When Sigrun turns and sees Chayton and his mugs, she smiles. She downs the remainder of what is in her mug and takes both of the new ones from him, setting them down on a table.
"You know how to please" she tells him.
She takes both Chayton's arms in her hands and guides them around her into an embrace. The she circles his neck with her own arms.
"But this is better, more pleasing. Yesterday was a bad day. I had to work for the militia yesterday to pay some tax. We were sent to help a caravan that was managed by a fool and ambushed because of it. I was nearly killed. It made me think how life is always short, and a person must grab the pleasure to be had whenever they can."
"Let us drink those beers and get out of here. I am bored."
Cetan grins appreciatively, understanding Rodrik's change of subject. In a sense I am proud. On the other hand, it's not as though I was here shaping who she is today. That credit goes entirely to Halgra. From this point on? That remains to be seen.
Gabsen seems annoyed. He finishes his beer quickly, asks for a room in the inn and picks his weapons
He stops by Brogann
I'll have a walk outside, and a look at the walls, see how they are manned, to ease my mind. If everything seems fine, I'll come back and have some sleep.
Turning to the dwarfess
Want to come with me checking the walls?
"Aye, a'm aye up fur a short donder afore sleeping," Schwertleite agrees, scowling at the empty chairs around her table. Scooting her own chair out with a loud noise, she rises to her feet. "Thae folks cannae tak' ony criticism wi'oot getting thair pride hurt. LEARN TAE TAK' A SOMETHIN TAE ADD, YE COWARDS!" The last part is bellowed at a group of militia members who are currently drinking near the bar and conspicuously not looking back at her.
Trunau is split into three parts, divided by fortifications both natural and manmade. The Commons, where the town hosted Ruby's ceremony, is atop the stone plateau that comprises nearly half the town. There is no palisade here—to reach it requires a climb up nearly forty feet of sheer cliff wall, where a handful of defenders could easily pick off any invaders. Even still, six stone watchtowers circle the rise, each manned by several members of Trunau's militia.
Travelling from upper to lower Trunau means passing through the Inner Gates—a pair of stone curtain walls at either end of the switchback. These walls were designed to allow citizens to retreat to the higher ground in the event the main palisade is breached, and having a gate at either end of the slope allows defenders to better choke the invades and turn the whole ramp into a killing ground, firing arrows down from the walls and cliff above. During times of peace, like tonight, their stout wooden palisades are raised, making coming and going between sections easy. Here too, members of Trunau's militia can be found, though they are lightest here.
Lower Trunau, lacking the protection of the cliff, relies on a wooden palisade, built to last throughout decades of strife. Ten-foot-high tree trunks, their tops sharpened to wicked points, surround the lower portion of the village, fitted so tightly that no light passes between them. Their bases are driven into the earth and the bottom half of the wall is encased in a rough but sturdy foundation of stone. Trenches line the exterior of the palisade, themselves filled with smaller spikes. The wall incorporates several stone outcroppings that rise above it, forming the bases for wooden watchtowers, including those that flank the main gate.
The main gate itself is the only way to Trunau proper, in or out, as anyone needing an exit during a siege could use a rope ladder dropped from the cliffs. Built to overlap the stone outcroppings on either side, the gate allows the rock of the hill to reinforce it against battering rams. The watchtowers here are large enough to house a dozen defenders each, ready to fire bows or pour boiling water on attackers from relative safety. Both to intimidate attackers and guard against flaming arrows, the walls and roof of the towers here are armored with the shields and breastplates of orcs that assaulted Trunau's walls and died, their clan symbols prominently displayed. Trunau's militia is here in force, with nearly thirty members manning the towers and walls.
With Trunau safely secured, you feel comfortable retiring for the evening. Time to head home or, if home is outside the walls of Trunau, to the Ramblehouse. Cham Larringfass, the gregarious proprietor of Trunau's only inn has offered rooms to the party free of charge for helping repel the attack on the caravan.
Cetan retires with Halgra to her home with their daughter Ruby.
Sigrun retires with Chayton to her room at the Ramblehouse.
Sky Voice will ask if it is looked down upon to sleep under the stars here. He likes to get a feeling for where he is staying by bonding with the wild. If not he will find a nice spot perhaps by a tree and bundel up with Towering Brother. If it isn't ok he will take TB to the stables and find accommodations at the tavern/inn where he was earlier.
Brogann stays in the barracks at the Longhouse, with many of the other young warriors.
The halfling woman wakes Sigrun, who reflexively clenches her jaw at the yelling. She would complain to Chayton if she could, but he has early work at the smithy and is already gone. Sigrun had chosen her own place for this reason, no need to worry about having to boot Chayton out in the morning. The other reason being Chayton's place is smaller and sort of a dump.
She groans in annoyance but, as excitable over little things as some halflings have turned out to be, it sounds kind of serious. Sigrun quickly pulls on some clothes and grabs the belt holding her sword and dagger to carry without girding it around her waist. Most likely the problem is a big rat or a pot of spilled stew. She goes to see if she's actually needed for something.
It takes Sigrun a moment to navigate the twisting halls of the Ramblehouse, its construction the result of a dozen minds, each with its own interpretation of what constituted a proper boardinghouse and inn. As a result, the building boasts an eccentric mishmash of rooms, all shapes and sizes.
When she eventually finds Cham, she finds the proprietor pale and shaking, sitting against the wall. Another halfling, one of the maids working to turndown rooms, crouches next to her, trying to get the terrified woman to drink some water.
"I just come over to do the wake-up," Cham mutters, "Just as he asked. And he-he-he..."
Sigrun gets a glimpse of the room's interior. Rodrik Grath, favored son of Trunau, lies unmoving on the bed, the linens stained with crimson. The blood's source is a slice up the length of his left forearm, a bloody hopeknife on the floor nearby.
The sight in the room takes Sigrun from groggy to alert in a second. It is shocking, and also very surprising. She had seen Rodrik not many hours before.
She goes to Cham and helps the maid lift her up from the floor.
"Take her out of here" she orders the maid.
Before she steps any closer to the body, Sigrun ask the maid "do you have a runner, someone to deliver a message? Send them to bring someone from the militia. Tell the person you send they must insist someones comes right away, that there has been a death."
Sigrun then takes a couple of steps forward to get a better look at the arm wound. She wants to see if the blood has dried any, indicating some time passing, or if it is fresh or even still flowing.
What the heck is happening here?
Gabsen stops at the doorway
I know that metallic smell too well. Blood. Too much blood.
The maid nods, her gaze staying as far from the bloody room as possible. "Aye, I can send somebody." She gently tugs on Cham's arm. "Up you go, Mrs. Larringfass. Let's get you away from here." The innkeeper rises and follows the maid numbly.
Rodrik's room is sparse, containing a writing desk and a single cot topped with a straw-stuffed mattress. A cracked window in the southern wall is the room's only other exit, although the second story drop would be quite dangerous.
The wound is neat, clean, and deep—even without medical knowledge, you suspect the death was quick. The blood on Rodrik's body, blade, and bed is still tacky, close to drying.
Omast Frum, the patrol sergeant on duty sighs and stands from the table. "Brogann, Scherwleite, with me. Let's see what we've caught."
Sigrun signals with her arm for Gabsen to stay out of the room, and she retreats to the door to join him.
"A Grath brother, Rodrik. He's dead. I told the maid to send a message to the militia. I think someone will be here soon. We should wait and let nobody else in."
Brogann takes his sword and follows Omast Frum.
Not natural causes, I suppose... but also not an orc raid. So what is it, then?
Sky Voice no stranger to needing to wake quickly will rise and try to find out what is happening.
Seeing the gathered crowd he gets the idea to try and calm the crowd and get them to make way for those who need enter.
Cetan curls around under the blankets, grasping for more consciousness as well as the cool side of the pillow.
... Hmm? I should come too.
He sits up in bed and stretches, looking for his longbow. He only lazily puts on a shirt and loose breeches before getting up to follow her.
"...think they'd gang tae fetch th' undertaker if thir's bin a death," Schwertleite complains loudly to Brogann as they follow Frum. "Gowk laddie needs tae learn th' proper wey tae handle thae hings 'n' nae come running tae th' militia fur ilka kinch..."
The throng responds reluctantly to Tooantuh, but they begin to disperse, making way for any that might need to come and go from the Ramblehouse.
The militia—Omast, Brogann, and Schwerleite—arrive on the scene at the same time as Halgra and Cetan. The Patrol Sergeant greets the Chief Defender before leading his compatriots inside. For her part, Halgra tries to assuage the fears of the gathering townsfolk.
Inside, Omast's air of joviality disappears, stunned into silence by the scene of Rodrik's demise. He chokes back a sob as he looks over the body. "Gods," he mutters. "This will destroy Jagrin. And Kurst." He rubs his face with a hand. "Let's tell Halgra, see what she wants to do."
---
The word of Rodrik's death, apparently by his own hand, rocks Trunau. Within an hour of his body's discovery, a crowd of nearly fifty onlookers surrounds the Ramblehouse. Halgra takes the news stoically, but one more tragedy in a life filled with them. Calmly, she informs the militia to arrange for his body to be moved to the Sanctuary, the town's chapel dedicated to the valorous goddess Iomedae.
When his body is brought out, it is met with wails and cries of anger from the gathered townsfolk, although they do their best not to interfere. Trunau's favored son is gone, and with him, part of the town's hope for the future. In the aftermath, Halgra calls an emergency meeting of the Trunau Council at the Ivory Hall, requesting that each of you join.
After Trunau's first siege, the Ivory Hall was festooned with with the skulls of the most ferocious orc champions to fall in the combat, their mute eye sockets a testament both to the constant threat that the nascent community existed under, as well as to their continued devotion to survival, no matter the cost. Since those early days, subsequent Chief Defenders removed the skulls, finding them too ghastly and too similar to the orc's own trophy-keeping tradition. Now, the Hall is known for its brilliant white walls and it serve's as Halgra's home. Too pragmatic to keep the largest residence in Trunau for herself, the hall also houses several of Halgra's grown children and their own families, giving the Hall a raucous atmosphere. The only space off-limits to her rough-and-tumble clan is the Meeting Room—high up and built off the back of the Hall, it offers a commanding view of the surrounding countryside and provides a large circular table around which the council can meet and discuss the everyday business of governing the town.
Halgra takes her seat, her face solemn. "I'm sure that you all have heard rumors flying around, so I'll put any doubts to rest. Rodrik Grath is dead. It looks like suicide." The news is met with muttering and uneasy glances.
"Jagrin must be informed," says Lessie Crumkin, the town's banker. A priestess of Abadar, Lessie traces her heritage back to the founding of Trunau, when her ancestor Barran Crumkin, himself an Abadaran tax collector defied orders to retreat back to Lastwall, and chose to cast his lot with the abandoned Trunauans. Although her petite frame and more 'civilized' profession might imply a certain pretension for the more practical aspects of life in Trunau, Lessie earned respect from her peers as a skilled warrior and cool head.
"He will be, Lessie," Halgra explains, [b]"As soon as he returns from his patrol. Until then, we've moved Rodrik's body to the Sanctuary. Sister Varvatos will keep it safe until Jagrin can return for a proper funeral."
Sara Morninghawk gestures to the party. "What are they doing here?" She folds her arms, huge muscles coiled beneath her green skin. "I have nothing against them personally, but this is Trunau business and some of them are outsiders." Sara is easily the most distinct of the council. Being a half-orc would have been enough on its own, but with her bald head, extensive tattoos and piercings, and impressive frame, she is likely the most recognizable figure in the entire town.
"I was getting to that," Halgra continues. Sara looks like she means to reply, but her wife, the dwarven wizard and fellow councilor Agrit Staginsdar lays a reassuring hand on her arm. Sara scowls, but doesn't press the issue.
Halgra gestures towards Kurst, seated in the space at the table reserved for Patrol Leader, for his absent father. The cheerful, if reserved, young man from last night is gone, now he looks haunted and reduced, the pain of his twin's death clear on his face. "Kurst has asked me to authorize an investigation into his death."
Kurst nods slowly. "I know it looks like a suicide, but I just can't believe that. Something else has to be going on," he explains, looking at the gathered party. "You saw him last night, at Ruby's ceremony. That wasn't a desperate man. He had friends, family, a future. I know my brother and I know he wouldn't do that to himself. It doesn't add up and I won't dishonor his memory by doing nothing. I won't accept his suicide until we can rule out everything else."
Halgra grimaces. "I'm sure that Jagrin would feel the same way, which is why I wanted these others to join us." The Chief Defender turns to you. "Some of you are natives, some have chosen to make a home here, and some are outsiders—but you have all proven that when a crisis arises, you prove yourselves worthy to the challenge. Rodrik was many things to each of us, a son, a brother, a friend. I want to ensure that justice is done, for his sake and for his family's. Can I call upon you now?"
Sky Voice eager to make himself useful raises his voice to respond "Aye! Outsider I may be, however it is community affairs such as this I was trained for. With the councils blessing I will begin speaking to the peoples as soon as possible." Sky Voice than bows to the council with respect.
Sigrun speaks up. "I don't believe it was suicide either" she states flatly.
I saw him just last night and he was in good spirits, and talking about future things. I can't see how his mind was occupied by such a thing if his talk and his acts showed no sign of it. Also his talk of community all the time make me think that even if it was, he would not disappoint people here. I was first to find him among the people in this room, I will help."
"Yeah, I'm with you Kurst. I don't believe it either. I will help investigate.
A clever person can stage a scene. Or something like magical possession.
Or... if Rodrik did take his own life, which I don't think was the ase, then at least we could find out why."
Cetan puts his hand on Halgra's on the table, and responses Yes, of course. I didn't know him as well as all of you, but maybe my fresh eyes will see something intersting.
"O' coorse yi'll waant dependable dwarven hulp," Schwertleite answers loudly. "Dinnae ken how come ye didnae ask sooner. Sae dinnae ye worry - we'll fin' whoever's behind this dishonorable deed 'n' send thaim tae th' a munter heap whaur thay belong."
Kurst swallows painfully, but offers the party an appreciative smile. "I must thank you all then. Rodrik would have been happy to know that, even now, he still has friends. If you're looking for leads, I can think of three right away: Cham Larringfass and the Ramblehouse, Omast Frum, and..." Kurst hesitates before continuing. " Seek out Brinya Kelver, she was my brother's lover. I learned recently they were to be married soon."
Sara Morninghawk raises her heavily punctured eyebrow. "I know the girl," she adds. "She's half-orc."
Kurst nods. "He begged me not to tell a soul, since our father would not approve, but there's no sense in keeping it secret now. She might know better than anybody what was going on in his life."
Cetan winces. Has... anyone informed her yet? Maybe we should check with Cham or Omast first. I suspect Brinya might need a little time...
He looks down at the floor with a hint of sadness in his eyes.
Halgra grimaces. "Trunau isn't a big town. I expect that if she hasn't already learned, she will soon."
Kurst stands up from the table. "If there are no questions, I should go to tell her now. It might be easier that way."
Brogann greets Sara Morninghawk and to Agrit Staginsdar. The dwarf's mix of martial and arcane training mirrors his own, to a degree, and he finds he can relate well to her.
"I would ask to go with you, Kurst," says Brogann.
"We should go to Brinya right away. If word gets out that we are poking into this, and not just accepting it as suicide, then Brinya becomes a target. Because she would probably know if Rodrik had discovered something."
"Did anybody check the scene for footprints or clues? Or has it all been trampled by the curious?"
Sigrun looks at Brogann askance, wondering how much time he spends inside buildings.
"There are no footprints because this happened inside the Ramblehouse where there are floors. Cham was there first, and one of her workers was there second. I came third and had them leave the room. Gabsen came forth, and we did not let anyone else in. But then we had to come here for this meeting. I do not know what happened since."
"Brinya is secret, and only we know of her, not others. We should go to the Ramblehouse first before people mess up the room."
"Do you not leave footprints inside buildings?
From dirt on your shoes, or - in this case - blood, perhaps? The floor of the Ramblehouse isn't that pristine.
And whatever you told them, someone did go into the room, since they brought Rodrik's body out. I am less hopeful we'll find any clues at the scene. But maybe."
"You may be right that none others know about Brinya, but I am not certain of that. The killers - if there were any - could have found a token or a note or something."
Brogann sighs. You can't hit a mystery with a sword.
It's appalling to Sigrun really.
"No I do not track dirt around buildings because I am civilized and clean my boots at the door. There were no bloody footprints. Most of the blood was on the bed as I could see. If there were bloody footprints all about, would it seem like a suicide? Do you think your own militia people that stupid?"
Sigrun smirks at Brogann.
"I was there with Gabsen, outside the room until the militia people came. The one we were told to talk to, Omast? He was there as were you and the dwarf, some others too. That's when his body was taken. Did your militia people ruin the room so there is nothing to be found now?"
"There are those who can see that which is not obvious.
A slight trace of blood that maybe the militia missed.
A few scuffs of recent boot-prints even on a hard floor.
Signs of a struggle. Something out of place.
No, I do not think you or the militia missed anything obvious. But skilled trackers and investigators can find clues that others would miss. Yes, even inside a building. And maybe even signs of your passing."
"I am not so skilled in that regard."
There is no time for quarrelling. I've been in the room, but I saw no foot prints, even if I didn't checked for some. I m no tracker, even less an investigator. But someone else in our ragtag group might be. Let's stay calm and do our best.
"Och stoap yer bellyachin' 'n' let's git movin`," Schwertleite agrees. "Forby, ah cuid uise something tae dram."
Sky Voice figures he will let the rest quarrel in the mean time he will hit the streets and question the public to gather different opinions.
The result is one higher if dealing with anyone who has the giant subtype.
If you need me to be specific I am looking to see the publics opinion on the death specifically further it being suicide.
"So if you know of a good tracker who can find the footprints you and I cannot see, then get this person and we will go."
Sigrun smirks again. It's fairly clear she enjoys messing with Brogann. In all seriousness she adds.
"I don't understand why we wouldn't go to the place where it happened first. What would this or that person on the street know about something that happened a few hours ago? Other than maybe a few people knowing it happened at all."
Brogann answers all of Sigrún's questions as if she is genuinely asking, and not as if she is mocking him.
"First, I do not know who is the best tracker in Trunau, but I expect that Halgra, Omast, Jagrin, or Kurst would all be more capable than I. Kurst is going to Brinya first."
"Second, the scene has been disturbed. Yes, maybe the militia did ruin the scene so there is nothing to be found. Maybe not. But their disturbance of the scene does take away the urgency of getting there right away. I think there is a chance - not a certainty - that Brinya is in some danger.
Third, the reason for asking around - either people on the street or Brinya - is not necessarily about the event of Rodrik's death itself. But rather, events leading up to it. If Rodrik had recently been in any arguments or fights. If he had uncovered something nefarious. If he had been acting strangely. And yes, we might ask if anyone strange was seen around the Ramblehouse. We are not asking just about what happened a few hours ago."
Perhaps only one or two of us should go to talk to Brinya, so that we are not obvious about it. I can be one to go. Cetan offers.
"I don't need to be in the room with Brinya. I can wait outside in case there is trouble and I am needed.
And if others want to go check the room, I don't think that would be a problem."
Sigrun grows bored with the whole thing and just shrugs silently. It's Brogann's militia and the militia's problem to solve. She'll just go wherever. No skin off her nose.
Brogann will follow Rodrik, but wait outside while he talks with Brinya.
Brinya's home turns out to be a humble collection of rooms at a boarding house just northwest of the Commons.
Kurst holds you just outside before entering. "Perhaps I should speak to her first," he explains. "The news will be difficult for her. Perhaps it will best if she hears it from me before I subject her to the questioning of half a dozen strangers." He grimaces, and steps inside.
Twenty minutes later, he steps back out. He rubs his eyes for a moment before addressing you. "Well, it's done. She's not taken the news well, I'm afraid, but she is willing to speak with you."
Cetan stands back and nods at Kurst's request.
Understood. This won't be easy. Take your time.
--------------------
Once Kurst returns, the tiefling frowns at the news of her state.
Are you sure she's ready for questions? Perhaps we should come back later.
Only if Kurst still convincingly encourages the party forward does Cetan step into the home to gingerly approach Brinya and introduce himself.
Sigrun rolls her eyes and sighs.
"That's what I was saying before we walked all the way over here. Now we're here. Just go do what we came to do"
Sigrun herself waits for the others to go on in. They were the ones eager to come.
"Of course she's distraught. But I don't want to wait too long to find out what she might know."
Brogann walks in.
He addresses the half-orc woman. Brogann is straightforward and honest. The people here don't sugar-coat hard truths or handle each other with kid gloves. It's one of the things I like about the town. The Tiefling may figure that out, or not.
"Brinya. I am sorry for your loss. Rodrik was a good man. Trunau is less without him.
I don't believe this was suicide. You may have information that sheds some light on what happened, and so I must ask. Understand that I do not mean to cause you distress, but if Rodrik was killed, we need to move quickly. I cannot give you the luxury of time to grieve.
So, then. While Rodrik did not seem in despair, he may have confided other thoughts to you - or committed them to paper. I know he liked to write poetry and plays.
Did he speak of any problems?
Did his writings make him any enemies that you know of?
And, do you know if he kept a journal?"
People. Never really had the hang of it.Too many death around me. Didn't help.
Gabsen seems in a bitter and silent mood.
Which seems to be mostly his everyday mood.