"You all right there, chief?"
Throkk grins at Sool's remark and replies:
"Yup"
When Bort says something, he turns:
"What's the matter, Bort?"
Still talking to the unnamed halfling stablehand, Sazen replies
Good idea. Rosemary in the morning then.
Hearing coughing inside, and not hearing any sounds of fighting, she bids farewell to the halfling until the morning and pokes her head back inside to see if the coast is clear.
Seeing Bort in what looks like distress, she approaches (avoiding his cough), and attempts to discover what is wrong with him.
"I should be-" Bort starts coughing profusely.
By the time Sazen gets to him his face is turning violet.
Without a way to help him there is little than can be done as Bort collapses in in short order... his lifeless eyes stare up at the ceiling.
Throkk looks at fallen Bort.
"What happened to him?", he asks.
He was definitely poisoned. Anyone know what he ate last?
Sazen is now worried about that stew that she ate, and for not thinking ahead and casting purify food and drink.
"It could have happened during the brawl," Morsun offers, eyes wide with worry.
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Sool strolls back into the inn and cranes his neck over the crowd to see the dead Bort lying on the ground, purple and open-mouthed and obviously dead.
"Well... that's surprising." he says blandly. "If the turnip stew was poisoned, Throkk would be dead three times over. It was either his drink or he was wounded during the fight. We should check him for any cuts or punctures."
"The bigger question is who in this town would wish to murder him?"
"Didn't he have dessert too?", asks Throkk.
The Innkeeper returns with a man in tow.
The man looks around "The worst of it's over, no more fighting tonight or-" He stops as he overhears the topic of conversation and sees Bort's body.
His eyes go wide and for a few seconds he is silent before taking off his cloak and draping it over Bort's body. "Everyone out into the stables. I'm Sheriff Rolth Garley for those who haven't met me before."
Once people start moving he speaks again "What did ye see before he died?"
I didn't see anything. I went out to the stables when the fight started. But I did examine him when I heard him coughing and came back in. There was nothing I could do. He was clearly poisoned.
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"He ate the turnip stew just like nearly everyone else. However, he had requested a particularly large bowl. Someone may have taken advantage of that fact to put the poison specifically in his portion."
"I was actually outside when he passed away. I came back inside to find him much as you see him now. When the fight started, Bort attempted to break it up and got shoved roughly for his trouble, but as near as I can remember he didn't actually participate in the fight. When I left the room he was sitting and watching the action as a rather enthusiastic spectator. He didn't seem to be in any distress."
"I defer to my colleague's diagnosis of poison. Thankfully it's a subject I know very little about."
Emri is one of the last folks throwing punches, and hollering in excitement. She only calms once the sheriff arrives, realizing a little too late that Bort's dead. "What the...? What? What happened?"
At hearing Bort's been poisoned, Emri hops up onto a table and points at Bort's corpse. "OI! Which one of you bloody cowards did THIS?" Breathing heavily, she gives everyone a terrifying glare.
As the sheriff calls them over, she shrugs. "I didn't see anything, really. He was eating -- stuffing his face on that dessert he loves -- then those farmers over there got in a fight. A brawl broke out and I hopped into the thick of it. And now... dead! Gosh, poor Bort. He was good people, you know?"
A nearby farmer with a black eye looks deeply concerned. "Poison... I had desert too!" He promptly shoves his fingers down his throat and starts vomiting.
The sheriff looks about "Poison... you're going to have to stick around until I have gotten to the bottom of this." After checking the farmer is ok he moves on to question some of the other patrons.
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With all the novelty of an actual murder going on, it doesn't seem to have occurred to Sool that he was now stuck in this miserable little hamlet. Where the only inn just poisoned a patron. His already pale complexion turns a whiter shade of pale.
"Well. At least it won't be hard finding a place to sleep." he groans.
Morsun isn't happy.
"Not like they could keep us here if we wanted to bolt," he grumps out of earshot of the sheriff.
Morsun rounds angrily on Sool.
"I didn't do anything to that man! You're the one who rolled his eyes and sighed at every story so loud that it sounded like forge wind passing through a borehole!"
"He asked where we were going, then he started coughing, then he died. ", says Throkk.
"Can we tell if the rest of the turnip stew is safe to eat? I'm still hungry."
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Morsun rounds angrily on Sool.
"I didn't do anything to that man! You're the one who rolled his eyes and sighed at every story so loud that it sounded like forge wind passing through a borehole!"
Sool smiles patronizingly.
"You miss my point entirely. Of course you're innocent. If anyone in our caravan wished to murder the man, they wouldn't have waited until now to do it. My point was that it makes little sense for someone who is innocent to sneak off into the Chitterwood right now and thereby give the appearance of guilt. Not to mention that such a thing would be a foolish thing to do under the best of circumstances for anyone who isn't a hobgoblin."
The elf then shrugs and sighs. "As to my reacting to his ... shall we call them tall tales? ... with a touch of impatience-- that I freely admit. I fear I'm no poker player and I find no particular charm in blatant foolishness. I suspect he took a perverse pleasure in annoying me, so I'd say he and I were about equal on that score."
As they are waiting around for the Sheriff to question people Sazen tells her companions
The horses have fleas by the way. The stablehand needs some Rosemary to clear it up. Knows a spot in the Chitterwood where it grows, if anyone cares to accompany me in the morning.
Morsun points an angry finger at Sool's nose.
"Or maybe it was just a bad point to begin with! And you go spouting off telling people that I'm bailing, when I just don't like being jailed here for no reason!"
The horses have fleas by the way. The stablehand needs some Rosemary to clear it up. Knows a spot in the Chitterwood where it grows, if anyone cares to accompany me in the morning.
Morsun's anger fades away as he responds, "Uh... I hear there's hobgoblins in those woods." He cuts his eyes sheepishly to Sool.
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Morsun points an angry finger at Sool's nose.
"Or maybe it was just a bad point to begin with! And you go spouting off telling people that I'm bailing, when I just don't like being jailed here for no reason!".
Sool looks puzzled.
"A bad point? Me?" he considers this honestly.
"No, that doesn't seem terribly likely." he concludes.
After a little while the Sheriff returns and whistles to get everyone's attention. "As we have no jail, I will need to turn this investigation over to a circuit judge who visits occasionally to deal with serious legal matters and crimes. Unfortunately, the judge, Lord Mubbage Cranberry, is not due back for another month, so everyone is stuck here until then. Until we know who poisoned Bort you must all remain here. Anyone who leaves will be committing an offence regardless of whether they were involved in Bort's murder or now."
"You supplying food and a place to sleep?" Morsun challenges.
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"Understandable, but most inconvenient." responds Sool with a sigh.
"Tell me Sheriff, if evidence of the killer were to be found and the investigation concluded before the Judge arrived, might that change things? My companions are intelligent and resourceful people of great worldly experience who considered Bort a friend as well as a traveling companion. I'm sure with a month of time to work with, they would be motivated to investigate this crime themselves."
"Not me of course. I plan to spend the month working on my latest treatise on the mechanics on consciousness and mana flow. A fundamental topic that has been grossly mischaracterized by magisterial academia, as I'm sure you would agree."
Sool says in such a non-snooty way that you'd think he was quite serious.
Throkk has rummaged about and found a bowl of turnip stew left behind in the brawl, its owner likely beaten into unconsciousness.
He starts gulping it down.
Once finished, he belches with satisfaction, then chimes in:
"We'll need food if we're staying here a month!"
His eyes glaze over at Sool's wordy utterances.
They sound important!
... a month.
Sazen wonders if they have any books in this town. She loves reading about Erastil, of course, but maybe some variety would be nice if they are staying a whole month.
She procures a room from the Innkeeper and goes up to her room to read, hoping that disgusting turnip stew isn't what she is going to have to eat for a month either. ... Maybe she can find something more appetizing when she goes out to find Rosemary in the Chitterwood in the morning.
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Emri nods at Sazen, "Count me in, Sazen! I'm not afraid of the woods -- or the hobgoblins! Why, did I ever tell you I trained with a dragon for three years? True story! So there I -- Whoa!" Emri turns on the sheriff. "A month? MONTH?! That's a crazy long time for you to... what? Wait for someone else to come solve a crime for you? Are you... uh..." She leans over to the sheriff and whispers, "...good at this? Your job, I mean. Do you usually get murders here or is this outta your wheelhouse?"
Emri straightens, giving the sheriff a chance to come to his own decision. "If you need help, I'm here. We all are. Bort was one of us."
"Oh yeah. I liked Bort. He told lots of stories. Someone killed him, we kill them. Easy!"
"I am the Sheriff!" He blurts out. "Your food..." He licks his lips "I'll have a word with my cousin Delma, she might have some jobs you can do to offset the cost. If you can afford it, this is a bit like a little holiday."
He does lean in a little closer [smaller]"If you do turn up evidence I'm willing to listen... if it's enough that the matter can be resolved ye can go along your way."
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Rolth encourages the locals to head home. Bort’s body is taken down to
the cellar to be kept cool, while Tamli and the rest of the caravan gathers to mourn. She invites each of you to join them out near the wagons. This is a somber occasion, and everyone in the company is at a loss. Bort was their leader, and without him, their future is uncertain. Tales of remembrance are told through teary eyes, and rare bottles of elven wine from Kyonin are passed around for all to share.
Tamli remains mostly quiet through this, but speaks up at the end of the night, just as the sun begins to rise. “Bort was more than just a merchant, more than just the boss. He was my friend. We won’t leave here until we’ve found out who did this. Rolth’s a fool, but I’d be an even greater fool if I thought I could get to the bottom of this. Fixing wagons and moving goods, that’s my job. But you,” she says, pointing at all of you, “you might be able to figure out who killed Bort and get justice for him.” She holds back tears as she says, “For all of us. Will you help uncover who did this?”
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Emri joins the others in mourning and reminiscing over Bort. She doesn't cry -- she hasn't known him that long, not grown particularly close to him -- but he was a good man, and she'd miss his totally 100% true stories. She indulges in the wine, perhaps a bit too much, and nods clumsily at Tamli.
"Course we'll... I'll... we'll?" She looks at the others for confirmation before pressing on without them. "Course I'll help! No mystery'll go unsolved while I'm around!" She nods again, then stumbles off to the side and sits cross legged atop a rather high rock. "Just gonna have a good sit here..." she slurs.
Although at first it appears Emri has promptly fallen asleep in a rather precarious position, closer inspection reveals she's meditating. When next she speaks her voice is calm, though her eyes remain closed. "We'll start in the morning by investigating the inn and speaking to the employees. Once that's done we can hunt for Sazen's rosemary and talk about our findings and next move."
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"You've had this perfectly good wine hidden all this time?" says Sool with as much emotion as you've ever seen him muster. He pours himself a large glass. "Madam, you are a sadist."
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Sool has nothing to say during the reminiscences about Bort and appears rather bored by the whole exercise of grieving. As Tamli broaches the idea of solving the murder, he rouses himself a bit and speaks up to Tamli.
"I assume this place was on Bort's normal trade route. He seemed to know it fairly well. Had he ever had any negative encounters here? Fights with merchants, disputes with husbands over sullied wives? Bards outraged over his plagiarism of their stories? That sort of thing?"
"I can work. But I'll need food.", says Throkk with a serious cast to his face.
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"We'll get them, Tamli!", Throkk replies, eager to do just that.
Sazen agrees to help in the investigation, but doesn't drink or stay up till dawn, retreating to bed early.
In the morning, she finds that Emri has decided they are investigating the inn before going for Rosemary, so she looks around carefully to see if she can spot anything out of place or amiss to add to what she already knows from examining the body.
"Poison is a coward's weapon. I'll help look for Bort's killer. And if we can deliver justice without waiting a month for some magistrate to stroll through, even better."
Morsun considers what he knows of the shadier elements of human society. Who would have access to or have knowledge of the making and use of poisons? The elf had a point: it was probably someone in town. If the poisoner was someone in the caravan, they didn't have to wait until they reached the town to poison him.
Unless someone from the caravan was trying to hide their tracks....
Ulf responds to Sool. "Everyone liked Bort, except you of course but you don't seem to like anyone."
Going down into the cellar Sazen finds alongside a number of large casks of ale and a few old, dusty bottles of wine, is the body of Bort. His flesh has turned an odd blue colour in death. Examining him Sazen detects a faint floral odor.
It occurs to Morson that alchemists and herbalists would be best equipped to create poisons and very knowledgable but that equipment is neither cheap nor small. There has been no sign of any alchemists or apothecaries since ye have arrived.
Emli finds the Innkeeper Delma. "I am sorry your friend Bort paased away." Delma sighs as she picks up another broken stool and places it by the pile of firewood. It seems like she'll have to spend the morning cleaning up the dining room.
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Ulf responds to Sool. "Everyone liked Bort, except you of course but you don't seem to like anyone."
Sool doesn't seem inclined to dispute this point. He even smirks slightly. He swirls his wine contemplatively with his right hand, his left hand held at ease behind his back.
"It's possible this was a professional assassin. A poison that powerful and sophisticated seems beyond the reach of the local hedge witch. But as I said, I know little about poisons."
"We should find out if anyone is new in town besides us. Especially people working at the inn."
She examines the leftovers of the dessert Bort was eating, or any other food in the torn apart room, seeing if she can find any traces of poison.
After examining everything, she gathers up Emri and whoever else wants to come, and rides into the Chitterwood, following the stablehand's directions to the place where they can find some Rosemary.
"Sure thing, Sazen.", replies Throkk, eager to do something.
"So the stable guy you know knows about herbalism? Huh. Yeah, I'll go, but I want to watch this guy work."
Sazen keeps an eye out for any game on the way as well, hoping for more than turnips for lunch.
Throkk also looks about for additional food, and foes.
Sazen and Throkk spot a few common plants they can use to vary their diet. Nettles, dandelions alongside a few berries.
As your group approaches the spot indicated you see a significant problem. A grizzly bear lies slumbering amongst the rosemary...
Munching on berries and readying his greataxe, Throkk says to his companions:
"So...mmf...fight?"
Does bear meat taste good? says Sazen, readying her bow.
If so, I'm in.
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The barbarian swallows the last of his chewed berries with a satisfied look.
"If you don't cook it too long.", replies Throkk with a grin.
I'm guessing, even overcooked, it's got to be better than turnips for a month. I'll wake him up.
She makes sure she is far enough back that she won't get mauled the minute the bear wakes up, and then shoots
She isn't sure if that sad attack is going to wake him up, but she activates her vibrant Thorns ability just in case, covering herself in thorns just so she doesn't look like an attractive target to charge.
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Emri gives a big sniff of Bort. "Why does he smell of flowers?" Following her nose, Emri sniffs around the inn, kitchen, and all the bowls, trying to find anything that matches the smell. She's sure to check in the drawers and spice jars.
She also wonders if the smell is something she recognizes...
"A bear, huh?"
With a shrug, Emri adopts a powerful combat stance, , then positions herself between Sazen and the bear. "Lets do this."
Emri let's out a mighty "ROAR!" at the bear.