Tyrant's Grasp III: Last Watch

Game Master CrusaderWolf

please ninja dot in!

It’s a beautiful day in Roslar’s Coffer, the cool but dry spring just giving way to summer. The folk of the town go about their business with a friendly wave or a companionable nod to you. The Sagely Goat is unusually busy for midmorning, Ailsa bustling from table to kitchen and back while Maren hums to himself in the kitchen.

Sgt. Arminos Eversteel is laughing a bit too loudly at a table with several other off-duty guards, having been perhaps a bit too eager on the mead—but it is a holiday, after all. Today is the day of the Festival of Remembrance, when the folk of Roslar’s Coffer gather at the graveyard to pay their respects to those who have passed on, especially those residents who perished when the Twisted Nail orcs razed the town, years ago.

Aside from the raucous soldiers many other townsfolk have taken the morning off. A young man sits by himself at a corner table, fiddling with a pouch and stealing bashful glances at Ailsa when she isn’t looking his way. And in the furthest corner is a pale, impeccably dressed man with an open notebook in from of him on the table. His irritation at Arminos’ noise is obvious but his increasingly theatrical sighs go unnoticed by the soldiers.

"Alec and Bron...dead these twelve years past from blade of Red Tooth. Claire and Damon...taken prisoner as he had been--and he never saw them again. And Emma, sweet Emma, Sarenrae only knows where she is now," thinks the normally gregarious halfling, sitting quietly in the corner of the Sagely Goat.

Garret is a young, attractive, and energetic halfling with sunny blond hair. Wearing comfortable but trendy clothes with flame-kissed red highlights, he sits in the corner of the tavern after having left his home and parents for the festival day--but he can't celebrate, because he hasn't yet let go his lost friends. Carrying the burden of his dead and missing friends, this is a sad day for Garret, made only more difficult by the cheer of the rest of the town.

Still, Garret plans to honor the memory of his friends and make the best of the day. Who knows, he may be surprised...

A blonde-haired man, clad in crimson armor with gold trim, carefully pushes through the door. While not the largest man in town, his thick armor and well-muscled body clearly signals his capabilities. Surveying the room, he immediately notices the guards. The Festival of Remembrance... Going to be mixed emotions for the whole town, each person responding in their own way. There's no telling what someone has bottled up inside, and even less of an indication about how they'll react to it when pressed. As an outsider, I'll do my best to keep my head level and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. A chance to put their own feelings to rest in the way that works best for them. Maybe even keep some of these hooligans out of trouble and learn more about what I can expect...

Closing the gap with confident strides, he pulls up a chair at the guards' table. He gives a respectful nod of acknowledgment to Sgt. Eversteel. "Wallace Lundgren, Lastwall Cavalry," he says succinctly to the guards he hasn't met before. "What are we drinking, gentlemen?" he asks, signaling for the server to bring over a pint of whatever it is. "Any plans for the day?"

Woo, lets do it.

Ketra sweeps through the dining area of the Sagely Goat with a tray stacked wide with mugs of coffee, spiced carrot juice and watered mead. She drops mugs off one by one at tables scattered across the room, exchanging grins and banter with the various visitors. As her tray lightens, she transfers the remaining mugs to the center and begins spinning it on her outstretched fingers.

On her way to one of the last few tables, an animated local accidentally elbows his mug off the table. With a swift lunge, Ketra catches the mug with the bridge of her foot before it can spill. She deftly flings the mug up into the air and back onto the table to rest in front of the local. She taps the fellow with the back of her hand and admonishes "Third time this week, you're going senile!" before continuing on.

Those noticing this exchange see that Ketra is a compact young woman with blue-grey skin, wiry black hair tied back in a braid, and golden eyes. She wears a simple but tailored white linen shirt, leather slacks with suspenders and leather slippers. Over her outfit she's currently wearing an apron that she's managed to keep spotless despite the busy state of the Sagely Goat.

She gives young man at the corner table a sidelong glance before she drops a drink off. (Does she know who this is?)
KN Local if needed: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
She also keeps an eye on the other loner, the pale man with the open notebook. (Same, does she know who this is?)
KN Local if needed: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

With a thunk she drops her last mug off at Garret's table "Oi Garret! You keep up that glum look and its gonna get permanently etched in your face." She tucks the now empty tray under her armpit. "What's all this moping about? You get rejected by your crush?" She raises a thick eyebrow.

A tall, thin youth struggles to haul a dolly loaded with two kegs of ale up the two shallow steps from the Sagely Goat's storeroom into the barroom. His skin is the color of gravestones and his hair is bone-white despite his age; they have always made him unique wherever his travels might take him, but in Roslar's Coffer he is only almost unique. His colorful clothes and facial tattoos, and thick accent, though, mark him as an outsider to Lastwall.

Anyone nearby can hear him muttering to himself; only those who speak Varisian understand what he's saying.

"I know, I know, I'm weak like a kitten. Oh, yes, I'm sure you could have crushed my skull like an egg, back when you had a real body. Really? Even now? Well, if you're that strong, maybe you'd like to come out and give me a hand, then? No? Then how about you just shut up and let me do my job?"

With a burst of effort, he manages to get the dolly over the last step. After a moment to catch his breath, he wheels the kegs behind the bar and scans the growing crowd. Even after a couple of months in the small town, he only recognizes a handful of the customers.

Now that he is in full view of everyone in the tavern, he makes an effort to keep his end of the conversation silent.

See anyone you know? Today is likely to be your best chance, you know. Pretty much the whole town will be at the graveyard this afternoon. And before you ask, if you recognize anyone, just point them out to me. I am not going risk interfering with their remembrance of the dead, so don't ask me to let you loose so you can chase somebody in the middle of a solemn ceremony.

Zsofia snorts. Ogre snot. If this Festival is so damn serious, why is this lot so frakking jolly? I could do a lot of good for both of us if you'd let me knock some heads. It'd be a lot more fun than humping kegs of ale around for other people to drink, too.

Neither the patrons nor the staff of the Sagely Goat see or hear anything.

Pushing her way through the doors at the entrance of the Sagely Goat, a woman with long, dark hair, free of any adornment or restraint, pauses to scan the room for anyone she knows. As she does, she unconsciously wipes her hands on an invisible apron. She wears a simple workman's tunic, with occasional scorch marks and an odd pattern of discoloration. Spotting Garret, she weaves her way through the crowd to his table and sets herself down across from him, just as Ketra arrives with the halfling's mug.

"Oh, I expect it's rather the other way round, and his kind heart can't handle the burden," Silvia interrupts, giving a disarming smile. The white of her teeth stand in contrast to her dark face, smudged with soot. She turns to Ketra, a hand raised with silver coins sandwiched between each finger. "Ketra, when you get a minute, would you bring me some lunch? I plain forgot to eat breakfast this morning, so I'd be much obliged if you could add something a bit extra."

Glancing around, she takes in the tavern once again. My first Festival since moving back. Judging by the amount of booze moving around this morning, everyone seems a bit more focused on the festival, less on the remembrance.

Blushing slightly at Ketra’s teasing and smiling at Silvia’s insight, Garret responds, ”There are elements of truth in both your comments, friends, though you may have hit closer to the mark, Silvia. No one could truly be glum in the presence of you two lovely ladies, though,” he counters with his trademarked smile.

As Ketra whirls off to continue her duties, Garret asks, ”And how are you on this day of reflection, Silvia, other than missing your breakfast?”

"Up until now, I've spent it in my workshop. Haven't blown myself up yet, so we're off to a good start already," she says, turning back with a grin. "Inheritor knows that Octavius and the Captain love their swords, but I think I'm really on to something."

Her eyes flit toward the door, and her smile falters for a moment. "If the Twisted Nail come back, I want to make sure it's a day they remember, too."

Ketra:
The young man you've seen before, though you're not entirely sure about the name. Faelin? Braylan? Something like that. He's a local ranchhand from the surrounding area who's lately taken to visiting the Sagely Goat two or three times a week to moon over Ailsa. He does really talk to anyone, but he's never caused any trouble either.

The well-dressed man is a stranger to you. His clothes and accent make it clear that he is not a local, and if he has passed through Roslar's Coffer before you certainly don't recall him.

Arminos grins at Wallace and scoots his chair over to make room at the table. The bearded sergeant is the picture of disciplined professionalism when on duty, but in his off hours has made it clear that he's taken a liking to the newest knight posted to Cofferkeep. "Pull up, Lundgren! We've got the night shift so we have to get our Festival of Remembrance in while we can! Have a mug, we haven't drunk the Goat dry just yet!"

Ketra gives Sanduro a wave from across the room, then raises an eyebrow again at Silvia's comment. "If that's the case Garret, and I hear you've hurt someone round town, well-" She mimes cracking her knuckles "You'll have a bit more to worry 'bout." Despite her words she follows by slapping the halfling on his back to cheer him up.

Garret's smooth-talking earns an eyeroll as Ketra takes Silvia's order. She mouths 'lovely ladies', shakes her head and heads for the bar.
----

Once laden down with a few more drinks she weaves her way between the tables and finds her way over to the pale stranger with his notebook. She drops a mug of coffee in front of him. "On the house, Mister. Bit of a welcome." She makes sure she has his attention and continues "What brings you to Roslar's Coffer and to the Sagely Goat?"

However her questions are answered, she peers at the notebook and adds "If the regulars are bothering you, we got rooms too. Tad more quiet, if that's what you're looking for. And we can bring up lunch."

Perception; peeking at the notebook: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

"Up until now, I've spent it in my workshop. Haven't blown myself up yet, so we're off to a good start already," she says, turning back with a grin. "Inheritor knows that Octavius and the Captain love their swords, but I think I'm really on to something."

Her eyes flit toward the door, and her smile falters for a moment. "If the Twisted Nail come back, I want to make sure it's a day they remember, too."

At her last comment, Garret is pulled fully from his reverie and looks her straight in the eyes, a fierce fire glowing in his own eyes as his passion rises to the surface. He says quietly but firmly, "As do I." The simple statement encapsulates a long history of loss and regret--and a future of determination. And wait a moment, was that...yes, that was real flame in his eyes--not an illusion or some magical incantation. There is something about this halfling that is not entirely...mortal.

Sanduro shakes his head.

Not a chance, not in the village. Not unless you are completely certain that we have found whoever it was that caused your death, and that letting you loose will take you further towards your rest. I won't be burned as a necromancer just so you can enjoy yourself brawling and scaring the piss out of the townsfolk.

Sanduro tries to put an end to the conversation by turning to address the nearest Driscoll - Maren, Alisa, Darcy, or Ketra. He speaks Taldane fluently enough, albeit with a think Varisian accent.

"Have I misunderstood the importance of the Festival today? Is it not for the remembrance of the town's honored dead? But many of the people here, they act like they celebrating."

They cannot all be followers of the Lord in Iron, cheering every death in battle. There would be a lot more bar fights here, for one thing.

Good, they remember their duty. I refuse to believe the Sergeant will let them get wild too. Perfect. "It seems to me that you've the run of the town then! Can't imagine the nightshift is too bad if this," he says, gesturing at all the people boozing it up around them, "is what happens in the morning!" Nothing like Castle Everstand, but every community has a different normal.

After several minutes of merrymaking with the guards, his mug has gone dry. "While I'm here, Sergeant, anyone I should introduce myself to? I'm going to get a better look at that menu and see what's on tap anyways!" If I'm going to be here for a while, I need to get more familiar with and to the locals. They're the ones who'll be here when I get posted somewhere else, so I'll have to make the best of the time I have with them.

The stranger gives Ketra a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and firmly closes the notebook, keeping a hand on the cover. "The thoughtfulness is appreciated, but no that won't be necessary," his tone indicates quite clearly that your proximity is far from appreciated. "I am here on an errand of research that does not concern you, though perhaps you would accept a bargain? One answer for another?" He pushes his spectacles up on his nose and leans forward a bit as his tone gains an intense edge. "Tell me, miss, where is it that you were reborn?"

Arminos gives Wallace a look of mock horror. "Sir, are you telling us that you've never set foot in the Sagely Goat afore? Ha! It's a finer tavern than most towns this size can claim, take it from this old soldier. Maren owns the place an' his girls help to run it. That's Ailsa and Ketra running about. Darcy's been at the graveyard since before dawn, making sure the place is all cleaned up, most like. They're good eggs all of 'em."

At Sanduro's question Ailso pauses to look up from the table she's wiping down. "This your first Festival of Remembrance?" she smiles kindly. "It'll get solemn as evening comes on, but while the sun's up we make a point to remember happier times with those who've gone on. Our favorite stories about them and the like. There's no one here who hasn't lost someone, the laughter helps to ease the burden, aye?"

Sanduro nods at Ailsa's explanation. "Yes, my family's funerals are much the same. I just thought Lastfolk were usually more dour about death." He pauses a moment, as though listening to a voice in his other ear. "Like the sour-faced man talking with Ketra. I don't think I've seen him in here before, although perhaps I've just forgotten?"

Ketra is taken aback for a moment by the stranger's sudden intensity, but plays its off casually. "Mister, if that's your idea of a pick up line, you need to put some work into it. And if its a recruitment for a cult, you're laying in a little hard." She taps the drink she delivered with the side of her tray "If you don't want to share, that's just fine. Enjoy your drink, and come on up to the bar if you change your mind 'bout that room."

Leaving the stranger, Ketra heads on over to Aisla and Sanduro. In a low voice she says "You know that fellow in the corner with his book that's scowling at everyone? I'd steer clear sis, guy seems like a real creep. Not even ordering anything."

"Hey Sanduro." She nods to the varisian.

Sanduro returns the greeting. "Good morning, Ketra. What's he doing that's creepy? And why let a creep stay if he isn't ordering anything? I've been kicked out of enough places when I didn't have the coin to order anything." The youth drops his voice into a mockery of a tavernkeeper in rural Ustalav, "Time to moof along, you wagabond. Dat is a barstool, not a park bench!"

He smiles, and adds, "If he's being unpleasant to you, I'd think it's busy enough that your father would want the table available for paying customers, wouldn't he?"

"Feeling all right, Garret?" Silvia asks, leaning forward in her seat. "Looked like you had something in your eye for a second there."

Garret gives a disarming smile and says to Silvia, "Actually, I am feeling better with your company. I can get a bit...intense when discussing those I've lost to the Nail and my determination to protect the people of Roslar's Coffer, especially with someone who shares the same conviction."

With one last far-away glance giving a hint to his thoughts, the halfling shakes himself and continues. "Still, we need to remember the good times with friends gone on this day of remembrance, not just morn their passing. To old friends departed, and new ones recently met," says Garret, as he offers a toast with Silvia.

Ketra twists her mouth in distaste "Acting all secret and condescending about what he's doing in Roslar's Coffer, and opening a conversation with some prying question about where I was born." She glances toward the stranger just briefly and adds "Got some bad vibes."

"But this wouldn't be the Sagely Goat if we turned away someone just because their social skills were worse than a hog's. And he might still be a customer." She shrugs.

Wallace smiles as Arminos playfully scolds him. "Haha! I've been taking my meals in the garrison while I get my bearings. I see plainly that I've been missing out though, what a lively place," he concedes. "Thank you, Sergeant. Gentlemen. Please, enjoy the Festival," he says with a smile before making his way to the bar.

"A menu, please," he asks once Ketra arrives, then takes a moment to peruse it. "Some of your friends?" he asks, gesturing with a hand to the chatty table. "I think I've seen a few of them around the garrison before, but I am ashamed to admit that I've never met them! Do you think it'd be appropriate for me to impose myself upon them and take a meal at their table?" Perhaps unlike many of the other customers at the Sagely Goat, he doesn't lean on the bar for support as he reads the menu. As a matter of fact, he seems to touch very little, as though he was visiting a place he doesn't belong.

When Ketra, Ailsa, and Sanduro all glance back at the stranger's table to see him staring evenly back at them, expression unreadable. An uncomfortably long moment passes before the pale man nods to himself, as though some decision or realization had been reached. Pushing back his chair, the man placed a golden shield 1gp on the table and finishes his coffee before retrieving his fine leather satchel and heading for the door.

Just as he's about to leave, the door swings open suddenly and he very nearly bumps into Octavious Black. Broad-shouldered and greying, the curmudgeonly priest glares daggers at the pale man. "Watch yerself, dandy," he growls. The stranger gives Octavious a venomous look and exits the Sagely Goat without a word.

Limping slightly from old wounds, Octavious makes a beeline for the table where Silvia and Garret are sitting and eases himself into a chair without waiting for an invitation. "Fingers all present and accounted for, Macatus? Lord in Iron knows that damned contraption will be the death you one of these days."

"I rather hope it will be the death of some raiders. But not to worry, I can still count to 10. 20, if I take my shoes off," Silvia answers, leaning back. She gestures toward the door with her chin. "Who was that?"

Ketra shoos the retreating back of the creepy stranger away. "There he goes. Sure as the sun rises, I'm glad to see he didn't want to loiter." She thinks for a moment and adds "I hope he's not off to bother anyone else around here."

Seeing Wallace calling for her, she excuses herself from Sanduro and Ailsa with a "Work calls. Busy as all hell today." and a wave. At Wallace's request for a menu, she just laughs "We aren't fancy as all that Wallace. Just whatever's in the kitchen is what we've got. And that'll be ready for lunch, so you might be hungry for a slip longer. Sorry."

At his question she adds "Well, why not just join them? No one here in the Coffer's going to be so stuck up as to refuse a well-meaning guest." She thinks back for a moment and adds "Well, almost no one." She slaps a hand on Wallace's shoulder. "Here, I'll get you a drink and a few more for the others from the garrison. You can pass the extras on and start the conversation that way."

"Very well, there is no rushing the chef! I'll take your word on the drinks, wish me luck then," Wallace responds as he gathers the drinks and makes his way to the table.

"Father Black, good morning!" he says, passing him one of the drinks and placing the rest on the table. Still standing, he addresses the others at the table. "Wallace Lundgren, Lastwall Cavalry. I've seen most of you around the garrison, but we haven't officially met yet. Mind if I join you?"

Assuming nobody tells him to shove off...
With a polite smile, he takes a seat. Interestingly, he doesn't move to claim any of the drinks he brought. "I couldn't help but notice one of the patrons wasn't excited to be here anymore. What was that about? Is he trouble? Should someone keep an eye on him?" No telling what someone might do when they're that upset. Despicable actions start to look pretty good when you feel threatened. Father Black didn't seem concerned, more irritated at the inconvenience than anything else.

Sanduro hesitates a moment, then nods to himself. "I'll be right back," he says to Ailsa, then moves as quickly as he can through the crowded tavern. When he gets to the door, he opens it and checks up and down the road to see which way Ketra's creep has gone.

He's the first person who has come through town since we've been here that nobody seems to know. Are you sure you don't recognize him?

Boyo, if I recognized him, I'd have said so. But he was bothering Ketra, so if you want to give him a knife in the kidneys I won't object. Or let me out and I can handle him for you.

”Greetings, Wallace—yes, please join us. I am called Garret. Have you been on any patrols for Captain Sunstone? We may have seen each other then,” says Garret welcomingly, pleased that one of the new protectors for the town is making himself known.

"Father Black, good morning!" he says, passing him one of the drinks and placing the rest on the table. Still standing, he addresses the others at the table. "Wallace Lundgren, Lastwall Cavalry. I've seen most of you around the garrison, but we haven't officially met yet. Mind if I join you?"

"'Father'? I already got a kid, shield-shiner, I don't need another," Octavius scoffs, but eyes the handful of mugs with interest and accepts the one offered to him. When Wallace asks about the stranger Octavius just shrugs. "Who cares who he was? Soft hands and Ulstalavic finery, he's likely some noble or overly pretentious merchant, an' I hope he trips into the mud." Raising his mug to his own toast, the priest drinks it down.

Looking out from the doorway, Sanduro quickly picks out the well-dressed stranger walking down the street. About two blocks away, the man pauses to look around--seeming to get his bearings--before striding casually in the general direction of Cofferkeep, rounding the corner of Tharmethion's Sundries and disappearing from view.

Feel free to continue the introductory RP, but we'll assume conversation continues for a few hours to keep the story moving. I'll get the post up for the afternoon after work today.

Take a seat, take a seat!" Silvia says, nudging a chair out for Wallace with her foot. "Name's Silvia. Not a regular anymore, but I served under the Captain a few years back." She keeps an eye toward the door, as if expecting the stranger, or someone like him, to come charging through it.

With Wallace and Octavius seemingly getting along, Ketra quickly finishes her rounds and then goes to needle Ailsa about Faelin or Brayden or whatever the boy's name is. She ends her joking around with "'Ey, you should prob'ly set him straight one of these days if you're really not interested. He might turn into the obsessive sort. Hell, he's already most of the way there." She puts an arm over her sister's shoulders, giving her a mischievous side-eye. "Or... is this your plan? You're playing with him?"

"Oh sis, I didn't know you were so naughty." Ketra laughs at any indignatation and runs for the kitchen to help Maren out.

Ailsa doesn't break stride from the dishware washing she was in the middle of before Ketra started teasing. "You don't think I haven't tried? Every time I so much as glance at the half of the room he's in, he goes red as a beet and starts starting into his mug or down at his plate. Once I sat down at the table with him, he stuttered a bit and then slapped two helms (2sp) on the table and all but sprinted out!" She splashes some water at Ketra's retreating back with an indignant snort.

The rest of the morning passes in convivial conversation and good company, though it only gets busier for the Driscolls as folks from the outlying ranches and farmsteads come into town for the the festival. Shortly afternoon Sergeant Eversteel and his table switch to water, and after downing a mug or (and perhaps a visit to the privy) pay their tabs and leave. "Try to leave some for the poor saps who'll be working, eh sir?" one of the soldiers, Jardim, calls to Wallace as they head out the door.

As mid-afternoon arrives, patrons begin to filter out of the Sagely Goat, many of them with backpacks and baskets in tow. In the last year or two, at Darcy Driscoll's energetic urging, many in Roslar's Coffer have started to picnic at the graveyard, having both an afternoon of leisure and a chance to speak their hearts to the departed.

Octavius finishes his third mug and pushes up from the table. "Time to go pay my respects. I expect you lot'll be along shortly?"

Wallace stands with Octavius. "Unless you wish to be alone, Fath- Mr. Black, then I see no reason why we couldn't all proceed together," he suggests, looking to the others for their opinion. I know Father Black 'already got a kid,' but 'Mister' simply doesn't do his position as a priest justice! Even as a Gorumite, such a position deserves to be respected. Who am I to force it on him though? Old habits die hard, hopefully I don't enrage him too much with my mistakes.
________
Don't have time right now to backfill the RP to answer/respond to the questions/statements, but Wallace would explain that his work is primarily with training the militia members alongside Octavius and going on patrols with fellow cavalry members posted here. While he rarely goes on patrols with the Captain, he does debrief with her directly.

Sanduro watches the stranger who had been bothering Ketra disappear around the corner in the direction of Cofferkeep, then goes back into the tavern and returns to work. With so many of the townsfolk taking the morning off, he stays busy hauling full kegs and bottles from the storeroom to the bar and carrying the empties back for the rest of the morning and early afternoon.

When things finally slow down, Sanduro is exhausted. "Feels like my arms are going to fall off," he mutters to himself.

When the Driscolls close up the Sagely Goat for the Festival, he will walk to the graveyard with them but once there is likely to wander around to let Zsofia see as many faces as possible, hoping to find someone she thinks is familiar.

Good. You need the exercise, beanpole. At your age, I could haul full beer kegs all day and into the night, too.

”Sounds like a good idea to me, Wallace. Let’s walk over together and I’ll check in with my folks when we get there—I told them I’d meet up with them there this afternoon,” says Garret, seemingly content to tag along and cogitate on his own memories.

Maren grins at his daughters' antics but waves off Ketra's help. "No need, I'm about wrapped up here. There's a basket and blanket under the counter there, why don't you and Aisla find us a nice spot?" His smile becomes tinged with an old sadness. "Tell your mother I'll be along shortly."

"Okay, let's do it!" Silvia exclaims, pushing herself away from the table and up to her feet. With a friendly salute of thanks to the Sagely Goat's staff, she grabs her things and heads out the door with the others.

Ketra picks up the basket, piles the blanket on top, and gives a half-smile to Maren. "Sure thing." Despite having spent only a little more than a year with her mother before they were separated, Ketra still holds onto a warm memory of her.

She waves to her dad and trots up to join Ailsa (Is it just me or has CW gone through four different spellings for her name so far...). She blinks at the weight "Wow, dad's ready for us to feed half the town here. You ready sis? It's past time to kick back for the day."

Ready to head on over.

lol yes, Ailsa is the correct one, but I think I've misspelled it as "Alisa" and "Ailso" in only a few short posts

You join the small stream of people leaving the Sagely Goat, walking south east towards the graveyard of Roslar's Coffer with the town's namesake tomb at its center. As you draw near you see perhaps half a hundred people standing in small groups conversing outside the low fence that rings the burial plots, or stretched out on blankets next to the grave-markers of their loved ones.

Mayor Mullan Grive is standing at the sole gate in and out of the graveyard, shaking hands and conversing earnestly with several of the small gatherings. When she sees the group of you approaching she gives you all a polite nod but doesn't approach.

Just inside the gate you can see Darcy waving at you before she jogs right up to Ketra. "Oi I thought you and Aisla's never get here! I'm famished! Give," the tall half-orc says laughingly, tugging at the picnic basket in Ketra's hands.

Octavius gives you all a nod and grunt and limps towards the small gate leading into the graveyard, looking like a man whose made this trek many times.

"Excuse me," a small voice says from behind Garret. When the halfling turns he sees a human girl, only a little taller than him, looking at him with hopeful eyes. "Do you know if my dad will be here soon? He's a guard like you, he was supposed to come picnic with us after his shift was over but he hasn't come yet. Are you on the morning shift too?" Garret recognizes her as one of Rory "Black Eye" Brenner's daughters, Laesi.

Garret smiles at the young lady, saying, "I'm off duty for the day, and I haven't seen your father recently, Laesi. Do you know where was he posted this morning? I can go check on him if that would make you feel better."

Though there were a million reasons why a militia member might be delayed in coming to the remembrance festival, Garret's thoughts are dark today as he remembers the invasion of the Twisted Nail, worried that any ill omen might spell fresh disaster for his home.

Ketra drops the basket straight into Darcy's eager arms "Phew, yeah you're welcome to it Darce. Dad loaded it up like we're to feed the whole town. Or just one hungry sister..." Ketra looks everywhere other than at Darcy.

"Oh, by the way, did you see a tall fellow with a book around here earlier. A stranger? He was at the Sagely Goat being awful creepy. After he left I was hoping he didn't come over here to bother you."

While she's talking, Ketra takes a look around the gathered crowd, noting the girl looking for her old Brenner.

Perception; Anyone unusual?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

"I'm happy to come along too," Wallace offers to Garret. "I'm new to town, so my connection to the history of today is weak at best. I'd be happy to just say that I was able to make today better for someone!" Bet General Arnisant would have offered to go instead of Garret! Darn! I'll have to do better than that next time. I hope this is good enough, he deserves time to be here with the town more than I do.

Laesi gives Garret a small nod and takes his hand. Wallace falls in behind and the three of them walk back up the street, drawing near to the small block-fort that is Cofferkeep. The gate is shut and no one is in the guardhouse currently.

Darcy's grin becomes a little strained when Ketra won't meet her eyes. "Yeah, um..." she seems like she's about to say something else, but then shrugs and the cheery note returns. "No creepy strangers around here that I've seen. But if he likes books how bad could be be?"

Garret was planning to invite Wallace and Silvia along as well, since they are most closely linked to the guard (as far as I can tell). Looks like Wallace beat me to it.

Garret gives a push on the gate, asking Wallace, ”They shouldn’t be shut down, should they? And where is the guard for the gatehouse? This is most irregular.”

Garret turns to the young lady and asks, ”Laesi, do you know what duty your dad had this morning?”

I meant that "not meeting eyes" more in the sense of teasing Darcy about her being the glutton in question. But this works too.

Looking at her sisters, Ketra purses her lips. "You didn't see him Darce, he opened a conversation by asking where I was reborn. That's just weird. And he had some book full of arcane writing that he didn't want anyone looking at." She tenses up then, after a moment, shrugs "Bad vibes. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion."

"By the way, where's all the morning shift folks from the Guard? I didn't see them at the Sagely Goat, but I thought they woulda come here to pay respects after their rounds." She takes another look around "I don't see any of them, really. Wonder if there was something spotted out of town."

I moved to the Midwest 33 years ago, and this is only the second time I've had to scoot to shelter for a tornado warning; this afternoon, the sirens went off in the middle of a Zoom conference, sending us down to the basement. That would have been fine - our basement is our TV and game room - if it weren't followed less than five minutes later by a power outage. Seven hours later, I'm posting from my phone in the dark.

Sanduro nods to Darcy and anyone else he recognizes when he gets to the graveyard, but doesn't hang around to chat. He walks around the edge of the cemetery, making his way through the crowd in a slowly closing spiral to give Zsofia the chance to see as many of the people attending the Festival as possible.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

That's odd. Most of the guards seem to be skipping the Festival - I think those who are here all came straight over from the Sagely Goat. In most places, a crowd like this would be an invisible to pickpockets at least, but maybe Lastwall is different.