Though typically cold, the weather in Aldencross is quite pleasant late on the first Fireday of Pharast. It's the first weekend of spring, after all. Each of our would-be heroes has somehow made their way to to The Lord's Dalliance, the only inn worth mentioning in Aldencross. Though a small town, The Lord's Dalliance is actually a spacious and quite opulent establishment. The main room, littered with over a dozen tables, is so large and open that four equidistant pillars are used to support the rest of the structure. A large, curved bar extends from the edge of one wall to the other, encapsulating a corner of the room for the tall, gruff, black-haired barkeep to stand behind. Against one of the walls behind the bar is a door, perhaps leading to a pantry, and near the entrance is a stairwell leading up to private rooms. Being the first weekend of spring, the tavern should be exceptionally lively and full with dozens of people. Yet, few are here this evening. Four local men sit at one table, quietly talking among each other. A mediocre bard sings tales of the battle of Tamberlyn. Cal Concorde and Kiasyd sit alone at one table, discussing their travel plans for tomorrow; Kyriel, quietly at another. Karl finds himself sitting at the bar, laughing and telling stories with Jain Borthen, the night shift bartender and close friend of the owner, Bellam Barholde. A brown eyed, short black-haired woman, dressed in a simple dress walks down the stairs and gazes around the room, looking quite confused. It is at that moment that Nukilik arrives, capturing the womans attention. She is Jenna Barhold, Bellams wife; she and Bellam have always been friendly and inviting with Nukilik. She rushes over to him, but with the loudness and intensity of her voice, and the way she constantly turns her head to scan the room, it would almost seem as if she was addressing anyone that could hear.
"Nukilik!," she cries out, "it's Bellam, he's gone missing since this morning! I tried telling the guards, but there must be a flu going around at Balentyne. So many of the guards are sick, so they couldn't spare any to look into it right now. I can't wait until the new week just to have them start looking for him. Please...you must find him! I'd be happy to pay you for your time.
Karl looks loathe to leave his drink, but reluctantly puts it down and shoves away from the bar, unable to simply ignore someone in trouble.
He does give the bartender a side eye though.
"Why didn't you tell me Bellam had gone missing? I thought he was just taking the day off!"
Karl puts on his best "professional" face and does his best not to stagger as he walks over to the bear and the bird.
"Any details you can provide, m'am? Do you know where he was going this morning?"
Kyriel glances down at Kwik, his turtle familiar, casually nibbling on a hunk of carrot protruding from Kyriel's own bowl. As their eyes met, Kwik glanced towards the door where the woman started talking to the bear. Kyriel's gaze followed.
Ah, so that's the Naatanuk I've heard about...and...oh...
As the woman spilled her story, Kyriel felt a pang of guilt as he considered offering his help. He did after all, have his own mission.
As the big half-orc rose and stumbled over, Kyriel sighed, his decision seemingly made for him.
"I'm sure he means no harm Kwik, but let's just make sure, shall we?" he whispered to the turtle as he picked him up and made his way over to the woman.
"Kyriel, ma'am, of the Whitecaps. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Cal idly spears a portion of blood sausage with his knife and popped it into his mouth as he watched the proceedings with mild curiosity. He was a lanky man, just a touch taller than average with an unruly mop of brown-black hair. In his riding clothes and sporting a worn traveling cloak, he was not exactly impressive to look at. He was clearly the sort to pinch every copper he could despite having paid for his and Kiasyd's drinks and meal thus far.
Save for the bulky contraption that only bore a passing resemblance to the crossbows issued to conscripted soldiers, Cal did not carry any visible weapons.
"What do you think, Kais? Make a bit of spare coin tracking down someone who probably got drunk and fell asleep in a ditch?" Cal kept his voice quiet enough to keep from sharing his theory with the rest of the tavern. "None of those lot look like impressive trackers, 'cept maybe the bear-thing."
Neither man was exactly an altruistic soul at this point in their lives. Altruism was what got Cal dumped out of his military career with only some saved coin and a lot of scars to show for it. He was not, however, adverse to a bit of light work for some coin. Cal had plans, admittedly those plans involved a large quantity of livestock and some potentially miserable nights subjecting himself to his own cooking out on the trail but they were still plans.
Jenna paused for a moment, looking down at the ground with shame. After catching her breath and calming down, she lifted her head again to meet Nukilik's gaze.
"Karl!", she stammered, "I-I'm so sorry, I hadn't even realized you were here! I don't even know where to begin," she fumed. "It's bigger than Bellam, it has to be! The old gossiping grump saw it, he knew something was wrong and the rest of us just naively went about thinkin' it all coincidence! It all started about a month ago. Barnabus Thrane and the six other dwarves working on the gatehouse were found dead by Captain Varnholde in the woods, covered in claw marks so we thought them mauled by wild bears. The day after, Captain Mott found out Captain Eddarly was having an affair with his wife! They dueled like the old ways, Mott ran Eddarly through and they dragged Mott off to Branderscar to be executed! Just a lovers tryst, we said! Next thing we know, Mad Martin kills all his ravens and carrier pigeons and jumps off the top of the aviary. He's always been nutty, we told ourselves. We heard thereafter that Father Donnigan was caught diddling children and was sent to Matharyn for punishment, Tacitus the scribe went missing too, presumably from grief. Just a string of bad luck we thought, but Bellam said it was all connected and had to look into it. I told him not to! I told him!," she paused again, trying to calm down and half sobbing, "Early this morn, when it was still dark out, he said he was getting out from bed to tend the stables outside the inn, and he never came back. I tried getting word to his brother Captain Barholde up at Balentyne but we only have two guards in town today, apparently they've all sick with something! I was even going to wait for the four lads who have been staying here the last two months to help, but they haven't returned this evening either! Please, you must find him, and I'll pay a hundred gold each to anyone who helps in it! The Dalliance is nothing....I'm nothing without him here!"
Exhausted and overwhelmed, Jenna finds the nearest chair and seats herself, resting her cheek against the table.
"What the hell have I stepped into?" Karl says, a bit too loudly.
"Well, I suppose I've got some time before I have to go deal with those dwarves. Maybe I can help find where he went. I'm not much of a tracker though...but if we do find him, and he was taken by somebody, we might need to do a little fighting. And I'm damn good at that." he smiles.
"Hey, don't worry! They'll probably be so scared of the talking bear and the scary greenskin they'll just run off!"
Well, if this Karl is joking around, I doubt he means her any harm. And who knows, maybe engendering some goodwill locally will help me make my case to the commander-- I should see this through.
Having decided to help the woman, in no small part due to his curiosity surrounding the half-orc and the bear, Kyriel addresses the others, and the woman.
"The tracking I can help you with, Master Bear. I'm no bloodhound, but when you live as my people do, you learn a few tricks. I'm really more of a swordsman myself, if I'm being honest, but if there's something to follow Miss, we'll find it."
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"A hundred gold?" Cal said, eyebrows shooting up. That was a lot for an afternoon's work. He stood and straightened his cloak and cleared his throat.
"Those are some serious concerns, Ma'am. Clearly as good-hearted and Mitra-fearing men, we have a duty to help out those in need. I'm a fair hand at tracking, and if there is trouble, Mathilda and I can handle it."
With that, Cal hefted the massive collection of metal and wood he had brought in with him and hit a release. Two arms ending in large pulleys snapped into place. Unlike a traditional crossbow, these ran almost parallel along the length of the weapon, giving it an odd silhouette. A lever ran along the stock and affixed to the bottom was some sort of wooden case.
Sitting upright again, Jenna composes herself and wipes a few tears away. "I can't thank you enough," she says softly, "I suppose I should start getting breakfast ready for the patrons, usually Bellam does all this. The last I really knew, Bellam was going to the stables that are just outside. Please find my husband."
"To the stables then." Kyriel replies, deftly stepping back over to his table and shouldering his pack.
I guess it's a good thing I hadn't made it to my room yet...
Flipping up a flap on the satchel at his waist he deposits Kwik, who seems content to watch from safety, his front legs and head sticking up over the edge of the bag.
Upon returning to Jenna's table, Kyriel addresses Cal, and gestures towards Kiasyd.
"So your Mathilda you've introduced, but what is your name, my Mitra-fearing friend? And will your silent companion over there be joining us as well?"
Karl follows, less gracefully.
"We'll leave him be. Ol'Kais can be a bit of a wet blanket, ain't that right Kais?" Calcifer called back to his thus far stoic traveling companion. Cal shook his head, hoping a good natured jab would get the man moving a secure them another hundred gold.
[b]"Calcifer Concord, at your service," the marksman said cheerily.
The stables are literally directly outside of the inn, taking a left after exiting the front door. They're far from impressive, it's more of an awning covered with enough thicket to keep rain from penetrating. The stalls are separated with cheap lumber, enough to house six horses, but presently only holding three. At the far end is a thick double door leading underground with a cheap bar lock extending between two metal rings attached to each door. The hay on the ground looks like it could have been laid out this morning, the fringes past where the horses have reach are untouched by the weather.
"Karl Fulson. Loyal servant of Mitra and this country, yada yada and all that."
Karl opens the door.
"Who knows? Maybe he's just hiding from his wife down here."
As Karl attempts to open the door, he realizes that it is locked. He fruitlessly fiddles with the bar for a few moments before realizing he will need a key or to just break it, it doesn't look sturdy at all.
Meanwhile, Nukilik moves some of the hay around. As he closes near the double-door, he notices a spot of blood on the cobblestone. Moving more of the hair, the blood begins to form a trail widening as it leads towards the doors. The blood itself is quite faded, and it appears that someone had attempted to clean it before covering it.
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"Mitra's Flaming Balls -May he be ever beneficent-!" Karl curses.
"I'd still hoped he might be unharmed."
Karl kicks the stubborn door down with one swift motion.
While the others inspected the door, Cal went to one of the horses. She was a stately roan mare that seemed to be as noble as Cal was not. She stamped a hoof and looked out upon the gathered oddities imperiously. Still, her shifting revealed her nervousness at the scent of blood and what seemed to be a predator to her.
"Easy, Hester, easy. I'll fetch you some oats in a bit, yeah?" Cal said scratching the horse under her chin like an oversized dog. She snorted and shook her head.
"Alright, alright, I'll ask but I don't know if the innkeeper has any apples. What about a pear?" The horse considered her options and nosed the side of Cal's face, nearly knocking his hat from his head. Cal chuckled and patted the side of her neck, "That's what I thought, girl."
Something about those doors must not have rubbed Karl right, maybe they insulted his mother in a previous life. Whatever the reason, while Karl might have intended to just kick the double-doors squarely on the joint to bust them open, his foot and leg proceeded to carry out a kick of legendary proportion. Like Leonidas giving a Persian emissary the fated spartan kick into the death pit, like Daniel LaRusso crane kicking his fated adversary, with the force of a thousand horses, the doors shatter into shards of wood and a cloud of dust, vanquished for eternity.
The newly-made opening leads to a 15 foot stairwell, dropping down into the supply cellar of The Lord's Dalliance. Aside from the wood chips and dust slowly settling to the floor, the room is unrealistically clean. The walls and floor are all stone of high quality dwarven craftsmanship. Well-stocked shelves line the walls, and make a few rows running down the center of the room as well. On the opposite end of the the stable-side stairwell is another set of stairs leading up, presumably to the kitchen in The Dalliance. The wide, outside cellar access mainly serves for conveniently getting large deliveries of stock inside.
"Door repairs can come out of your pay," Cal said, brushing past the somewhat stunned crowd and venturing down the stairs with the horrible contraption he had name Mathilda held at the ready. He was playing the role of tracker so he might as well look the party.
Working a lever on the underside of Mathilda, pulled the strings back and drew a bolt up from the case affixed to her underside. Shouldering the weapon and descending into the cellar. Moving cautiously he swept the spaces he passed through.
"No purpose to a door that won't open. To my mind it was broken anyway!"
Upon seeing the scrubbed interior, Karl groans.
"Did they drag him off and clean up down here too?"
He desperately searches for any clues, pointing them out to everyone if he finds some.
Aside from being unusually clean, there is nothing spectacular about the cellar. Closer inspection reveals the racks are crafted from cheap milled lumber and slightly dry-rotted. Most of them have probably been there for the better part of a century. They are lined with dried and salted meats, fresh fruits and vegetables, extra plates and cutlery, barrels of mead, bottles of spirits and everything else that an establishment of this nature would be expected to have.
However, something does stand out of place: A white and blue painted crate with a gold ribbon (that has been untied). The lid is slightly ajar, revealing that the crate holds twelve lavishly decorated bottles of wine.
Karl inspects it a bit more closely, throwing the lid fully open and pulling out one of the bottles.
"Easy there, killer," Cal said, still looking around, "Those look significantly more expensive than the door."
Each bottle looks more crystalline than glass, and filled to the tip with a deep burgundy wine. The top of each is covered in wax, with some sort of seal pressed into to the top. Around the bottle is a white cloth label, pre-sewn and forced snugly over the bottle itself. Sewn into the label in royal blue is the word "Sharrierr."
Karl is many things. Strong, perceptive, handsome.
But not particularly knowledgeable.
Quite the group we are, indeed, he thinks, impressed with Karl's feat of strength, despite his obvious lack of subtlety, and with Cal's retort.
The blood trail, however, did worry him. Clearly the woman's concerns were not unfounded.
Kyriel looks with interest as the Karl examines the bottle more closely.
Sharrierr? Hrm...
Sharrierr. The only place one really hears about this wine in in Matharayn. Only twelve dozen bottles are made a year, and often found in the possession of royalty or extremely wealthy nobles. Rumor has it, were it sold somewhere, it may very well go for over a thousand gold per bottle; but this wine is specifically from the King's vineyard, and usually gifted out by him. While the inn is rather opulent, given the location, this wine couldn't be more out of place here.
Karl whistles.
"This is some high class hooch. What the blazes is it doing down here?"
"...And more importantly, think anyone would mind if I took a swig or three?"
What's such an expensive crate doing in a place like this?
Kyriel arches an eyebrow and sighs in the direction of Karl.
"Probably the could-be widow upstairs who's hired us to find her missing husband would mind. Speaking of her, maybe we should ask where this stuff came from in the first place."
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"That's a good question to start with, yeah. Doesn't look like we'll be finding anything here."
Karl heads back to see Jenna.
"Don't panic, but I think you might be right. We found blood near the stables, and the cellar looked swept clean."
"...I destroyed the door by the way. Sorry. It was locked, and the door looked at me all funny...you know how it goes."
"Anyway, do you know anything about the case of Sharrier in there? That is some EXPENSIVE booze."
Jennas face contorts with worry as the word 'blood' is brought up. She chokes back a few tears and wipes the moisture from her eyes before it runs down her cheek.
"Blood? Please tell me it's not Bellams! And, Sharrier? There's no way we'd have any of that. We could never afford a bottle of that, let alone a case! I don't recall any royalty visiting us giving it away either. I know Bellam loves a good wine, and has always considered himself some connoisseur, but I can't believe he'd have that here."
"Well, come see for yourself if you want. There's a whole bunch of it down in your cellar. Maybe someone kidnapped him over it? Was Bellam involved with some kind of bad crowd, maybe?"
"Do you know if he'd made any new friends recently? Maybe someone stole it and convinced Bellam to let hims stash it in your cellar. And then they, uh, killed him over it?"
Something seems off. If that's the case, why leave the, well, case? Either Bellam found the most honorable murder-thief in Talingarde, or we're missing something...
Jenna looks up at Karl, trying to think of anything out of the ordinary with Bellam before addressing everyone, "New friends? I don't think so. We rarely even have traveler come to town. I suppose he made fast friends with those four retired adventurers who start staying here a few months ago, but they're such sweet men. One of them even helped Mama Guiseppe carry stew a mile up to Balentyne for the soldiers. Come to think of it though, they didn't come back last night, I hope they're ok. As for the Sharrier, I thought it never even left Matharyn unless the King gave it as a gift!"
"Retired adventurers?" Cal said incredulously, "Lady, anyone going around calling themselves an adventurer, retired or not, is up to something." Cal had always had an intuitive grasp for how things fit together. Not book learning per se but he picked up on things quickly and now parts were starting to fall into place and he did not like the picture it painted.
"I need a look in their rooms and a list of any movements they may have taken during their stay. Nukilik, yer a... local, right? You know anything about them?"