[PF]Cruel skies IC

[Lughart]

The shouting is coming from outside the inn. Those who exit can see many of the other guests stick their sleepy heads out of their rooms. One by one the guards, merchants helpers and tavern employees are staggering out of their rooms, curious to see what the uproar is about. A group has gathered outside in front of the stablehouse.

It's plain to see the source of the commotion. The stables doors have been smashed open, and the stable itself is empty. All the horses, the merchants wagons and wares, everything has dissapeared during the nights storm, leaving only a corpse dressed in the leather armor common among the caravan guards.

In front of the group stands Farsil the merchant, pale as a sheet, looking at where his caravan should be. Erin stands beside him with a worried look on her face.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Werit, who had been up at the crack of dawn with his daily prayers, slips on his leather jerkin and grabs his weapon. The priest trundles down the stairs with heavy bootsteps and is soon standing beside Erin and Farsil. "Is that man one of the caravan members?" Werit skirts the clearing and crouches down beside the fallen guardsman to check his vital signs.

 

[Lughart]

"He was one of Farsil's hired muscle." Erin answers. "From Vhol by the looks of him."

The man is dead. He has multiple long slashes across his chest, likely from a scimitar. The blood on the stable floor suggests he bled out after being attacked.

 

[perrinmiller]

Tyrien takes one look at the smash doors of the stable from the window and exclaims, "Goblin fornicating orc whelps! BUCK!" Not even bothering with the stairs, the half-eleven ranger climbs out the window, slides down the roof of the porch below it, and dangles over the edge to drop the last few feet tot the ground.

Sprinting to the stable, Tyrien rushes inside to investigate where she left her equine companion, supposedly safe during the storm.

Shar follows the half-elven woman out the window and to the stable, sensing the woman's agitation and distress. However, the large cat takes a look at the bloody mess that was an inept guard and decides to sit on her haunches next to it, tail twitching. The lioness looks from the priest checking the vitals to the Trackers Guild couple to the fat merchant man looking distraught. Shar looks around at the crime scene like she master of her domain, while she waits for Tyrien to come back out.

<<OOC: Did Tyrien just lose her horse? >>

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Tyrien's Sheet

 

[Lughart]

The stable has room for twenty horses but is now empty. (Perception from Pmiller thanks)

Farsil pants heavily and wipes his brow. "How much Erin? I'll pay anything if you can find my caravan."

"A man died, Farsil! I won't run out into the desert and become victim number two, and I'll make damn sure my husband doesn't either!"

"A thousand gold! For each of you! Please, without this I'm ruined!" Erin ignores Farsil as he keeps pleading.

<<OOC: No, don't worry.>>

 

[ghostcat]

Throrg saunters out of the inn and joins the group gathered round the stables. It takes him a few minutes but he eventually works out that its not the caravan master who has been killed but one of the guards. Nevertheless the caravan appears to have been stolen. Still not sure what he can do to help, Throrg just hangs around waiting to see what happens.

Throrg's eyes light up at the mention of 1,000 gold pieces and he shouts "Throrg go."

 

[CanadienneBacon]

"He was one of Farsil's hired muscle." Erin answers. "From Vhol by the looks of him."

Werit gets up from his crouch over the dead guard, then quickly jumps back a step as Shar joins him beside the corpse. Shaking his head and muttering in dwarven, Werit backs away from the lion and heads for Farsil. "Attacked, sliced by a scimitar, then left fer dead. His family'll want notice. Where's he from, any of you lot know?" Werit looks to Erin and her husband then back to Farsil. "Anything special-like on yer caravan that'd warrant this particular brand o' slaughter?"

 

[perrinmiller]

Tyrien looks around the interior of the stable muttering, "$@#%...Buck... #$*&! ... alone in the desert."

She will head back to where Shar is guarding the corpse, and begin looking around at the tracks, particularly searching for the unique notch in Buck's left front hoof that should set his apart from the other horses.

Shar continues to sit on her haunches, tail twitching, observing those around her. The lioness is keeping her own counsel and apparently unconcerned about the distress of Farsil.

Hearing someone mention of reward and already being upset at the prospect of someone taking her equine friend, the ranger woman curtly replies, "You have a deal as long as they have Buck as well. Now everyone stop tramping around while I examine the tracks left behind by these rustlers, particularly you, big feet."

<<OOC: Perception (1d20+11=30); Survival (1d20+9=25) if needed.>>

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Tyrien's Sheet

 

[Lughart]

Farsil lights up as Throrg and Tyrien takes him up on the offer, but shudders at the expenses it will have if more people start volunteering.

"I hired the whole band out of Vhol" he answers Werit. "We weren't carrying anything out of the ordinary. Silver, mostly. But there was one thing. A collegue of mine asked me to ship a box for him. He said it was an heirloom he wanted to get to a relative. Very important, he said, made me promise to keep the key on me at all times. All I saw when I opened it was some writings, but I guess anything can be valuable to the right person. You think that may be it?"

***

While Tyrien is searching the stable she finds some of Bucks tracks covering those of the other horses. It seems he was led out last, and put up quite a fight judging by the number of hoofprints darting back and forth along the stable floor. Luckily there is no blood.

Bucks tracks, and those of over ten other horses, a few wagons and several pairs of boots lead west out of the settlement. They have almost been erased by the sandstorm, and are only visible due to the size of the group. The fact that they haven't been completely wiped away makes it look like the horses and wagons were stolen pretty late in the storm. How anyone made it into Traders Rest through the clouds of sand and dust is another question.

<<OOC: Nice rolls! Warrants a little more information than "they went that way">>

 

[perrinmiller]

The ranger examines everything around the area, getting low to the ground when necessary and moving bystanders out of the way as required. Shar gets off her butt and pads around after her. After seeing what she needed to see, Tyrien declares to Shar while pointing off into the desert, "They went that way."

As she approaches the group around Farsil with Shar by her side, Tyrien has an impatient look, uncharacteristic of her elven heritage, but probably normal for her. Hearing the end of the conversation, she suggests, "Caravans and horses alone are worth a fair amount to tempt anyone. But a gnome once told me, information can sometimes be the most valuable a person can obtain. Seems silly to me, but crazy gnomes are... well, crazy."

<<OOC: Yeah, too good and Invis Castle will make me pay later. But I will say the phrase. >>

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Tyrien's Sheet