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Vires cleans off his blade then puts it away
"well that was not to bad eh, so should we finish them off or leave them to freeze "
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Angus stops and cleans his scythe's blade off on one of the fallen. He pets Fang and coos to him, as the dinosaur looks slightly embarrassed again, but lets him. He continues scratching Fang just along the top of his eye ridges as he waits for the others to begin the interrogations and information-getting.
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As Rogzul searches the bodies, he finds two notes on the leader.
The five thugs each carried a single potion, chain shirt, 3 throwing axes and a heavy wooden shield. The leader has five throwing axes, wears chainmail armor and a heavy steel shield, along with 2 more potions. All of the potions have the same kind of liquid and are labelled as "Cure Light Wounds".
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"No, we're not gonna kill them", says him to the others, "different from those men, we are not murderers", Rimble tells emphatic.
"Instead of it, we will take their gear, and gives them to the authorities, after we have checked Skani's residence. Let's keep movin' to the edge of town, quickly".
When everybody is up, Antoniollus flies with Rimble on his back to their destiny.
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Hood nods as Rimble speaks.
"Yeah, killing the fallen...that sounds a little dark for me. How about we just leave them alive, and then if they attack us again, we will beat them back in a really spectacular fashion? Maybe with some explosions next time? Or swinging on some vines or something?"
The halfling helps search the corpses reads the notes.
"Fastaxe? White? Do these names mean anything to any of you?"
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You hand the thugs over to the authorities that don't seem to like to see strangers making the law in their small town. They take it nevertheless.
In the town of Trollheim, everyone keeps to themselves. They don't like outsiders, especially nosy outsiders. The Pathfinders realize they'll need to tread lightly and ask careful questions about Hjort and Runa.
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You ask around Trollheim, careful to gauge the townspeople before approaching them with questions about strangers. It takes you the entire day and then some to get the info you need.
Theadric and Angus talk to a comely Ulfen guard who challenge them to an arm wrestling contest. She's quite impressed with the dwarven strength and by the halfling's as well, and talks about these outsiders.
“I heard about an Ulfen warrior named Hjort—don’t know his family name—who came here a while back after his entire village was slaughtered on the Arcadian coast. People say his rage toward the Pathfinder Society burns bright, as they were the ones who slaughtered his people—a people, I heard, that he was destined to be the jarl of. Those traditional warriors from the coast are serious brutes—I wouldn’t want to be one of their targets.”
markets:
Rogzul talks to a muscular Ulfen warrior and goes straight to the point. The woman respects his determination and tells the shaman what she knows.
“A dark-haired Chelish woman, family name of White, has been seen about the market recently. She’s hiring mercenaries and low-life thugs for Gorum-knows- what. If you’re looking for her to right some wrong, I’d bring a dozen more of you—she was cornered in one of the market’s darkest corners by some of Trollheim’s biggest miscreants, and just when they thought they had gotten the drop on her, she called to her god and blasted them with holy fire. She’s tough, that one, and not someone I’d mess with.”
hiring mercenaries:
An old swordsmith travels around the town during his days. Seytiko manages to talk his ear off about the smith's impressive weapon collection. They soon strike up a conversation, and the magus gets a few juicy tidbits.
“Yeah, I know those two. They approached my friends and me and offered us a ridiculous sum to work for them. No way was I going to work for a washed-up Ulfen warrior and a foreign she-devil from the south. Hjort’s eyes told all the story I needed to know: he wasn’t doing whatever he was doing for profit—he was doing it for revenge. That business has only one path, and it leads straight to Pharasma’s ample bosom. And Runa? Well, she’s a foreigner, ain’t she?”
market:
Rimble manages to find a destitute Gnome in Trollheim and converses with him without talking about his stench, using his brilliant rhetoric to win the fellow gnome to his cause.
“Can’t say as I remember the name of the place, but when they tried to hire my cousin, they told him to meet them at some hole in the market. You’d best do your poking around there and stop pestering the peaceful folk of Trollheim before they decide to yank your entrails out from your mouth and strangle you with them.”
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"Runa is Chelish." Rogzul growls as he says it. "An outsider here like us. She is hiring thugs, I do not know why."
Rogzul waits and listens to the rest of the information, though he is not quite able to piece it all together.
"The old gnome said to go to the market." Is all he has to say once the party has offered all of their information.
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"Wow, yes, yes... I found an old friend of mine...", Rimble says while lights his pipe, "he told me that once Hjort and Runa tried to hire a cousin of him, and they do their business in a shady tavern in the market. I think that we must look for them there. What do you think, my friends?", he grins.
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Once you inform each other about what you found, the city guard with which Angus and Theadric spoke and wrestled earlier seems to have followed them to see what they were doing.
She interrupts the conversation by saying:
“Hjort and Runa, you say? I know ‘em. I drink a beer and punch a guy in the face every night down at the Horned Helm, and they’ve been there for weeks—months maybe. I tell ya, that Hjort can throw a punch, and don’t get Runa started about religion — she’s likely to talk about it long enough it starts a fight and the way she ends fights ain’t fair, ain’t right, and just ain’t normal. Runa is a dark-haired woman from Cheliax, and Hjort is a large brute with red hair, a red beard, and a scar across his left cheek.”
After that, she turns her heels but stays close to watch your doings. Outsiders are never welcome.
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Once the Pathfinders meet back up, Hood eagerly explains everything they found out about Hjort, as well as his prowess in the arm-wrestling contest.
"I held my own against someone twice my size...literally!"
Vires grins at these words "Most things are twice your size thats not saying much now ehehe"
after the information is gained
"Well lets just head over there and see how the dice fall eh"
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As you seem all to agree and flee the corrosive smell, you head towards the Horned Helm. You have heard many stories about this inn. Even the roughest and toughest of Trollheim consider it to be one of the worst dives in town. At least once a week, someone has a knife sticking out or their brains bashed against the wall.
The Horned Helm is a low-slung, two-story building of questionable construction leaning heavily over a shoddy corner of mud and brick in the dankest, filthiest parcel of land in all of the market. It has no windows, as they’ve all been broken and boarded over; its only door looks like a simple plank of wood covered in scratches, burns, and probably blood stains. Noise, heat, and smoke pour out from under that door and rise to a staggering crescendo of laughter as the door swings lazily open and two bodies are unceremoniously dumped into the rutted, frozen mud streets outside. A battered sign hangs above the door, swinging on two chains, one shorter than the other. It bears the faded image of an Ulfen helm with two ridiculously large horns.
Two bodies are lying slumped outside the walls. The bodies are bruised, alive and unconscious. As you enter the insults begin almost immediately. The bartender, a one-armed bearded man is the loudest and most vile of them all. He laughs at the five scrawny wimps and their Ulfen chaperone who came into his bar.
The other thing you notice is the intense heat, blazing off of two iron furnaces full of coal. Eventually the insults cease, and the heat is a bit more comfortable.
There is a man seated opposite from the entrance, with only the profile of his left side visible to you. He matches the description of Hjort that you know of.
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Rogzul doesn't even blink at the insults thrown his way. A half-orc who lived among his more savage kin, he'd dealt with worse at a much younger age.
As he looks around the bar he notices the man who looks like Hjort and nods in agreement when Theadric points him out. He looks the man over, and watches to see if he has taken any notice of the party as they walked in.
"What should we do?" He asks those among him.
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Vires grins as he get a wicked thought
He walks right up to the man and speaks to him
"Hello boy, what say you and I head out side for a talk eh."
Vires talks a bit to loudly as he yells at the man...he then winks to his companions with a smile
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Rogzul shakes his head and bares his teeth at his companions.
"The locals do not like us!" He says hoping to get his point across.
He then turns to the man they believe is Hjort and gives the man a stern look. He extends his hand, something he has seen humans do before, and nods.
"We have questions. Maybe you can answer. Please, just talk."