Alicia smirks. "Liar. I saw you talking to him myself."
"Don't tell me, sweetheart," Daktani sneers. "I know: All half-orcs look alike to you."
"I am even more disappointed that you would try to murder us for mere wealth. There isn't any. Kerst Grath discovered Daktani working with this troll and it cost him his life. Kerst's body was placed below the cliff and Daktani tried to make it look like suicide. We tracked down the troll and it's already confessed to working with Daktani. Tell us everything unless you want to join your fate to this murderer."
"That's all I know, I swear!" the half-orc blurts. "Daktani and Urnsul recruited us to dig for ore. There was a blocked-off passage they said had caved in, and that's why Sawyer's family stopped mining. They said we had to dig around. We were trying to get in from either side."
Alicia snorts. "A mug like yours is pretty easy to tell apart."
"Daktani and Urnsul recruited us to dig for ore. There was a blocked-off passage they said had caved in, and that's why Sawyer's family stopped mining. They said we had to dig around. We were trying to get in from either side."
"Either side? We've found one of the tunnels. Where are the others?"
"We had to chip a path into the cliff to get to the other side," the half-orc responds before Daktani interrupts.
"It was only a back-up plan in case we couldn't get in from the first cave," he puts in. "We never even started digging from the other side."
"And yet you claim never to have seen this flood troll," Ali says scornfully.
"I haven't!" the other half-orc denies emphatically.
Daktani merely shrugs laconically.
Alicia glances at Marikel. "Shall we take them back to the Patrol? I'm sure they'll have plenty of questions."
"Indeed. The troll will identify Daktani and their fates will be decided. I'll revive their friend and they can carry Urnsul back."
Marikel bows his head once more to Iomedae and healing energy infuses everyone, except their two conscious prisoners.
The other half-orc on the straw-strewn floor groggily comes to before his eyes fly open wide as he remembers his circumstances and he gropes unavailingly for his confiscated weapons.
"There'll be no more of that."
Marikel places his foot on the hand of the newly awakened half-orc and applies not quite enough weight to crush it.
"We were just discussing the penalty for murder. Unless you've anything to add you'll be carrying your fallen friend back to town with us."
"Murder?" he asks in surprise, his eyes darting around the room to take stock.
"They're blaming Kerst Grath's death on me," Daktani supplies sarcastically, "as if it's anyone's fault but his father's. They killed Urnsul, but that's not murder, no; that's justice in Trunau's book."
"That's self-defense against someone who was resisting arrest," Alicia retorts.
"Ya know, lad, maybe if she would've been more likely ta talk peacefully instead of: 'Kill the dwarf. The rest will be easy,' hm? What of you ta say about that? I'd've been more than willin' ta listen ta reason but it makes it a wee bit difficult when you're swingin' yer blasted 'star at me skull," he says as a matter of fact.
Daktani shrugs. "Thought you were bandits, bursting in here all of sudden. We were only defending ourselves. Is breaking and entering a crime for anyone, or only when it's a half-orc doing it?"
"Sure," Ali replies derisively. "I'd almost believe you if you hadn't called out that you recognized us from Brother Hound's."
The hotheaded rogue prods Daktani lightly with the tip of her rapier--just enough for him to feel it without drawing blood. Tiring of the banter, she attempts to roughly haul Daktani to his feet and shove him toward the door outside. "You're a terrible liar. Let's see if you fare any better with the Patrol."
Marikel pushes the other half-orcs with Urnsal after Daktani.
"His lies won't save him, Miss. When his helpers find out there's no wealth in those tunnels, he'll be glad to be locked away from them. He's been identified by the troll, we found all those items in his secret tunnel and his fictions will fall away. And Iomedae will be served."
Marikel places a hand on Dorn's shoulder and Dorn's wounds begin to fade.
Despite Daktani's defiant attitude, he makes no attempt to resist, apparently calculating that his odds, unarmed, against the group were low. The other two half-orcs are far more cowed. They hesitate at touching Urnsul, superstitious around death, at least when it has come to someone familiar to them, but when pressed, they pick up the dead woman between them to carry her back to town.
Nodding in thanks to Marikel, "Thanks, lad! That'll get the ol' bones back ta movin' again. Now, let's get this lot back ta town. Reaver!" he calls out, giving a whistle. The bird follows along behind on foot, currently content with walking it would seem.
Kaleb had added little to the interrogation, feeling that his contribution to his new allies in the battle had more than proved his worth. In truth, his heart was still racing from the sheer adrenaline of the brief skirmish, his mind still replaying parries, pirouettes and deadly lunges. Now mounted, he rode close to the prisoners, seeking to keep them cowed through the presence of his blade. He had not yet sheathed or cleaned it after the battle, and Urnsul and Daktani's blood had caked onto it, mixed together.
After some time, Kaleb did take a brief moment to pull his riding dog alongside Dorn, extending a forearm for a warrior's grip.
"My apologies master Dorn, for my earlier abruptness. We were deceived by these scum back in the town and I was loathe to allow them time to evade us again. You must also forgive my belated entrance into the fray. While I am Dwarf-trained and raised, sadly Darkvision is not a trait one can learn from one's adopted heritage. You are a local of Trunau?"
"Bah! Don't be ridiculous, lad," he says, waving the halfling off in a manner that speaks it to be no big deal. "There be no reason for apologies. And ta answer your question: Nah, I'm not a local. I hail from Janderhoff. But I'll confess you've piqued me interest. Ya say you were 'Dwarven trained', hm? I'm curious as ta where and by whom; I might just know who it was that trained ya. Now that would be interestin'," he says as he rubs his chin in thought at the possibilities.
"Before you answer that Kaleb, as the fastest I want you to ride ahead and inform the Chief Defender that we're coming," Marikel bends to quietly interrupt the conversation.
"Miss Blackblade and Mister Grath don't want a fuss being made and us dragging these people through the streets is likely to stir things up. See where she wants them taken and if we should put sacks over their heads until they're locked away."
With a regretful nod at Dorn as their exchange is interrupted, Kaleb accedes to the demands of duty, riding his dog away toward Bloodmarch Hill. The rest of the group proceeds more slowly, limited as much by the burden of keeping a sharp eye on their prisoners as by the speed of the gnome, dwarf, and armored priest.
By the time they arrive at the gates of Trunau, Kaleb has apprised the guard of the imminent arrival of prisoners. A small band of the Patrol is waiting at the palisade, along with Halgra Blackblade, Jagrin and Rodrick Grath, and, standing alongside Kaleb and his dog, Omast Frum.
"Ma'am," Marikel nods to the chief defender.
"We asked Miss Urnsal where Daktani may be and she lied and fled the city with him. With the help of Mister Dorn here we tracked them to a seemingly abandoned farmhouse where they attacked us. Unfortunately Miss Urnsal died in the fray and, but for the grace of Iomedae, a similar fate may have befallen Mister Dorn for his generosity."
Halgra's mouth tightens as she looks down at the dead woman with something like regret in her eyes. "Put the body on the cart," she directs the informal pallbearers, "and someone fetch a tarp or something."
One of the Patrol steps into the gatehouse at the Chief Defender's behest and comes back out with a rough wool blanket to cover Urnsul as she lies in the tumbrel. No one can help but be reminded of Kerst's last journey up Bloodmarch Hill in a similar conveyance.
Halgra holds up a hand to stop the soldier just before Urnsul's face is covered. As the Patrol member waits, she touches the single black earring. "Jagrin, Omast," she draws their attention to it. "Twisted Nail, do you think?" She turns to the party. "Did you see any other tokens like this? Or any sort of identifying symbols on the conspirators?"
Vhailor tacks along gamefully, lengthening stride to try and keep up and jostling his shoulder-borne feline in a most unbecoming manner. At the sight of Halgra he quashes an impish desire to wave, instead settling to rock back and forth betwixt the ball and heel of his feet and remaining mostly silent.
Dorn looks around at the others innocently before turning back to Halgra. Raising a hand, "Dorn here. I practically just met this lot and would like ta say they're doin' a fine job. Well, the lad could work on his 'please' a bit," he looks over a Marikel as a teacher would a student who needs to straigten up and fly right, "but all in all, he's a good lad," he nods, grinning. After a moment or two of an awkward silence, he notices the Chief Defender's questioning look. "What? Oh! Right. I almost forgot. That's me bird over there," he points to Skyreaver, "Skyreaver. I like ta call him Reaver. He don't like it much but he tolerates it," he explains. As the woman continues to look at the dwarf like there's something wrong with him, he looks to her curiously. "Did I forget something? I think that was everything." He strokes his beard a moment wondering if he's forgotten something. Finally dawning on him, "Oh right! The tokens. Nope, I don't recall any other tokens or such. But, ta be honest, I didn't really look for any," he simply confesses.
Marikel frowns at Dorn but nods once at Halgra.
"We found a second earring downstairs in the recently used basement of the Howling Hound. I assumed it was the pair to the one worn by Miss Urnsul's. However, I believe Mr Daktani had hidden himself there overnight, with the assistance of Othdan Merriman. Forgive my ignorance, but who are the Twisted Nail?"
"A tribe of highland orcs who haunt the Mindspin Mountains," Halgra replies. "A particularly nasty group: the rest of the orcs of Belkzen consider them violent and uncultured and think they give the race a bad name."
"Aye, well," Omast puts in with a ghoulish cheerfulness, "that's because orc-flesh is their favorite delicacy -- not just for when food is scarce. Orcs don't mind hunting you for food, but they take it personal-like to be hunted for food themselves."
"That's why they don't observe the Flood Truce -- and wouldn't be had by the rest of the orcs if they tried it. Hard to hunt aurochs with a fellow who may well be carrying dried bits of your dad in his pack as jerky. The other orcs won't ally with the Twisted Nail at all. They say the only time the Twisted Nail worked with outsiders it was with hill giants some five hundred years ago. I guess there are some creatures that turn even orcs' stomachs," he concludes with a chuckle.
"There may be more evidence at their hideout. We can lead a patrol back there, if you wish. Our first priority was to deliver these miscreants to you. Daktani has shown no remorse for his actions, but the other two have been more forthcoming though they are unaware of the depth of Daktani's treachery. Miss Urnsal was given every chance to redeem herself but betrayed us instead. Iomedae has judged her."
"Thank you, but you've done the job we asked you to," Halgra replies. "I'll ask you to give directions to a member of the Patrol, and they'll lead a team to perform a search. I'd rather have you near at hand while the suspects are being questioned, so we can quickly double-check their stories with what you've observed. Kerst's funeral is planned for just before sunset, and I'm sure you'll want to clean up and get ready for that. Captain," she turns to Jagrin Grath, "you and the Lieutenant can question these two. Omast, you'll take Daktani. Make sure they're questioned separately. Mister ... Dorn?" she inquires. "Are you staying at the Ramblehouse? We'll want to know where to contact you, if we need you to make a statement."
Dorn shrugs. "I'm not real sure ta be honest. I hadn't planned on stayin' at the Ramblehouse. I mean, I guess I could stay at the Ramblehouse if ya be needin' me ta stay at the Ramblehouse." The dwarf grins. "That's a great name ya know: Ramblehouse. I like it. Ramblehouse. It just kinda rol...," he stops in midstream due to the not so nice stares he's receiving. "Ya know, I seem ta be gettin' a lot of those stares today. Okay, I guess that's where I'll be then. Where is the Ramblehouse again? I'm not too overly familiar with Trunau so a point in the right direction would do me good."
"And Dorn is fine. There's really no need for all that 'Mister' business," he tells her kindly.
Alicia rolls her eyes at Dorn. "I'll show you later."
Vhailor waits patiently for disbursement of personnel to determine where he might best waddle off to.
The Patrol takes custody of the prisoners and march them away. Omast gives Kaleb a heavy pat on the shoulder before leaving, and Rodrick spares Vhailor a half-smile and nod as he follows up the hill. The activity and the covered tumbrel have drawn many citizens to their windows and porches to try and see what's going on; Cham Larringfass is standing on the path to the Ramblehouse with both eyes and ears alert for any detail she can dole out in the common room.
Alicia rolls her eyes at Dorn. "I'll show you later."
Grinning, "Thanks, lass!"
Marikel nods and turns to the others.
"I want to thank each of you, personally, for what you've done today. While things didn't go quite as planned, we still succeeded in bringing these criminals to justice."
"Miss Alicia, your help with the investigation found important clues and evidence of wrongdoing. It looks like this may run much deeper if the Twisted Nail are involved. Mister Vhailor, your support and magic have been welcome as has your... esoteric... knowledge. Mister Kaleb, your speed of mount has served us well coordinating and your speed of blade served well in the battle. And Mister Dorn. It was you that tracked our quarry to their lair and you that almost gave everything for our cause. We are indebted to you and if there is anything I can do, you have but to ask."
"Now if you'll excuse us," Marikel glances to Alicia, "we must prepare to make a respectful showing tonight for the noble soul that has been taken."
Wordlessly, Alicia nods at Marikel's suggestion about funeral preparations, her expression grim.
Dorn nudges Vhailor with an elbow as he leans in. "He's a good lad," he whispers to him, nodding proudly.
Kaleb offers to see Dorn checked into a room at the Ramblehouse, though he's unsure what Auntie Cham will think of the young roc.
Startled slightly Vhailor pushes his lensless glasses back up the ridge of his nose "Who... Marikel?... yeah, I suppose he is pretty young by our standards. Didn't have much choice though." extended pause before he sees a need for further explanation "Orphan... born to the church and all." nodding with pursed lips as though that settles the issue.
"Your bird's pretty good as well... seems to think you test him?"
He continues to the rest of the group "Had a chance to look over the stuff we found... there's a belt that'll help you flip around like an acrobat... Alicia might like that, and this cloak's interesting." flipping it over his neck and drawing a hiss from the fleeing Carbonel departing his shoulder. Vhailor wraps his hand in the edge of the cloak and focuses - causing the fabric to harden like steel. He raps it with his staff a couple of times to prove the point "Not much use for Marikel because he's got the big one... but you might like it Dorn?"
Startled slightly Vhailor pushes his lensless glasses back up the ridge of his nose "Who... Marikel?... yeah, I suppose he is pretty young by our standards. Didn't have much choice though." extended pause before he sees a need for further explanation "Orphan... born to the church and all." nodding with pursed lips as though that settles the issue.
With a look of complete understanding, "Ah, well that makes things a lot clearer then."
"Your bird's pretty good as well... seems to think you test him?"
"Well... ta be honest," he covers up one side of his mouth with his hand, "it's more like havin' a bit o' fun, but don't tell him that," he winks, grinning wryly.
He continues to the rest of the group "Had a chance to look over the stuff we found... there's a belt that'll help you flip around like an acrobat... Alicia might like that, and this cloak's interesting." flipping it over his neck and drawing a hiss from the fleeing Carbonel departing his shoulder. Vhailor wraps his hand in the edge of the cloak and focuses - causing the fabric to harden like steel. He raps it with his staff a couple of times to prove the point "Not much use for Marikel because he's got the big one... but you might like it Dorn?"
"Well if that doesn't beat all I've ever seen. A piece of fabric that hardens like stone. Hm." He surveys the cloak a moment and gives it a try. Nodding in acceptance, "Thanks, friend. Are ya sure ya not be needin' it?" he asks before noticing the hammer among the items. Raising an eyebrow, "Ya don't suppose I could be takin' that hammer for meself, do ya? Me own hammer's a bit worn and that one looks a fair healthier," he says as a matter of fact.
Marikel nods at Vhailor's suggestion.
"Thank you again, Mister... I mean Vhailor. Iomedae provided for me the first time we went to the burned church, so I require none of those articles. I will take some more crossbow bolts, though."
He then looks to each of the others in turn, his gaze resting finally on Alicia.
"Technically, these articles still belong to those parties under arrest so be prepared to return them should Miss Blackblade request. Though that does seem unlikely, particularly in Miss Urnsal's case with no apparent relatives except perhaps a tribe of bloodthirsty monsters. The other weapons could possibly be of interest to Miss Sara Morninghawk, though you wouldn't get full price for them.
Marikel turns once more to Dorn.
"And, Mister Dorn. Something that won't have a chance to be returned. In our earlier investigations we found this Scroll of Barkskin which I believe no one else can use and hasn't been sold. With the permission of the others," Marikel glances up for acknowledgement, "I'd like you to have it. Hopefully, after recent events, it isn't too little, too late."
Marikel gives a half smile and claps a hand on Dorn's shoulder.
"Now, if you'll excuse us."
He departs back towards the temple, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.
Alicia takes the alchemical items to That 'N' Such, just across the street from the Ramblehouse inside the town gates, and endures the barking of Bumpus to gain an audience with Gorkis Meeson, Jess's husband.
"Ain't none of my handiwork," he attests, as he examines the alchemical goods. "Must've been bought in Freedom Town." He pronounces the name disdainfully, as if the possible charges of murder and treason are only made worse by the sin of not shopping locally.
"These coals, they're a party trick. Throw 'em in a fire, and they make the flames turn blue."
"This here ointment, I sell this. Not this ointment, I didn't sell, but I make some like it. Called stonechipper salve. Miners use it: makes the stone easier to dig."
"This here bag, you want to be careful with. Expose the insides to air, and it's all going to go up in flames. We call it a 'tangleburn bag,' on account of it'll stick you in place and burn you if someone throws it at you. Good weapon against an orc."
"These vials, they're just the 'burn' part. Alchemist's fire."
"This here rock is what we call a thunderstone. You throw it, and it goes bang like a thunderbolt. Can make your ears stop working for a while."
"This here is ghost ink. You make a mark with it and it disappears quick-like, but it'll show up under the right kind of light. Good for secret messages, or blazing trails you only want certain people to be able to follow."
"These two vials here is a mild poison, and these other two are antitoxins, in case them fellows was dumb enough to poison themselves, I reckon."
"These," he looks with disdain on the final two metal vials, "are right despicable. Concealed weapons. Don't look like much, do they? But you unseal the end and toss out what's inside, and it hardens into a blade. You can put poison in it, too," he pats the last set of vials. "Then, I suppose, you knife someone, and ten minutes later, the blade's evaporated and leaves behind a harmless-looking empty tube. Assassins' gear, liquid blades. I don't handle stuff like this."
"I reckon, Miss Alicia," Gorkis says with sincerity, "you and the padre is lucky you took those varmints unawares. Nasty Freedom-Town killers. We don't truck with their like in Trunau."
Marikel nods at Vhailor's suggestion.
"Thank you again, Mister... I mean Vhailor. Iomedae provided for me the first time we went to the burned church, so I require none of those articles. I will take some more crossbow bolts, though."
He then looks to each of the others in turn, his gaze resting finally on Alicia.
"Technically, these articles still belong to those parties under arrest so be prepared to return them should Miss Blackblade request. Though that does seem unlikely, particularly in Miss Urnsal's case with no apparent relatives except perhaps a tribe of bloodthirsty monsters. The other weapons could possibly be of interest to Miss Sara Morninghawk, though you wouldn't get full price for them.
Marikel turns once more to Dorn.
"And, Mister Dorn. Something that won't have a chance to be returned. In our earlier investigations we found this Scroll of Barkskin which I believe no one else can use and hasn't been sold. With the permission of the others," Marikel glances up for acknowledgement, "I'd like you to have it. Hopefully, after recent events, it isn't too little, too late."
Marikel gives a half smile and claps a hand on Dorn's shoulder."Now, if you'll excuse us."
He departs back towards the temple, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.
Dorn nods. "Thanks, lad! That's quite nice of ya."
Alicia nods, taking the belt of tumbling and the potions of vanish as she heads off to have the alchemical items identified. After having identified them, she takes the centipede poison vials and their antitoxins, as well as the liquid blades.
"Aye, if they'd been able to ambush us it may have been a much different outcome," the rogue replies to Gorkis as she leaves. "Fortunately, they're not too bright."
Ali then heads for the mission to regroup with Marikel and the others, and to check in on Ruby.
A note of melancholy taints the evening air as the citizens of Trunau gather at the Commons. The crowd and venue are the same as at Ruby's Hopeknife Ceremony only a few evenings ago, but the atmosphere is very different. Only a skeleton crew of Patrolmen man the gates and the watchtowers, as most of them are in attendance to pay their respects to their fallen companion.
Kerst's body lies in state on the stage where he and his brother lost their battle of Tug of War against Ruby two nights ago. Captain Grath and Rodrick are seated in the front row, with Halgra and Omast; Brinya is at the far end of the row, with Banny beside her.
Ruby's hand creeps into Alicia's, and she leans her head against the older girl's arm as they wait in the crowd.
The mood is somber and hushed already; when Halgra ascends to the stage, the crowd falls silent. The crackle of the lit beacon near the Longhouse, the Flame of the Fallen, can be heard.
"I stood here two nights ago," Halgra begins, "to conduct one of my favorite duties as Chief Defender: awarding a Hopeknife to a young citizen. Tonight, I face one of my least favorite duties: laying to rest a citizen who died doing his duty."
"You may have heard," she goes on, "that Kerst Grath jumped from the point of Bloodmarch Hill. I am fortunate enough to be able to tell that that is a lie. Kerst Grath was a hero, killed in the line of duty. Like any of us would hope to do, he died defending his neighbors. Those who killed him tried to make his death look like a suicide, in the hopes that their plots against Trunau would never come to light, but I am happy to say that they failed to cover up their crime."
The crackling beacon has now been swallowed up in a buzz of alarm arising from the crowd, and Halgra raises her voice to talk over it. "This is a sacred occasion, and now is not the time to go into detail about what happens next. I'll ask you to respect the Grath family enough to allow them time to grieve, and you grieve as well. Because we are all left bereft for the loss of a brave and loyal citizen like Kerst. But we are Trunauans: we take care of ourselves, and we can know the worst and hope for the best, so here it is: saboteurs working within our city were allied with the Twisted Nail orcs and planning an assault on Bloodmarch Hill."
The buzz raises to a clamor, and Halgra lifts her hands placatingly. "If the plot hadn't been uncovered, I don't dispute we'd be in a tight spot. But thanks to Kerst Grath, and to those who investigated his death, we do know the Twisted Nail's plot, and plans are underway to thwart them. Your Council of Defenders has not been idle. Tonight, I ask you," she looks down at the bier, "pay your respects to the man who discovered the truth and paid for it with his life."
She gives Jagrin a nod, and the Patrol Captain gets to his feet, accompanied by Rodrick. Together they walk out of the Commons toward the beacon. The sun is slipping beneath the horizon, and the flickering light of the Flame of the Fallen can be seen between and atop the intervening buildings. A drummer and bugler from the Patrol band play a slow and solemn air, as the crowd waits for their return.