It has been three days since you left Elidir, climbing into the back of one of Bort Bargith’s wagons bound for the faraway Andoran capital of Almas. The smiling caravan master cut your travel cost to only a handful of coppers, so long as you promised to protect the wagons should any trouble arise. Fortunately, your journey through the hinterlands of Isger has been quiet, even if the ride itself has been far from comfortable. As you broke camp this morning, Bort announced you should arrive at the town of Etran’s Folly by nightfall, and he promised a comfortable bed for the night as a reward for a long day’s travel. The caravan’s teamsters shared a chuckle between them, trading knowing glances and subtle nods, but soon enough you are on the road again, the wagon bouncing and creaking along the uneven trail.
Many hours later, twilight begins to paint the sky with shades of orange and purple. “Up ahead is Plaguestone,” Bort shouts from the front of the wagon. No sooner does the call fade from his lips than it is overshadowed by a series of long, mournful howls emanating from the woods some ways aside from the caravan. Bort’s face darkens and he calls for alert, but the howls appear to move further away into the woods. ”Looks like the pack found someone else to feed upon today”, Bort remarks, when the howls stop abruptly, one by one, as if cut down. ”Or someone found them first.”
The last hour of the journey passes uneventfully and the wagons lazily roll into town as dusk falls. Most of the simple wood-and-thatch homes in Etran’s Folly look identical to one another and are in a similar state of disrepair. A number of the houses clearly look abandoned, their roofs collapsed. As you pass through the middle of town, the wagons go around a square with a large, flat, moss-covered cylindrical rock standing 2 feet high, with a hole in its center and a bowl-shaped depression off to one side.
The teamsters, directed by Bort, guide the caravan to the left, where a fairly large building with a stable borders the square. A sleepy-looking halfling girl runs out from the stables to greet the caravan. ”Good to see you, master Bort! Did you have a pleasant journey? Are the horses tired from the road?”
” - Well, Edna, at least it was safe this time, thanks Torag for that much! The horses are fine, but they must be hungry and thirsty from the journey - feed them and tell Delna to take care of my crew! I have several people I’ve got to meet on business, as usual, but I should be back for supper.
” - Will do, master Bort! Do try to get back soon - Delna told everyone she’s expecting your caravan, so folk will gather to hear your fables again!”
Bort puffs up his chest and retorts in indignation: ”Don’t you call them fables - they’re true experiences, all of them! Especially the one about the Chilled Giant! I could have died, you know! It’s not something to make fun of!” He storms off but you could swear he winked when he looked back at you.
The halfling stablehand Edna harumphs as she begins freeing up the horses and leading them to the stables. She motions towards the entrance door of the building. ”Folks, if you need a refreshment after the long journey, Delna will have something for you at the bar of the Feedmill. I will take care of the horses.”
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Vengis Mountebank has a handsome face but graying hair; he looks like he has enjoyed a lifetime of popularity with the ladies. He looks at the town skeptically.
There does not appear to be much coin here. But beautiful women can be found anywhere--
He groans, the travel making the older gentleman tired. "Some refreshment sounds ideal," he says. "An old priest must rest where he can."
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Rrho being really hungry after this trip and being nervous after the starnge howls ending, definitely follows after Vengis.
Rrho is a tough goblin about 15 years old. His skin became gray-green, covered by amount of scars. His helmet and mannerism hints to gladiators past.
Do not eat my food, old bigfoot. I will not eat and scare away your ladies.... yeah, bring here food and drinks. - adds goblin louder.
Being not very polite, Rhho at least try to avoid negative behavior stimulus.
First hour here Rrho spends within the tavern, and possibly go for a walk thereafter.
He does not bother to communicate unless someone wants to chat with him. At the same time his ear and an eye are tryin to find a good brawl or any worth story.
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Tokinoshi'Toxxinorrr, otherwise known by longshanks as "Tok'Tok", clambered down from the back of the wagon where he had been laying down and stretched himself, before securing his briefcase and suitcase and walking into the inn.
Unlike the other Goblin, Tok'Tok is dressed in rather fine looking clothing, similar to what you might see on a professional. He walked into the tavern and gave it a once over.
"Don't worry, green ears, I would rather eat oats with the horses than touch your food!", the halfling responds. She is somewhat taken aback by your sight and demeanor but not particularly surprised or frightened.
As you enter the taproom of the Feedmill, you realize the reason for this - of the three people currently in the tavern, one is also a goblin, who vigorously if a little absent-mindedly cleans the furniture and the floors. The two others are the barmaid - you guess this must be Delma you've heard about - and a burly, unkempt man with scars visible on his face under the thick stubble. His only company is a big mug of smelly ale - and not the first one today, by the looks of it.
Delma and the goblin glance up at you, but before they can say anything, the man finishes his mug with one big gulp and forcefully puts it down on his table, making the goblin jump up with a frightened squeak and drop his tablecloth.
"Hey Phinick, go fetch me another round, double time!" The man barks. As the goblin rushes to fulfill his order without a word, he stares at you with a heavy gaze, but says nothing. When the new mug is placed in front of him just moments later, it again consumes his full attention. You wonder if he could even see your faces clearly under all the influence.
The barmaid shakes her head ever so slightly and addresses you. "Hey, are you with Bort? You must be new in town. Welcome to the Feedmill! I'm Delma, can I fix something up for you today?"
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Vengis sighs as he sees the pair of goblins, perhaps as if he hadn't noticed two of the other guards were goblinoids.
"I would not touch your food with a ten-foot pole," he says.
Noting the large man, Vengis contemplates sitting down with him, but looks reluctant and sits at another table.
Perhaps when he has had a few more, he may be pliable enough to relinquish a coin or two--
As Vengis sits, a cat walks through the door. The cat seems unnerving and intimidating, with one eye substantially larger than the other and an intelligence that seems much too high for a normal cat.
It walks over to the table Vengis sits at and prowls around his feet. Eventually, it stares at Rrho for some time, not breaking its gaze or even blinking, for that matter.
"Finally, we can eat and rest. Can you get me water and food, whatever you have? I am so hungry." says Malark and sits on a first empty chair.
Malark is a tall young elf with long dark hair. He carries his longbow and arrows on his back.
"If I may notice, some people here have something against goblins. Why is that?"
"Hey all...Merisiel here!" A slender female elf with lots of daggers on her back walks in.
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Vengis raises an eyebrow at the elf.
"Who has something against goblins?" he asks. "Who could have anything against such creatures, with their ungainly heads, illiteracy, and love of burning things down?"
Putting his feet up on a chair, he says "Personally, I find their companionship of the highest value."
The cat with the one bulging eye turns its unblinking gaze on Malark.
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Rrho takes a long look around as if wonders about something.
Do you really have a ten feet pole with you? Bifoot size. I'd use one. ... He says to Vengis but soon lose all interest in conversation because of the cat.
So Rrho stares at the cat long enough to food being cooked.
Soon he turnes attention towards Tok Tok
Why you wear this clothes? City raised? Me like meet to. We eat cat next time We hungry. Deal? I need somehow to prevail. Never fought any cat before. Their paws are nasty... Oh, Me either got NAME.
Seems like Rrho intellegent goblin. And quickly lose his attention unless find something attractive.
So, realizing there is no interest ING thing in the tavern, but food... Rrho decided to take a walk after having meal. Goblin likes to be valuable, so his mood is not destructive So far.
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The cat begins to stare unflinchingly at Rrho.
"Trust me when I say you will not be eating that cat," Vengis says.
Looking down at it, Vengis says "You would find it--of unpleasant taste and an even more unpleasant experience trying to kill it. Furthermore, it is of use to me. It is no ordinary cat."
"زه د هغه خواړه کې پیشو ته ځم کله چې هغه نه ګوري"," the cat says.
"That's the spirit. Let's drink!"
The same goblin waiter delivers your drinks, mostly consisting of watery turnip ale, accompanied by some burnt seed cakes and pickled turnips.
"Kitchen busy." he says with an apologetic nod of his large green head. "Cook supper for Bort. Even Trin and Kolnral help. Much more turnips for evening - and even meat!"
At this point the man in the corner finishes his last mug of ale and burps loudly while standing up. As he groggily staggers past all of you on his way out, he makes the gesture pointing with two fingers at his own eyes and then vaguely in your direction. "Be seein'ya later." With that, he leaves a few coppers on the bar deck and exits.
Delma shrugs from behind the bar. "Don't mind Hallod too much, he can be a bit of a bully sometimes but he wouldn't make the sharpest knife in a drawer full of dull knives, and most townsfolk just learn to avoid him. He shouldn't give you any real trouble."
An hour or so later, the tavern slowly starts to get filled with people, lured in by the arrival of the caravan and the promise of a feast, whatever that might mean by local standards. Most of them are farmers, but one character seems to be carrying himself with a sort of military bearing, even though when he sees you he gives you a wide berth as if you were haunted and seems to be more interested in ale than food.
Another man with slightly elvish features enters a bit later, carrying a lute. He, on the contrary, heads straight to your table.
"Well met, you must be Bort's crew? I am Flonk the Bard, at your service, and I'm delighted to be playing for our dear Bort tonight!"
He sits down next to Tok'Tok, not waiting for an invitation, and begins fiddling with the strings of his instrument. "While we're waiting for our guest of honor to arrive, I'm sure you may have questions about our fine town, and it will be my privilege to answer!" He reaches out to pet Vengis' cat. "Such a cute kitty - what's its name?"
"Is there anything interesting going on during the day?" asks Malark.
"Well in fact, you are the main attraction! You see, the town of Etran's Folly doesn't have a lot going on - we only have a few hundred people, most of them living on the outlying farms, - so whenever travelers from faraway lands come to visit us it's always an event!
Bort is famed here for his travel stories, but maybe you also can share some of your own? For example, how did you come to have not one, but two goblins in your company? Did you little guys join together? Did Bort rescue you while you were about to be sacrificed in a vile ritual to Lamashtu maybe?"
"If I tell you my life story I will have to kill you." Malark starts laughing.
"I am just a common ranger. Nothing special. But I hope that one day I will achieve something."
"I don't know about the goblins?" the elf says to the bar tender.
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He reaches out to pet Vengis' cat. "Such a cute kitty - what's its name?"
As he reaches for the cat, it hisses and makes such a vile noise that the man has to retract his hand or risk getting bitten.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the older gentleman says. "You could not possibly hope to pronounce his true name," Vengis adds. "But I call him Nalfeshnee."
Vengis sighs as he looks at the meal and samples the ale. "This leaves--a lot to be desired," he says.
"So Tok'Tok you aren't going to cause a problem?" The elf smiles at the goblin.
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Another goblin crawls out from inferneath of one of the tables. With huge rib and broken mug. He burps tryin to stand up quickly before arrived face.
Goblins used to die quickly. So, two Goblins in case of one dies. Rrho is a gladiator actually. Fury Singularity was my Arena name. No idea what it means. And i am retired. Difficult childhood. And 15 is a good age to find new life and new faces to bite. So... Speaking of problems... I'd take a bid that We find some!
Rrho looks proud after this long speech, and in a good mood after meal and ale. He is ready to go for a walk around the town imless there atr other suggestions.
Flonk the Bard retracts his hand quickly. "That's, um... quite a long name for a cat. I'm more of a dog person, myself, anyway.
And getting a spare goblin was quite prudent on Bort's part! And speak of the devil - here he is himself! Well, I must now go and get ready for the concert!"
Bort enters, accompanied by the caravan crew, and the tavern immediately becomes much more animated. Two waiters rush out from the kitchen to help move the tables together; the goblin Phinick retreats to the kitchen to help the cooks, who are busy carrying out plates with different kinds of turnip-smelling food, and Delma puts big jugs of ale and water on the table. Less than half an hour later, the supper is in full swing, with Flonk strumming the remaining strings on his out-of-tune lute in between bouts of laughter that follow a retelling of one of Bort's famous travel tales.
"One day, while crossing the waters of Lake Encarthan, my boat was set upon by a mighty storm and the ship capsized. As the sea took me, I managed to grab hold of one of my treasured lock boxes as I slid beneath the waves, only to awake in a strange place resembling a graveyard made of bones! The strange creatures dwelling there told me that I am in Pharasma's Boneyard and my soul is about to be judged. They brought me in front of the Lady of Graves, but alas, she could not commit herself to decide my fate because her hair was being tussled by the very storm winds that brought me before her! Naturally, I did not want to be inconsiderate, so I dug through the lockbox I was still holding, and found a silver comb that I gave to the lady to tame her hair. So impressed was she by the gift, that she returned me and my entire crew to the shores of the lake, alive and well!"
As the incredulous guests applaud and pelt Bort with questions, the waiters come out for another change of courses - this time, it's the dessert. As one of the waiters, Kolnral, navigates the crowd with the big plate of turnip pudding, he accidentally bumps into one of the more heavily grogged farmers, who was about to sit down with another ale and ends up at the floor with the ale all over himself instead.
Kolnral apologizes profusely but the farmer is too drunk and too crude to listen, and throws himself bodily at the waiter as soon as he is able to get up, yelling all sorts of profanities at him and knocking over the nearby table. Another waiter, Trin, attempts to drag the farmer away from Kolnral but gets hit with a mug in the face and flees.
Within moments, the entire common area of the Feedmill turns to chaos as a dozen drunken farmers wind up in a gigantic brawl. Bort stands on a table and shouts loudly for everyone to calm down, but gets a chair thrown at him for his trouble and is forced to get down again.
Malark stands near Bort and punches each person involved in brawl that comes closer to Bort.
Merisiel tries to grab two of the farmers and pull them apart.
Rrho's voice drowns in the din of the fight and a farmer falls down on the table he is standing on, pinning the goblin under his unconscious body.
Merisiel lacks strength to pull the drunks apart from each other but is able to safely leave them alone, at least. Malark is not so lucky - his punch fails to knock out a combatant and invites drunken rage directed at himself, earning a nasty bruise on his cheekbone.
All the while you see Tok'Tok quietly slipping from one fallen body to another, completely unnoticed in the chaos.
When Vengis first looks at the door, he sees it close behind someone who managed to escape the fight. His calls to reason are ineffective and it takes a while for him to reach the tavern door and open it. Once he does so, he sees Delma the bartender returning to the tavern from across the square, followed by a portly older man who visibly struggles to keep up but is nevertheless brandishing a truncheon. She shouts at Vengis: "Hold the door, I've got the sheriff with me!"
The sheriff huffs and puffs his way inside, where the cook promptly gives him a large frying pan which he uses as an improvised gong, repeatedly hitting it with his truncheon and shouting "ORDER!!! IN THE NAME OF THE LAW, I WILL HAVE ORDER!!!" in a professionally booming voice.
About a minute of this is enough to stop the fight, whereupon the sheriff takes all the offending farmers away to a table in the corner for a stern talking to - something about them presenting Etran's Folly as a lawless place to the outsiders which he as the sheriff cannot abide by. By the look of tired indifference on the guilty farmers' faces you get a feeling that this is a pretty routine job for him in this place, and that this conversation, no matter how unpleasant, is going to be the only consequence.
Shortly thereafter, as the staff cleans up the worst of the mess and replaces some of the broken plates, mugs and chairs, Bort calls for the party to continue. He has evidently escaped the worst of the brawl and his mood hasn't been soured, as he loudly proclaims that the local turnip pudding, which was served just before the fight began, is his favorite dessert, and even the fact that it has grown cold in the meantime won't stop him from finishing the extra large bowl that was served to him at his special request!
He vigorously sets to prove his claim, simultaneously beginning to spin one of his yarns that you've previously heard at the campfire, embellishing it with fresh new details as he goes. A few sentences in, he suddenly begins to cough and choke. A few moments later he seemingly succeeds at clearing his throat and merrily apologizes for a bit of indigestion, but before he is able to finish the next sentence, it becomes clear that something is seriously wrong. The coughing returns with exceeding force as Bort begins to turn purple and his mouth begins frothing. Seconds after, his eyes roll into his head and a rumble can be heard in his guts. Mere moments later, he collapses onto the table, to the loud gasps and screams from the guests!
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Insight fire and fury ready to burn Rrho's soul did not get it cause of guard-sherrif arrival. Moreover, he found more food during this chaos.
So, when Bort continues his storytelling, the goblin was ready to listen and enjoy.
Rrho loves good stories. And appears very dissapointed, when Bort falls.
Quickly found some healers instrument, Rrho approaches body to try
"Somebody, help that man!"
Tok'Tok is not able to observe any unusual reactions as everyone forms a circle around Bort and RRho.
RRho struggles to resuscitate the dwarf, but his ministrations are unsuccessful as Bort's windpipe appears to be swollen to the point of blocking any attempts to breathe. RRho doesn't know a specific poison which could cause such symptoms. It could also happen if Bort was allergic to turnips or some other ingredient of the food he ate today.
A few agonizing moments later Bort slumps over the table, dead. The tavern goes silent as everyone present begins eyeing one another - and their food - in fear and disbelief.
The sheriff leaves his farmer ruffians alone and runs over to you, completely discombobulated. "Everyone stay calm!" he proclaims not very convincingly. "Delma, find something to cover the body - I don't know, a tablecloth, anything!"
He slowly looks over the gathered people. "You, outsiders!" he addresses the caravan crew, including yourselves. "Follow me to the stables! The rest of you lot I'll find later. Don't leave town! Not that any of you's got anywhere to go."
When the sheriff has all of you out in the stables he closes the door to the bar and begins pacing back and forth. "Okay, okay. Let's start with the facts. Can each of you tell me: How long do you know Bort; Can someone else confirm where were you and what were you doing before the fight and after the fight; What will you gain now that Bort's dead?"
The twins Olf and Ulf answer almost in unison:
"We've signed up with Bort a few years back, after the boat we worked on before capsized. Everyone in the caravan can confirm this. Tonight we made friends with a local guy - Elan, right Ulf? - No, it's "Eallom", Olf you oaf! Right, Eallom, so we were gambling with him when the fight began and we lost and bought him a round after the fight. Now... We don't know, I guess it is up to Tamli to decide if the caravan will continue?"
The sheriff turns to Tamli the half-orc quartermaster, who looks absolutely devastated. She has lost all of her usual brusque manners and is fiddling with a crude medallion that hangs from her neck on a leather cord. Me and Bort go way, way back... He was the first person to acknowledge me and give me a job after I fled from Belkzen… He was the only one who knew what that cost me. The only real friend I had." She clutches the medallion in her fist. "I only came to the tavern after the fight - I was running an errand for Glunda, our teamster, who was helping your stablehand Edna with the horses. I came here to fetch some food for them when all of this happened... I suppose I'm the one who stands to gain the most now, if you look at this from the material side... But I wasn't around to poison anyone, even if I... " She struggles to finish the sentence as she starts sobbing. "Ask Edna, she can prove it!"
The sheriff softly responds. "Now, now, I am not accusing anyone here just yet but I need to gather all information I can!" He turns to you. "Your turn."
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Rrho looks disapointed and tired afrer realizing that Bort is dead. Even though he was not being loves by dwarves.
He is one of the first to answer the sherif.
We knew Bort for a while. Better work than to fight for bigfoot Joy.
During fight i tryes to stay calm. Hard task. But Rrho is old now and likes stories more than events. So, I stayed at one table, good view.
When Bort lost ability to talk and breath I thought he's poisoned, and wanred to help... See those med tester stick? Have now idea Who saw. Narkeeper or his big bigfist guard usualy the one Who watch... Oh, Nd the cat saw me, right? . Rrho looks at Nalfeshnee as awaits him to xonfirm.
"I met Bort the day we started traveling with the caravan. And during the fight I was standing beside him, making sure no one hit him." says Malark.
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Vengis looks resigned to a bad situation.
Just great--I was counting on the gold from this. I feel bad for the guy, but I hope we're still paid.
"I met him, as well, when I signed up for this caravan. It was going the same direction I was, and it paid the bills. I only have incentive to see it arrive. What do I have to gain by his death? Nothing! I have all the gold from this work to lose, in fact."
Nalfeshnee looks nonplussed.
Did I poison him? I can't remember--
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Luz Lumino followed the party to the stables. He'd been "marooned" in Plaguestone for only day and was hoping to catch a ride with the next caravan. Like many of the townsfolk, he decided to spend the day at the tavern, only he'd spent most of his time looking for archives. By the time he'd arrived at the Feedmill, "Bort" was already dead.
Luz decided this was a perfect case to pass the time while he waited for the next caravan out of Plaguestone. First, he examines the room for anything suspicious.
INVESTIGATOR
When you enter a new location, such as a room or corridor, you immediately notice one thing out of the ordinary. The GM determines what it is, or whether there’s nothing reasonable to pick up. They skip obvious clues (ones that can be easily noticed without a check), and you find out only that an area or object is suspicious, not why it’s suspicious. For example, if you entered a study with a large bloodstain on the ground, the bloodstain is so obviously suspicious it’s evident to you already, so the GM might note that there’s something suspicious about the desk drawer instead. You would then need to investigate the drawer further to find out what specifically is out of the ordinary. You don’t determine whether creatures are suspicious with On the Scene.
You don’t typically get any benefit when you leave and come back to a place, though if a major change has happened there and time has passed, the GM might determine that you do
CONCENTRATE
Frequency once per 10 minutes
You spend 1 minute to establish a case you’re going to pursue— an intense investigation into a single subject you designate when you use this activity. This subject is typically a single creature, item, or small location (such as a room or corridor), but the GM might allow a different scope for your investigation. You don’t need to know the identity of the subject, but you do need to be aware of its existence. For instance, finding a footprint is enough to designate the creature that left it as your subject, and seeing a hasty sketch of an item or location can be enough of a lead to start your investigation.
Whenever you attempt a check to investigate your subject, you gain a +1 circumstance bonus on the check. The exact checks this applies to depend on how you investigate and are determined by the GM, but checks to investigate are typically Perception checks or skill checks that use Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma.
You can have only one open case at a time. If you Take the Case again, you must designate a different subject (or rather, they must be different as far as you know). You can’t choose a previous subject again until after the next time you make your daily preparations.
When the sheriff leaves with the party, Luz examines Bort, then follows the group outside.
Luz invokes his arcane sense to check for magic.
Luz concurs with the goblin RRho in that the caravan master has been poisoned. Moreover, the poison was clearly in Bort's big bowl because no one else feels bad - except for the elven lady Merisiel, who inconspicuously stayed behind when the sheriff called everyone out and tasted from Bort's bowl a bit. Now she is lying on the floor, doubled over in pain and wheezing as if she was of venerable age, but her condition seems stable - if she would take another bite, who knows what would have happened, but currently her life does not seem in immediate danger, though she is incapacitated. Luz also is not familiar with a specific poison which would cause such symptoms. His arcane sense is not tingling - no magic known to him was employed in the murder.
The sheriff looks nervous and lost. He paces back and forth, his forehead creased with unfamiliar mental effort. "Seeing as I cannot identify a suspect with a motive and without an alibi, I will have to hand this case over to the circuit judge, Lord Mubbage Cranberry. Until his Lordship arrives to town, I am bound to hold everyone who might be a suspect or a witness suspended. He clears his throat. "That includes you lot. The caravan is impounded here in Etran's Folly until the judge gives his permission or the case is otherwise resolved. Lord Mubbage Cranberry will arrive here next month."
You hear Tamli gasp quietly in disbelief. "But... but we have customers waiting in Falcon's hollow and Almas! They will be expecting their shipments in a week! We can't spend a whole month here in Plaguestone!" The sheriff winces when she mentions this moniker but just shrugs.
"I am sorry but this is the Isgeri law and there is nothing else I can do. Besides, it will give you time to grieve. Bort's body will be interred in the tavern cellar in the meantime so that the judge can examine it. Your only hope is that the perpetrator will somehow be revealed sooner than that."
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Luz introduces himself, to the rest of the party, "Greetings and sorry to intrude. I was hoping to catch a ride with Bort's caravan, but I see that it has been waylaid."
Luz is a dark-skinned Garundi male with a white hair cut short. Only 5'9" and of a thin frame, he seems quite harmless .
"I would be most indebted to you all if I could assist in finding Bort's assassins. As we all have a common goal of leaving Plaguestone, yes? You may be wondering why I used the pluarl assassins instead of the singular. Of course only one person is responsible for administering the poison, but I will submit that this was the job of more than one individual."
Luz smiles in a friendly manner as if to suggest his mannerisms are completely normal.
"Perhaps we should head back to the Feedmill and question the patrons as to whether anyone unusual was present during Bort's ingestion of the turnip surprise. Luz chuckles to himself.
"Oh, sorry, was that in poor taste?...no pun intended."