He takes a deep breath and slowly lets out a cloud of smoke.
"I really don't feel like taking on a Covey of Hags right this minute. Let's go see what the matter is with Mr. Rook."
Hags? Like steal children out of their beds and bake them into pies and sell their souls in Hell Hags? And three of them? And they know we exist? Karl looks quickly back and forth from the windmill to the others, then plunges a finger down his throat and vomits up the contents of his stomach.
Once that is done, he stands, hunched over with his hands on his thighs. By all means, let's go see Mister Rook.
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Shanoa's mouth hangs open at the revelation. "You know, occasionally I think it would be ok for me not to be right about things like this." She turns away as Karl empties his stomach and tosses her two untouched loaves into the bushes, scratching her head as she tries to remember anything important about hags.
Professor Rokannon continues to frown as he thinks. He mutters to himself, trying to work somthing on his mind out.
"I don't understand it. The windmill was clean, the food delicious, the neighborhood isn't a slum or haunted, there's no rumor of disappearances or murders here. Hags just don't care about things like personal cleanliness or providing good food. It's not an illusion, I would have sensed it. Why are these different?"
"...Hags? You mean those sweet ladies might actually be a danger to the community? I'd never, not once, have suspected it... but if you're sure, Professor, then we shall have to look into the matter. While it may not be related to the trial, I'm sure the Lepidstadt authorities will want to hear of this."
"Now, let's get to this Master Rook and see what he has to tell us."
You begin searching for any sign of the so-called Mr. Rook. Making your way down to the university, you still see signs of heavy guard presence on street corners and in large intersections. Unlike last night, however, most are armed with clubs and blackjacks - seems like they have orders to capture any "unruly" citizens they find.
After an hour of searching, you finally catch a break. A student of phrenology mentions something that catches your attention. "Surgical tools? Well, some people will tell you that Daen, the dwarven smith makes the best ones. But for my money, I'd save my coin for the raven mark. That's old Zbraslav Hora and his son. Daen's make be sharper, but if you stability and precise strokes, look for the the rook."
If this student is correct, it seems like your efforts have paid off - you have discovered a maker of surgical tools that uses a mark of a rook (aka a raven) on his implements.
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Zbraslav Hora and Sons shop is a small wooden structure to the east of the University, down a small street named Alchemists Alley. The front door is unlocked, and you enter to find a old man sitting behind a counter, meticulously examining what appears to be a scalpel. Thick magnifying spectacles sit on his nose, and his eyes appear massive when he turns to look at you enter.
The walls of the shop are lined with shelves that contain a variety of implements that would be of interest to surgeons. Some shelves hold boxes that contain matched sets of tools, most of which have distinct handles made from unusual and rare substances.
The man removes his spectacles and replaces them with standard glasses, returning his eyes to normal size. He stands up, looks at each of you, then places his hand over his heart, "Greetings, I am Zbraslav Hora and this is my shop. May I help you with something? Gnarvl... isn't here, if you need him?"
Ah, greetings Master Hora. My name is Karl. My associates and I are part of an independently appointed team investigating the Beast of Hergstag. We mean you no harm, we would just like to ask a few questions. Do you have a moment to speak with us?
Sense Motive
Darren shifts his cloak slightly to cover the hilt of his sword, and does his best to smile comfortingly at Zbraslav. "We're the good guys, Mr. Hora," he says, "no need to fear weaponry in the hands of the good and righteous."
He seems to settle down, though his curiosity is evident, "Of course, my boy. And now that your friend mentions it, I do notice the symbols of the Divine some of you wear. So what can I do for you?"
Franc nods and waits to see what the professor has to say. Being a foreigner it seems the locals often more luck with the people of this strange land. No wonder Ragathiel saw fit to send him here.
While the more diplomatic investigators talk to Master Hora, Professor Rokannon idly checks out the shop and the implements being made.
As an afterthought, he surreptitiously casts Detect Magic.
Turning around, he realizes that the party is waiting for him to ask a question. At first goggling at them as if they were crazy, he draws himself up as if he were in front of a class, pacing back and forth, eyebrows in a frown. He barely resists calling Master Hora up to a blackboard.
"Ah, yes. Hm. Where was your son during the riot yesterday?"
He takes his pipe out and jabs the stem in his direction.
Zbraslav's eyes open wide as the pipe is thrust in his direction. He stammers before responding, "Now sir, what business is it of yours where Gnarvl was last night? If it matters, he was home. With me... All night long!"
Sir, Karl says in a low and dangerous voice. Hindering our investigation could have serious consequences for you and your son. The sort of consequences that your friends will not be able to help you escape.
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Shanoa shoots Karl a look before laughing heartily and smiles at the man. "Please, no need to be so defensive. I apologize, we didn't mean for this to be an interrogation - we honestly just want to help. If your son is mixed up in some sort of trouble, it's in your and our best interest to intervene, but we can't do that without your help."
Professor Rokannon peers at Zbraslav coldly, draws on his pipe and blows a cloud of smoke into the air, dimming the ambient light source.
"You have heard of the Beast of Lepidstadt, have you not?"
He smokes some more, using Prestidigitation to further widen the cloud and obscure the light source, giving the whole scene an ominous tinge.
"All those crimes. The whole families, entire villages murdered. It is only reasonable that good people howl for blood, right?.
"And yet... We have only started looking into these crimes, and do you know, the creature is not guilty of at least half of the crimes he is accused of. And yet, here we find a mob howling for his blood.
"A mob being whipped up by men."
He blows more obscuring smoke.
"Rich men."
He blows more obscuring smoke.
"Powerful men."
More smoke yet.
"Men who would not hesitate in eliminating a tool once it has served their purpose."
He looks directly at Zbraslav.
"Such as your son, no?"
He leans in to the man.
"We hunt such men. Your son's only chance is if we get to those men first."
Karl kicks Rokannon.
"Ow! What was THAT for?"
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Shanoa's eyes widen and she almost shrieks. After Karl kicks Rokannon, Shanoa springs into action, waving her arms around trying to dispel some of the smoke, then grabs a few arms and starts to forcefully lead them out the front door. "Oooookay, I think it's getting a bit too crowded in here. Why don't you all stand guard outside while I have a few words privately with the good shopkeeper." After shoving (none too kindly) everyone else out the door, she closes it quickly before anyone has a chance to protest and turns back to Zbraslav.
"I'm terribly sorry about all that. They mean well, they really do, they're just...well...I'm sorry." She shakes her head. "Look, at this point we don't know if your son was or wasn't involved in anything last night, but if he was he needs help. We're not out to get him, or you for that matter, we just want to make sure the Beast gets a fair trial and that nobody gets killed in the process. Now if you don't mind, could you start with what you know about your son's whereabouts last night?"
Franc raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of everyone coming out the door, but continues his conversation with the city guard till he is able to excuse himself and join his companions.
Walking over to them he ask,"Any news?"
Once everyone is ushered outside anxiously by Shanoa, Darren shrugs his shoulders awkwardly at Franc. "There may have been some... heated discussion. Nothing Shanoa can't handle," he pauses, "I hope."
Franc grimaces a little at Darren's reassuring remarks. "How heated? Do I need lend a calming hand to this visit?"
"We found that he was trying to cover for his son." Professor Rokannon replied, limping a little. "Then Karl kicks me in the shins! Like he was doing so well himself.." He groused.
Karl grins at Rokannon and stifles a laugh. At least I knew when to quit.
Franc laughs and shakes his head, "I suppose I better keep out of it for now then."
Zbraslav becomes visibly angry at the accusations, but Shanoa's quick thinking manages to calm him considerably. Pondering her words, he finally sags on his stool.
"I try to give him everything he ever want or need. Like a good parent should - care for my boy, teach him trade, try to show him hard work result in owning shop and becoming respected in community. But him? Pfft! No, not enough money for him. He want to wear fancy clothes, jewels, ride in carriages. Not willing to work hard and save, want to make money now, fastest way possible."
He slaps himself in the chest, "He tell me I'm foolish, not good father. Holding him back from being rich and powerful. So I kick him out. I find him next day, stealing tools from the shop. This has been... many months."
His anger is still present, but Shanoa can see the man still cares deeply for his son. "I see him last week. He come by to say hello, tell me he was sorry and I was right. He look tired and worn down, so I invite him to stay, sleep in house and talk, but he refuse. Say he had own place and job now. But I know him, I think he in trouble. Involved with riots? Maybe, not sure. But definitely not in good spirits."
The old man stands quickly, reaches up to a shelf, then pulls down a ledger. Flipping through it, he finally lands on a page, "Here, Radniche was friends with Gnarvl. He might know where to find my son. We rivals so not get along, but he may speak with you. He's greedy though, Radniche. May require much gold for information."
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Shanoa nods and places her hand on the man's shoulder. "Thank you, really. I believe you're really done your best - but children live their own lives and it's ultimately their own choice what direction they take. If we find your son, we'll do our best to help, but I think you know it may already be too late." She glances again at the ledger. "Do you know where we might find him?"
The older man nods and scratches some notes and a small map on a scrap of paper.
"Please, if you find him, tell him that he can always come home."
When Shanoa emerges from the cutler's shop, Karl looks at her expectantly. Any leads? Where to next?
"Good work, Shanoa. The day already seems full of witches and criminals and it's barely even half over!" Darren sighs expressively, but you can tell by a certain gleam in his eye that he loves the excitement of unraveling their new mystery.
Onward to this Radniche's shop then. Let's see what it has in store for us.
You head down the street as directed toward the location Zbraslav described. Traffic is picking up, and there are more and more people moving about - it seems like the citizens of Lepidstadt are going about their daily business despite the riots that almost broke out last night.
Shanoa notices the sign first, a round symbol with a diagonal scalpel pointing downward. When you are a few stores away, a robed figure emerges from Radniche's shop. Your keen eyes note the dagger partially hidden in its black clawed hand. The figure looks one way, then in your direction. The long black beak of a tengu is impossible to miss. His eyes find your group, widen for a moment, then the creature turns quickly and hurries the other direction.
Tapping along irritably, Professor Rokannon notes the figure coming out of Radniche's shop.
"Well, that's interesting." He noted, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "That Tengu's face looks like a crow. And one species is known as a Rook. Quite a coincidence don't you think?" He looks sidelong at his fellows. "Shall I follow him?"
Karl sees Shanoa charge off, and rushes after her on his horse.
"After him, then!" Darren rushes forward after the retreating Tengu.
Round 1:
Professor Rokannon casts Expeditious Retreat on himself.
Round 2:
He takes off after the others.
Cursing his lack of a mount, Franc falls in behind his fellows.
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The tengu tears off around the street with the group breaking into pursuit almost immediately. The Professor casts a spell upon himself then breaks into a magically-enhanced sprint.
Karl urges his mount forward, but the horse stops short of charging into the narrow alley. Shanoa races past, with Franc and Darren a few steps ahead.
Karl spots another alley down the street and spurs his mount that direction, this time having no problem as the horse charges down the side street. Faradir's robes blow dust into the air as they swirl around the older man as he almost flies down the alley. Franc, Darren, and Shanoa keep pace with the wizard, following closely.
The tengu glances over its shoulder, and quickly darts into a doorway off the main alley, cries and breaking glass signalling its passage. As the group moves to follow, Faradir's feet get tangled and he spins around, falling into Shanoa as she begins to slow down. Darren is thrown off balance, but stays upright as he catches hold of the door frame. France avoids the chaos as he not only stays on his feet, but barely loses any speed as he bursts through the doorway in pursuit of the fleeing tengu.
Hearing a commotion and the familiar voices of his companions, Karl turns his horse down another street to try and head off his quarry.
The tengu bursts out of a doorway only thirty feet away from Karl, but sees him and begins fleeing the other direction. As he moves away, he pushes a stack of boxes down to slow his pursuers. Karl urges his horse forward and sees Franc emerge from the same doorway as the tengu. The man speeds forward and kicks the boxes out of the way, startling the horse, but Karl's firm grip keeps the beast headed the right direction.
Darren bobs and weaves as he negotiates his way through the shop, sprinting to catch up with Karl and Franc, while Shanoa and Faradir become even more entangled and end up falling down on top of each other.
Franc and Karl round another corner to see the tengu prying open a sewer grate at the back of a dead-end alley.
Franc leaps forward to tackle the creature, but the bird man dodges at the last second. Karl pushes his horse forward immediately behind Franc and jumps off the saddle to knock the tengu to the ground. They both roll around for a few seconds before Darren comes around the corner and stops the tengu with his sword at the creature's throat.
A few moments later, both Shanoa and Faradir come around the corner, each of them red-faced and dirty.
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With Darren's sword at the bird-man's throat, Karl extricates himself from the grapple and closes the sewer grate. That done, he moves his horse to the mouth of the alley. He positions the beast to block the passage from travelers and prying eyes. He then keeps watch, longbow in hand, scanning the rooftops as well as the street for any unwelcome visitors.
Darren keeps his sword point down toward the cornered tengu, panting heavily from the chase. "Good thinking, Karl: now we can have some privacy."
"Now then, Mr. Rook, is it? You're in no honorable position to die, so as long as you cooperate rest assured that your life will be spared. Try my patience, however, and you'll feel the pain of it for weeks to come."
"Now, tell us quick, where is Gnarvl? His own damned family doesn't know, so now we're asking his friends. Speak up!"
Intimidate
"Thank Ragathiel for touching my armor...." Franc says as he dust off the debris from the chase and missed tackle. "What has he to say, young knight?"
The tengu simply glares at Darren, then glances at Karl, then back at the sword on his throat. He remains silent.