DM-Camris' GIANT SLAYER: 1. Mysteries in Trunau (Inactive)

Game Master Camris

The crowd cheers loudly and swarm the contestants, slapping you all on the back and thrusting full tankards of a very potent ale in your hands.
A grinning Ruby is lifted up on a crowd of shoulders and paraded around to the cheers of the crowd.
You are led off to an open tent with a feast of local foods of all types and a plate (or four, in Thorfinn's case) piled high with food is delivered to your hands.

Opportunity to mingle here; you can watch or join in various games and sports events, or schmooze the townsfolk with Diplomacy (Gather Info) or Knowledge:Local checks.

Thorfinn cheerfully joins in the various wrestling challenges (it's what he came here for), doing one on one, one on three, and even cheerfully allowing himself to be challenged (and bribed) to throw a match to allow a fellow to impress his girl.

Asher stands, dusting his backside off. He smiles a little, before helping the others to their feet as the crowd of locals surge around them.

Grobradon is almost stunned to have victory , "About time ill luck went over to them I suppose," He waves to Ruby as the girl is taken off, then looks to the newcomers that were crewmates, "Thank you, folks. I know we must seem an odd lot to you. I'll show you around a bit if you like?"

Asher nods at the performer. "Thank you."

Asher will spend the evening with his friends, new and old, carousing and celebrating.

Clover is relieved it's over and she wasn't jostled around too badly. Also she's very pleased they actually won. It would have been incredibly embarrassing if they had lost. No new hopeknife recipient has ever lost. If they had it would have been the first time in hers and anyone she's ever known's memory it had happened. How horrible it would have been!

Now the hard part is over, Clover relaxes with a couple of glasses of ale and enjoys watching the festivities.

During the festivities mingling with the townsfolk, you're able to learn a few things about Trunau and its customs...

I must have hit the wrong thing on my screen; I missed the updates until today. I'm guessing that what I learned was the result of my earlier 23 Knowledge (local) check? Huzzah!

Varys is shocked at the sudden turn of events that turn the tide of the game in their favor, but he congratulates Ruby on her leadership and then looks at Grobradon.
"Yes, it would be good to have a formal tour of town, so long as we still get to enjoy the festivities."

After some mingling, when he learns about the graffiti, he points that out to the half-orc bard. It's an interesting blurb at least, and one that he intuits would be worth checking out.

Varys ultimately isn't much one for sport, though if he sees an opportunity to test out his dueling mettle, he wouldn't be opposed.

"We have got to find some good food." Asher says, rubbing his hands together. "If we don't -" he stands on his toes, looking over everyone's shoulders until they follow his gaze to where Thorfinn is wrestling a woman half his size, then stage-whispers, "- Thorfinn may be forced to eat his opponent. Who he appears to be losing to. We've got to feed the lad before something dire happens. Clover, Grobradon, you'll join us, yes?" Asher smiles at each of them charmingly, as his stomach growls loudly, giving away the game.

His interest perks at the talk of the Otherside of Contempt , sometimes he wishes he were bolder like Garth. Sometimes he worries too much what others think.

"Happy to join you and the others, Asher. Grobradon starts to tell them about the food situation" food is not always our strong point as our paths are closed off, but for this event you'll find we offer more than a little."

Varys is disappointed that there is no rapier duelling; the events are mostly wrestling or padded sword and shield.
There is however plenty of drink and food, and drink and more drink...
You remember, fuzzily, meeting many of the most prominent citizens of Trunau, as well as dancing and the occasional brawl.
The celebrations go far into the night...

1. MYSTERIES IN TRUNAU

You swim back to consicousness and regret it as you now feel the massive hangover from all the drink at the celebration. You find yourselves sprawled out on the beds and floor of a room in the Ramblehouse; an inn mostly for small folk, but there was no place else to stay with the normal sized inns filled beyond capacity for the celebration. You all have a blanket and a pillow, but no sign of your luggage. Also missing is your large friend Thorfinn.

Perception DC 15: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Varys wakes with...more of a hangover than he expected. He supposes that many frontier types might experiment with more dangerous stills and such, producing alcohol with a higher inebriating content than cities. Dangerous, that, but certainly not unheard of. There ought to be an alchemical remedy for this, but Varys doesn't know how to make it.

Especially not without his things. Varys begins looking around for his items, his breathing quick. He doesn't remember laying his items down, nor where. And where is Thorfinn?

It doesn't take long for his elf ears to pick up on commotion outside. He is the first to part the blinds and gaze out into the town square.
"Something is wrong," he says. To anyone not yet awake, he touches their shoulders lightly to rouse them.

Going to wait for a moment for the others to catch up to this point before going outside. Do we not have any of our gear?

Asher lurches awake, swatting aside Varys' hand on his shoulder, his words rushed and slurred with sleep. "Mhhnnmmhh keep chasing penguins-". He blurts out the last word before he recognizes Varys, then takes his proffered hand to stand up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Penguins?" Varys vaguely remembers reading about some flightless birds on the Antarkoa Ocean's massive ice sheets whose black and white coloration vaguely matched the height of certain Taldan or Chelaxian nobles. But that's only heresay.

"Thorfinn is gone, along with out things, and there are people gathered outside. Crowds, especially in a small torn, typically have a cause."

"Thorfinn's gone?" Asher looks around the room they are in, taking stock of who and what else is there.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

The half orc heads towards the crowd surrounding the inn, it was a long and wild night "What's wrong?"

Going downstairs and talking to the crowd, you hear the news; Patrol Captain Rodrik Grath has been found dead!
The inn’s owner, Cham Larringfass, discovered Rodrik’s body in his room, his wrists fatally lacerated and his bloody hopeknife in his limp hand. The town militia arrived soon after and roped off the entire building to investigate the scene, but all signs point to a suicide, a fact that saddens many of the town’s citizens.

You also find Thorfinn snoring in one of the inn's stable stalls, along with your luggage.

You all vaguely remember meeting Rodrik Grath last night. Him and his brother Kurst as well.
Rodrik is, was, a confident man with a hearty laugh and an honest smile. He was self-assured, an excellent swordsman, and a locally respected writer as well. Kurst, his brother, is more reserved, and while just as capable as his brother, he seems content to remain in Rodrik’s shadow. It is clear throughout your exchanges with the brothers that Rodrik is the older brother (even if only by a few minutes) and the dominant one in the relationship, and while shy Kurst made a modest effort to engage you in conversation, it is ultimately Rodrik who came off as the more likable, talented, and forthcoming of the two siblings.

Grobradon is soon approached by Kurst Grath, the brother of the deceased. In talking to him, you all notice the extent of Kurst’s social anxiety, as
well as how much he relied on his older brother for guidance. You can see how overwhelmed by his responsibilities to his family and his dead brother, Kurst is incapable of taking charge of the investigation into Rodrik’s death and asks you to look into the matter on his behalf.

Kurst Grath spoke hesitantly.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that my brother, Rodrik—you met him last night—was found dead this morning, and I’ve had my hands full since.
"Right now, the official cause of death is suicide, but I just can’t believe that. Something else has to be going on.
"Unfortunately, Rodrik was the best investigator in Trunau; if he were on the case, solving the mystery of his death wouldn’t take long, but with just me left, we might never know what really happened.” Kurst sighs heavily.
“I simply can’t handle the investigation and tend to my family duties at the same time.
"I may be a patrol captain, but right now, I feel my responsibilities as a brother outweigh my other duties.
"Still, I can’t just let this lie. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all my other options—the members of Trunau’s militia are competent defenders during siege times, but they’re not sleuths by any means.
"I need your help. Will you investigate my brother’s death?”

Since she knew she would be working the next morning, Clover takes it easy the night before. She doesn't drink that much and mostly watches the competitions. Mostly she mingles with the other halflings she knows there, it cuts down on the chance of getting bowled over in passing by big drunkards.

Clover is helping with breakfast when she gets the news about Rodrik. Word spread through the Ramblehouse's staff faster than anywhere else. She is as shocked and horrified as anyone. To discover such a dreadful thing has happened right near, under the same roof, while she was sleeping soundly is incredibly disturbing.

Of course everything stops at the Ramblehouse after Rodrik is discovered. Clover does what she can to comfort a distraught Cham first. Afterward she uses her reputation as a healer to get into the room where it happened. She feels compelled to learn everything she can about what happened even though the whole thing is terribly frightening for Clover to think about.

If she is able to do so, Clover also looks at Rodrik's body to discover what she can.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Heal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Grobradon is gobsmacked by the revelation, but puts a hand on Kurst's shoulder, "It's hard to believe anyone would want your brother dead. he was much beloved, but I.." He takes a breath "We shall try to do learn what we can. I know he talked to a lot of people last night, he was a social man, but if we can find out who saw him last alive, it would narrow the time of death I think. And, I'm going to need to gather some help."

He goes to the body to see the grisly scene. If he sees Clover, he asks her "Can you make anything of ... this? outside of how horrible it was? And, can you help with this mystery? Kurst is in.. no shape to do so."
His eyes look over the scene, hoping he can spot some clue as to who would do this, or at least when it might happen.. anything.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

The task before you seems impossible; but when you take a moment to think, you realize with your local knowledge three three leads that might help them unravel the mystery of Rodrik’s death:
*1. The crime scene at the Ramblehouse, where you can also question the inn’s proprietor, Cham Larringfass, who discovered the body;
*2. Brinya Kelver, a half-orc weaver whom Kurst recently learned had been conducting a clandestine love affair with Rodrik for some time;
*3. Omast Frum, a patrol sergeant in the militia, long-time friend of the Graths and one of Rodrik’s frequent patrol partners.

Clover: Asking around you discover that Rodrik was found with his wrists slit and holding his own bloody hope knife. The militia moved the body to the Sanctuary to wait until the funeral.

Varys musters Asher as quickly as possible and joins Grobradon near Kurst. When Kurst asks the half-orc to investigate, which it seems like that halfling Clover is already in the midst of doing from the look of things, Varys peeks his head up. Well, he hadn't found what/who he was looking for in this town yet, but perhaps running around a bit on this errand would reveal more clues for his own purposes. Suicides weren't uncommon in Kaer Maga, though with the prevalence of the twiceborn it was usually more towards extending their unlife rather than permanently ending it. And for that matter, what little Varys had been able to drunkenly gather, suicide seemed...less likely in this case, despite the appearance of things.

"The room where it happened seems as good of a place to start as any," he says to no one in particular after gathering his necessities from the snoring Thorfinn, who he leaves to sleep. "Let's speak with Cham first. I doubt the authorities will just let us go into the crime scene."

Varys lets Clover take the lead, as she knows and works for the proprietor, but does offer his own two copper/questions.
"I would say good morning, but we'll just settle for the morning part. The deceased's brother has asked us to look into things. Can you tell us what happened, in your own words?"

"I'll take you to talk to Auntie Cham, she's very upset. Such a terrible thing happening right here! It's hard to understand."

Clover takes everyone along to talk to Cham.

"Thank you, Varys, you're very kind to help us. I know this isn't your town," He moves along after Clover

Kind? Hmm. Varys supposes his actions could be construed that way, even if unintentionally. This was a way to help him on his way. But they had been kind the day before. Tit for tat? Why not? He smiles at the gratitude.

Uncharacteristically quiet, Asher follows allong to speak with the matron.

You find the halfling proprietor of the Ramblehouse, Cham Larringfass, softly weeping in her room there.

When questioned, Cham said she found Rodrik’s body in the morning when she knocked on his door to wake him up, as he’d requested when he went to bed late the night before. She screamed and fainted when she saw Rodrik lying on his bed, bloody and still, his vacant eyes gazing toward the ceiling and his hope knife in his hand. Other Ramblehouse residents heard the ruckus, called the militia, and helped Cham recover her senses.

She pointed to the door of Rodrik's room, which is locked and unguarded.

Cham gives you her master key, which allows you to open Rodriks' locked door.

When you look in, you see that this sparse room contains only a single cot and a writing desk.
The cot is a cheap affair with a straw-stuffed mattress, now stained red with blood and stripped of its linens, while the desk is a slightly nicer piece of furniture that has nonetheless been chipped and worn by time.
A cracked window in the southern wall is the only exit other than the room’s door.

Clover sits with Cham, holding her hand. She listens, but leaves the asking of question to other people.

Asher walks in the room, looking around. Squatting to peer under the bed, he muses out loud. "He was..found...in here?"

While methodically searching the room, Asher finds a scrap of paper stuck between the headboard of the bed and the wall.

_________________________________________
MORNINGHAWK’S FINE STEEL
Receipt of Purchase
Customer: Rodrik Grath
Order: One (1) Hopeknife
Additional Options:
X Engraving
O Silver
O Matching Sheath
Notes: Engraving should read “For Rodrik, my love”
Smith: Urnsul
___________________________________________

Varys pauses with Cham, grateful that Clover seems to be taking the side of compassion during the unsettling line of questioning.
"He requested to be woken the night before. That does not seem like the request of someone who intended to commit suicide, especially not if he was next in line for patrol leader after his father retired."

At least, not unless he had it out for Cham and wanted her to be horrified. But that would be bizarre.

"Perhaps it was a powerful compulsion spell," he muses, well aware of the sorts of enchantment magic that arcanists of all stripes could employ. It was usually quite difficult to cause someone to do something which would cause their own demise, but not impossible.

He reaches into the pocket of his slightly-ruffled green and white tunic and pulls out a pair of glasses. A few moments later, there is a squeak as a tiny creature pops its head up from the same pocket, seemingly yawning before scrambling up to sit on Varys' shoulder. It looks like a small rodent with particularly fleshy, furry flaps connecting its front and back limbs. If one had a good sense of exotic fauna, they would identify the little thing as a flying squirrel.
"Oh, good morning Willow," Varys says with a smile, stroking a finger under Willow's chin. There is another squeak as Willow's nose twitches, smelling around for any breakfast. Not yet, little one.

Varys then shakes his head as he puts his glasses on and returns his focus to the matter at hand.
"I am developing some theories," he says matter-of-factly, "But we can't rule anything out. Here is what we know. Rodrik is dead, and he died some time between going to bed last night and this morning. Cham was the last person we know of to see him alive. I will need a list of all people who were staying in the Ramblehouse this past night. Cham, was anyone manning the front desk overnight? Could anyone have seen people coming and going who may have otherwise had access to rooms? Who has access to keys to the individual rooms? Was Rodrik known to have any visitors to the Ramblehouse? Does he have his own residence in town, or was this his primary abode? Of course, perhaps the town has barracks for the patrol, communal living of that sort. May I borrow that board?"

In the midst of his rapid fire questions, Varys spies a cork board (or something similar) nearby. He goes over to it, and then begins tearing sheets of paper from his journal, pulling out a bundle of sewing needles, a ball of twine, a jar of ink, and an inkpen. As he continues his rambling monologue of questions and musings, he starts jotting down notes and then jamming them into the board, making connections with his twine.
"Yes, yes, all right. It could be suicide, or it could be murder, or it could be some sort of mass illusion or delusion. I find murder the most believable. In which case, we must find possible culprits and motives. Powerful magic users. People who may have been jealous of Rodrik. Longstanding grudges. And how do we know that it was Rodrik's hopeknife? Are they marked in some way to signify the owner? I would like to see the knife if I can."

After a nearly breathless couple of minutes of precise, staccato speech, Varys pauses again and looks at Cham. "I'm sorry, should I slow down or repeat any of that?"

He'll get to the room shortly, which will prompt a whole new series of questions.

Asher walks up to Varys and takes a pin from the board, pinning the receipt to it. "This was in the room. Roderik purchased a new hopeknife from the local smithy, I assume - Morninghawk's Fine Steel. But it had an engraving on it addressed to Roderik." Asher steps back, looking down at Clover and the halfling woman. "Locals get their knives when they come of age? Unless Roderik was much younger than he let on, he seems to have been replacing a knife. Perhaps he lost it. What was the name of the woman he was having a relationship with he was forced to keep secret for stupid reasons?"

Varys looks over the receipt that Asher brings, nodding his head.
"Well done, Asher. Good find. Why would Rodrik purchase a hopeknife with an engraving addressed to himself? Perhaps...Brinya I believe was her name...might know better. Brinya Kelver. We'll want to speak with her, Morninghawk, and Urnsul about this." Their names, along with Kurst, Cham, and Omast, now form a loose circle around the central Rodrik.
"Leads, not suspects," he assures Cham as he looks down towards her reassuringly.

One reasonable explanation was that Brinya was purchasing this blade for Rodrik. It could be a replacement for one lost. Or it could have been the original, but newly engraved.

Willow jumps from Varys' shoulder to Asher's, sniffing around to see if the monk has any food on him.

"This does add a certain wrinkle. I would like to know whether the hopeknife found with Rodrik had this engraved on it, or whether it was a different one."

The revelation of the note has almost caused Vays to forget the questions that he has asked Cham, as he begins drafting up a list of people and locations to investigate in the town and asking Grobradon and Clover for their insights, along with directions.

CSI: Trunau!

Cham Larringfass

I will need a list of all people who were staying in the Ramblehouse this past night.

”Well, I really don’t think…”

Cham, was anyone manning the front desk overnight?

”We don’t really have an overnight…”

Could anyone have seen people coming and going who may have otherwise had access to rooms?

”Like I said, we don’t…”

Who has access to keys to the individual rooms?

”Well, I…”

Was Rodrik known to have any visitors to the Ramblehouse?

”Well, his brother of course, and…”

Does he have his own residence in town, or was this his primary abode?

”Well, he slept here…”

May I borrow that board?

There is a blackboard by the front desk.

Clover puts her arm around Cham's shoulder and draws her in tight. With a less than pleased look at Varys and Asher she makes a suggestion.

"How about you go check on something else and leave this to me. I know how this place runs."

Asher smiles at her, nodding. "Clover, where could I get this one..." he nods his head towards the small creature on his shoulder, "...some snacks? An apple, or a banana perhaps. Or some berries?" He nuzzles the glider's face as Willow head buts him affectionately and whispers loudly "You love those berries, don't you? Any and all the berries you can find to stain your whiskers with. Let's go get you fat. I won't tell Varys." He turns to his half-elf friend "Varys when Clover is finished come grab us out of the kitchens when you're all ready to head to the smithy."

Varys blinks a few times, looking around.

That was too much, then? Damn.

His mouth twitches into a semblance of a smile and he nods. "Of course."

Willow meanwhile chitters with delight as she scampers around Asher's shoulders.

Varys shifts uncomfortably before bowing his head and excusing himself. "I am going to take a look at the crime scene for myself."

The half-elf berates himself under his breath as he walks away, walking past Rodrik's room at first before getting to the end of the hall and turning sheepishly around. Inside the room, Varys begins looking over every nook and cranny. His nose wrinkles at the sight of the blood-stained mattress that Asher had already searched.

After taking in the scene, the half-elf paces over to the desk and sits down, trying to open drawers and otherwise look around at where Rodrik presumably sat.
Perception, desk: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

He also goes over to look at the window for evidence of tampering or intrusion.
Perception, window: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Asher: You all know (Know:Local) you can get a small basket of fruit, berries and/or nuts with an hour or two search in the forest surrounding Trunau, or at the market for 1d4 copper bits.

Asher steps outside, chattering with his little friend. "You think they'd have berries in the kitchen, but apparently not. This town, I tell you what, Willow. I just don't know about it."

They wander over to the market to purchase a small bag of berries.

Varys returns to the Ramblehouse's common room after his relatively fruitful search, and waits for Clover to finish speaking with Cham. He can probably ask Clover about the prevalence of secret compartments in the inn's desks instead of bothering Cham. But he does go up and jot some notes down on the blackboard about his discoveries.