”We should find this Hallod and question him, then. Any idea where we can find him?”
Fliss has an amazingly sweet tooth - she practically squees at the jar of honey and hastily 'disappears' it into her rucksack with a breathless "Hey, thanks!"
She refocuses and nods in agreement with what Dar is saying. "I hate to say it, but if it wasn't one of those two then we're really stuck. Can you tell us where to find Trin or Phinick?"
She looks at Shaumatiel: "Should we chase down these two before we go after another lead?" It's phrased as a question, but her tone of voice makes it clear what the "right" answer should be. Fliss is not sure about whether Hallod is worth pursuing - it sure sounds like this sweet old lady has a grudge against him, but by her own admission he wasn't around when the poisoning took place.
It's not her job to take sides between villagers who have a score to settle. If she'd wanted to do that she'd have never left home.
Shaumatiel nods to Fliss. "Trin and Phinick first, then Hallod."
Giu opts to let Fliss get away with theft, but his motive for that might not be altogether noble. After what happened to Bort, he simply finds it hard to build up an appetite in this place. "Say, if no one could've poisoned him, perhaps the dwarf wasn't the target of whoever brought the poison, and whoever ended up poisoning him, might've done so by mistake? That chaotic brawl, something might've happened then."
The bard shrugs. He knows he's purely speculating and, with no proof to back anything up, his words are without weight. "It's worth keeping in mind, as we're all strangers in this forsaken town, and so far we haven't come across anything that would suggest Bort had enemies here ..."
"Whether it was Bort or not, someone was attempting to poison someone last night," Dar says. "I agree with Shaumatial. Let's talk to Trin and Phinick."
Giu opts to let Fliss get away with theft, but his motive for that might not be altogether noble.
After what happened to Bort, he simply finds it hard to build up an appetite in this place. "Say, if no one could've poisoned him, perhaps the dwarf wasn't the target of whoever brought the poison, and whoever ended up poisoning him, might've done so by mistake? That chaotic brawl, something might've happened then."
Fliss looks disconcerted. "I hadn't thought of that. If someone else was the target, we're back to square one."
"No, we're still trying to find out who put the poison into Bort's food. The 'why' can come later," Dar says with a shake of his head.
"Huh. That's true." Fliss brightens up. "We don't even know enough to be at square two. Going back to square one would be, like, progress for us, I guess?"
The bard stumbles into a pit of negativity just as Fliss finds her way back to the sun. "That's life for you. Just when you think you know something, you stumble upon a new world-shattering truth. T'makes you realize just how small you are, if not outright inconsequential. Eh, anyway, to Trin we go."
"Speak for yourself," Dar mutters to himself at Giuseffe's negative worldview.
Amora tells you that Trin lives with her brother on a small turnip farm on on the southwest side of town. Her directions are clear and precise, but then you are coming to expect nothing less from her.
As you approach the farmhouse, you hear a cry of alarm, and spot a man (who by his appearance is obviously Trin's brother Marny) running around the side of the house. Seconds later, there is a squeal of rage and a huge boar, with black bristles and wicked-looking yellow tusks runs into view, clearly in pursuit of the unfortunate farmer!
Giu breaks into an improv song while deftly drawing arcane symbols with his right hand. A translucent shield forms between the boar and Fliss - but will it be enough to withstand the raging animal's fury?
"... and the farmer ran from his plight, not wanting to become the angry boar's spit-roast delight ..." Admittedly, it isn't one of his best works.
Seemingly happy to see something that he can actually fight, Dar draws his weapon and moves to engage the beast in an attempt to keep it from advancing further on Marny.
Bolstered by Giu's magic, Fliss runs foward, bracing her shield at the last moment to receive the boar's charge.
Seeing the intruders, the boar turns its attention from the farmer (who prudently carries on running away) and charges at Fliss.
Even with her shield braced to block the worst of the impact, Fliss feels the full weight of the creature hit her, and a jagged tusk breaks through her shield and scores a hit on her arm. Another swipe from the enraged boar gouges deeply into her leg, with a spurt of bright-red arterial blood.
Dar 20/20
Fliss 3/20
Giuseffe 17/17
Shaumatiel 13/13
Fliss gives a dignified cry of pain shrill scream of absolute agony as the boar overwhelms her defences. She's never trained for anything like this.
She stabs desperately at the beast with her sword, while doing her best to keep herself protected from further attacks and calling on Abadar to stop the worst of the bleeding.
With a short stream of arcane words, a haze of force appears next to Dar as he begins to slash at the walking dinner food selection.
Shaumatiel moves closer before caressing her holy symbol and blowing a kiss to Fliss, healing her.
It's that everyone is too occupied with the boar or else they'd see Giu making intricate hand gestures as his voice wills into existence occult powers. A translucent spark of energy snaps from the bard's outstretched index finger to the boar's skull, overloading the poor creature's brain with too complex thoughts.
Fliss's desperate attack misses the boar, but Dar hits it solidly, cutting through the bristles and tough skin to draw blood. The boar squeals madly with rage, the froth at its mouth tinged red with its own blood. (Giu's mental assault works but seems to make it even angrier)
It gores at Dar in a frenzied attack that leaves the half-elf barely standing, before turning tail and running for the safety of the forest.
Boar 26 damage
Dar 0/20 (plus whatever the Retributive Strike prevents)
Fliss 20/20
Giuseffe 17/17
Shaumatiel 13/13
It's Dar's turn to receive a healing kiss from Shaumatiel! Once that's done, the elf moves up behind the fighter.
Fliss doesn't notice the blown kiss (perhaps fortunately for Shaumatiel) as she's too busy trying to fight for her life against this overgrown roast dinner. She does notice the healing spell, which crawls over her skin like wasps - not painful as such, but certainly a bit prickly.
Distracted by that, her attack misses the boar as it gores Dar, although the protective effect of her smite shields him from some of the harm.
As the beast turns it's razor-sharp tusks to him, Dar interposes his magical shield to block some of the damaage.
He feels the healing kiss from the elf and throws a thankful glance in her direction.
Shaumatiel moves to Marny's side to examine the man. "What happened? Are you injured?"
The farmer is in a slight state of shock, but he blinks and shakes his head rapidly as Shaumatiel approaches him. "No, thanks to you and your friends I'm unhurt, miss."
Hearing the commotion, a young woman runs out of the house to embrace her brother. "By the gods, Marny, what happened? Are you alright?" She turns to face you, and you see that it is Trin, the waitress from the tavern. The livid bruise on her cheek from where the mug struck her last night has turned from purple to ugly yellow.
"I'm so glad you were here to help him! Thank you! Do come in. But what brings you this far from the tavern?"
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Fliss is still shaking slightly from the ferocity of the encounter and it takes her a couple of goes to get her upssettingly clean sword back into its scabbard. She looks at her shield and the damage it has suffered, with a slight sense of disbelief.
That thing almost killed me, and it would have done if the others hadn't stepped in! What am I doing here, what am I trying to prove, do I really want - NO! My leggings!
Her gaze falls on the damage the boar inflicted - not to her, she's healed, but to her clothing. Not only is one leg absolutely soaked with still-drying blood, but the gouge from the boar's tusk is going to be impossible to patch without leaving visible stitching.
A fashion crisis trumps an existential crisis any day. She cuts a subdued figure as she follows the others into the house.
"We actually came to speak to you, Trin," Shaumatiel says as she follows her into the house. "We are investigating the death of the caravan master, Bort. You were at the tavern last night. Did you see or hear anything unusual? Anybody unusual?"
Trin stops dead and turns round to look at Shaumatiel in disbelief, her face tirning pale, which throws the bruise on her cheek into sharp relief. "W-what?! Dead? What? How?" She looks absolutely shocked - it's clear that she had no idea what took place after she left.
Regaining a measure of control, she stumbles over to one of the chairs and sits down heavily. She takes a deep breath. "Please tell me what happened."
Trin's reaction of shock and grief disarms Giu. What doubts he might have had before entering their house have now disappeared and he leans against one of the chairs, casually giving the place a glance before moving his attention back to the waitress. "After the brawl, Bort continued to eat as he wasn't quite done sampling the turnips and, after gulping down a mouthful, started to choke. There was nothing we could do before he passed away."
Innocent or not, Giu isn't about to tell her everything they know just yet. With visible reluctance, he finishes his take on what happened. "We think something was put into his food."
Dar stands next to one of the windows and listens as the others relay what happened in the inn the night before. Periodically he glances outside as if expecting the boar to return any moment.
Fliss abandons subtlety altogether. If she has to suffer damage to her clothing, nobody else gets to have it easy either. "His porridge was poisoned. We've talked with Amora and I don't think she did it, because she cares about her kitchen and its reputation. She's said that only you and Phinick could have done anything to Bort's food - although she was like, way clear that she didn't think either of you would do anything that heinous."
Still brooding on her fashion injuries she doesn't really pay attention to Trin's reaction.
"To be completely fair, no one we've talked to thinks anyone they know would be capable of such an act. And yet, someone did do it - so, somehow, people's assumptions are wrong," Dar says looking away from the window.
Trin looks horrified at the news - as well as the idea that she might be a suspect. "What?! No! I, I mean, I didn't even know Bort was dead until you people arrived. And Phinick - I mean, he hates violence! Any time there's a fight at the Feedmill, he's one of the first to run away."
Her brother looks uneasy about the whole thing, as well he might. "In fairness, though, that's because people used to pick him up and throw him at someone else. Don't get the wrong idea, though," he adds hastily as Trin glares at him. "I can't see him deliberately hurting anyone. It's too out of character for him."
You seem to have ruled out two of the three suspects. Trin and Marny invite you to stay for lunch out of gratitude for saving him from that boar, but after that there's not much keeping you here.
Shaumatiel thanks the siblings for their time and the meal. Afterwards, she suggests, "Let's try to find Hallod now, as he seems to be the more likely suspect. If that lead doesn't pan out, we can look for Phinick."
"As you wish, M'lady of the sting," Dar says with a slight bow and a smile.
Leaving the small house, he keeps an eye out for the injured boar.
Fliss looks puzzled: she can't work out how Hallod is a more likely suspect when he wasn't even in the tavern when Bort was poisoned. But the elf seems confident enough, so she tags along.
It is late afternoon by the time you leave Trin and Marny's house, heading back into town. As you walk past the Feedmill tavern, Dar's sharp eyes spot a small figure trying to sneak out of one of the back windows, several items of food in his hands - it's Phinick.
The goblin gives a shrill cry of alarm as he sees that you have spotted him. Dropping the bread, pickles and cheeses to the ground, he takes off as fast as his legs will carry him!
Shaumatiel rolls her eyes and moves to pursue the goblin. "Only guilty people run away! Or at least those with guilty consciences!"
If she is able to get close enough, she lashes out with her whip to attempt to trip Phinick.
Shaumatiel speeds forward in pursuit and the chase is on! Phinick looks back and squeaks in dismay, heading for the crowded space of the market square. The little goblin darts in, around and over the stalls and carts.
The nimble priestess leaps over the carts to keep pace with the goblin.
Fliss does her best to catch up with the nimble elf and the goblin. She doesn't waste her breath on shouting for him to stop.
"He's just ..." Dar begins, but finds himself talking to empty air as the others join pursuit of the thieving goblin. "Off we go, then."
The platinum-haired warrior joins the pursuit with gusto, pushing past barriers to reach the small prey.
All four of you have no problems in keeping pace with Phinick through the market. Increasingly panicking, the goblin races through and over the stalls and onto the road, where he sprints for all he is worth!
Endurance is not Shaumatiel’s strong suit, and she slows down as she starts to get tired...
Fliss sprints along in hot pursuit, although she is wishing she wasn't carrying so much. "When - did they - start allowing - the bad guys - to run away?" Her breath comes in short gasps, but she keeps pace with the goblin.
"The ... little bastard's ... got spunk," Dar gasps out to Fliss as they pound feet in an attempt to catch him.
Fliss and Dar, more battle-hardened than their companions, keep pace with the goblin but Shaumatiel and Giuseffe fall behind slightly. Whimpering with fear, Phinick seems almost to blur as he dives to one side, tumbling his way into an alley before scrambling up, spitting mud but running still.
Shaumatiel gracelessly slips and falls on her butt in the mud. ”Ugh, how undignified!”
"No, not the mud!" Fliss glares at the retreating goblin. No way is she ruining her boots for that little squirt. She hastily picks a path through the muck of the alley, trying to avoid as much of it as she can.