Hilde advances the long way around to avoid a potential attack on her approach, then swings on Purple.
She misses cleanly, and barely keeps hold of her mace.
Vethorm is about to tell off the thug mocking him when Wild's ranting makes both of them double-take.
"What is WRONG with this gnome?!" he thinks to himself before returning his attention to his enemy.
Purg reloads, shuffling forward to get a better shot. The shot still isn't great, but he tries to fire at the one in the purple.
The shot flies well, and Purg is hopeful that he is still helping his team.
It seems these thugs aren't about to explain themselves. Robin leans to the side and then jabs in at purple with his dagger. If Purg has already dealt with that one, he circles around to engage green.
With her closest opponent pinned between Verthorm and herself, Rhanild lashes out with her hammer.
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Purg aims carefully as he is firing around Vethorm, and his bolt find it's mark in the thug's shoulder. Robin makes a stab at the same thug, his dagger makes contact but the thick leather turns the blade aside. Ranhild sees an opening as the thug freezes in shock from both Purg's bolt and Robin's dagger and she brings her hammer down on the thug's neck, dropping him in a heap.
Vethorm steps over the body of the man that just fell and stabs at the one before him.
It's not a good strike, as his attention is divided.
"Get that wounded one!" he barks, pointing to the thug retreating with Omast. "And take 'em alive! We're about due for some f*cking answers!"
Robin dashes around to engage green before the scoundrel can do something to Omast!
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Vethrom drives his blade at the closer thug that remains but his feet stumble over the fallen thug and he misses with his strike. But his plea to Robin to cut off the other thug from harming Omast spurs his companion to action.
The wounded thug who was preparing to drag Omast away let's the unconscious guard fall and begins to back away. "That gold ain't worth dying for!" They shout to their remaining companion. "Let's get out of here."
This leaves the one thug still there. Deciding between attacking Vethorm or Ranhild, they drive the shortsword they are wielding at the dwarf. The attack seems to be on target but Ranhild easily steps aside and avoids the blade. The thug seems to realize they are in trouble, and turns to flee.
With immediate hostilities ended (or at least moved elsewhere at a speed Hilde can't match), the cleric looks around. "Are any of you hurt?"
As the thug tries to slash her then retreats, Ranhild tries to take advantage of the opening, her swing somewhat off.
As he flees, the shieldmaiden makes a snap decision. Determined not to let the enemy escape, she charges after him, bringing her hammer crashing down on his back.
"No time!" Vethorm yells back as he bolts after Ranhild and the thug, running ahead of the two before turning back to cut them off.
"You're not going anywhere. Unless...you tell us what the f$%& you were doing with Omast and who was paying you to do it."
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Wild shambles slowly over to Hilde, dripping with blood and dragging his spinning glaive in the dirt along the way until it stops.
"I feel... pain. The green blade stings. Did we kill the killer?"
He looks at Hilde then around at the bodies of the fallen.
Ranhild tries to end the combat as the remaining thug flees, but the heavy hammer falls just after the thug is away. Ranhild charges after them and brings them to the ground with a mighty swing. The thug rolls onto his back, conscious but hurt. They drop their blade as they cry out. ”I give up. Please don’t kill me.”
The battle is winding down. Most of the thugs remain unconscious, only one having died. Omast also remains unconscious. Or perhaps he is sleeping, it is unclear. The party can now dress their wounds and question the thug.
After stabilizing the unconscious enemies , the priestess turns her attention to Wild. "Bolka's blessings go with you!"
Grabbing the downed man and dragging him back to where the rest of his companions lay sprawled out in the street. "How the rest of your night goes... or how long it is for that matter, depends on how useful you are."
Vethorm goes to help Omast up.
"Omast, they hit you or anything?" he asks.
Purg keeps his crossbow nearby, and loaded, not trusting that the enemies don't have anything else up their sleeves. Did they have sleeves? It didn't matter. They were not to be trusted.
Wasn't anyone going to start questioning the bad people? Purg knew he shouldn't be the one to do it. He was a little. They need a big person to be all scary and make the people talk. Purg watched, making sure NOT to accidentally shoot and kill the enemies, since they were probably prisoners now. It would not do to shoot the prisoners.
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Ranhild drags the thug back to the group as Hilde begins tending to the wounded. The conscious thug tries to stand for a moment but then seeing most of the group stand over him, he thinks better of that idea. With an almost exaggerated gulp he begins answering questions.
"We was just hired is all." He motions to the group as a whole and drags his hand across his throat in a knife-like fashion. "Job was to take out the people lookin into that patrolman's murder. It wasn't personal, just the job."
He looks over at Omast as he continues. "Old drunk seemed like good bait, seeing as you lot were keen to keep him safe it seemed."
As Ranhild continues questioning the thug, Vethorm turns to Omast. The old man is unresponsive at first but then lets out a deep snore. From the look of things he's got a lump forming on the side of his head. Whether it is from some blow made to him, or by him against the nearby wall, or maybe from him falling to the ground, it is nearly impossible to say. Other than a lump, he doesn't appear injured or disturbed, he's even sound asleep it seems.
"Hired by who?" the dwarven warrior asks, her expression grim.
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The thug seems to sink a little more from the continued interrogation. "We had nev'a met the guy before." They look around at his own companions."We came from Freedom Town and were approached by this half-orc fella. Looked more human than orc really. Blonde hair and some serious tattoos on his face, neck, and shoulders. Had a sour odor to him."
"He's the one who paid us."
Purg pondered the words. The only half-orc he knew with tattoos on their face was Urnsul, and that would not be possible. There was no way Urnsul would betray the town. Was Urnsul's hair blonde? It was so short it was hard to remember.
After confirming that Omast seems to be okay, more or less, Robin weaves back to the surviving conscious thug. "Wait, murder? Official word 'round town is that it was suicide, not murder. Which means you know something most people around here don't. What exactly did this foul smelling half-orc tell you? Think you want to share with the group?"
Robin crosses his arms. While he looms over the thug, he's not exactly an intimidating figure.
Hilde looks over Omast, trying to get him conscious again with her rebuke death ability.
"Bah! Freedom Town is not free!"
Wild balks loudly at the mention of the place, having recovered most of his strength.
"Full of thieveses and fail takers better off dead. Shattered Moon Clan have nothing worth taking. We made some dead and then run. Run. Run. Run..."
Vethorm rolls his eyes when he realizes Omast somehow managed to sleep through that fracas. Seeing Hilde has him well in hand and thinking that his face is probably the last one Omast wants to see upon coming to, he turns to rejoin the interrogation.
He hears Robin's question and folds his own arms, glaring down at the thug.
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The thug turns to Robin as he joins the interrogation. "He didn't say more than that." The thug nods to the group and continues. "The job was find who was investigating and eliminate them. Word around town was you lot were investigating, so when an opportunity arrived, we took it. Nothing more to tell."
"He did say murder, not suicide."
Hilde spends the time attending to Omast. His wounds are healing nicely and he begin coming around. He notes Hilde leaning over him. "Where am I?"
"When was this, that you were hired? And where? In Freedom Town?" Robin asks, thinking about these people coming all the way from Freedom Town and wondering if their patron knew about the planned murdering in advance. It seems more and more likely that this bad smelling half-orc was - if not the culprit - then someone deeply involved. The question of why would probably not get answered by this thug.
He calls out to Omast "In the afterlife Omast. Welcome."
Hilde frowns mock-seriously. "You're not helping the patient, Robin." Then she turns more serious as she helps the human to his (probably still unsteady) feet. "Sergeant Frum, you're outside Rabus' place. Several people from Freedom Town just tried to take you and kill the rest of us. They were paid to do it, they say." Ah, that's right. Omast doesn't like half-orcs--I'd better not mention that part yet. "So it looks like someone deliberately killed Rodrik, tried to make it look like suicide, and is willing to kill again to cover their tracks. Now, you can crawl back into the bottle and let them get away with it...or you can pull yourself together and help us find out who did it. That's your choice, Sergeant."
Robin waves a hand in Omast's direction "C'mon Hilde, let me have some fun. Also, I doubt he's in shape to help with much of anything until he gets a lot more sober."
Vethorm looks sidewise at Hilde and gives her a small smile for her little speech. Maybe Omast would take his problem more seriously now...at least it had a better chance of sticking than it would coming from him.
Then he goes back to glowering down at the thug.
"Your employer have a name?"
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The thug watches the group for the moment but finally answers. "We got inta town the other day. Came in with some traders, guard work, ya know. Figured we'd find something head back out. Then this half-orc comes round asking if we wanted a quick job. That was dis afternoon."
Then the thug looks intently at Vethorm at his question. "I is he has a name, but he nev'r gave me it. And I nev'r asked."
While the interrogation of the thug continues, Omast looks around uncertain. He seems to hear both Robin and Hilde, but he pauses bleary eyed for the moment. Perhaps lost in thought, or just lost in general.
Robin bites his lip before saying "So you don't know his name, don't know how he looks beyond tattoos, and asked no questions." He shrugs, frustrated "How about you point out where you met him?"
He looks to the others in the party "If our mystery fellow was in this afternoon, that means the trail's not entirely cold. Someone else must've seen him."
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As Hilde applies some tough love to Omast, the old guard hangs his head in shame. He puts his head in his hands and begins to sob heavily. "Roddie's dead!" His sobs make it hard to understand much more for a moment. He tries to stand but between his emotions and the drink, his feet fail him and lands heavily on his rump.
"Just leave me," he shouts to the group. "I'm not worth the trouble. I couldn't keep my own friend safe, I can't keep the town safe either. Leave me here to rot." The old man slaps weakly at Hilde's hands, pushing them away to try and keep her from helping him. Then his cries take over again and what little words he says after are mostly unintelligible.
Wild nods in agreement at the drunken man's hopelessness. He whispers softly, almost like a prayer. "We all find salvation in nothingness. Those that know the End Times and those that don't."
After several moments, he looks up at Robin an offers a suggestion.
"If nobody seen the murder-maker, maybe somebody smelled the stinky tattoo-faced, yellow-haired half-orc? We need a smell tracker!"
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Hilde doesn't say anything more while Omast breaks down, but when the man pulls himself together a little she has one more thing to say, this time in a more tender voice. "I know you can't believe in yourself right now, Sergeant. But Rodrik did. Think about that."
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The thug continues to address Robin's questions. "Like I said, a blonde half-orc, little on the smaller size compared to an orc, serious tattoos on his face and shoulders."
"As for asking questions," he says with some finality. "That's likely to get you killed in the end. Same with asking for names. Gold talks in the shadows, and he spoke enough."
"You sound like my thrice-cursed grandmother!" Vethorm says bitterly as he pulls the thug to his feet and looks him in the eye.
"Here's what's gonna happen next: We're gonna take you to Kurst. Then you're gonna tell him what you told us. Then, we're gonna lock you somewhere nice and comfy until dawn. And then? You're going in the stocks. I'll make sure to get a few good rotten eggs to throw at your ugly face. And while that filth's running down it you can think how damn lucky you are you aren't joining your friends in front of Pharasma tonight!"
He turns to the others.
"Help Omast up. Come on, I want to get this over with and have some godsdamn sleep."
Robin takes out a piece of chalk from his pouch and crouches down to the cobblestones. "You're on to something Wild. People would've smelled him, even if they didn't recognize him. No stinky man gets far without being memorable." He sketches out a half-orc face on the cobblestones, skinny, with hair and tattoos in line with what the thug is describing . "And maybe looking something like this."
He looks over at the rest of the team "I think that's all we're going to get. How about we go ask around a bit for our stinky guy before we turn in for the night."
He joins Vethorm in helping Omast up.
Purg decided that since he had time he could check the dead people for anything else of interest. Maybe one or more of them had something written that would provide additional clues. Otherwise maybe they had things that were shiny but not coin. Coin was boring, though you could buy food with it.