Beside the gate, which appears to be a chipped, wooden barrier built into the eight foot high stone wall which surrounds the village, stands a guard. He is a dark haired young man, dressed in a patched fur cloak under which a chainmail shirt is visible, along with a mace which hangs at his side. This he unclasps as the hoofbeats approach.

"Who goes there?" he demands, squinting into the gloom.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:40, Thu 09 May 2019.

"We are travellers from the south," Marabir calls as he approaches, "I am Sir Varonil, and with me are my herald and ranger. We came across a murdered man on the road, some miles back. Who is in authority in these parts?"

OOC: Prince Marabir Carendil rolled 19 using 1d20+5. Bluff.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:07, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

The guard swiftly reclasps his mace upon hearing that he is being addressed by a knight (even one so odd as to travel with a herald he apparently does not use). However, at the mention of a murdered man, he frowns and-- after a quick glance to confirm that the large, long thing wrapped in a cloak on the back of the knight's horse does indeed look like a person's body-- hastily begins unbolting the gate.

"Of course, m'lord! Captain Deran is in charge of the militia in this town. I'll take you to the guardhouse right away; he'll want a report of what you saw in detail so we can catch the murdering swine who did the killing!

OOC: Guard rolled 12 using 1d20. Sense Motive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:49, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

After the guard has rebolted the gate behind them, the guard proceeds to lead them to the guardhouse. Lastorn is a small town, and seems to consist of little more than a main street, lined with sturdy wooden and stone buildings. Most are quiet and dark. Indeed, the only source of noise, mostly laughter and song, emanates from a large, three story wooden building halfway along the street. Light floods the street from its many windows, and the large sign outside reads 'The Northern Pint'.

Nod stares longingly at the tavern as they pass, but dutifully follows after Marabir and the guard.

Aerendir also sends the tavern a longing look as they pass it, though his look is reserved for the wafting scent of well-cooked stew escaping into the night air, not the music.

The guardhouse, once they reach it, turns out to be a double story stone building. The heavy wooden door is flanked by two torches in sconces, which send a hazy orange light into the mist. Another guard stands outside, armed with a mace similar to the one carried by their guide. He watches the party pass with interest, but makes no attempt to impede or challenge them as they pass.

"You can tie your mounts here," says their guide, gesturing to a low, wooden tethering post as he opens the door to the guardhouse and enters.

Marabir dismounts and proceeds to do so, along with his companions. He then hoists the body of the murdered man, wrapped in his spare travelling cloak, off his stallion and follows after the guard.

"Yes, yes, we'll get to the tavern soon enough," he says to his companions with just a hint of annoyance at their continued glances back down the street.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:40, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

Aerendir sends Marabir an unimpressed look that suggests that "soon enough" would have been sooner if they had not decided to go carting human bodies around instead of ignoring them.

Upon entering the guardhouse, the companions find themselves in a small room, modestly furnished. At a small table in the rear of the building a grizzled, middle aged man is seated, scanning a piece of parchment on the table before him.

The man glances up, and quickly rises as his gaze alights on the body in Marabir's arms, then on the prince's armour and sword.

"What happened?" he asks as he approaches.

"This is Sir Varonil, a knight-" the guard begins excitedly, but breaks off as the captain raises a hand for silence, his attention focused on Marabir.

"As he says, I am Sir Varonil," Marabir replies with a gracious nod, "My companions and I stumbled across this body near the edge of the Faldar Woods, just before nightfall. He was dead when we found him, but we figured he may have kin here, and that the authorities should be informed."

"Indeed," the captain replies, moving forward to examine the body as Marabir places it down on the flagstone floor of the office. He frowns as he pulls back the cloak to reveal the man's features.

"I do not recognise him. He isn't a local, and he doesn't have the appearance of a woodsman or ranger. Possibly a mercenary passing through these parts? You say you found him in the forest?"

"We did," Marabir asserts, "A little way off the road. My elvish companion is a skilled woodsman and noticed his track leading off into the trees as we passed. As you can see, he was shot with a crossbow of some kind."

The gate guard coughs awkwardly.

"Um, sir? I recognise this man. He passed out of the southern gate shortly after I began my shift, just after noon."

"Oh?" the captain glances up at him, "Did you notice anything odd about him? Did he have anything in his possession that you do not see here now?"

"I... I don't believe so, sir," the guard says uncertainly, "Although, I do recall he seemed a little odd. Ignored me completely when I greeted him as he passed. Seemed to be muttering to himself."

"I don't suppose you happened to hear what he was muttering?" Aerendir asks, with reluctant interest.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 09:07, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Not really," the guard replies with an apologetic shrug, "He was more mumbling than muttering, really. Though I did hear him say something that sounded like 'garden crypt'. I know, it makes no sense. I just remember it made me think of the garden maze and graveyard over at Caldorn Castle."

Marabir trades a querying look with Nod, who shrugs, shaking his head.

"I see..." Caln replies, raising a skeptical eyebrow at his guard, "Well, worth noting I suppose."

"Did you happen to notice anyone holding a crossbow leave after him afterwards?" Aerendir asks, as the guard captain jots the guard's note down in his journal.

"I don't think so," the guard shakes his head, "Just the usual farmers and a merchant or two. Oh, there was a varim who arrived in town just before sunset. Seemed pleasant enough. Said he was a lord passing through on his way back up north. He had a crossbow strapped to his saddle. I think he headed to the tavern, if you want to question him."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:41, Sat 12 Jan 2019.