The dwarf had been listening to the rest of the people chatting and when Torgun headed out he followed.  The half-orc certainly had the cocky boldness of his human half when he claimed them all as his group which had brought a smile to his face.  Let's see if he takes responsibility for something going wrong for 'his' group ran through his head as they walked.  When they finally got to the house Moggrim nodded his head to the side of the house, "I'll check around back to see if there is anything interesting..."

Poking his head around back he sees a woman hanging up laundry on a pair of poles behind the house.

Rynwyrd looked at Torgan with a raised eyebrow. "Just shy of one hundred and fifty actually." He stopped and frowned for a moment. "That...is a disturbing mental image, decades-old toddlers crawling around." He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "Adulthood is something more than just physical maturity. It takes a long time for an elf to 'settle down', as it were, and take the steps to become a productive and/or fully functioning member of society." He closed his mouth, apparently having answered the question in his mind.

When they arrived at the house, Rynwyrd frowned quizzically at the dwarf. "What does he think he might find behind the house? The murder did not happen here and there is unlikely to be much of value to find."

He stepped up and knocked loudly on the front door.

Torgan just shrugged as Moggrim went to go look around the back.  The dwarf was a complete mystery to him, but hopefully he wasn't going to do anything crazy like breaking into the house.  People here were suspicious enough of outsiders as is.

"Y'know,"  Torgan opined, standing with Rynwyrd by the door as they waited for a response.  "Speaking as someone who was a "productive member of society" since I could walk: Your way does sound better."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:06, Sun 05 Aug 2018.

When Moggrim spotted the woman hanging clothes out back he glanced back at the front area.  Seeing the others disappear when they walked up to the front he shrugged his shoulders knowing there was little point in yelling to get their attention only to startle the woman.   Looking back to the woman he asked politely, "Excuse me ma'am, am I at the Korzha residence and are you Viorec's wife Eliza?"

The woman nods.



"Yeah...what do you want? Circus is that way..."

She jerks her chin in the direction of the circus at the outskirts of town. She paused and considered Moggrim and what he had just said.

"Wait...why are you asking about Viorec?"

Hearing voices come from behind the building, Torgan turned to Rynwyrd and made a small nod in the direction of the backyard.  He couldn't make out any words, but it sounded like the dwarf and a woman, meaning it was probably Viorec's wife.  The half orc sauntered over towards the back of the house.

As he came around the corner of the house and saw Moggrim talking to what was presumably the dead guy's wife, his face quickly fell from the easy cheer of his back and forth with Rynwyrd to something appropriately somber.  Approaching the pair, he called out to the woman.  Nothing against Moggrim, of course, but the dwarf didn't seem like much of a talker.  And since money was at stake (not to mention lives,) it might be best for the professional talker to take over.

"Excuse me, Mrs..."  Torgan faltered.  Oh crap, had he seriously forgotten the victim's last name?  "Are you Viorec's wife?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Fri 10 Aug 2018.

Rynwyrd followed after Torgan. He looked over the woman in the back there for a moment. He assumed the answer to Torgan's question would be yes, but it wasn't a certainty. Regardless, he didn't want to waste time so he jumped right in. "We were just hoping that, if you are indeed his wife, we might ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred at the general store. If you are not she, then we apologize for bothering you, and would be appreciative if you might be able to direct us to her."

The woman nodded at Torgan's question but she had a look of suspicion on her face, especially when Rynwyrd started asking questions.

"Why are you outsiders asking about that? The past's in the past. There isn't anything to talk about no more."


OOC: FYI it will be a DC 20 diplomacy check or a DC 11 intimidate check to get her in a cooperating mood...

Torgan shook his head sadly. "I'm...afraid there is more to talk about, actually.  I should introduce myself; my name is Torgan Dul, and these are my associates Moggrim and Rynwyrd.  We've been hired by Mayor Kriegler and the carnival as investigators after an incident earlier today."

Torgan paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.  "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your husband is dead."  The half-orc's voice was sad but steady, as if he'd delivered this kind of news countless times over the years and it broke his heart every time.  This wasn't true of course, but it seemed like a good way to play it.

"There's a lot that's still unclear, but it looks like he was murdered.  I know this must be a terrible shock to you, but we need your help if we're going to find his killer.  Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Viorec?"

---

18:51, Today: Secret Roll: Torgan Dul rolled 28 using 1d20+11 with rolls of 17.  Diplomacy.

Rynwyrd stayed quiet. The woman was suspicious already and he didn't want to make it appear they were 'ganging up' on her or anything. Plus he thought she might need a minute to process and grieve...or she might get angry, or she might choose to think they were lying and get angry at them. It would all depend. He waited to see what happened and how she responded.

Eliza hesitates for awhile and then turns away, holding her skirt to her face. Her shoulders shake with sobs as she tries to compose herself.


Finally she dabs at the corners of her eyes but she keeps her head pointed low.

"No...ain't nobody had fault with Viorec. Nobody in town anyway. If you ask me it was probably one of those shifty carnies or one of their stupid beasts. I heard they had all manner of dangerous creatures in their little sideshows. An orc even! Seems obvious to me who might have killed my poor husband."

As the widow Korzha hid her face to cry, Torgan caught the eyes of his fellow investigators.  Bull-shit, he mouthed silently, before dropping back into his previous 'sad detective' persona.

As Eliza regained her composure and started to spin her story, Torgan nodded sympathetically.   "Ma'am, I understand completely."  He looked around to make sure nobody was listening, then leaned forward to confide in the widow.  "Those carnies are pretty obviously the culprits, if you'll excuse my bluntness.  But the mayor is going to want some kind of proof before we can bring them to justice.  Is there anything you remember that might help us?  Something Viorec might have said about one of them, or about why he would have gone to the fairgrounds in the first place?"

The half-orc's face was the picture of earnest anger.  Of a well-meaning oaf ready to go bust some heads to right this wrong, if only he could find an excuse to go storming in.  If only Eliza could provide him with an excuse.  (And hopefully let an actual clue or two slip out in the process.)

---

00:27, Today: Torgan Dul rolled 23 using 1d20+13 with rolls of 10.  I have completely fallen for her clever ploy (feign ignorance).
This message was last edited by the player at 06:47, Wed 15 Aug 2018.

Eliza shook her head, wiping "tears" from her eyes.

"Not that I can think of. He was obsessed about finding our boy. Nobody knows what happened to him. Fool probably went off to talk to someone at the carnival hoping for answers. You know...don't they say that those lion things...ummmm...sphinxes...yeah. Don't they say them sphinxes know stuff? Maybe that thing knows what happened to Viorec."


She nodded her head as if agreeing with herself. Thanks to Torgan's warning however the group realizes the lies for what they are. For someone who lost their son she seems remarkably nonchalant about the affair and it was clear that although she acted sad there were no real tears.

Rynwyrd was respectfully quiet while the woman broke down and then slowly composed herself. Loss was difficult to deal with, as was grief. He tried to avoid those two whenever possible. Of course, he wasn't surprised that Torgan wasn't having any of what the widow was selling. Rynwyrd wasn't entirely convinced.

"So your assumption is that he went to the carnival and someone there killed him for some unknown reason. I see." He paused as if collecting his thoughts. She seemed to be remarkably well-informed about the carnival though trying to make it appear that she wasn't certain what manner of creatures were in there. It was possible there were posters or rumors that she had picked up on.

"Your son disappeared before the carnival arrived, is that right? And your husband, nor anyone else, have been able to find any trace of where he might have gone or what fate befell him?"

Torgan nodded thoughtfully as Rynwyrd turned the conversation to the missing boy.  "Right, right."  He muttered as if only now realizing that there might be a connection between the two deaths.

"And, if you don't mind me asking, what sort of things did you and your husband do to try and find the boy?  You said Viorec was obsessed."

Eliza doesn't seem to notice the suspicions that the group has of her and continues on with the charade.

"We looked everywhere. The whole town organized a search of the nearby swamps to try and find him but nothing turned up. I don't know what happened to him..."

It's quite clear from the shift of her stance that she's lying at this point.

"...but most likely the swamp ate him. It happens from time to time and he had a tendency to go places he wasn't supposed to..."

What's interesting is that this last part seems truthful.

"Anyway Viorec was obsessed, yes. After a couple of days searching with nothing to show for it we all went back to our business. I mean it's heartbreaking but we're a tough people. We can't fall apart every time someone goes missing. Still have work to do and other mouths to feed. I hope that my boy will walk back through the door but...it ain't gonna happen and Viorec just couldn't accept that. He was convinced he could find him. Started harassing people in town, even yelled at the Mayor to organize another search a couple days ago. He just...he just couldn't accept that our boy was gone."

Rynwyrd frowned a bit and scratched his chin as he listened to the woman speak. He thought about her words for a moment and then shook his head slowly. "Interesting. You are telling the truth about some things, but you are lying about your son. I wonder why that would be. What actually happened to your son? And why would you not tell your husband? Was he an outsider to this town?"

Torgan froze as Rynwyrd casually asked the widow why she was lying to them.  Slowly, his head turned to look at the elf, staring at him with a look of baffled horror.  Did Ryn...know he was talking out loud?  Was this some clever trick a short-lived oaf like Torgan just didn't understand?  Or didl Rynwyrd think Eliza, an obvious accomplice to the murder of her husband and son, would tell him the truth if he just asked a second time?

Torgan turned back to the widow, still obviously baffled.

Fuck it.  They probably weren't going to get anything else out of her by playing along, anyways.  Might as well see how she reacts to this...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:09, Sat 01 Sept 2018.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in anger.

”How dare you. Get out! Your kind isn’t welcome around here. Leave. NOW!

At this point her voice was raised as she started shouting at the adventurers.

And that was the end of that conversation.  One way or another, Eliza wasn't going to be letting any other info slip out.  The only thing Torgan could hope to do was smooth the exit enough that her co-conspirators didn't put a couple knives into his back before he could figure out what was really going on.  He wheeled on Ryn, his face a mask of shocked indignation.

"That is enough out of you!"  He snapped with enraged authority.  He winked at the elf, counting on his turned head to hide the gesture from the angry widow.  "Get out of here!  I'll deal with you later."

Assuming Ryn took the hint and scampered off, The half-orc turned back to Eliza with exasperation and embarrassment.  "I'm sorry about that.  The elf...he's under a lot of stress, but that's no excuse for him to go flying off the handle like that.  Still, I promise I'll do whatever it takes to catch those carnies who murdered your husband."  Without waiting for a response of either kind, Torgan turned and left.

Catching up to Rynwyrd around the corner of the house, Torgan clapped the alchemist on the back.  "Gorum's spiky balls!"  He chuckled, shaking his head.  Leaning in, he continued in a quieter voice.  "Gimme a little warning next time!  Spouting off like that is a great way to get us knifed in our fucking sleep!"

Apparently deciding that getting murdered in his sleep was a problem that could wait until nightfall, Torgan focused on the problem at hand.  "Where to, next?  I'm leaning towards checking out the blacksmith.  If he was fighting with Viorec, he might be in with whoever killed the guy.  On the other hand, the whole town can't be part of it, or they wouldn't have to frame the carnival..."

Ryn frowned, not in anger or frustration, but more of confusion. He gave a shrug of his shoulders, slowly turned to walk away. That much anger was a bit of an irrational response, but then if she was lying, clearly she had something to hide. Torgan's outburst was even more confusing. Ryn didn't work for him, but as he had already started to turn to leave, he just continued to do so.

The over-familiar back-slap when Torgan re-appeared later was also confusing. Rynwyrd glanced at the hand but decided not to comment. He shook his head. "No. She won't knife us in the back. But she may make contact with someone else. I think this may be a larger conspiracy, but I could be wrong."

He hesitated. "Well. I was hoping we might keep a watch on the widow here to see if she leaves to speak with someone or if someone suddenly shows up in a little bit, to speak with her in response to our conversation with her. However, she may not make a move until nightfall."

He looked at Torgan. "Unless you wish to go to the blacksmith's on your own? Or we could see if Moggrim will stay and watch?" He looked at the dwarf.

Picking up on the elf's irritation, Torgan moved his hand away from Rynwyrd and straightened up a bit. "Well...She definitely knows who killed her son and who killed her husband.  And she's fine with it.  And since she's clearly no criminal mastermind, she has to have at least one friend to do the dirty work."

"I just don't get how she can be so fine with all this, though."  Torg grumbled.  "No matter how ruthless you are, you have to be at least a bit upset if someone kills your fucking family!  Is it a cult thing?  Is she being mind controlled?"

Shrugging of the question as something that would have to wait, he turned back to the matter at hand. "Either way, watching the house is a good idea, but I don't know how we'd pull it off.  I mean, this is a human town, with maybe five last names between the lot of them.  We stick out like a sore thumb.  Plus, I'm not exactly...dressed for hiding in the bushes."  Torgan finished, gesturing at his brightly colored clothes.  The truth of the matter was that Torgan could be wearing a ghillie suit and he'd still be far from stealthy.

"Moggrim looks like the sneakiest of the three of us.  No offense," He added, turning to the quiet dwarf.  "But you are the lowest to the ground."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Sun 09 Sept 2018.

OOC: Moving things along...

One of the buildings located towards the center of town indicates it as the town trading post with a simple sign that shows tools in one hand and a bag of gold in the other. Other then that sign nothing else would make the building stand as there isn't any mercantile traffic going in and out of the building.

Looking at the inventory shows an ill-stocked trading post that contains almost exclusively agriculture equipment: plows, scythes, flour sacks, boxes of nails, flails and the licke. Most of the available space is taken up with tables with a long counter along one side. There is a fire going with a thick, creamy stew boiling on a large cauldron.

Just south of the building is a large barn that seems to be used to store hay and seed.

Behind the counter is a bored looking burly man with a thick beard half asleep at the counter. Walking up and down the shelves taking inventory is a plain woman with a pinched face but what really attracts the attention is that out in front of the store is a beautiful blonde teenager working on repairing a fine but threadbare dress. She has a brilliant aura that seems completely at odds to the otherwise suspicious and dour looks the rest of the townsfolk have and she hums a ditty to herself as she works the needle and thread.

---

Man behind counter:


Woman taking inventory:


Teenager out front:

Leaving Moggrim to stake out the Korzha house, Torgan and Rynwyrd headed towards the trading post.  The neckbeard must be the owner, Saul.  He was the one they had come to talk to, having gotten into a punch up with their victim shortly before his death.  But the girl was what interested Torgan most.

Not like that, the bard reminded himself.  Sure, she was pretty enough, but Torg had more pressing issues than trying to seduce some townie teenager.  More than that, she stood out compared to the rest of the village, and that might be important.  If not... well, she might be a bit less guarded with the words than the rest of her family.

He leaned over to Ryn as they approached.  "We should split up.  You go talk to the owner, I'll see if I can get anything out of the girl."

On a whim, he ducked out of sight a short distance away from the store.  Just around the corner, he quietly sung a spell to himself, giving his eyes the ability to see magical auras.  Maintaining the spell through concentration, he followed Ryn towards the trading post, a half dozen paces behind the elf.  Giving the building a quick, surreptitious scan from the doorway, he turned to the young woman as if just noticing her for the first time.

"Oh, pardon me."  He interjected, seemingly embarrassed to be interrupting her sewing, "But do you know Viorec Korzha?  I hear he got into a bit of a scuffle here recently."