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"I beg your pardon, Sheriff. I we were told that these people had already been sentenced to death and were to be hung in two days' time. We therefore assumed there had already been a trial and that the vote on their sentences had already occurred. It is a great relief to learn that we were misinformed. Please forgive the misunderstanding. Thank you for your time."
When Bramelane gets a chance to talk to the other Pathfinders, he takes an urgent tone. "My fellows, what we have just learned from Sheriff Luin changes everything! The Pathfinders have not yet been tried. There will be a trial by citizen vote in two days. We should therefore focus our efforts not only on proving their innocence, but also on gaining the favor of those who will vote."
Bramelane considers what he knows about who gets to vote in these situations. Everyone who has come to town, or just the people who have lived here. Could the Pathfinders get votes if they rented property here, or by some other means? How are trials conducted? Who runs them? Do the accused get representation, or must they represent themselves? Can anyone address the voters before the vote is taken, or only certain people?
Bramelane will spend the evening asking around at the inn about these procedures, to learn what the townfolk and the visitors know about them.
"Perhaps we should start to win the favor of the locals by buying them free drinks? I will contribute as much as 1,000 gold pieces to the campaign to clear the names of the Pathfinders. Will some of you spend some of my coin this evening buying everyone free food and drink at the Beer Garden, telling them that the Pathfinder Society wishes to thank them for coming to bear witness to the exercise of justice over a case involving their agents?"
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A couple hours later, just after dusk, a cry brings a crowd to the alley just north of the Hearth and Harvest. When you arrive, you find a crowd gathered around the bodies of two murdered men with a dagger belonging to Mareq still embedded in the younger man’s chest. An anonymous voice in the crowd shouts, "The dagger! It belongs to that one!" The crowd scowls at Mareq and surrounds him to await the sheriff’s arrival, pushing and shoving but doing no real violence until Sheriff Luin arrives a few seconds later. "Now, now, what's all this ruckus about? Great Iomedae, not again! Very well, how can you explain this? You explanation had better be good." He's interrupted by various shouts in the crowd. "The easiest explanation is the best, Sheriff, they killed these people!" says one of the voices that carries well, "They're Pathfinders! Ekira was right!" says another.
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"Dear people, please, think this through. Ambassador Mareq has been with the Sheriff and I the entire afternoon. We can each vouch for his whereabouts, so he cannot possibly have done this. Furthermore, he is a spell caster, and likely could not kill even one person with a dagger, much less two. I also could not have done it. I am a wizard, and an old one at that. I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a dagger, much less kill a man."
"Sheriff, perhaps you should examine the bodies and talk to any witnesses before you anyone else is condemned for murder based on mere accusations and an association with the Pathfinder Society."
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"And who is that anonymous voice condemning me so loudly there, but refusing to show his face? COWARD! In the name of the Inheritor and the Dawnflower come out and face me!" shouts Mareq.
Husarq moves closer to Mareq.
"Sheriff Luin, how did I commit such a crime, when I have been with you and in sight of others the entire time? And TWO men? I am a weak man, untrained to bouts of strength. My strength is in my voice and my arcane genie-binding."
Husarq moves closer to Mareq.
Acutely aware of the ridiculous vision he must present, wrapped in colorful streamers and other festive gear, Husarq considers the situation.
Master Mareq is exposed. But he has not told me to draw my blade.
A small piece of his self considers the titters and outright laughs his current visage has drawn from the townsfolk up until now. Wrapped in pink and purple linen ribbons, the grip of his great scimitar pokes from behind his shoulder. In years past, Husarq recalls he would have had something... some feeling... something that would have been burned by such accoutrements and the laughter of mortals... but no, he cannot recall exactly what it was.
He stands and awaits his master's word.
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Once again, as she wasn't able to control her actions as well as she would have liked to last time, Hiko tries to drink the other drinkers in the bar under the table.
Hearing the comotion out side she rushes outside. Nodding at the other's comments she adds,
What reason would we have for murdering this man? It would be pointless and petty and not something a society that has lasted in the public view from before even your great-grandparents were born would be able to do and still survive.
Due to her slight slurring Hiko's words don't have their intended effect. Seeing this won't help, she clutches her holy symbol and falls over. While on the ground she mumbles a chant and tries to sense if there is anyone with evil intents in the crowd, moving her focus until she finds someone...
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The Sheriff scratches his head, hesitating. "As it happens, you left my office two hours ago, so you would have had enough time to kill those poor people... but you're making sound points, and I believe you. You're free to go, for now at least. I'll ask you to stay in town for a couple of days so that I have time to investigate these murders and ascertain your innocence."
The crowd disperses quickly, muttering curses under their breaths, most still in shock of what happened, but all accepting the Sheriff's fair judgement. At that moment, Rhydderch, Fissa and Hiko spot a strange raven that has been observing the whole scene from a rooftop. Rhydderch can recall having already seen that raven in the morning, though he didn't pay attention to it at that time. Strangely enough, the raven disappears as you are about to tell your companions about it.
Later that night as you return to your rooms at the inn, Rhydderch finds a note that has been slipped under his door. It reads:
Please help. I know you are innocent and that your friends are innocent. The real killer has me trapped in a house at the edge of town, near the fair. It’s the one with white walls and two chimneys. He made me write the letters to trap them and you. He has left to kill again and locked me in the attic. I will try to get one of the children at the fair to bring you this letter.
Please rescue me.
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"Fellow Pathfinders, let us go out to the trap, spring it, and exterminate the killer. I grow weary of being toyed with. This note is ridiculous. What trapped person gets conflicting messages out this way? Nevertheless, going out there will give us something to do beyond being accused and manipulated by the soft-minded locals."
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"What I can't reason out is whether or not it would be wise to inform the sheriff of this note and our intentions to follow through on it. The trap could well be our walking in on another murder scene just as the authorities arrive. It would be a lot more difficult to argue our innocence should lightning strike yet again.
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Fetching the Sheriff does sound like a wise move, and after frowning and reading the note again and again, then comparing it to the written testimony, he has got, he agrees to come with you.
The two-story wooden house looms over you as the church bell rings twelve times. No living being is around, since most of the townsfolk are fast asleep.
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Before we get that close to the house, Bramelane uses his ability to send senses which has a range of 150', to send a sensor into each and every room of the building (or buildings, it looks like there may be two) to determine what he can see and hear inside. He has 8 uses left today, and each use lets him scan a room for 2 rounds. If there are uses left after scanning obvious rooms, he will attempt to send sensors under the floors of various rooms to look for basements.
Bramelane quietly whispers to the other Pathfinders and the sheriff, as they crouch in hiding 150' away from the building(s) a bit closer if necessary to scan them completely, relating everything he sees as he sees it. If he sees and creatures, he uses his knowledge skills to identify them.
Knowledge Aracana/Nobility +12
Knowledge Local +10
Knowledge All other +9
Here's a roll for an initial creature , assuming there are any.
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Send Senses (Sp): As a standard action, you place a scrying sensor at a point within medium range (100 feet + 10 feet/wizard level) that you can see and have line of effect to. You can see or hear (not both) through this sensor for number of rounds equal to 1/2 your wizard level (minimum 1). The sensor otherwise functions as a clairaudience/clairovoyance spell with a caster level equal to your wizard level. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Intelligence modifier.[/quote
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"I fail to see how someone could be 'trapped' in such a small house with so many windows and unlocked door. This becomes more obviously a set up with every passing moment. By all means, break down the door. I will be glad to mend it afterwards." Bramelane pulls out a wand and casts shield on himself. He offers the wand to Mareq before putting it away. Then Bramelane readies his wand of faerie fire."[/b]
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Bane followed about the outside of the house, having kept mainly silent as everyone in this town seemed ready to kill him at his slightest word.
"I say we go in, there is an agent of chaos and disharmony at large and he may well be in there. We should make him one with the dust." Bane says taking the blue felt top off the spearhead he had been carrying like a staff.
The tiefling leans on the shaft, calm, as always.
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"I thank you, Bramelane. By Saranrae's light and Iomedae's justice, I hope today sees this issue resolved. However... I shall avail myself of my own mystic protections, thank you."
Bramelane, close enough to see Mareq's eyes narrow, notes a disturbing sort of glee at the mention of 'mystic protections'.
"Come here, thrall!" Mareq says to Husarq, beckoning him closer. "Oh no, we don't want you getting hurt, do we Dung-Face? We shall have to see to that."
The flame-red-haired genie-binder pulls a small wand of baby salamander horn from his satchel. Polished to gleaming perfection, the wand's tip is razor sharp. Tiny, gleaming silver Ignan runes wrap around the base of the horn, their queer words forcing the eyes away.
Mareq turns to Husarq and STABS the efreeti in the face with the horn! The silver runes rotate first and then run up the horn wand, like water flowing backwards. The puncture wound in Husarq's face seems to suck up the silver runes and heal instantly.
"Ahh, there. So much better." A look of sick rapture crosses the ifrit's face as he licks a small drop of blood from the tip of the wand. "Oh yes. My duty. Truly."
Bramelane, close enough to see the efreeti's face, sees it sparkle. Up close, an examination reveals the sparkles are actually small silver dots, barely motes of dust really, upon Husarq's face. Hundreds of small silver dots. Hundreds.
As an afterthought, Mareq pricks his finger with the horn and achieves the same magical armor effect, but with less disgustingly rapturous overtones.
But the ifrit is not quite done. From the same satchel he pulls a slim piece of steel, beaten over and over and over in the forges of the White Mage's azeri armor smiths, until its dull otherplanar metal is strong as the the shields of the Sultan's efreet guards. Mareq touches himself gently on the chest and a bright white barrier appears before him and then fades into invisibility.
Finally, he replaces the wands and pulls for a tanglefoot bag from his satchel.
"Now I am ready. Husarq, the door!"
"Yes, My Master."
Husarq draws his great curved blade and marches to the door. With a mighty kick, he smashes it open.
"MY MASTER, MAREQ IBN BOLTHUNE, RIGHTER OF WRONGS AND AVENGER OF INIQUITIES, WISHES TO SPEAK WITH THE MURDERER WHO STOLE HIS BLADE AND KILLED WITH IT!"
Once ushered forward, the Sheriff frowns, visibly confused. "Wait, didn't you just say the door was unlocked?"
Husarq, already inside the building (after "opening" the door), looks around.