Kurst scowls, "I need a ride, you can talk and follow while I saddle Hope." He heads out into the mist and makes his way around to the stables grabbing a set of fine leather tack and approaches a chestnut stallion with a white muzzle which greets him with an enthusiastic nuzzle.
"Hello lad, you want to blow of some steam with me?"
”steam is the last thing we need with all this fog sir, we have some evidence we’d like to discuss with you.” Edgar says to Kurst once they are in the stable. He will then produce the letter for Kurst to look over. not sure if he knows about his brothers betrothed, best keep the reciept to meself until we know for sure
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Menrozzar follows Kurst around and says, "The letter indicates that Captain Rodrik may have been investigating a plot of some kind. I think that plot may have been a threat to the town. Someone brought a wagon with three half-starved wolves in it into town, then let them loose on the streets to attack us. We slew them and burned the bodies. Further, the Urnsul listed on the receipt for the hopeknife was a new arrival in the town. She had been staying in the Ramblehouse, along with three other half-orcs. We went to their room, only to find they had left and the room in a state of disrepair - with damage done to the walls. Two of the halflings had begun the process of cleaning up the room and had half-painted over the most important thing. The half-orcs had drawn a map of the town on the wall, with several places marked with either a cross or a downturned sword - the Sanctuary, the South Tower, and one of the halflings said he remembered a cross on the Commons before they painted over it.
"Sir, I definitely think your brother's death was murder, not suicide, and that he may have been close to uncovering some sort of plot against Trunau."
Kurst exhales heavily petting Hope's neck affectionately, "I see your concern, but half orcs new to town drawing a map is not necessarily nefarious... Please do not spread that around, it is all I can do to stop my father rounding up the half orcs and tearing Trunau in two as it is. Ever since orcs killed my mother... You know Rodrik was born only minutes before me, yet hardly anybody knows we are twins, he was always the older, the more capable, I always followed in his wake, and now... I am no leader, I am no investigator, and with this fog I need to patrol, I am afraid I can be of little help to you. Perhaps try examining the locations you mentioned?"
He moves into the stall and begins tacking up Hope, grim faced and pale.
Bupkis followed Edgar and Menrozzar as they talked to Kurst. "OK, We go look now. South tower close here, then Commons."
Menrozzar nods in agreement. "Very well, we'll keep quiet about it. Stay safe, Captain."
Looking at the others, he says, "Bupkis has the right of it - let's check the Commons, then go to the South Tower. After that, we'll return to the Sanctuary and examine that."
He sets off in the direction of the Commons.
Ivan gathers his papers up as Kurst comes down. He was about to say something before Menrozzar spoke up, but just merely nods along.
Aye, that's tha way it seems. Hmmm. Aye, that'd be a harsh solution no doubt. We'll keep it quiet for now laddie, least till we have more evidence or information ta' prove it, or ta' direct the anger an' fear towards tha proper targets.
Ivan turns to the others. Well, spose' we should be off then. Should we split into groups O' three? Could cover more ground that way.
”that may be true, but suppose something worse than those wolves are lurking in the fog?” Edgar says as he points towards the commons, ”Commons is on the way to the south tower anyways. I think we ought to stick together”
"I would stay together, didn't someone already launch an attack at you?' Kurst says launching himself up into the saddle and instantly looking much more comfortable and cavalier. "I should be back within two hours. Just in case, I am going to ride the town perimeter and meet some of the scouts."
He moves off at a careful canter and soon vanishes into the mist. Heading over to the Commons it does not take the group long to find that someone has used a broad brush to paint a ten foot long white sword-like cross upon the floor in the centre of the amphitheatre.
Edgar approaches the white cross and casts detect magic and checks the place out just to be sure,stopping to focus for 3 rounds if he detects any signs of magic.
Daseem had stayed quiet and reserved around Kurst as befitted a superior officer. He was glad the others had the sense to treat him with kid gloves, no good would come from antagonizing the man.
When the question of where to go next arose, Daseem suggested what had been drilled into him by the temple instructors, "Always c-check the perimeter first."
When it became obvious folks where going to the Commons he sighed inwardly and kept his eyes open for trouble. He looked at the cross quizzically, 'I wonder if this inspired the marks made by those half-orcs?'
The white cross as a familiar almost luminous brightness, and seems to match the substance used to graffiti the walls of the half orc room at the Ramblehouse. It does not detect as being magical.
”hmmm well it’s not magic”,Edgar draws an obsidian starnkife to scrape the white dye and get a closer look.
It appears to be an alchemical marker dye made from such potent paints and oils it can only be removed using magic. Its likely fairly expensive stuff certainly costing gold rather than silver.
Careful not to get any on himself, Edgar says, ”This is a very, very expensive dye; the kind only magic can remove...” how did half orcs get ahold of this kind of merchandise?
"Wha'sit mean?" Scrabbler asked, looking at the big cross. Being a Goblin he still had a slight distrust of writing. To him it looked like a great big letter.
"Half-orcs spent lots money to draw! Must be big deal!", Bupkis replied. "Mark something for later, maybe?" He looked around the area for anything else unusual.
There seems to be nothing else of note even after an exhaustive search made difficult by the fog and rain. The group must now decide whether to have lunch, or head to The South Tower with empty bellies.
”it’s getting to be lunch time, does everyone have trail rations or should we head back to the longhouse?” Edgar asks as he tears a small bite of hard jerky and chews roughly.
Ivan taps his chin. No point in workin' on an empty stomach. I say, we take 20 minutes to eat, ifn' that long, then we find someone what can remove this... paint. Get it off. Then, proceed on our way. Not like were hot on the tail O' anyone. Ivan grumbles under his breath in dwarven after his last sentence.
He then turns to head back towards the potential meal.
Menrozzar studies the cross in the Commons - then studies it some more. He walks around it. "This wasn't here last night during the Hopeknife Ceremony, and has never been part of the Commons. The half-orcs must have drawn it at some point during the night. But why? That's what I don't get. Is it just random graffiti, or is it a mark indicating something?"
Menrozzar tries to determine how long the mark has been there.
Thinking about it Menrozzar realises that he is not at all sure it wasn't here at the Hopeknife ceremony, seven hundred people pretty much filled the place along with various tables for food and drink. It would have been very difficult to notice in those circumstances.
Frustrated by his inability to figure out the white cross, Menrozzar turns with the others and says, "Let's go get some lunch. Once we're done, we'll head for the South Tower and then the Sanctuary. We should try to find more of these there."
Lunch in the Long house common room is a tasty, but sombre affair, about half of those present are drinking ale, the rest a watered down cider, or heavily spiced coffee. There are frequent toasts in memory of Captain Rodrik, that are joined by all, and a few doubtful comments about Kurst taking over as successor to Jagrim,
"Cap'n Kurst is alright I suppose, but he's not much of a talker, not social like Rodrik, gods rest him."
"Well at least he isn't so fond of green if you take my meaning."
"He he, no I heard he's more into religion, and you can't blame him. I'd like to get into religion with that Blondie over at the Sanctuary!"
"They say her big sister is the High Priestess in Vigil, wonder why she is slumming it here? She is powerful to, dispelled a fireball some orc shaman threw at us in the last siege."
The venison is succulent, salty and plentiful, there are nine kinds of porridge, and slices of juicy blood sausage, the dish of mashed carrots is left largely untouched by the militia who tend to regard vegetables with suspension.
Edgar eat his meal quietly while trying to listen to the guards talk, trying to gage the feel of the longhouse.
"You mark my words, if it turns out Rodrik's death had something to do with half orcs the Patrol Leader'll be wanting blood."
"Aye, but we work for the Council, end of the day and Sara's a half orc, she won't go along with that, nor Agrit, and she's a wizard. Don't want to mess with them two."
"Yeah, but you try telling Jagrim that, cause I damn sure don't want to be the one. Feel sorry for Kurst. But honestly we'd have been a lot better off with Rodrik..."
"Here... You know Sara and Agrit... How do you reckon that works?"
"Enlarge Person?"
" What the hells is with this weather anyway?"
"Thinks its the orcs?"
"If they could do this they would have done it before right? It would be a nightmare moving an army in this anyway."
Daseem was keen to inspect the tower, but at the mention of food his stomach rumbled. 'Oh darn it I skipped breakfast this morning again didn't I?' So naturally he tucked in even if it was something of a somber affair. The conversation was interesting in places, 'So Tyari is stronger than she looks, and with family connections, I shall be careful not to underestimate her.'
He did his best to listen into any other conversations that might be going on but with all the delicious food he was finding it difficult to concentrate.
Bupkis was always ready to eat something. "Yes, lunch now," he agreed. When they made it back to the Longhouse, he ate generous portions of the venison and blood sausage. He decided to pass on the porridge and mashed carrots; those were for when there was no meat available.
When the meal was over, he said, "Food good! Now we check tower. After we look for Katrezra?"
Menrozzar took some of everything, and seconds too. He even ate some of the carrots, since his mother would always insist he eat some vegetables growing up. He listened to the conversation, not contributing much. Most of the conversation was fairly typical of the Longhouse - comments about the priestess of Iomedae, speculation about Sara and Agrit, the usual. What they were saying about Kurst wasn't worrying, exactly, but there was a good chance that morale had taken a hit with Rodrik's death. Hopefully, no one would allow it to affect their ability in a fight - that was most definitely important.
Once his group was done eating, he answered Bupkis, "Tower, then Sanctuary. After that we'll look for Katrezra." He stood from his seat and lead the others towards the South Tower.
The group hear sobbing as they approach the South Tower and begin to see a number of buckets and ladder lying haphazardly around. Finally they see Sergeant Omast Frum, sitting with his back against the tower, a scrubbing brush in one hand and a jug of hard liqor, by the smell, in the other. Tears streak Omast's red cheeks and he focuses bleary eyed upon you as you approach.
"Won't come off, won't come off, should have protected him, and now... Why won't they come off?"
On the wall of the tower behind him is a massive white cross, although most of it is veiled by the fog it must be around thirty feet high. How someone managed to paint a thirty foot high white cross on the side of a permanently manned guard tower is not apparent.
When they arrive on the scene, “Omast calm down and give me that!” Edgar says as he goes to take the bottle away from Omast.
”Why don’t you head to the longhouse and lie down... there should still be some lunch left as well my good man. We mustn’t forget to take care of ourselves in times of grief, especially a guard.” Edgar says kindly,” take solace, we are gathering evidence to find the culprit as we speak. “
It is not difficult for Edgar to acquire the jug, Omast reflexes are far from sharp currently,
"Ehhhh? It was me! My fault supposed to protect them, I was more of a Da to them than Jagrim ever was, but I let him down and now he's dead! If I'd never told Jagrim about them he'd never have been at the Ramblehouse. Oh, Rodrik!" Omast slurs, before attempting to take a swig from his scrubbing brush and staring at it as if betrayed when he gets bristled in the face.
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Ivan just stares at the guard He understood how he felt,but now wasn't the time for this. He shouldn't say anything but he just couldn't keep quiet.
Ivan would move to stand over the sitting man before giving him a firm smack to the face.
Git yeself together Laddie! Think about ifn' Rodrik saw ye now? What would he say? Rodrick was a good man, and aye, grieving him is somethin' should be done, but not like this! Ye 'ought ta' know better! Ye should honor his memory, not try ta' wash it away! Think about what Rodrik would want ye ta' do. Ye 'ought ta' be tryin' even harder now ta live like he would have ye!.... Ivan pauses for a long moment. His tone and expression soften just a bit.
I've lost a lot in me life already, me home, me family. But That jus' makes me ever more determined to ta' put me 'ead to the world, and knock it right back 'ard as I can. It makes me ever more determined ta' live how me parent's would O' wanted me ta'. Ta' honor them. Rodrik spoke of ye a few times ta' me. Said you were like an uncle to 'em, an' he spoke highly of ye. Well, I don't think ye be wantin' ta' disappoint 'em now do ye? He takes another pause and in a quieter voice, says again.
Rodrik woulda been there regardless, ye hear? He was investigatin' something. Besides, naught a sole here worthy enough ta' take all the blame for what happened. Do the lad proud now, an' be tha man he knew ye ta' be. Not this half crazy drunk.
Ivan finishs his rant with a surprisingly soft-spoken voice, and offers the old man a hand to help him up, if he had the strength to take it.
Omast peers blearily at Ivan, and shakes his head, slapping his own face and pushing himself awkwardly up leaning against the tower wall, "You are right Ivan, I don't know what I was thinking... Trying' to clean up these bloody crosses everywhere, driving me crazy, got it in my head if I could wash them off Rodrik would rest in peace... But it ain't that simple... Just got to think what Rodrik would say to see me like this again... Break his heart. I'll not touch another drop by the Lady of the Sword, and me olkpd Ma's grave!"
Staggering forward resolutely he begins a careful drunkards walk towards the Long house.
As Omast begins walking towards the Longhouse, Menrozzar, "Sergeant, a quick couple of questions. When did you notice the crosses, and who did you tell Jagrim about?"
Daseem was less than impressed by the Sergeant, 'A drunken sot. It's not that I don't have sympathy for his loss, but the town needs sober defenders particularly now.' He watched and listened to the others talking to him and marveled as Ivan managed to pull the man together somewhat. It was something of a minor miracle.
Omast pauses, "Ugh? Told Jagrim about Rodrik and his half orc girl... About Brinya... Should have kept my mouth shut, never understood how he could forgive them after they killed his M'am, orcs I mean, that poem of his... Saw all this graffiti night before last? No I saw it in the morning, everywhere, even the Hope spring, not right!"
Bupkis said to Omast, "Special paint, can't scrub off! Halflings at Rabblehouse can't get paint off. Maybe need magic!"
He thought for a moment, and then said to the others, "Tvari magic get's paint off? Agrit does magic too."
”the other marks,” Edgar says suddenly, “were they large, like this one? Large enough to see from far away...” he looks up to the foggy sky, ”or from above....” he finishes quietly. they said the Shaman cast a fireball...if this Orc horde has that level of magic, could the orchestrate some sort of arial assault? Or aligned with some unknown flying beasts? Edgar a wasn’t sure which was worse.
Omast blinks at you blearily, "Errr, no this is the biggest, one behind Sanctuary on the cliff, the commons, here, and near the Hopespring. Mostly about ten feet tall?"
That said he resumes his precarious walk back to the Longhouse.
Heading back to the Sanctuary you move round the back of the building and can indeed see a roughly ten foot tall white mark on the cliff face - perhaps because Sanctuary itself is painted bright white?
Moving into the building you see Tyari treating a small girl with a scrunched upon red face and moist eyes that promise tears, the Priestess is examining a wound on her leg, she gives you a wave and then lays a hand upon the girls leg a soft golden light rippling forth and leaving clean skin in place of the bloody tear.
"Well done Alicia, it should be all better now," the priestess says with a smile.
"Thank you Miss Tvari! Bupkis! I fell down in the fog and hurt my leg, but I didn't even cry, and now its better and I got to be magicked!" Alicia says, wiping her eyes and running across to grab the goblins hands excitedly and pump them up and down.
Tvari smiles and addresses the rest of the group, "I am afraid Katrezra has not returned, and confess I am growing worried with this weather. He is very weak, and his lungs are badly damaged, beyond the help of healing magic. If you see him, he is an elderly half orc, white hair, walks with a cane."
10t is still big enough to see if there was no blasted fog
”thanks Omast, be careful on your way back, this fog is treacherous.” Edgar says as the man toddles off.
Bupkis held Alicia's hands and said, "Bupkis glad Alicia is better. Careful in fog! Better stay home; safe there." He thought about warning her about the wolves, but didn't want to frighten her. He worried about the things that had happened, and the strange markings around the town. Must protect town. Bupkis keep Alicia safe!
"Yeah, but its so boring! And Mom is making me weave, and its just not fun. When this horrible weather goes we are going to go blackberrying picking and make sweet cakes, so you should come by." Alicia says releasing Bupkis as her mother emerges from an area behind the altar talking with a stern looking old man wearing a tunic embroidered with the holy sword of Iomedae.
'Oh hello Bupkis, keeping out of trouble I hope," Alicia's mother says, talking to the goblin like any other child friend of her daughters.
The thought of blackberry cakes made Bupkis hungry again. Bad things stop happening; we play again! He wished things could go back to the way they were, before Rodrik died.
"Yes, Alicia mom," he replied, trying to sound upbeat. His expression became more serious, and he advised, "Best inside till fog gone."
Alicia's mother nods, "Very sensible, and we hold to that as much as possible, isn't right this weather. But there is still work to be done. Come on then 'Lici we should get back, your Da should be back with a barrel of porridge so we'll make fixin's."
Alicia takes her mothers hand, and turns to Bupkis pulling a face and mouthing "porridge yuck" before heading out into the rain and fog.
"Why they like yous so much?" Scrabbler asked Bupkis. He seemed curious, and a bit envious.
Bupkis waved to Alicia as she left.
"Bupkis make Alicia laugh," he told the other goblin. "Like this." He levitated a wooden doorstop with his telekinetic powers, and sent it flying at his own head. He made a great show of falling over from the impact.
He got up and returned the doorstop to its place. He went over to ask Tvari a question: "Big white mark on cliff outside; alchemy paint doesn't scrub off. Magic remove?"