Angel thanks the men for their information and walks to the table indicated by Miss Gundigoot. She orders breakfast of spiced sausages, eggs, and some milk and coffee.. As she waits for her food and her other companions to arrive she'll glance around the room at the other inhabitants..
No one seems to be looking intently, nor alot, though everyone marked your passing and gave you a fair once over. It is the nature of being a pretty woman and a stranger in a place that rarely sees such pretty strangers.
Sir Gareth leaves his saddlebags in his room and heads downstairs still in his full plate armor when he hears his companions stirring. He thanks Mrs. Gundigoot for the message and wishes her good morning. He looks at what the majority at the elder table are eating and orders that. He settles into the private dining room ready for Conner to tell him what he saw.
__________________________________________
Not knowing when sleep took over last and when the sun came up this morning. Woken up by the noise from the crowd down stairs, he gets ready with a fresh change of clothes and heads down to find the others.
As he gets down stairs he looks for the others.
D'witt woke with a yawn and a stretch even as Conner began to wake himself. He checked his pistols before donning his chain shirt and grabbing his weapon belt.
"You know what the best part about being in town is?" He asked with a chuckle as the two left the room. "I get to try someone else's cooking for a change." D'witt gave a little laugh as they ventured down into the common hall.
Crossing the commons he smiles at Meridosen and Sharla as they pass. D'witt was sure he was getting at least a few looks, guessing the town did not see many tieflings passing through it. But then, if he cared what they thought he would have covered himself before leaving the room.
He nods politely to Marta and smiles. "The beds were truly a blessing. And I'm sure the food will not disappoint."
Between everyone, you come to some basic conclusions about the guests in the common room.
The gnome is apparently a caster or scholar of some sort. He is afflicted with the bleaching, and his unnatural hair color seems to be some mad response to his condition.
The hulking man is a warrior of some sort, muscular but potentially slow of wit. He seems to be taking direction from his companion and flinches at every stern word from the man.
The friar or monk seems shifty, constantly watch everyone, holding himself and his person close and drawn in. He seems intent on something, and snaps at his companion when he senses the man's mind or eye wandering. There was a momentary glimpse, but one of you noticed a medallion of the Open Hand beneath his cloak.
The Garundi is definately a warrior, a man at arms of some skill. His dress is more that of the River Kingdoms than a style local to Taldor or Andoran.
It is relatively easy to guess the well dressed man with the lute is a performer or entertainer. As Marta leaves, he rises and questions her about the last evening's show. His verbose prose affects a rich Taldan aire.
His associate would seem to be a gambler or card sharp, as he absently deals hands while eating his meal. His eyes almost never seem to leave off watching Meridosen, as she moves around the room, though at times he glances off to the stairs or far corner, though no one is present at either location.
One thing that becomes clear, none of the guests, nor locals, are wearing weapons of any kind, save perhaps a dagger or small knife and the occassional walking aide amongst the elderly.
Sensing some reluctance with what your group may be interested in, Marta has Ilsa and Sharla bring you a variety of the Wench's favored morning fare.
The lovely ladies deliver the food with smiles and flare, well practiced in enticing the customers of this well frequented establishment.
Ilsa first comes holding For you, a platter of our specially spiced sausages, locally made of course. Sharla carries Three of our renowned honeyed loaves, and two of hearty black pepper, complete with sweet or sharp butters.
Ilsa again follows, Here we have a pan of Ostler's secret recipe thrice spiced potatoes, and a side serving of sauteed peppers and river onions. Sharla carries Just to cool that spicy burn, a tin of sweetened cream whip, and bowls of milk cooled oatmeal and fresh blueberries.
Marta follows with a pitcher in one hand, fresh cool milk, raised by our Divor Farms, and a piping charafe in the other, The Wench's own special blend coffee, roasted in hickory, just don't tell Ost I told you she winks.
Unless you need anything else, Marta and the girls leave you to your repast, and your discussions.
"Thank you ladies," d'Orionus says to the servers and I use that term generously, thinks to himself. After he has finished eating and his companions near finishing too, he addresses them in a tone low enough not to be heard but loud enough not to bring suspicion.
"Lady and gentlemen, my business will keep me in Hommlet and prevent me from continuing with the caravan. This is already arranged with Master Shylocke. After breakfast, I plan to meet the Andoran garrison commander and see what's what. What are your commitments and intentions?"
When does the caravan plan to depart, Sir Gareth? I signed on through to Almas, but that does not mean that I cannot break away if my services are needed elsewhere. I heard tell of the ruined keep, and I know that Angel seeks her husband. I will likely stay as well, if needed. The trouble with Master Dents also needs further resolution.
"I don't know. Master Shylocke will probably sell some goods here while he recovers a bit more, because he will need to lead. Maybe a couple of days. According to him, we've traveled the more dangerous part of the route. However, your commitment is to him, so you must speak to Master Shylocke." D'Orionus replies. After a short pause, "I may be able to tell you more tonight after my introduction to the garrison commander. Of course, I will provide an excellent reference."
I will speak with him. Be sure to mention the shadowy figures that I saw last night when you meet with the garrison commander to determine if it may have been regular patrols. The way that one of them skittered off, they did not appear to be a guard to me. In fact, it may be a good idea to see if I can pick up a trail down by the river of the departing watcher.
"Will do," d'Orionus replies. "And good idea to find the tracks of the sneaks."
I like this Conner. Takes the initiative. Knows his trade well. He thinks to himself.
"i am indeed in search of my husband.. The wise ones over there said he came through and that his group went to search the old fort and the ruins of some old temple.. I will be going to look for him after more research is done here.. Yall are welcome to join me..
"Who was your husband? And what was he doing when he went missing?" Sir Gareth replies.
After her answers, he follows up with, "So Angel, you've made no commitments to Master Shylocke beyond Hommlet?"
"I promised him my protection till i found out where my husband went.. I received no pay and didn't ask for any.. I plan on asking around here for more info if possible.. And then im gonna go find him.."
"His name is Geirheart, he is a Priest of Sarenrae.."
"I see. Is it too personal to ask what was your husband doing when he went missing?" Sir Gareth replies again.
"He was chosen to accompany a group of explorers to some old temple ruins nearby.. Apparently it had been dormant for quite some time, but recently some new entrance had been discovered or something.. I didn't get a lot of information about it, as i was in the field when he left.. I plan on visiting the church here today and asking some questions.."
As the breakfast meal ends, Ilsa and Sharla arrive to remove the plates and platters, throwing the curtains wide. As you survey the room beyond, you notice a new guest has made his way down the stairs.
He seems to be a little unsteady on his feet, slightly staggered in his footfalls. His dress is simple, homespun but clean and well kempt. He is rubbing his temples as he approaches the bar. He speaks momentarily with Marta, possibly asking for something for his head. Hangover cure perhaps?
She pours something from a deep blue bottle under the counter and hands it to him. My thanks milady. He slides a few coins to her and stumbles past a chair back towards the stairs, bumping directly into Meridosen as she moves quickly across the common room, almost directly into his bumbling path. Pardon me, I don't feel well. The strong young woman catches him handily as he falls, righting him and setting him to a seat at a nearby table.
He seems truly apologetic, and you notice around his neck the Bow and Arrow of Ol' Deadeye, the god Erastil. As he settles back into his seat, nursing his drink, the front doors of the inn swing open, pouring brighter light into the room. Voices hush as they recognize the new arrivals.
Standing in the doorway are three men, though more follow behind them. The first is an impressive sight, easily 6' 4" 235 lbs of muscle and sinew, a large doubblebladed axe in his hand. He wears a sash across his chainmail shirt, the livery of Hommlet. He grips his ax tightly, Is he here?
The second man may be less in physical stature, merely 6', but his commanding presence more than secures his place as someone to be likewise respected. He is dressed in the colors and armor of an Eagle Knight. His skin is a rich brown, smooth, his dark hair short and loosely curled, a rakish moustache distinguishing his serious face. The broadsword across his back stays put as he looks to the older man, If you please Ashtaff, which one is he?
The third man follows as the force behind them moves to enter on either side. He is older and weathered from long years under the open sun. His hair is long and white, wildly flowing around his head, his eyes a deep blue, his skin ruddy and tanned. His robes are brown and utilitarian, tied with a sturdy leather strap adorned with pouches, a long staff grasped loosely in his left hand. Atop this staff, you clearly see the symbol of Erastil. He gestures towards the new guest, and says something soft you were not meant to catch, words meant for the other two men. They react as one.
Armed men following the trio flow into the room, a mix of townsguards and Eagle troopers. They have eyes full of hatred, promising barely restrained malice, as they encircle the room, focusing their attention on the new guest. Almost as one they draw weapons, swords and cudgles directed at the startled young man.
The taller man steps forward, Carlson Haddix, you are under arrest for the muder of Canoness Y'dey of the Church of Iomedae. Surrender now and you will receive fair conduct and a proper trial. Resist, and your life is hereby forfeit. So sayeth I, Elmo of the Axe, Captain of the Hommlet Guard, under the orders of the Elders of Hommlet and the leave of the Andoran Watch.
The closest men grab Carlson as he stands, one restraining his arms as another slips shackles around his wrists. Another pats him down, pulling a previously unnoticed dagger from the man's belt. As he draws the blade, you clearly see blood upon its surface. He snaps the blade back into place, and hands the weapon towards Elmo, only to have it intercepted by the Andoran. He tucks the weapon into his belt.
The Eagle Knight steps to the side, giving Elmo a glance that pauses his response, as the group moves out with their prisoner. Take him to the tower, we will hold him there until this can be fully investigated, and his trial properly arranged .
The prisoner, clearly confused and off keel, mumbles as they take him out, I don't understand. I have done nothing. Find Jaroo, he can tell you, I am innocent. He does not struggle but continues to protest as he is lead away.
The two men turn to the older third. Well Jaroo, it would seem it is as you said, he is clearly not in his right mind. Vengence you said. But why Y'dey, it makes no sense? As the group leaves the room, Jaroo replies He came seeking answers about his family, lost in an ogre... The voices are lost as the doors close and the inn returns to normal.
The old elders are furiously whispering amongst themselves, Marta has disappeared into the kitchen, no doubt to inform her husband. Ilsa and Sharla, stunned by the event, pause and glance one to another before resuming their work. Sorry for that good sirs, milady. LEt us get this out of your way.
Meridosen continues clearing the common room, whistling a soft merry tune. She pauses by the tables, smiling to the other patrons as if nothing had happened. Wee hoo wee hoo WEEEEEE hooo, woo wee hoo...
Amongst the other guests, few seem to react, or at least respond in a manner that would seem appropriate.
The gnome seems still lost in his own thoughts, and returns to his meal, though little trace remains upon the plate. Human bother, iron take the rot
The hulking warrior seems confused by the event, but his friar companion explains things to him, laughing and making gestures of hanging or the ax. He didn't struggle, why kill then give up? Because he's a fool. Never kill and stick around Kob, get while the gettings good I say.
The Garundi orders another round, his eyes steeling slightly as Meridosen refills his flagon. Mind the spill, GIRL, and your hands.
The entertainer, flush and pale from the news, pulls parchment and ink from his pack, scribbling notes and pausing, thinking, then resuming his task. Ode to Y'dey, sword of the, hmmm
The card sharp, having tensed and shrunken upon himself in sight of so many guardsman, gathers up his cards, tips his table, and moves for the stairs to his room above. Gettin too cozy again. Might need to be moving on after all
Well, that was certainly an interesting display.
"Aye. Interesting."
Conner speaks to the table.
I am off to follow the tracks of those shadowy figures last night. I will meet those of you who go with Sir Gareth at the garrison directly thereafter. Anyone wishing to join me is more than welcome.
Conner attempts to follow the tracks by the Inn first.
Survival:
He will then pursue those by the river, heading east.
"Well, I don't have any work at the moment. I was just cooking to pay my way back to see what jobs had been posted." D'witt leaned back in his chair. "But I have to say, I am curious about the disappearance of our fellow caravaners."
The tiefling smiles at the girls at they begin clearing breakfast, watching the red-headed Sharla from the corner of his eyes. When the trio enter, followed by their comrades-in-arms D'witt focuses his attention on them.
"Wait, he said Jaroo could speak up for him." His brow furrowed in thought.
D'witt stood, his attention more on the leaving group. "I think I'll be hanging around for a bit. If you need any help I think I'll have the time." He looked back and nodded to the others. "I got something I want to check out right now."
The cook quickly makes his way across the commons and steps out. He looks around for the group that just left and begins to follow them casually, attempting to catch more of the conversation.
As Conner and D'Witt leave shortly after the show, Sir Gareth nods to Angel and Xavorin. "I look forward to hearing your story, Xavorin, commitments, and intentions. Now, I must follow that knight. Please excuse me." With that, he gets up and exits the inn.
He expects to find the guard waiting for him outside. "Soldier, I'm d'Orionus, Sir Gareth d'Orionus. Mrs. Gundigoot said you were waiting to take me to Sir Romidar Averigus. Lead on."
Along the way, he starts chatting up the guard, "What can you tell me about those people?"
________________________________________________________
The trooper tells you the basics about each man, as far as he knows it.
Elmo is Captain of the Hommlet militia and constabulary. He is a lifetime resident of the village, taking up the post previously held by his father and brother. Though once thought a drunkard, he has proven himself time and again in moments of strife or conflict. His ax is quite effective, seen him hew a goblin raider right in two I did.
Jaroo Ashstaff is a druid of Erastil's faith. Many in the village take his word for gospel, half the town being followers of Erastil. Got along well with the Church of Iomedae, at least till now. It is said he's over a hundred years old, though he never seemed that old, and recently his health seems to have improve. Just last week, saw him vault into the saddle toot quick, riding out to one of the outlaying farms.
Sir Romidar Averigus only arrived here in Hommlet this past year. A freed Garundi slave, rescued from a Katapeshi band, he traveled to Almas and pledged himself to the Eagle. Rose quickly through the ranks, serving with honor and distinction. His last campaign he commanded a unit that fought Chelaxian raiders in a high Aspodell pass. Half his force was lost, though they took over twice as many of the Chelaxians and their humanoid minions. Both sides called it a mistake, miscommunication. Said in a whisper They said Hommlet was not a demotion, but for a Major to earn a Captain's posting. Didn't deserve it. He's a good man.
When Sir Gareth is conducted through the castle gates, he notices the small fort is conducted with military precision. Men walk the walls, man the guard towers, and patrol the grounds in pairs.
He is lead past the stables, beyond the barracks, into the main building. The great hall serves as the command for the unit, with desks or tables spaced along the left and right walls for commanders or supply officers. Shelves of books and scrolls are spaced between the stations.
Sir Gareth is lead across the hall, up the right most stairs, and dwon a short hallway to a sturdy oaken door. Three quick raps, and a voice calls Enter.
As you both walk inside the room, you see it is utilitarian in nature. Furnished sparsely, you see before you a desk with shelves to either side, a small area rug centered on the room, thick curtains over the window behind the desk, a wardrobe along the right wall, a campaign cot and stand along the left.
The trooper snaps to attention. Trooper Deel reporting sir. I have brought you Sir Gareth d'Orionus, per command, sir. The trooper stands at attention while Sir Romidar attends to his paperwork, roughly a minute or so.
Sir Romidar looks up. Thank you Deel. A seat for our guest, and you may go. Dismissed.
From behind you, trooper Deel takes a folding camp stool from either side of the door, sets it up before the desk, salutes his captain, then turns to leave, nodding to Sir Gareth as he does so.
As the door closes, Romidar looks up at Sir Gareth. Well sir, I understand you wish to speak with me. How may the Eagle Knights assist a son of Taldor?
Conner follows the tracks to the mill.
He searches the area briefly to see if anyone is about.
Sir Gareth pulls out his letter of introduction from an Andoran-friendly, Taldan noble. "Sir Romidar, it's a pleasure to meet you. I have a letter of introduction for you," he starts and hands him the sealed letter.
"There are rumors that darkness is growing around here. It's probably the reason someone of your high caliber was given command. I represent some of the Taldan sympathizers. I've been given leave to serve with you until the darkness is rooted out and destroyed. What do you say?"
______________________________________________________
After the plates are removed he sits at the table thinking to himself
I wonder if my father came through here and if so maybe some people know about him
He exits the inn and starts asking people around the city if a guy named Zanmorn had came to the town.
D'witt pauses as the trio of men stop and then go their separate ways. It doesn't take a second thought for the tiefling to begin following Jaroo again. He trusted his intuition, it wasn't always right, but it was often enough. Something about the man was just... 'wrong', but he just couldn't put a finger to it.
Sir Gareth pulls out his letter of introduction from an Andoran-friendly, Taldan noble. "Sir Romidar, it's a pleasure to meet you. I have a letter of introduction for you," he starts and hands him the sealed letter.
"There are rumors that darkness is growing around here. It's probably the reason someone of your high caliber was given command. I represent some of the Taldan sympathizers. I've been given leave to serve with you until the darkness is rooted out and destroyed. What do you say?"
Romidar reads over the letter of introduction for a few moments. When finished he looks up at you, folding the letter and offering it back to you, should you need it.
He takes from his desk drawer a bottle and two glasses. You must understand that though there are no hostilities between our two nations, and we have many trade agreements between us, as well as pacts of mutual interest, I cannot offer you any kind of formal position with my garrison. He pours a small amount of a rich amber liquid into each glass. However, there are a few duties that need to be accomplished that could be relegated to contracted or conscripted services that may allow you to assist my command, and both our two nations. He hands you a glass, rising to his feet. As a disinterested party in town, though one of impeccable standing and import, and thereso also I believe someone the Church of Iomedae would respond favorably towards, perhaps you could assist me in dealing with the matter of investigating the Canoness' murder. He raises his glass, What say you.
Conner follows the tracks to the mill.
He searches the area briefly to see if anyone is about.
1d20+11
The mill is active this morning. It is a flour mill, and the grist is running, such that a fair amount of flour dust is already accumulating in the air inside the mill.
A young man outside the mill is going over a check list, counting sacks laid out on a small man-cart for delivery. Aye, need to place an order?
He exits the inn and starts asking people around the city if a guy named Zanmorn had came to the town.
No one at the Inn seems to recall the name, neither does the smithy, the leather armorsmith, nor the wainwright. They seem pleasant enough, and ply you with questions about yourself, your trade, and your reason for visiting Hommlet. They are clearly distracted, though they try to put on a friendly face. You notice the smith and armorer both bear the symbol of Erastil over their doors, whilst the wainwright has an Iomedaen sunburst on his mantle.
D'witt pauses as the trio of men stop and then go their separate ways. It doesn't take a second thought for the tiefling to begin following Jaroo again. He trusted his intuition, it wasn't always right, but it was often enough. Something about the man was just... 'wrong', but he just couldn't put a finger to it.
D'witt follows Jaroo into the crowded shanty area that was once the labor camp. Many of the tents that protected the workers from the elements have grown into small slapboard homes and hovels. Those able bodied that could move on when the work left did so, those that found spouses or children out of the years of toil stayed, working odd jobs around town until they could afford places of their own. Those that fit neither group ended up here, subsisting on the generousity of the churches, the pensions of the militia, and what means were available to them to make ends meet.
The tiny area seems to have it's own little community going on, you find among the rows a makeshift tavern, a little open air market of sorts, even what you suspect is a tent of ill-repute, replete with ladies of scanty dress standing outside and flirtily watching you pass.
Perception check to follow Jaroo through the maze of tents, shacks, and leaning clapboard.
Angel makes her way up the long hill to the Church of Iomedae. She passes a few villagers, some weeping, some angry, others their heads down and eyes averted from all they pass.
As she reaches the top, an area is cordoned off with a long length of rope laid out upon the ground. Two militiamen and an Andoran trooper guard the area. It is apparent from the grass that blood was spilled recently. The men eye you closely, but make no other gestures.
The massive, two story mini cathedral sits prominently upon a flat cut plateau projecting off the side of the hill. Stained glass windows decortate the front and sides, while the rear seems built into the hillside. Images commonly associated with Aroden as well as Iomedae decorate most such, though you see those to the front all bear images unique to the goddess herself. The front double doors stand open to all.
Just inside the doors, the passage grows into a large open nave onwards to the pulpit and altar. The length is lined in rows of wooden pews, eleven rows in all, with seating for six on the right, five on the left. To the right is the entrance to a small more private chapel, while to the left is the rectory, what must be the living quarters for the clergy.
A balding, stocky man stands by the rectory door, bidding goodbye to Patty, the young boy you met the night before. The boy passes, carrying a small parcel, though he stops a moment to bide you good morning. The priest is dressed in white robes, the symbol of a shining longsword emblazoned upon it. Beneath the robes you catch glimspes of chainmail. Seeing you, the man approaches. Sister, welcome. May the light of Iomedae shine upon you. How may I be of assistance. He beckons you forward, into the room, which appears to be a small receiving area, set apart from the rest of the rectory.
Sir Gareth does not take the letter but does accept the glass. "The letter is for you alone. Our two nations are neighbors. And like fire in a city, what affects one neighbor affects the other. As a Taldan knight, I need no formal position in the garrison. Staying here in the tower as your guest would signal the appropriate relationship."
He pauses to mentally activate Detect Evil and sniffs the rich amber liquid in his glass after swirling it. "It would be a pleasure to assist your investigation of the murder. It also would give me an opportunity to look for the growing darkness that is generating those rumors. But I'm a bit confused though. I was in the Inn when you arrested your suspect. It sounded like your eye witness to the murder was someone well-respected in town. What do you suspect?"
Conner looks down at at the young man with a serious expression on his face.
No order for me, I come with a question. Did you see anyone lurking around last night around midnight? We arrived into town late, and I saw someone coming in this direction. I followed the tracks this morning to the Mill.
Sir Gareth does not take the letter but does accept the glass. "The letter is for you alone. Our two nations are neighbors. And like fire in a city, what affects one neighbor affects the other. As a Taldan knight, I need no formal position in the garrison. Staying here in the tower as your guest would signal the appropriate relationship."
He pauses to mentally activate Detect Evil and sniffs the rich amber liquid in his glass after swirling it. "It would be a pleasure to assist your investigation of the murder. It also would give me an opportunity to look for the growing darkness that is generating those rumors. But I'm a bit confused though. I was in the Inn when you arrested your suspect. It sounded like your eye witness to the murder was someone well-respected in town. What do you suspect?"
You sense no evil coming from Sir Romidar, nor do you sense that he is trying to deceive you, though he does seem nervous about something. The glass, you notice, contains a pleasant smelling honeyed brandy.
I could arrange for you to stay in the tower adjacent, as a guest of Master Kalizar. The garrison itself is for Andoran troops, which is why I had the prisoner taken to the tower as well. He turns and pulls back the curtain, looking out for a moment, before continuing. I have been in Hommlet only a year or so, and like the town well enough. The people are decent, hard working, but cliquish, they group together tightly, do not intermingle enough to be a whole. This murder, an Erastilian killing an Iomedaen. It could spark up ages old feuds.
He turns to Sir Gareth, setting his glass upon the desk, empty. I'm afraid my suspicions must be my own for a time yet. If I tell you my fears, I color your mind at the start. I truly want justice for Y'dey, and for this young man accused. If I tell you I think this one lies, or that one has an agenda, she was working that one, he is not himself, I turn the whole matter into my own, without you ever taking a look at the evidence wholly under the light of Abadar's scales.
Romidar walks around the desk to Sir Gareth. He extends his hand, If you will give me a little trust, look at this act with a clear and open mind, then come to me. I will tell you what I fear, you can tell me what you found. Deal?
Conner looks down at at the young man with a serious expression on his face.
No order for me, I come with a question. Did you see anyone lurking around last night around midnight? We arrived into town late, and I saw someone coming in this direction. I followed the tracks this morning to the Mill.
The lad looks at you, then glances around the area. Sorry sir, but I do not live at the mill, only the miller and his wife do. I doubt the master was about last night, he turns in soon after the mill closes, and does not rise till just before the sun. He hefts one last sack onto his cart. I suppose I could ask around the other boys, but like me they have homes to go to as well.
He grasps the handles of his cart, The miller is inside, if you wish to speak with him. He is a good man, follower of Erastil, and works hard for the good of Hommlet.
Sir Gareth enjoys the honeyed brandy and replies, "Deal." He sets the glass down next to its pair and shakes his hand.
"Who is this Master Kalizar?" Sir Gareth accepts the quarters there. "How do you plan the introductions?"
"There are some competent individuals who just arrived in Hommlet working the same caravan. Do you have any funds for deputies or at least their room and board?"
"Do you have a preference about where I start investigating?"
After talking with the armorer and smith last and answering the questions
they had and seeing that they are somewhat distracted by something he asks
"Is there something wrong?"
D'witt follows Jaroo into the crowded shanty area that was once the labor camp. Many of the tents that protected the workers from the elements have grown into small slapboard homes and hovels. Those able bodied that could move on when the work left did so, those that found spouses or children out of the years of toil stayed, working odd jobs around town until they could afford places of their own. Those that fit neither group ended up here, subsisting on the generousity of the churches, the pensions of the militia, and what means were available to them to make ends meet.
The tiny area seems to have it's own little community going on, you find among the rows a makeshift tavern, a little open air market of sorts, even what you suspect is a tent of ill-repute, replete with ladies of scanty dress standing outside and flirtily watching you pass.
Perception check to follow Jaroo through the maze of tents, shacks, and leaning clapboard.
D'witt weaves his way into the growing makeshift neighborhood. He ignores the merchants and women, trying not to lose Jaroo.
Angel nods and smiles at the boy as he passes.. "Good day sir, I am Angel Dawnstar, of The Everlight. Well met.. I came here today to pay my respects and ask you some questions if possible.. It also seems you have had trouble here recently.. Is there anything a Paladin might be able to help with?"
Conner searches diligently to pick up the trail if he can beyond the Mill.
Hmmm...mayhap the watcher jsut passed by the Mill last night?
Perception:
If the trail is found.
Survival to Track:
"Who is this Master Kalizar?" Sitting on the edge of the desk, He is actually the lord of the tower, and Magister of Hommlet. The de Magius line has been in Hommlet since its founding, though to my understanding, none are actually blood related. As the elder magister feels himself getting on in years, he leaves Hommlet for a pilgrimage, a year and a day, returning with an adopted heir. He then raises the child, training him in the arts, and upon the elder's passing, the heir assumes the role of Magister, beginning the process over again. Romidar pours himself a lesser second round, handing the bottle to Sir Gareth. An unusual arrangement to be sure, but the village elders stand by it, refusing any changes. Caused some strife when Andoran came into its own; the People's Council tried to have de Magius removed. Villagers sent the troopers back to Almas tarred and feathered. Other arrangements were made.
"How do you plan the introductions?" Reaching inside his tunic, Romidar takes out a silver badge etched with a Tower and Crossroads. Hommlet's Badge of Justicar, not seen since the revolution. I am charged by the mayor to select someone to investigate the death. With this, and a letter you can pick up from the mayor, you will be charged with finding out the truth. Pausing, he takes a sip, That is if you can find out such in the next forty eight hours. After that, the elders meet in council and they will decide the young man's fate. I assure you his death will be quick, but I fear the die is cast. Setting down his glass, You are that man's only hope.
"There are some competent individuals who just arrived in Hommlet working the same caravan. Do you have any funds for deputies or at least their room and board?" Sliding the badge across the desk, and stepping back to his seat, I can offer a sum of 30 gold for the task at hand, another 20 as funds to assist in the investigation. He takes a small pouch out of a drawer and tosses it next to the badge. That is the best I can do. Hommlet is not a poor town, but they tax only what they need, little more, and leave the rest to the people. I can speak with the elders for more, but that would be at the council meeting. A knock at the door interrupts the conversation. One moment he calls.
"Do you have a preference about where I start investigating?" Straightening his tunic and putting away the glasses and bottle, Start with this Carlson, get his side. Then I would speak with Terjen and Calmer at the church. After that, I would go where the evidence takes you. Just take care, leaning closer and lowering his voice, and don't travel alone once you are known to be investigating. You are right, something is wrong in Hommlet. Waving you to the door, Enter