Year 2947: Theft of the Moon

[Vladim]

Tolerance

Due to how Encounters play out, failed rolls mean the NPCs tolerate you less and less - finally they simply cease conversation. In the end, the Tolerance of this Encounter is 3 - so after 3 failed rolls, it will end. To get any information, either from NPCs or via inspecting the scene, you will need to roll, naturally. For the Goblin - Awareness,
Hunting, Explore, Battle - Healing, too. NPCs - Usual social rolls. Almarion needs to roll one of the goblin rolls to inspect it properly. I will incorporate the results people gain from rolls into the narration - hopefully that will make it seem more natural.

 

"Well, uh..." Rathwulf immediately drops the bloody axe as if it burnt his hands and looks directly into Nori's eyes: "He was snooping about, saw him coming out of the tent. So thinking quickly, grabbed the nearest sharp thing - this old axe - and clobbered 'im over the noggin. Saw few others, headin' in direction of east Mirk... Draggin something. About it?" Rathwulf seems a bit nervous and upset, his hands shaking a bit - perhaps this was his first real combat? Whatever the case may be, he always maintains eye contact with Nori. A short distance away, Almarion and Idunn inspect the goblin's corpse - its quite clear that the goblin had been struck with a heavy blow over the head, and the size of the wound matches the blade of the axe that Rathwulf is holding - that is very clear to both trackers.

Ethal, on the other hand, is practically excited, and tries to drag anyone who is willing away to talk a bit of a distance away from Rathwulf - she seems to have something to say that isnt for his ears. Meanwhile, Gramtyng wakes up the Marshall by shaking his lightly on the shoulder, and stares at him wildly. "What happened here, man? I know you just woke and you probably have a splitting headache but... Anything? Anything that can help us out?" The old man simply scratched his head, puzzled at the situation, looking around the messed-up tent - coin spilled out plain as day, and a small chest which as all saw contained the sickle overturned and open: "Nay... I just got knocked unconscious - was practicing my lines for the award speech and all and then BAM!" He threw his hands up. "Darkness. Listen, lad... D'you think this is my fault? I'm just a farmer, I've barely won that contest last year just... wanted to make this memorable and now this..." He seems on verge of tears, suddenly, causing the bard to clap his awkwardly on the shoulder.

[Vladim]

Having discovered nothing beyond the obvious by examining the dead goblin’s tracks, Idunn turns her attention to Ethal, who is behaving most unusually for the situation. It would not be wrong to say that the huntress disliked Ethal’s boastful demeanour, and her extravagant performance at the Thiumblerig, and now, with danger at hand, she had little patience for her games. ’Speak up, woman!’ she says gruffly, ’what did your keen eyes see? The time for games is over!’

[Vladim]

Bella was able to wake up Torbald with a little effort but mercifully short of slapping. Hearing that he might have had a splitting headache, Bella couldn't help whispering to the goblin corpse with a axe-split skull, "He has a splitting headache." She looked for discarded valuables, trying to figure what the vanished was seeking by what they left behind.

[Vladim]

Ethal merely scowled at Idunn, crossing her hands and regarding her silently for a moment. "What games do you speak of, dear guest?" Her tone was icy and filled with a fake politeness that was almost insulting. "The games have ended when that vagrant over there stole the prize." She sighed, immediately losing some of the chill in her tone and now simply looking like a bitter woman, looking to the side as the Beorning town suddenly became as busy as a disturbed beehive. "Was near the tent. Saw a few leaving it - was going to lodge an official complaint to Torbald. Noise and disarray of this - can you believe it?" She scoffed. "Went in the tent: Marshall's knocked out, everything upside down. Go outside and what do I see?!" She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Rathwulf's back: "That filthy vagrant, standing over a goblin."
"Your fault? How's this your fault?" Gramtyng was having some trouble understanding the old man's fears after waking him with Bella's help. He hoped she would try to calm him - he clearly wasnt doing a very good job of it, judging by the deathgrip the old man had on his shirt, and the tears welling in the old Marshall's eyes. "I just... I just make jam, lad. I dont know the first thing about this official business, won by pure accident... Now this! They'll say Old Torbald decided to steal the Festival proceeds!" While Gramtyng tries to calm the old man, Bella notices that none of the gold is gone - it is spilled all over the tent. The small chest the Sickle had been presented in is also here, but upside down and empty.

[Vladim]

Idunn listens to Ethal carefully, trying not to lose patience with the woman as she speaks. No wonder they call her unkind: it is a well-deserved moniker, Idunn thinks, if her first impulse is to turn against her fellow Beorning.

’The Thane will determine if he is guilty.’ she comments laconically after Ethal finishes saying what she has to say, and clearly showing great difficulty in believing that Rathulf is the culprit, after killing the goblin. But, to make sure, the huntress approaches the wretched creature’s corpse, and examines it carefully, to confirm that it was indeed Rathwulf’s axe that dealt the killing blow.

After doing so, she heads towards Torbald, who is being reassured by Gramtyng. ’Stay still, Marshall.’ she says to the old man, trying not to interrupt his conversation with Gramtyng. ’I only wish to examine your wound.’ If Torbald allows it, she does so, not only to ensure that the old man is not in danger, but also to collect clues about how the perpetrator acted.

[Vladim]

Nori gives Rathwulf a firm nod of the head, acknowledging his story of the events that recently transpired and conveying that he has some faith in the man. "Nothing," Nori replies with a glint of a smile. "Rest... You did well, but there may be more required of you," he tells Rathwulf before turning his head as he hears Idunn's approach. Looking up at his companion, he tells the woman, "He could probably use some water." Upon say that, he nods his head towards Rathwulf, the dwarf letting his eyes focus on the man's shaking hands. Maybe Idunn will pick up on the subtle queue from the dwarf. Maybe not. Either way, he turns and makes his way for the tent to join Bella and Gramtyng as they question the Marshall.

Sidling up to Bella, Nori buries the head of his axe into the ground and rests his hands on the pommel, his right over his left. Glancing between his compatriots, he then looks to Torbald and tries to assist Gramtyng in calming him, albeit halfheartedly. "Calm down Old Man," the dwarf says, a bit of humor in his voice. "Your man out there..." he starts to say, tilting his head back in Idunn and Rathwulf's direction. "... he says the goblins were dragging something. This sickle - I don't imagine a goblin would have any difficulty carrying it, right? You yourself could wield it. So what else is missing here?" The dwarf takes a casual glance about the tent, now curious about the stories he's being told.

[Vladim]

"The Thane? Really?" Ethal crossed her arms, her eyes scornful, glaring at Idunn's retreating back: "Don't need the Thane to tell me that I saw Rathwulf leaving the Marshall's tent. To think, I was the one who vouched for him..." She shudders, as if from a chill, and walks off to sit on an old log, determined to wait for Merovech's arrival, mumbling something about how nobody has a truly critical mindset these days.
"I still dont get how this is your fault." Gramtyng scratched at his head. "You make good jam - was that your stuff they served over at the stand by the bull? Shoerack? Shooruch? Especially the peach one - that was great! I mean dont get me wrong - I love honey, but you guys lay it on real thick, so the jam was perfect." The bard scratched his own head, taking a look at the old man, who finally got an unsure smile on his face - he could clearly tell Gramtyng was attempting to cheer him up with flattery and poor jokes, but it seemed to be working anyway. After all, if he joked about unrelated matters, he didnt suspect him. "Yeah... Made it a while ago. Gotta know how to cook em right - daughter helps me." This sudden mention seemed to interest the bard a bit more, as he tried asking the old man how old his daughter was, but was met with a wary silence. Nori's approach was a welcome diversion from the suddenly awkward conversation: "Dragging something, good dwarf? No..." The marshall attempted to scratch his head bit winced at the pain: "Nothing even that heavy in this tent: the profits from the Festival arent even here, just the prizes, and those arent nearly as heavy... Heaviest thing here is my jams, and those.... Well, nobody took them." He waves his hand behind him, demonstrating the several rows of undisturbed jars, looking somewhat upset.

 

Results of Inspection

Now calmed down, the Marshall does not resist being examined - from the inspection, Idunn can tell he was hit from behind with a heavy blunt object: there is no bleeding, but there is a large bruise, easily visible among his sparse grey hair. The goblin, on the other hand had been struck with a bladed object, that much is clear... But the wound is far longer than the axe's blade, and the goblin's body is cold as ice: Rathwulf, seeing the inspection, steps from foot to foot, rubbing his hands against his sides, as if suddenly cold.

[Vladim]

As soon as she examines the goblin, Idunn realizes that things are not quite as they seem. She quickly gathers her friends around her, urgently interrupting their conversations with the other Beornings-nearly dragging them from the villagers, if need be.

’Something is wrong here,’ she whispers to her friends, keeping one eye on the fellowship and another on Rathwulf. ’Rathwulf did not kill the goblin-the miserable creature is already stone-cold! Someone else must have planted the body, and Rathwulf is in on it, helping the thieves! Ethal must have seen them leave.’

Seeing Rathwulf grow nervous, Idunn confirms her suspicions. ’Keep an eye on him until Merovech comes.’ she says to the company. ’He knows more than he lets on.’

She quickly suppresses a wrathful impulse to beat the truth out of the man, but in the end decides to show respect for her cousin’s festival. Instead, she once more seeks Ethal’s counsel, approaching the woman with an apologetic look.

’You are right,’ she whispers to Ethal, ’there’s something wrong about the man.’ She subtly points out the changes in his mannerisms, which seemingly confirm this. ‘Tell me this, Ethal: who were the men you saw leaving the Marshall’s tent?’

[Vladim]

As the old man tells Nori there was essentially nothing in the tent that would need to be dragged, the dwarf's face scrunches with perplexity and a bit of frustration. Hearing Idunn start to gather their little troop, Nori glances briefly at the woodswoman before looking back up at Torbald. "I see..." he says calmly before adding, "... just one moment."

Gathering with Idunn and the others, he listens to her suspicions about Rathwulf and nods his head once and firmly in agreement. "The stories do not align," Nori concurs. "I'll keep the man occupied while you find out what you can," he tells Idunn before congratulating her with a simple smile from behind his wild beard. "Good work," he tells her before giving Gramtyng a soft punch against the hip out of camaraderie. Pulling away from the group, he walks back over to Rathwulf and asks the man with a studious right eye, "You fight many goblins here?" The question seems to be tame as Nori does not want to spoke Rathwulf now that his integrity and role in the robbery is being questioned.

[Vladim]

"Oh? Aye! No." Rathwulf's reaction is a bit mixed when he first speaks up, Nori's question snapping him out deep thought. The Beorning crosses his arms on his chests and nods at the dwarf, leaning against the nearby fence more comfortably. "Didnt fight any, really. Could hardly call this a fight, can you? Bashed it over the head when it wasnt aware of me. Rest of em were too far, and I didnt have a bow. Was busy celebrating, see?"Ethal merely nodded at Idunn, sighing slightly. "Like I said, something isnt right about him." Ethal pursed her lips, shifting her heavy gaze to Rathwulf, who was chatting with Nori. "Hasnt been the same since he came back from his wanderings." She shook her head, turning to the huntress in turn: "Dont know who the men were. Not from around here... They were drinking with Rathwulf most festival. Remember one talking to that Viglunding; had a sharp nose, kept smoothing his beard. Think he arrived with him."

Gramtynd nods at his dwarven friend and helps Torbald get on his feet: from his view, based on the things that Idunn and Torbald said, it was pretty clear the Marshall was innocent of any crime here. Rathwulf however... Well, that was still just suspicon. The unpleasant young woman called Ethal was all too keen to accuse him; might have been something else there. With Torbald safely on his feet, the bard's eyes fell to the ground around the tent, causing his eyebrows to climb slightly. If Rathwulf was to be believed, there should be goblin tracks; if ti was Ethal, then there should be more than one set of boots. True, they'd walked all over the area, but there should still be some remaining to determine some basic information from. And if they indeed 'dragged something heavy' there should be deep marks in the ground that even they wouldnt stomp out. "Hold on, Marshall. I'm going to go over, take a look at area around the tent."

People arguing around quieted down as a few voices approached the tent; those speaking were a weary-looking Merovech, who leaned on his spear, and Guthred, whose mood seemed to be worsening by the second. Stopping before the tent, the Beorning Thane surveyed the area with a scowl, before regarding the Marshall: "Tell me what happened, Torbald...What did you see?" The old man scratched his head, having calmed down significantly, but looking particularly displeased: "Was preparing for the speech, rehearsing in the tent. Heard a sound, then was knocked over the head, passed out... Woke up to this mess... And the sickle is gone." The thane nodded, and looked at those present: "Has anyone else anything to contribute?" The Beorning's face was nothing like it had been before, welcoming and merry: It was harsh and focused. Clearly, he took his duty as Thane seriously.

[Vladim]

Huffing along in a weary rush, Cheek looked up at the setting sun yet again. "Oooh, I really wish time would slow down for me, just this once! I can't believe we're going to miss the whole festival! I mean, really, what is a festival without a good pipe full of of Longbottom Leaf? It's just a group of grumpy ol' Tooks at that point! Humph!" And with that, he picked up his pace again. Which is to say he matched the pace of the man walking at his side.

Cheek looked askance at the man. Rougher than his usual traveling companions, the Hobbit decided (yet again) that he really had no room to complain. What, with the way he had shown up and helped out with that nasty business in the woods. Cheek hadn't meant to leave the trail. At least, he hadn't meant to get out of sight of the trail. The clearing had looked much more inviting from the trail, and all he had wanted was a nice log to enjoy elevensies. Maybe a puff or two on his pipe. And a nap. Yes. Anyway, he hadn't been looking for trouble, but he was sure glad the man had shown up and, without saying a word, stepped in and--quite literally and figuratively--saved his bacon!

The Hobbit turned his attention to the road and was quite pleasantly surprised to see buildings in the distance. "How wonderful! Do you think any of the events are still going on? Oh, it would be just wonderful if I could try my hand at a riddle or two! I do love a good riddle." Yet again, the young Hobbit put on a burst of speed (catching up/keeping pace with the man at his side).

As they entered the festivities, Cheek quickly began looking for the herb stall, where the barrels of pipe weed were to have been sold. As he began setting them down, he attempted to give an explanation for the delay while apologizing and still be cordial. "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry for the delay! I'm Cheek Whitbuck and these barrels are full of Longbottom Leaf. I took the liberty of testing them out on the walk over here, and I must say, the leaf is most excellent! Top notch and all that! Of course, I had a spot of trouble on the road, but this pleasant young man, er...what's your name? Hm, nevermind, anyway, here you go...Oh look, is another event starting? Is this the one where we look for things or is it something else?"

As he finished, the call of "GOBLINS!!" rings out, but the talking Hobbit missed the word, his ears mostly full of his own voice. Seeing all the commotion though, he politely excuses himself and wanders off with the surging crowd. Being quite small, he misses most of the details, but it quickly becomes apparent that the excitement is not related to any positive event. He even hears people whispering about goblins!

Pushing through the forest of big folk legs, Cheek finally finds his way to the front as an harsh, official-looking man asks the crowd if anyone has anything else to contribute. 'Drat, looks like I missed all the important details!' Cheek thinks to himself. He scans the nearby crowd for the man he had traveled with. 'Oh my, is that a goblin? Certainly doesn't look civilized! Especially with its head at that angle. Oh dear, I'm glad I haven't eaten anything too recently...Oh my, is that another Hobbit? And look at that hound!'

[Vladim]

For the third time, Cilderic adjusted the barrel of Longbottom Leaf that he carried on his shoulder. How he had ended up carrying these barrels was a story which he scarcely understood. Suffice to say, any story that ended in wet boots and a singed beard was not a story Cilderic cared to think about or repeat.

The hard looking Woodman looked down and to his side. The ultimate cause of his uncomfortable situation was walking beside him…well, perhaps not walking as much as trotting, and obviously impatient to get to their destination. This short companion was a Hobbit.

Cilderic had met a Hobbit once before, on the road a few years ago, but he had not spent any amount of time with their folk. Certainly this was not Cilderic’s normal type of traveling companion…but then again, this Hobbit had saved him, and for that, he was grateful… For despite the type of trouble it appeared the Hobbit had been in when he arrived, it was truly the quick actions of the Hobbit that had saved his beard…and his life.

…and so here he was, traveling with a Hobbit, on his way to Stonyford to deliver a message for the Brown Wizard. Still, the squish squish of his boots made him wonder if this little errand was really worth it…."Hobbits." he growled under his breath. What a strange day indeed.

The Hobbit, who had explained his name to be Cheek – along with an entire history of how his name came to be no less – looked over, obviously hearing Cilderic mutter under his breath.

"I was thinking out loud" Cilderic stumbled to recover his words "about how well received your leaf will be." This seemed to please Cheek who then pushed all the more to arrive at their destination at an even greater pace.

After some time the pair came to the village of Stonyford and finally Cilderic was able to put down the barrels and stretch his sore arms. As the Hobbit went about finding his stall, Cilderic began to survey the crowds, looking for the party he was to meet.

He didn’t get far along before the call of “GOBLINS!!” rang out. Cilderic ran with the crowd to the site of the incident in time to see a scene where a dead Goblin lay and obviously ransacked stores. Then one man who spoke with authority said “Has anyone else anything to contribute?”

“My spear and axe do, should there be more goblins to slay.” Cilderic spoke, addressing the Thane. As he did, he sees the Dwarf and Woodsman maiden he has been charged to speak with. He had found the fellowship.

[Vladim]

’This was not the work of goblins, Thane.’ says Idunn to her cousin, referring to him by his proper title. Now was the time for Merovech to show leadership, after all, and it seemed improper to remind everyone that he was her cousin. ’That wretched creature was dead long before Rathwulf’s blade struck it, if that even happened. Its body is cold as stone.’

She waits a little, to let all bystanders respond to this revelation. As for her, she focuses her attention on Rathwulf, who was either drunk or working with the thieves. She walks towards him and addresses him directly: ’You did not slay the goblin. Lady Ethal here thinks you are working with the thieves. Tell the Thane the truth, and he may yet show leniency.’

Idunn is about to continue when she catches a brief glimpse of a familiar face… At first she does not recognize the man, thinking him to be another Beorning warrior with an unkempt beard, but there’s something odd about him… But a few moments later he remembers Cilderic, though he is much changed.

She knew his story, as did everyone in Mountain-Hall, but she thought he had gone mad, or that he got lost in Mirkwood and had perished in the depths of the forest. Seeing him here was quite the surprise, but there was the pressing task of the thieves at hand. Still, her gaze revealed to the man that she did in fact remember who he was, even if their reunion would have to wait for later.

[Vladim]

Rathwulf cast a very ugly look at Ethal, then shook his head in denial at Idunn's words, harder and harder as she keeps speaking. "Denyin' aint gonna do anything." Gramtyng scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Old man Torbald was struck over the head from behind, whole tent was turned upside down, but gold's in plain view... And only the sickle is missing." The bard ended his sentence with a shrug, getting up from where he sat. Rathwulf's mouth remained shut, but he visibly shivered shutting his eyes for a moment. There was an awkward period of silence, oddly broken by Ethal, out of all people, walking forward and placing her hand on the man's shoulder.
"...Just tell them, Rathwulf." Her voice was more gentle than before now, almost unrecognizably so, with warm notes that were not there before: "You always were a terrible liar, even since you were a small lad. Tell the Thane what happened - our Chief judges justly, you know that. Who are you defending here?"

The Rohirrim, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the crowd, trying to gauge the expressions people had when presented with the facts by Idunn. He wished he could add something of weight to the talks, but after that stunt at the song contest, and the amount of people stomping about the area, it was difficult to tell what went on in the area: he was certain he could have found something new if he'd just had enough time, or got here before the tracks multiplied exponentially thanks to the concerned Beornings. They could have had Uthred track them down too, if only they could find a decent trail, he reasoned, scratching behind the hound's ear thoughtfully. A pair of newcomers joined them while they were talking with the Thane, with one volunteering to track down the goblins - he wasnt certain if he was a Beorning or Woodman, but he certainly didnt see him before. The other was... A holbytla, like Bella, though this one was male. His eyebrows climbed slightly: he was NOT expecting to see more of them. "Dont think you'll find any more goblins here, friend. Seems like they'd been made up."

Merovech nodded his thanks to his cousin and Gramtyng, before turning to Rathwulf: "You should listen to Ethal, Rathwulf. You know as well as I you are only making things worse for yourself by covering up the theft." Merovech folded his hands across his chest, boring his gaze into the accused man. "...Doesnt seem like it was you who stole it, or else you'd have been long gone. Tell me what you know, and I will speak to Beorn on your behalf." At this point, Rathwulf opened his eyes, looked at Ethal, then Merovech, and nodded. "...You're right. I didnt kill the goblin. Found him while out scouting, killed him, and then he said we should use him as a distraction. I was to stay behind and lie about the goblin attack to let them get away." Gramtyng shook his head at this, quietly commenting: "Really did draw the short straw, didnt you." Rathwulf merely nodded grimly. "Who's 'he'?" Merovech asked, continuing his questioning. "Called himself Cenric. Sharp face, looks like he's about to laugh at you half the time."
"The bastard WHAT?!" The shout came from the side, people turning their heads indignantly. Guthred had gone red in the face, forcing his way the crowd. Merovech half-turned to take a look at the Viglunding Thane: "You know the man?" Guthred turned his gaze to Rathwulf, who backed away from the anger in his eyes: "He was my guide to these lands, to accompany me and Aestid. Strange man, was paid to scout new mountain paths back up north. He was always greedy for coin, but THIS..." His hands balled into fists.

 

Results

Cilderic can easily tell, just by the posture, body language, and tone, that Merovech is a proud man and a good warrior; he seems used to these kind of situations, as he very quickly adapted to it, but seems extremely tired. Nevertheless, his voice carries a great deal of certainty and confidence as one used to command.

[Vladim]

’He cannot have gotten far.’ says the Bride. Her words are spoken quickly, clearly indicating a sense of great urgency and a desire to act before the thieves got too far. ’We should send a small group after him, to recover the sickle quickly, before he gets away.’ She says this to both Thanes, the Beorning and the Viglunding, who had at last something they could agree on.

Then, she turns her attention to Guthred, who was the only one amongst those gathered who knew of Cenric. ’You know this Cenric better than anyone. Perhaps you can reason with him. If Beorn hears of this, his wrath will be terrible… Besides, Ethal said she saw more than one man. Who else would help him do this?’