
Grobradon |

asking Grobradon
Grobradon ponders, "I can tell you Rodrick was a poet. I don't know if that's a factor." He moves to help happy to let the others take lead. He is happy to share what he knows of the places and people in town.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

"People tend to want kill the lawyers first, not the poets," Varys says, vaguely remembering some line he had heard once in a play. Wilbert Rattlespike, perhaps. "But perhaps Trunau has a minority of lyric-loathing louts." Varys looks like he takes this clue very seriously, adding it to his board, and then prompting the half-orc for directions and knowledge about the blacksmith.

DM-Camris |

The only entry of note in the register is a single human man who rented the Ramblehouse’s last room after Rodrik had reserved his room, but before the patrol captain had checked in for the night. This entry stands out because the guest’s name has not been recorded in the register.
“He refused to give me his name,” she manages between gulps of air, “and he paid me a fistful of gold. He said he’d be gone before sunrise. I didn’t ask any more questions. I had no idea that something like this would happen!” The halfling can give a general description of the man, but she doesn’t remember any specific features that would help identify him.

Clover Cynosure |

Clover draws Cham into a hug. "That's all? That's nothing. I'll tell them and explain. It will be fine. Don't fret about it. Who could ever imagine something so terrible like this could happen, especially here!"

DM-Camris |

Grobradon, you know the smithy is "Morninghawk's Fine Steel", but most commonly known as Clamor. It is in the western quarter of the lower city. It is run by a half-orc named Sara Morninghawk.

Clover Cynosure |

Clover makes note of the nameless guest's room number and goes to find the others. She's anxious to take care of things at the Ramblehouse before moving on to other places.
"There's another room we should look at before we go. Last night one guest checked in and refused to give a name. Normally all guest names are written down in the ledger with their room number, but he refused. Cham was intimidated and let him check in anyway. It might be nothing, but it's worth a look I think."

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Varys raises his eyebrow and pins a paper with a question mark on it to the board. A mystery guest?
"Well done," he says, nodding and preparing to take additional notes.
After Clover answers the half-orc's question, Varys adds. "Though I doubt someone would leave items in a room they did not intend to return to, we should be sure to look at the secret compartment in the desk." He looks at Clover to see if she knows what he's talking about. "Assuming that the rest have them."

Asher Vance |

Asher steps back into the room and leans on the doorframe, a steamy mug clutched in his hand. Willow perches on his shoulder contentedly, the fur around his mouth stained a happy red. "I did some investigating of the market here. Not a lot. I did find a delicious breakfast mead." he says, sipping the spicy-smelling drink. "Mmm. Excellent. What'd ah...what'd we find here? Since there is no one in this town who could handle this 'important' investigation," he mumbles sardonically.

Clover Cynosure |

Clover gives the best description she can based on what Cham told her.
"It's not much detail I'm afraid, but honestly humans all tend to look more or less alike from down here. He did tell her he'd be gone before sunrise."
She leads them onward to the mystery guest's room.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Willow jumps back on to Varys' arm, lips and cheeks stained red and stomach slightly distended. She chitters happily and scrambles into Varys' vest. He scratches the top of her head and smiles at Asher.
"To the room, then."
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Varys assume that there would be tensions in Trunau given its status in the Holds of Belkzen. In Kaer Maga there were about as many half-orcs as half-elves, and even a small enclave of full-blooded orcs. They fared about as well as anyone in the City of Strangers. Gamblers, guards, killers, victims, scholars, and beggars: anyone was welcome there. And here?
Well, Varys was no stranger to tensions.
"Mmm," he 'says' in response to Asher and Grobradon's commentary as he sits at the desk and examines it.

Clover Cynosure |

After letting them into the room Clover lets the others do the investigating. She lapses due to habit into her role of staff, forgetting that she's really part of the investigative group for the moment.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

"Including us, of course," Varys adds, considering that he, Asher, and Thorfinn ought to inform the usual expectation. "That is, what kind of business does the Ramblehouse take from out-of-towners on average?"

Varys of Kaer Maga |

"Always..." Varys says, his eyes narrowing mock-suspiciously at Asher.

DM-Camris |

"It is not likely the human was a local. How big is this town? How many visitors from out of the city could be expected each night?" He looks between Clover, standing back quietly, and Grobradon. "A dozen out-of-town humans? Five? What do you think we're looking at?"

DM-Camris |

When you open the room the nameless man had rented, you find the room empty.
When you search the desk, you find another secret space under the drawer.
This time there is a slip of dirty old parchment with an unfinished manuscript of a letter present.
I shouldn’t be away for much
longer. We still haven’t found
what we’re looking for, but
it’s only a matter of time,
and the other preparations
are proceeding as planned. A
meddling militia patrol captain
has been poking around, but I
don’t foresee him being a threat
for much longer. Once our work is
done, it won’t matter anyway,
and I can return to you. I
marvel that I found you in the
midst of all this, and think of
you constantly. Soon, my beloved.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Rolling over my 23, I suppose?
Varys casually remarks that the bed had not been slept in as Asher crouches under it. Meanwhile he looks at the expected secret space under the drawer and reads it aloud to the others.
"Melira," he echoes. "Well, I believe this lends further credence to my earlier suspicions. Rodrik would be the meddling militia patrol captain. Our as-of-yet-unknown human murder-suspect is in love with someone named Melira. And our suspect is looking for something in Trunau or the nearby environs, which Rodrik may have suspected. So we have a possible motive."
It was odd to find an unsent letter here. Convenient, perhaps, like the writer was interrupted mid-composition and didn't consider the sending important enough to return and retrieve it. Or it could be a red herring left behind to knock investigators off the trail. That would be more cunning than Varys would expect from a run-of-the-mill assassin. But work and preparation stand out in the letter. If someone is willing to commit murder to cover up a search happening concurrent with plans, then what more could those plans portend?
The half-elf drums his fingers on the desk and looks out the window. What would the person be looking for? Certainly, there were rumors of artifacts dating from the Shining Crusade lying undiscovered in the Hold of Belkzen. That was the reason that Varys had decided to travel here from Kaer Maga. But he believed that Trunau would be a friendly base of operations for further investigation into the orc-infested hinterlands, not a viable source of ancient occult curios. Was Trunau more interesting than Varys' readings had let on?
"We should mention the name 'Melira' to some of our chief persons of interest to gauge their reaction." Varys pauses, and adds, with a flick of his wrist to rustle the letter. "And we should watch our backs lest we follow Rodrik to the Boneyard for meddling. To Clamor next, I believe."

Asher Vance |

Asher stands, listening to the letter.
"So...he writes a letter for Melira - do we know who that is? He then hides the letter in this desk, presumably so she can retrieve it later, and then kills Roderik."
He walks to the window, joining Varys. "We still haven't found. We. He's not alone." He lowers his voice so that only those in the room can hear him easily. "This isn't about Roderik...this is about Roderik discovering what the preparations were for." He muses for a moment, then seems to notice the half-elf next to him. "Why were we going to clamor again?"

DM-Camris |

CLAMOR
.
With leads exhausted at the Ramblehouse, you decide to follow up on the receipt.
Just a couple of blocks away is the town's only full time smithy.
Clamor is a squat, cramped building in the western corner of lower Trunau. The clang of metal on metal rings out of the building most hours of the day, and the heat from the forge fills the stifling smithy. The curtained doorway leads to a kind of sales room with prominent displays of the smith's work. You can hear the loud clashing of metal on metal through the curtained doorway to the forge area itself.

Grobradon |

"I'd say 8 out ten townsfolk are humans, out of all seven hundred and fifty of us townsfolk... but during the celebration, it could be half again as many."
"The name Meira? I.. don't recognize it but it could be a name of endearment"
Clamor is a squat, cramped building in the western corner of lower Trunau. The clang of metal on metal rings out of the building most hours of the day, and the heat from the forge fills the stifling smithy. The curtained doorway leads to a kind of sales room with prominent displays of the smith's work. You can hear the loud clashing of metal on metal through the curtained doorway to the forge area itself.
"Now Sara Morninghawk , she's half Shaonti, Half Orc.. is our best smith. She works during daylight then heads home to her wife, Agrit Staginsdar."

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Oh my god, Asher, you can't just ask someone whether their surname is common around here.
Varys nods at Grobradon's explanation and strides through the heat of the smithy. He raises his voice, knocking on the mantle of the doorway as he yells over the din. It does not sound like he's used to raising his voice. His voice mostly squeaks as he raises the pitch of his voice more than just the volume.
"Good morning! We'd like to speak with Morninghawk and Urnsul if we can!"

FemNPC4 |

SARA MORNINGHAWK
The woman paused her hammering as you enter the forge area.
Pulling down her goggles she glares in your general direction.
"Hey! I'm BUSY back here! Go back to the lounge and I'll get to you when I'm done here!" She bellowed louder than is strictly necessary, gesturing emphatically with her hammer.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Varys blinks at the half-orc woman, and turns to his companions.
"Oh," he says. "Do we have time to wait? Is there another place we can visit?"
He turns back to Sara and tilts his head to the side. "How long will it be until you are done?"

Asher Vance |

Asher quietly steps back out into the waiting area.
I rolled everyone's Perceptions to notice Asher (which you all beat) so that you didn't have to respond with a roll, to speed things up, since it is inconsequential. If you would like me to not roll your rolls for something like that in the future, just message me. :)

FemNPC4 |

SARA MORNINGHAWK
She finished off the basic shape of what looks like a greataxe head and quenched it. Setting it aside, she took her goggles off and plunged her head in a bucket of water.
Dripping slightly, she entered the lounge and grabbed a bottle of ale and turned her piercing gaze in your direction.
"So what's so all fired important?" She asked.

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Ale? At this time of the morning? Curious.
Varys produces the receipt and offers it to Sara.
"Good morning, ma'am, and thank you for your time. You may have heard, but there has been a death in town this morning: one Patrol Captain Rodrik Grath. His brother Kurst has asked us to investigate as a group: two locals with knowledge of the town and its inhabitants and two impartial outsiders not beholden to rumor and reputation. We are following up on some leads, and found a receipt from Clamour that we wanted to ask you and/or Urnsul about."
Varys realizes partway through his speech that perhaps the locals might feel more comfortable with a fellow local doing the talking, but he has already spoken.

Grobradon |

Grobradon is happy to let Varys and Asher take lead on this, but here, he supposes it's best he at least help, or try to.
"A damn fine poet indeed," He answers, "However, there are some complexities that have arisen and those that loved him have questions they hope to have answered. I know you're no idle gossip, so I feel secure in saying that there's a mystery here about this loss, and we need to find the details out. Please?"
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Varys of Kaer Maga |

Varys nods at Grobradon's explanation.
"Right, yes. Although initial evidence pointed to suicide, we cannot rule out other possibilities until we follow up on our leads."
Diplomacy, aid (DC 10): 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (19) - 2 = 17
Varys shuffles the receipt towards Sara again. "The deceased apparently procured a new hopeknife from this establishment, engraved with adoration to himself. That may not be odd behavior for a poet, but it is curious."

FemNPC4 |

SARA MORNINGHAWK
Sara put on a pair of glasses and peered at the receipt closely.
"Hunh. Sure looks like one of mine. Gimme a sec." She said.
Going to a cabinet, she pulls out a drawer filled with papers and folders. She sorted through them carefully until she found the one she wanted.
Looking at it, she nodded.
"Hey yeah. Rodrik came in to place an order with us... it'll be ten days ago now. Commissioned a new blade like it said there. Hm... I did the preliminary work on the knife, then I handed it off to one of my apprentices. I assume she finished the blade.
“I guess it doesn’t matter so much anymore,” she said, “but I wonder where it went—it must be around here somewhere.” She went back into the forge area and looked around, uncovering unfinished projects, sorting through racks, bins and boxes of all sorts.
After a few minutes searching for the knife, Sara came back empty-handed. “I’ll bet that clumsy oaf Urnsul put it somewhere before she up and quit the other day; it’s hard to get good help. I’ll let you know if I find the blade.”

Varys of Kaer Maga |

"Quit?" Varys says with interest. He jots a note down in his notebook, muttering "Interesting..." under his breath as he scribbles away. Urnsul might be harder to track down, then.
They still had not been able to get a straight answer about the nature of the hopeknife that had been found in Rodrik's hands. Engraved or no, and his or someone else's? The body was at the Temple, so that may be a good next stop.
"Is your practice to accept and record payment in advance, in installments during smithing, or upon completion? If Rodrik had placed the order--" or someone else, say Brinya, had placed the order for him, "--then it would be beneficial to know where he was in the transaction process."
Varys finishes writing his notes and looks up at Sara. He adds another question after a moment, giving his colleagues (and Sara) time to ask and answer before barreling through to his next inquiry. "It may be a sore subject, but do you know where the clumsy oaf might be?"