramblehouse."
If Ivan allows it Kurst attempts to help him walk, an exceedingly awkward process given their height and weight differences.
The streets are shrouded in fog and the hard packed earth is already turning into mud.
The group arrive at the Ramblehouse behind a pair of female half orcs who regard them with darkly suspicious eyes before making their way upstairs. The halfling proprietress Cham Laffingfass, a cheerful halfling who is still pretty and energetic, despite being well into her middle years, bustles over to Rodrik, and Edgar the lead,
"Most of the room are booked up for tonight moi Dears, those wretched half orcs have taken'em. But you are in luck Rodrik had me set aside our biggest room for those of you as were helpin' young Ruby out today - means sharing I'm afraid, but nice soft beds with clean sheets. Rodrik even paid earlier... Are you heading back to The Longhouse Captain, or would you prefer you... a room here?"
"Thank you, Ruby. Got myself all mixed up there. I'll still help these two find their way to the Ramblehouse before I head to the Longhouse myself for some sleep."
Menrozzar will still escort Bupkis and Scrabbler to the Ramblehouse.
Menrozzar frowns for a moment at Cham's hesitation. Captain Grath is staying at the Ramblehouse? Interesting. None of your business, though, Menrozzar. Don't pry.
Menrozzar responds to Cham, "I'll be heading to the Longhouse myself. Good night, all."
He will then head to the Longhouse and bed.
Bupkis was confused about why the halfling woman would be worried about that, but chalked it up as one of the many things he didn't understand about non-goblins.
Sheets? What is sheets? When he went to the room he discovered this meant big cloths that were wrapped around the mattress. It was the first time he'd seen such a thing. He always just budled himself up in his blanket.
Bupkis lay down on the bed, which was indeed soft, and pulled the cover over him. He lay there for quite a while; it didn't feel right, no matter which way he turned. Finally, he took the blanket and crawled underneath the bed, which felt much safer. He curled up and went to sleep.
Those sleeping at the Ramblehouse are awakened by a piercing feminine scream, seemingly coming from the corridor outside their room.
Anyone who opens the door and peers outside sees a sobbing Cham Larringfass on her knees in an open doorway. Looking past the distraught halfling reveals Rodrik Grath, lying pale and still, both his wrists slashed and his bloody hopeknife clutched limply in his left hand - dead.
The sparse room that contains only a single cot, upon which Rodrik lays, and a writing desk. The cot is a cheap affair covered in bloody linens, while the desk is a slightly nicer piece of furniture that has nonetheless been chipped and worn by time. A cracked window in the southern wall is the only exit other than the room’s door.
Bupkis awoke with a start, and scrambled out from under his bed. He rushed to the door and opened it; "What's is it?. He moved up to the halfling and looked through the open doorway into the room beyond.
"No!", he shouted, and hurried to his friend's side. "Somebody helps! Rodrik is cut!" He desperately tried to help the patrol captain, but it was much too late. Finally he gave in to the horrible reality before him: Rodrik was dead! He collapsed and sobbed.
Oye, ah, wha? Ivan starts awake at the kick.
Oh, Aye! we can, justn' that the drink made me think I was on tha road again! Or, least I thinkin' it did. Used me shield a lot as a bed then. Used ta it nowadays. But thank ye sir Kurst.
As they walk, he says. Hmph, dark night suddenly. Don't feel right in my bones..
At the ramblehouse, Ivan curiously watches the goblins antics before shaking his head. Durned crazy things.
--
At the scream, Ivan jumps from his bed with all the grace of a goggy, drunken dwarf, slams his helmet and grabs his shield before almost barreling through the door. When he saw Rodrik, he merely slammed the shield into the ground. A somber, angry expression taking his face.
What happened here cham, what be the meaning O' this?
Ivan roughly enters the room, looking around for any threats, or clues to what has happened. Sadly, despite the somber happenings, he was still quite groggy.
Edgar has had too much mead to notice the halflings slip up.
”well thank you Rodrick, I’ll have to buy you breakfast in the morning” he says giving the guard a wink.
Edgar and Edwin will settle into bed and quickly fall asleep.
————————————————————————————————————————
Edgar is woken up to his face crashing to the floor. Edwin stands above him, having just shoved him from his bed after hearing the scream. and here I was hoping I’d dreamed that scream.
Edgar quickly fastens on his knife belt as Edwin grabs his scyth and the two head into the hall and sees the crying halfling. ”What’s going on Madame....” he pauses as he sees the scene in the room. ”Rodrik! What’s happened here?” he says as Edwin rushes to the window to see if he can see anything outside.
Edgar will slowly walk over to the goblin and try to console him, “there there my friend, while it may be too early, his soul has started the greatest journey of all. I didn’t know him well but in the short time he seemed a kind soul, I’ve no doubt his journey through Pharasma’s realm will be brief and then he’ll be on to eternal gratification in Elysium. I’ll be sure to say a prayer asking Desna to guide him through his journey.” he says while patting the goblins shoulders he adds, ”If you’d like to join me, I’d be happy to teach you the words.”. Poor bloke, I think Rodrik was his only real friend. He doesnt need to linger in this scene any longer than necessary.
Cham, appearing not to hear your questions, takes a few choked sobs before letting out another piercing scream. Sounds of activity can be heard from below and after a couple of minutes a Guard who must be in his late fifties ascends the stairs, he looks rumpled and exhausted.
Rubbing his wrinkle creased forehead he trudges to Cham and turns to look into the room. Seeing Rodrik someone seems to cut his strings and he slumps against the wall,
"Rodrik? Rodrik lad, wake up now, this isn't funny. Come on you got me, stop it now,"[b] he chokes, tears rolling down his worn face.
Dozens of worried halflings, most wearing practical maids, or servants uniforms, a few still in bedclothes have now appeared and a couple of the maids make their way over to comfort the sobbing Cham.
A stocky older grey haired halfling male, gives instructions to a few younger halflings who race off to notify the guards.
Meanwhile Edgar spots a scrap of parchment, not by the window, but to his left on the floor between the headboard of the bed and the wall.
This is Patrol Sergeant Omast Frum, Rodrik's usual patrol partner, and something of an Uncle to Rodrik and Kurst.
Some fifteen minutes later in the Longhouse a grim faced Kurst intercepts Menrozzar on his way to morning gate duty, [b]"I have need of you, I have assigned Bryant Todra to fill in for you. Please fetch that Daseem and bring him to the Ramblehouse with you... If he gives you any trouble tell him.... Tell him..." he turns away voice breaking, "Tell him my brother is dead."
Menrozzar's jaw drops at Captain Kurst's words. "What...how...when...yes, sir. I'll go at once to collect Daseem. We'll meet you at the Ramblehouse as soon as we can." Menrozzar grabs his hammer and heads off to Lessie Crumkin's house.
Once there, he knocks on the door with a certain amount of force and urgency, waiting for someone to answer - and hoping they're awake
As Menrozzar makes his way through the mist and steady soaking rain, the first rays of dawn have just begun to turn black into heavy grey. Visibility is reduced to a ten feet at best and even an outstretched hand is made hazy by the thick coiling fog.
While consoling the poor goblin, Edgar spots the scrap of parchment and looks upon it. ”...Omast, right? Does this mean anything to you? I assume Sara still runs the smithy but I know not this Urusul and Rodrik would already have his own Hopeknife...’he asks as he thinks, this is beginning to look like foul play, and checks the bloody Hopeknife to see if it bears the engraving mentioned in the receipt.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Bleary eyed Daseem sat bolt upright in bed, what was that?! He glanced at the window, it was full dark outside. Near him Tessa stirred in her sleep, she was still hugging the bucket. Thump! Thump! Thump! There it went again, someone was trying to pound the door down. In a loud whisper he called from the window, "Down in a minute!" Quickly getting dressed, Daseem padded downstairs praying that Tessa wouldn't wake. She was normally a heavy sleeper particular if she'd been drinking, but whoever was at the door was anything but quiet!
A little grumpily, Daseem opened the door and was surprised to see Menrozzar, "Wazzup?" he asked, perhaps a little more forcefully that he meant. Once Menrozzar had explained, Daseem replied "Oh..." and followed without complaint.
As Ivan sees the reaction of the guard. His stoney features soften, if only briefly. He knew the feeling of loss greater than anyone. He set a dwarven hand on the guard and give him a meaningful look. After a moment, he breaks away and his features harden again. Anger replacing the sadness at this murder. He looks around.
Don't ye just stand there gawking! go on wit' ye. Git! It could still be dangerous round here, so don't any of ye be goin' off on your own!
Ivan grumbles under his breath. When I find the bastard what did this... I'ma make 'em wish he had been captured by one O' the orc tribes...
Ivan's eyes contain a fierce fire, Rodrik had been one of the first to warm up to him, even call him a friend after mulgar and a couple other dwarves in the town.
"What do you mean who did this? Didn't he slit his own wrists? The knife is right there," the grey haired halfling gestures to the bloody knife.
Edgar examines the blade, but though it is finely made there is no sign of an inscription.
Ivan waves the halflings thoughts away. BAH! Ye think he would do that? What for? Seemed like a man enjoying life ta' me. Though, spose' I only knew 'em for half a year. Don't make no sense ta' me though. He didn' even use the durned knife tha' way ya'll teach to.
Ivan will look over Rodrik and try to discern if the cut wrists were in fact the cause of death.
Ivan cannot see any other possible cause of death, and it is readily apparent that the blood from Rodrik's slit wrists would be sufficient to have ended his life.
The old halfling shakes his head sadly, "Then why was he living' here in such "luxury"? Maybe he got fed up of fuedin' with his Da and being known as a filthy orc lover - folk did not take too kindly to that new poem of his. Writers are prone to moods so they say."
Bubkis listened to the older halfling and shook his head angrily. "No! Rodrik happy!" He couldn't accept what the man way saying.
He got up and looked around the room, and over by the window. Someone enter dis way?
Once Daseem has gathered his things and is ready to go, Menrozzar walks with him to the Ramblehouse, lost in his own thoughts. Could I have done this by asking about The Other Side of Contempt? Could this have been because no one appreciated what he considered his best work? Captain Grath was so...alive. How could this have been lurking in him?
Once they arrived at the Ramblehouse, Menrozzar went to the room to see what had happened. Looking over the grisly scene, he took in all who were there, then pulled the halfling woman off to the side. ”Cham, last night it seemed like you weren’t sure if you should mention Captain Grath had been staying here. Did he stay here often? Did he meet anyone when he did?”
Cham seems to have finally calmed down, though she still sobs silently between each word, "He has been staying here for weeks, but he asked me not to spread it around. No, no, he never met anyone here. Oh, gods."
The old guard, Omast Drum, raises his head and points at Bupkis, "The gobbo is right! He was always laughing, always laughing, always joking, and ready with a kind word, for any kind of scum, or weirdo... No offence... He was an example to us all, he would not do this, and now.... Ugh, Rodrik my boy, I need a drink."
”hmmm this isn’t the knife from the reciept it seems.” says Edgar. He didn’t seem like the kind to take his own life, and didn’t even do it the quick way he was taught... but on the other hand, he did seek the solitude of a room to himself over the longhouse, full of his brothers in arms. Perhaps to spare them?
Edgar looked solemnly over to the old guard, wanting to drink the sadness away as well until he recognized the man; it had been 10 years but there he was, Omast Drum the always drunk they used to call him. The man before him could have been the drunks younger brother he looked so different. ”oh my stars... Omast Drum is that really you? Your path has certainly brightened. Let’s do something more productive and solve this mystery to honor the man. He may have taken his own life, but there are too many clues that suggest otherwise that we must investigate. For instance, on such a cold and wet night, why was the window be open? And why would the man take his life in such a crude fashion? The question that weighs most heavy on my mind, however, is who commissioned this hopeknife and what is the significance of this receipt?” he says pacing around the room and brandishing the receipt as he mentions it.
”Drum, you should come with the goblins and me, we can randeveu with Ivan and company and head to Morninghawk’s to question this Urusal.” he says hoping to dissuade the man from the drink. thats the last thing a man who has been so gifted by Desna to walk a brighter path needs
Scrabbler had been staying at the Ramblehouse for weeks now (not that he knew what weeks were). He was happy his new friends were coming with him. When he got there he went right to the small corner stage and started his juggling and clowning routine that had been earning him the meager wage he used to keep himself fed. When the common room cleared out he went to his "bed" in the stable loft.
When he heard the scream and the commotion he was asleep. The screaming of a huma woman yanked him out of his dream and into the grips of the worst memory of his life. For a few moments he was right there again, in the dirt, under the burning tent, hearing the screams and the frightened animals and the stomping and laughing of the Bigguns.
He trembled, locked in the paralysis of his mind, hiding. He had no idea how long it took him to realize that he was just alone in a hayloft. he grabbed his tasseled jester's cap and like a monkey he went from the stables to the window where people had clustered. he climbed in and sat on the sill, looking at the scene before him. At first he thought the talky smiley longshank man had been killed, but after a while he pieced together that the man has killed himself.
Humans often joked that goblins were suicidal, but nothing could be further from the truth. You'd be hard pressed to find a goblin anywhere that knew of any goblin that had purposefully taken their own life. It wasn't something that would ever occur to them. They'd get themselves killed in profoundly stupid ways, sure, but a goblin would never kill themselves.
So for the second time tonight, Scrabbler sat there in shock, his mind spinning and re-setting, trying to make sense of what he was experiencing. After a while he settled on Bupkis, crying over a human he barely knew. It was the only thing that made sense in any of this. Crying in the face of something so unthinkable seemed right. Still, for Scrabbler, tears didn't come. Processing what was happening in such an emotionally honest and healthy way was more than he was capable of. He didn't know that. He just knew that if he started crying he might never stop.
Instead, in a small voice he just asked "Why?"
Edgar stood in the room looking at the goblin that appeared in the windowsill, gods! That’s right there at 2 goblins in town now. neither of them seemed to have a good grasp of the situation, “I...I...I don’t know”, he says as he gulps, I think I’m the most stable in the room right now ”if you’d like to help, we are gonna find out for sure though.” he says offering a hand to the goblin in the windowsill. ”lets go. We don’t need to linger, the guard will be along shortly to...take care of him.” he says forcing a smile, as much for the golblins sake as Omast’s.
Bupkis was confused by Edgar's words; as he followed after him, he asked, "What's a re-seat? How knife comes from it?"
"Okays. Me helps." Scrabbler said, climbing down and following Edgar.
Bupkis was confused by Edgar's words; as he followed after him, he asked, "What's a re-seat? How knife comes from it?"
”uh... it’s a piece of paper that has words and numbers on it that say what one person did for another. It proves something was bought. Or at least in this case commissioned, uh... asked to be made.” Edgar replies to the goblin as he leads two goblins and the grieving old guard out of the room, before shutting the door.
Daseem's mind was ablaze as he and Menrozzar approached the Ramblehouse, 'Rodrik dead and apparently by his own hand, but why? Last night he seemed happy enough...'
Inside Daseem watched and considered as Menrozzar asked Cham a question.
"He has been staying here for weeks, but he asked me not to spread it around. No, no, he never met anyone here. Oh, gods."
The way she was hiding her face, it wasn't just the shock of it he was sure. A little tentatively Daseem whispers to Menrozzar, "Wracked with guilt I'd say, what's she hiding?"
Daseem went over to the window, had a good look at it before opening it, he was curious to see if anyone had climbed in or out recently. Of course he was listening in while the others spoke to Cham, sometimes it was interesting what one learned from the tenor someone's voice without being distracted by their face.
Examination of the window makes it seem poorly maintained, but there is no obvious sign that a person has used it recently - other than Scrabbler - it is unlikely a human sized person could do so. The fog and rain begin to spill in from the open window and Daseem cannot even see the ground.
Omast shakes his head, "And what was the point of it all? No I would be of no help, this needs younger and clearer heads, besides I have just finished my guard shift and I need to sleep..."
Kurst Grath walks up into the hallway and casts a withering glance at the assembled halflings,
“If you are not one of the former "Team Ruby" I want you out of here now!" He says, voice low and cold. Then he turns to stare at his brother's corpse hands balling slowly into fists shoulder trembling. Still staring down at Rodrik he begins to speak voice grave and soulless,
"Rodrik trusted you all, wanted you to be a part of Trunau, in some cases against my and my father's better judgement. 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 and deal with my father. 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 other 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?”
'A suicide? No I don't buy that' thought Daseem, 'It seems Rodrik's doggerel hit a nerve. Or maybe something from his past came to haunt him, either way this seems to be murder most foul! Can't let that stand, but what to do about it? Watch and listen, let them think I'm a simpleton. It's amazing what people say in front of those look down upon.'
Daseem nods before asking haltingly, "D.. Did he have any big r.re.regrets in his life?"
“I know my brother, and I know he wouldn’t kill himself," Kurst says, almost seeming to speak to himself rather than answer Daseem's question. He pauses for a long moment before exhaling and saying, "By his own account, he was in love with Brinya Kelver and was planning to marry her, even though our father vehemently disapproved. Brinya is a half orc... If he had any regrets it was that he could not be open about his relationship because of father's hate. There’s something fishy about all of this, and I won’t dishonor Rodrik’s memory by accepting his ‘suicide’ without ruling out that something else happened.”
Menrozzar nods in agreement with Daseem’s assessment, then says to Cham, ”Cham, if this wasn’t my suicide, if this was foul play, we need to know everything about Captain Grath’s time at the Ramblehouse. Any little detail might help. Please tell me whatever you can about this. You can trust me - I won’t do anything to sully his name.”
Menrozzar listens to Kurst and says, ”Of course I’ll investigate, sir. You can count on me.” He considers what Kurst said about Rodrik. He knew that Brinya was a weaver here in town - very no-nonsense. She’s have to be told. Maybe Edgar could handle that - he wasn’t that good at talking to others, even if he had gotten Cham to open up a bit. Edgar had apparently found a receipt for a hopeknife - wait. Betrothed couples often exchanged hopeknives. Could they have been...oh, that would be a scandal in the eyes of their father.
"Bupkis find who does this!", the little goblin declared. He hadn't known about his friend's relationship with Brinya Kelver He felt a little hurt that Rodrik didn't tell him about such an important thing, but upon reflection, he could understand. He knew that some people in town really didn't like half-orcs.
He turned to Cham; "Who other people stay Ramblehouse? Maybe someone not like Rodrik?" He couldn't imagine why anybody would dislike his friend, but he couldn't accept that Rodrik had killed himself.
Cham has been escorted away with the other halflings, but she is easy enough to find still teary eyed sitting in a small parlour off the entrance with several maids comforting her.
When questioned she puts her head in her hands and sobs, but ventures no reply.
Bupkis tried to comfort the distraught halfing, "Bupkis sad too; Rodrik friend! Anything can tell about guests helps us find what happened."
Edgar will offer the work order/receipt to Kurst, “I found this on the floor near the bed and windowsill. An idea of what it means is starting to form in my head, does it have any significance to you? And don’t worry Captain, I don’t believe it was a suicide either and will happily continue investigating the matter.”
He looks to Menrozzar and Daseem, “you two are of the guard right, Daseem and Menrozzar?” he looks at the 4 guards present, “we have the full authority of the guard in this investigation I assume?” team Ruby to solve the mystery eh? Looks like I’m the only one here with a... subtle way with words he thinks as he imagines the interviews he will be conducting today.
Kurst looks at the receipt brows furrowing, "I am not sure, but that should be what Brinya's Hopeknife, which she gave to Rodrik read. Sara would know Rodrik so she would not take an order rom someone else in his name... Maybe Rodrik lost his Hopeknife? You should ask Sara at Clamour, which is what everyone calls Morninghawks Fine Steel for those of you not from Trunau."
"For the most part the full authority of the guard amounts to folk knowing we need to be polite when they curse at us, Trunaians are not renowned for their respect for authority as a rule - we are renowned for being stubborner than mules. I trust you will not be heavy handed unless it is absolutely necessary."
duhhh Edgar Edgar had been so far removed from the town he had forgotten the stubbornness of his own people. ”yes of course captain; uh...should we be keeping this as quiet as possible? How do you want to handle breaking the news to the town?” he asked as gently as he could. He knew secrets didn’t really exist in Trunau but the devil was always in the details. if the town found out Rodrik took his own life with his own Hopeknife it would wrack the town
Bupkis tried to comfort the distraught halfing, "Bupkis sad too; Rodrik friend! Anything can tell about guests helps us find what happened."
Cham buries her face in the shoulder of one of the halfling maids who glares daggers at Bupkis, and hisses,
"Leave her alone you horrible little bugger, can't you see she has had a shock!"
Chastened, Bupkis returned to the others. "Bupkis not good ask questions."
After the guards make it to the scene, Ivan gives them a nod before going off and getting in his armor. After that, he stomps his way down to Cham, roughly sliding the goblin to the side.
Right, Time fer ye to fess up, I wanna kno' how long Rodrick's been stayin here, an I wanna know all tha names of people that checked in within the past week, n' ifin' any O' them checked out. Gimmie' the logs ifn' ya would. Come now, I kno' it be a shock, but this be fer' Rodricks own good. Any Strange customers?
He tries to show empathy, as he certainly did understand, but his gruffness and anger keep it from getting through.
"F&!$ off you overgrown bald bumface! Who is the hells do you think you are! If it were up to me we would shave your beard and toss your massive arse out in the rain!" The irate halfling maid snarls, going so far as to produce a kosh and slap it against her palm. The other maids also scowl at Ivan with stormy scowls.