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An hour all told. Tearing their clothes down to undies to check for secret pockets, a thorough shake of weapons to discern concealed pockets and/or markings, checking texture of armor won for noticeable anomalies, and examining their skins for visible markings, scars and tattoos.
"Someone should ask the other travellers at the inn if they know anything about these filth. If nothing else, we should also have a look at their travel packs and the like."
(Sorry if I missed that, and yes you are all more or less together if you'd like to be). Rhenmyr bends down to inspect the bundle on the docks. The hempen cord is knotted, but unties easily enough. When you peel open the rolled up tarpaulin you are startled to find the pale face of an old, disheveled man staring back at you. As you flip open the rest of the tarp, your nose is assaulted with the unmistakable stench of urine, booze and stale sweat. The man is bound and gagged and a gray palor hangs over him and he's very, very, very still ...
An hour all told. Tearing their clothes down to undies to check for secret pockets, a thorough shake of weapons to discern concealed pockets and/or markings, checking texture of armor won for noticeable anomalies, and examining their skins for visible markings, scars and tattoos.
"Someone should ask the other travellers at the inn if they know anything about these filth. If nothing else, we should also have a look at their travel packs and the like."
Borric sets about stripping the two bound prisoners in the courtyard. You cut away their clothes rather than risk untying them and begin turning out every pocket, crease and cranny.
After stripping the short stocky prisoner, you pull his belt off and he visibly stiffens. Intrigued by this you carefully examine it as best you can in the lantern light and discover a hidden slot near the buckle, buried inside is an unusual platinum coin with strange markings: A rune or letter that you don't recognize or understand is on one side and a ram's skull is on the other. His other belongings seem unremarkable aside from a lock of red hair tied with a silver cord and smelling faintly of perfume, a coin purse with 50 silver pieces, a functional but crude suit of leather armor, and a rust-pitted iron dagger.
Next you undress the taller man who jumped in the river. His clothes are also unremarkable, with no marking or insignia: a suit of crude leather armor, a badly maintained iron shortsword, and a coin purse with 18 silver pieces. When examining his boots however, you discover that they are unusually well made and have very thick soles. You are startled however when depress a small nub on the instep of the right boot and a 3 inch long blade shoots out of the tip. When you tilt the boot to look at the blade, you can feel something rattling around faintly in the heel ...
However, during the search of the half-drowned man he starts to convulse violently and turns very blue.
"Druid! See to this one!" yells Borric as he tries to hold the convulsing thug down. He looks at Rhenmyr. "Would you look within and see if there is a healer who can stop this?"
"Oh come on, can't a guy take a breather? Someone please search the hyperborean and stay by him, I don't know if he has any power left in him but better be safe than sorry."
Ker rush to the convulsing man and try to see if he recognizes the symptoms.
Based on the violent shivering and bluish cast to his skin in conjunction with his swim and subsequent nakedness, you are pretty sure the man is dying of exposure in the near freezing night air. He might be beyond saving, but if there's any chance at all he needs to be warmed immediately (roll a 4d6 wisdom check if you attempt to save him).
"What do you make of this?" indicating the old man Rhenmyr ask the group. While the others check the captured, Rhenmyr checks the old man for signs of life or anything special.
Barring anything unexpected with the old man...
When prompted by Borric, Rhenmyr says, "Sure, I'll check for a healer." then proceeds to the longhouse to check.
"I'm pretty sure he didn't like that midnight bath, the water must be cold as hell. Borric, you really want to save that guy? We'd need to dry him up and carry him somewhere warm."
Ker looks around for any source of heat and will take the man to the stables if none seem close enough
With Ker tending to the thug, Borric examines the boot to discern the source of the rattling, poking it with the iron dagger. I could use a boot like this...
Rhenmyr carefully inspects the old man. His skin is smeared with dirt and filth and his clothes are little more than tattered rags. When you touch his skin it feels warm enough, but you notice that he appears to have no perceptible pulse and he doesn't appear to be breathing ... (roll a 3d6 intelligence check)
Borric pauses in his examination to remove the furs he's wearing, and hands them to Ker.
"These might help."
He resumes examination of the boots, wondering if they would match his size.
"What do you make of this?" indicating the old man Rhenmyr ask the group. While the others check the captured, Rhenmyr checks the old man for signs of life or anything special.
Barring anything unexpected with the old man...
When prompted by Borric, Rhenmyr says, "Sure, I'll check for a healer." then proceeds to the longhouse to check.
Leaving the man still partially wrapped on the dock, you trudge up the hill and go into the longhouse looking for help. The scene in front of you is dismal. Slaves nervously flit about the space tending the fire, or stand near the corpse with their heads down and hands clasped in front of them, the bartender sits behind the bar slumped over with a large clay pitcher clutched in his hand, and Zelkor's bloody corpse is laid out on a table, with his wife hunched over his form. She lifts her head as you enter, her cheeks tear stained and red and her dressing gown splotched with Zelkor's congealed blood. She looks haggard and stares at you with hard expression on her face, "What do you want?" she says acidly.
"I'm pretty sure he didn't like that midnight bath, the water must be cold as hell. Borric, you really want to save that guy? We'd need to dry him up and carry him somewhere warm."
Ker looks around for any source of heat and will take the man to the stables if none seem close enough
You take the furs Borric offers you along with the Hyperborean's sable lined cloak and wrap them tightly about the naked, shivering man. You're pretty sure from your lessons at the feet of the village's Druid and healer that you must warm him gradually and that it would probably be disastrous to try and move him in the state he's in, you also think it's probably going to be necessary for somebody to strip down and lay next to him sharing their body heat.
(before you go up the hill and into the longhouse) Rhenmyr keeps his finger pressed against the old man's neck, after almost a minute you feel a single, faint pulse. He's alive ... you have no idea how, or what put him into this state, but he's alive.
Borric pauses in his examination to remove the furs he's wearing, and hands them to Ker.
"These might help."
He resumes examination of the boots, wondering if they would match his size.
Additionally, as you fiddle with the heel of the right boot, you manage to turn it just so and notice that it has an ingenious slide hinge. You pull the heel back and inside you find a platinum coin with the same strange rune on one side and ram's head that the other man had hidden in his belt.
To the grieving widow Rhenmyr says, "I'm sorry to interrupt your grieving, madam, but two of those responsible for your husbands murder are in bad shape. If we are to get answers, they could use a healer if one is available. But, if you would prefer to leave them to their fate, I understand."
"What?!" she shrieks in a slurred voice. "Save them? Are you mad?! What am I to do now with my dear Zelkor ... gone? I'll kill those bastards myself!" She tries to rise unsteadily and grabs at a poker next to the firepit.
The bartender raises his hand and motions to a couple of the slaves to forestall the grief stricken woman. "Ophelia, please sit down and be thankful these men captured the bastards. Who knows what these brigands were after? They might have killed us all." He then turns his head to Rhenmyr, "Look friend, take them into the stables I guess, but there's no healer here. If they live through the night, I'm sure Ophelia will want her chance at them when she's sobered up." He then takes a long pull from the pitcher and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
"We shall do so. Again, madam, I'm sorry for you loss. You will receive justice, have no doubt." Rhenmyr says, before returning to the group outside.
"Well friends, there is no healer to be had. The bartender suggested moving them to the stables when they are safe to move. Zelkor's widow will be wanting justice come morning. What all have we found besides a mysterious old man?" Rhenmyr asks the group.
Borric shows the men around the various items he had found- the coins, the money, lock of hair and the bare minimum means of self defense the two men possessed.
Out of earshot of the thugs, Borric speaks,"These coins... I know not of the sigil they carry or what the ram's head represents. If I am to hazard a guess, these are either tokens of passage or means of communication. Wherever these three were from, these would perhaps be common. It may very well be that our best chances of uncovering this stab from the shadows is this-" gesturing the lock of hair that he found. "I would bet ten silver on the fact that this is the lock of a woman's hair, and that means we have two ways of approaching this without raising suspicion. Once we find where these filth were from, we either work to find who this woman is, or" - here he drops his voice to a whisper- " the thug who had this lock of hair may be resourceful enough to ahem escape captivity, and he may himself lead us to the owner of this lock of hair, saving us the effort of finding her. What make you of this?"
"Oh, and take of the money as you will, I simply ask that these boots be mine."
Rhenmyr ponders then replies. "The ram's head coin is indeed interesting. As for the lock of hair, I'd say your correct that came from a woman. But it could be nothing more than a token from a sweetheart. We should interrogate him for sure. At least he had sense enough to surrender rather than jump into a freezing river."
Rhenmyr takes 10 of the 68 silver pieces for travel expenses. Leaving 58 silver, a dagger, and short sword to be divided from the thugs.
He then carefully searches the hyperborean if someone hasn't done so already.
Ker tries to calm down a bit after all that happened.
"Well, first, I want to recap what happened here. This hyperborean over there killed Zelkor for an unknown reason while the goons were busy with a package that is actually an old man. The hyperborean is now maimed and unconscious, one of the goons might not survive the night and the other one is scared shitless. I do want to know who that old man is, and why Zelkor had to die and right now there is only one conscious man that can give us answers. By the way, Marcán, any luck with the hyperborean's stuff?"
With everyone already taking up the necessary precautions, Sokrates tries to comfort the grieving old woman the only way he knew how - patting them gently and assuring them in broken tongue like a mother with her baby. He silently prays for some sort of aid for the old woman. Zelkor after all must have been the immediate bread earner of the couple. After a while, once the hyperborean is being searched over he walks over and taps on his bronze armor and points to himself. "Armor...armor..."
Turning out the Hyperborean proves to be a difficult task. Several times the jostling re-opens his neck wound and he starts bleeding again. But with care and a thorough search through his pouches and pockets, Marcán and Rhenmyr manage to strip him, and lay out the following in the courtyard:
A coin purse with 12 platinum coins (identical to the others found on the brutes), 89 gold pieces, and 40 silver pieces.
A heavy winter cloak (black leather lined with sable)
A small silver key
bronze coat-of-plates (sized to fit a Hyperborean - very long, and narrow through the torso and shoulders)
A fine silver helm with a skirt of scale mail
A heavy curved falcata style bastard sword with an extra long grip and ornate scroll work etchings worked into the blade.
Marcán, with your time spent in your father's forge you notice that the sword appears to be made of a brassy, gold colored metal that "feels" different from normal bronze. It has an ivory handled grip and a robin's egg sized bloodstone set into the pommel. The runic script that runs along its length is alien to you as is the forge mark stamped into the ricasso.
Turning out the Hyperborean proves to be a difficult task. Several times the jostling re-opens his neck wound and he starts bleeding again. But with care and a thorough search through his pouches and pockets, Marcán and Rhenmyr manage to strip him, and lay out the following in the courtyard:
A coin purse with 12 platinum coins (identical to the others found on the brutes), 89 gold pieces, and 40 silver pieces.
A heavy winter cloak (black leather lined with sable)
A small silver key
bronze coat-of-plates (sized to fit a Hyperborean - very long, and narrow through the torso and shoulders)
A fine silver helm with a skirt of scale mail
A heavy curved falcata style bastard sword with an extra long grip and ornate scroll work etchings worked into the blade.
Marcán, with your time spent in your father's forge you notice that the sword appears to be made of a brassy, gold colored metal that "feels" different from normal bronze. It has an ivory handled grip and a robin's egg sized bloodstone set into the pommel. The runic script that runs along its length is alien to you as is the forge mark stamped into the ricasso.
