The Coronet and Cabbage Inn

Stilgar Tuek

Stilgar whilrs around to stare in disbelief at the chair he just kicked back. "Three gold... that simply cannot be..." He begins a thorough examination of the chair, going down on one knee to get a better look at the joinery. "It wasn't even that comfortable," he mutters to himself. He looks up briefly from his inspection to chime in on some of the comments being made.

"It certainly sounds as though the townsfolk could use our help... Payment up front would be handy, although I'd settle for another mug of that ale (up front)... Quite right, no time to waste... Necromancy - didn't think of that.".

Rising to his feet, he gives the innkeeper a disapproving grimace, "I'm afraid you've been had - these chairs aren't worth more than three silvers."

Liarra gawked at the innkeeper. "Three gold for that? It must be really comfortable and posh... it's making people soft! It's making me soft! No, I think this chair is not suitable for my purposes... perhaps the floor? Or could you drag in a hard stone?"

Those looking at Liarra will notice that she is absolutely serious. Then she turned towards Dana. "You are right, of course, we should investigate before we go. Perhaps I could go ahead and scout the graveyard while you discuss these matters? I would be of little use and I fear I will become weaker should I indulge myself here further."

Dana gives Liarra an understanding nod. While the paladin sees the monk's religious role as similar to her own, she also knows that the two come from different walks of life and have different manners of living. Missionaries and hermits differ, she admits to herself, and she clearly sees that her ascetic companion finds the confines of the tavern challenging to her austere ideals.

"If you would like to do some initial scouting, I wonder if Rulet could assist too," Dana suggests. "He might bring an interesting perspective to what you see, especially if the incident was the works of a thief or bandit." The paladin then turns to Stilgar to see if the dwarf expresses any objections, then adds, "We could stay here, pick up a few more details, whether they're trivial or of importance, and then meet at the mausoleum in two hours."

Stilgar Tuek

Stilgar nods along to the planning in a sagely manner, slowly stroking one of the braids in his beard. He turns to Dana and says, "Very well lady Knight. In my experience, time spent in reconnaissance is rarely wasted. Let us see what more we can learn."

He turns to Rulet and Liarra "The mausoleum in two hours - see you there."

Rulet retains his frowning disposition as he eyes "Liarra" over. He follows all the obvious paths for a young man, then some a bit more deplorable, one might say. And certainly he attempts in his brief scrutiny to pick out every reason why she shouldn't come along with him. He does so enjoy his alone time.

"I don't know about the tag along. I can't be worrying about her getting caught on something or kicking a stone. Whoever's down there sounds very much like a tough customer and we can't give them the advantage of readiness." he reasons, returning to the group's gaze in turn. "I can go a lonesome and very likely get better results." He turns to Liarra herself and reasons; "I do know better than to judge a book by its modest cover though, if you're confident and capable of this just tell me to stuff my gob and let's be off. If not, I can't take responsibility for what happens to you out there."

With that, Rulet downs the last sips of his rotgut and wipes his lips on the back of his sleeve. Pulling his belt up around his bloated little belly he makes way to the hiring party, barefeet padding silently along the finished wooden floors.

He extends a bag and asks his payment. He extends a word and asks for directions and any last shred of gossip or wives tales about the cemetery. It's best to know thy enemy. With that done, he extends his hand to the heavy copper loop that is the Inn's door handle and swings it open casually, staring into the darkness blanketing the town's lightly cobbled roads outside the faded window light escaping the Inn's dirty glass.

The air is cold and crisp and quiet and the moon hangs nowhere in the light speckled black abyss.

It is a perfect night to be Rulet Fods.

Liarra shot Rulet a disdainful look as he eyes her (and mentally undresses her, no doubt) thoroughly. This little overweight thing with a passion for debilitating alcohol was questioning her capabilities? A Disciple of the Order of the Open Palm? All her dislike for unruly and undisciplined individuals rose to her hackles immediately. "I'm more than able to fend for myself, thank you. Stay out of my way if we get into trouble, halfling. Else I might use you for a convenient stone."

Having said that, she stalked out the door ahead of the thief, not waiting for a response or for him to follow, not needing to ask for directions. She had scouted the town when she'd arrived, as was her custom. It was best to know all avenues of travel... or if necessary, escape. She knew where the graveyard was.

actions

The town of Kingsholm is small, but looking around you can find a cleric of Olidammara, a diviner, and many trading houses and storage houses for minerals from local mines.

Captain Mia Desarna walks with you toward the graveyard. "I've got to accompany your party to the gates of the graveyard because I've got one of the few sets of keys."

Ivy winds it way up the iron bars of the cemetery gate. No rust discolors the black metal, and flowers blossom near the wall. Beyond the wall, you see a gravel walkway that weaves its way up through groomed grass and white tombstones. A few statues rise up along the hillside, their gray features gleaming in the sun.



"That's not good," says Mia. "The gate is open."

Rulet nods his head in agreement and acknowledgement of the guard's reason for accompanying them. Yes, of course they'd need a key. What would he do otherwise? Scale the simple walls? Pick the lock with his finely crafted tools? As if he could ever!

When the guard's mastery of observation is brought to light, Rulet's face sets in a stone the memorials and statues dotting the serene peace of the land of the dead would be envious of. His mind flutters with its endless branching paths of possibilities and questions and preparations. Curse of the quick.

"Who else has a key." he states, more than asks, in a quiet tone.

Dana tours the town with Stilgar. While the pep in her step evokes an eagerness as she moves, the paladin reminds herself to slow down slightly so as not to outpace her stout dwarven companion.

"Looks like we may have a few potential points of contact," Dana says assuringly. "Surely we should be able to find a few more details about this mausoleum, the missing officers and family members, and any stories that may somehow tie into the events."