Murder, She Rolled (D&D 5th Ed)

The House of Loaves and Fowl Lose and Fail

It's nine o' clock on a Saturday at the House of Loaves and Fowl.

Outside the inn, the wind howls and the rain pours, as though the gods looked down on Golimar and deeply regretted its creation. The signboard on the inn has clearly been vandalised by someone taller than its proprietor, and much like the rest of Golimar, no efforts have been made to repair the damage.

In the inn's barroom, the prevailing odour is a heavy, cloying smell of smoke cut with wine and cheap perfume. There are deep scars in the wooden panelling and floor from previous barfights, occasionally punctuated by the dark stains of wine and... other fluids of uncertain origin. A valiant but futile attempt at covering up these defects has left the walls spattered in various garish shades of yellow, puce and dirty green, and the oddly-proportioned skull mounted over the bar grins down on the inn's patrons, mocking them for their terrible choices in life. On the bright side, the windows are shuttered against the storm, the roof isn't leaking, and the oil lamps that festoon the room are at least doing their job in letting you see what kind of establishment you've paid for.

The inn's current customers are a motley crew indeed. The old man sitting next to your table, dressed in the fashion of someone thirty years younger, is slouched in his seat and doing something distinctly unsavoury with his drink. A wan young man who could use a little more sunlight and a little less eyeshadow is skulking in the corner, and his black tunic can only do so little to help him blend into the shadows. Nearer the entrance, an elf and a dwarf - both armed to the teeth and heavily-decorated with various ritual insignia and tattoos - are locked deeply in their own private conversation, and the two women don't look like they're about to end any time soon. And the bartender, a portly old halfling who can barely see over the countertop, is currently grousing at a disinterested-looking half-orc in a low-cut maid's outfit and whoever else might be willing to listen.

"...You know, Gorthmog, I don't know what I'm going to do with my business. I've tried everything. I hired that damn bard for publicity, I redecorated, I even put up that magic skull that those adventurers sold me a week ago. And nothing's worked." He exhales dejectedly. "You think I should hire some strippers?"

"You suggested that two days ago, boss. That's why Alanna quit, and now I have to wear this damn apron." The half-orc tugs at the neckline of the ill-fitting dress, the look on his face one of resigned irritation. "If I didn't need the money-"

"Oh, come on. We all need money." The halfling glances over at you, his avarice evident, but you've already paid for your first night at the inn and your dinner - a stew made from "mystery meat" which is now sitting on the table before you. "Can I interest you in a drink, then, adventurers?"

A certain gnome wizard ambled up the steps, wearing an expression of incandescent rage. His eyes were blood-shot, his face flushed and his pointy mustache quivers like the wings of a hummingbird. He was wrapped in no less than three layers of blanket.

"Good gods, man!" Miron growled, making a sound not unlike a particularly angry, fire-breathing flying cat. "Does your inn serves as the King's Granary Reserve? I would retire early, such that I could study in peace, and what did I find? Rats! Everywhere! They were the size of a hound's pups, with fangs twice as vicious!"

He climbed up the stool and thrust his right arm at the halfling - it is covered in rat bites.

"I demand recompense, Sir!"

edited 17th Aug '15 3:13:04 AM by pblades

The young bard briefly considered calming Miron down or supporting him, but quickly realized that he didn't actually care and so just said "I'll have a light beer".

"NO! I demand recompense."

A very dirty and torn over half elven male, Daren, shows himself going down the last set of stairs from the bedrooms to the barroom.

"I swear to the gods my days as a urchin in the alleys were cleaner than this...and less *gulp* disgusting, too!" Daren holds his mouth as if trying not to throw up as he puts his hands on the wall for support and goes down the last steps.

"I ate this freaking "misterious meat" because I hate to waste food, but that? - That wretched thing is trying to make me turn from the inside out, spilling every organ!!" His head goes up and down as he reaches the desk where the halfling is and lowers his head under it , releasing some kind of doubtful- consistency-looking orange and yellow...liquid as he coughs."Ohh glorious Golimar!" He says with his best sarcasm tone.

"I'll accept no less than a free stay if you hope that this hellhole lasts for another day or two!"

In reality, Daren had the meat hidden right in his pockets(while everyone probably thought he ate it because of a sleifgt of hand trick) and his "vomit" was really some orange or similar fruit that he chewed very well to fake being sick - something he learned well while living in the streets. Thing is, it was a long time he didn't conned no one and this inn never really deserved his money. But who knows, they can be useful later...

"What say you? Do I need to get sanitary inspection over here to prove my point? We're tourists, for gods sake!"

I'm rolling deception by the way

edited 17th Aug '15 1:54:20 PM by Kyef

"So... much... money..."

Sitting on the bar, with a look of pure despair on her face, looking down at the grimy wood of it and with her elbows resting on it, head held in between her two hands, the soldier known as Adelaide seemed on the border of tears and terrible despair "Hmmg... so much damn coin spent getting me here... My Lord spent so much in his kindness and generosity to get me here... here..." she says, almost starting to sob as she grits her teeth and covers her eyes with one hand.

The very thought that the kindness of her Lord would be wasted, that his coin was ripped off by a place that certainly didn't deserve it and that his generosity would not be met as she wouldn't enjoy the vacations he had so graciously provided to her... it hit too hard on Adelaide's poor little heart. Nevermind thinking of all the good things that same amount of money could have brought her village, the more she dwelt on that, the more likely she would be to sink into despair and cry.

Instead she hit her fist onto the bar "Ahghg screw it! I'm enjoying myself here even if it kills me! Give me the stew!"

"If it's anywhere close to the quality of this stew, I'll take two ales!" a dwarven cleric said from his place at the table, symbols of Serena adorning his armor and necklace. His bowl of mystery meat stew was nearly empty - surely the Mistress would reward him for enduring this hardship. "And another bowl, while you're at it."

He leaned back and exhaled at the commotion. After thinking long and hard about it, he came to a conclusion.

"Magic skull, I heard you say?" he asked. "I have some experience with detecting ensorcellations, and roughly determining its school. It may be that you were sold a fake, or a cursed skull. I could determine such a thing...."

edited 17th Aug '15 5:24:45 PM by nman

The commotion the newcomers were raising would have drawn attention in the House even if it was full of people and Alanna was still around to distract the ones deepest into the piss-thin ale; with barely ten people around and the rate of serving maid ass-pinching down a shocking 500%, there was little to do at the House that evening except watch out-of-towners make fools of themselves, and the motley band of regulars propping up tables and walls each did their best impression of someone who is profoundly drunk but attempting to look like they are paying close attention to whatever is going on. The exception was the elf sitting near the door; thin and pale, she gave the complaining newcomers a disdainful look and made a point of loudly slurping the rest of her stew, chewing on the hunk of grey gristle with relish that didn't seem to be feigned. She made a series of quick gestures, her fingers flicking in the air, and snorted.

"Ha, ent it true," her dwarven companion chuckled. She seemed a little less drunk than the others in the room, maybe from having the good sense not to have drank much of the ale. She was obviously not human, stocky rather than short and thickly muscled; she had the flattened and lumpy nose of a tavern brawler, and the best one could say about the rest of her face was that at least it matched. "'Ey, shorty. Mebbe next time you should bite the rats before they bite you, eh?" She grinned a grin that was no more symmetrical than the rest of her, holding out her hand, and the elf slapped her palm, rasping a quiet laugh. "Gods' 'eavin' arseholes, ye must be new 'ere. Welcome to Golimar, ye sad sacks of shit. I'd feel sorry fer ye if I cared, but I don't, so stop makin' yer rackets. Yer makin' the ale taste even worse than normal."

Daren rolls for Deception with Miron's assistance: (1d20+5), (1d20+5) = 10, 17.

Innkeeper makes opposing Wisdom check: 1d20+0 = 20. Really sorry about that.

Gorthmog raised both eyebrows - one for each adventurer who'd ordered more of the suspicious-looking stew - and trundled over to the cookpot, leaving the innkeeper to fend off the irate pair of complainants.

"Only true thing about those words, you bastards, is that you're definitely full o' shite," he shot back. "Golimar doesn't have sanitary inspectors, and our rats would have eaten your tiny friend alive by now, instead of those tiny nibbles! Still, if you're that desperate... Gorthmog, two mugs of 'Shut-the-@#$%-up!', and put it on their tab!"

"...Three ales, two stews, and two house specials. Do I look like a marilith?"

"Ignore him, the youth these days don't know the value of hard work," the halfling continued, oblivious, and turned to the dwarf. "Oh, really? Could use a god's blessing or two, and the damn skull's not doing the trick. It's right here over the bar, but I had it mounted real tight-"

"-I had it mounted, you just sat there and watched-"

"-and it's going to be pretty hard to remove. Still, go ahead, knock yourself out."

edited 18th Aug '15 11:19:49 PM by Pyrite

"Very well then, just give me a few minutes, the ritual takes a while to perform," Vondal said. "I've to channel the Lady's power through a ceremony of great personal discomfort and suffering."

He began to eat his stew extremely slowly, to the point that it would take him approximately ten minutes to finish eating it and the two ales.

Start to ritual cast Detect Magic.

Eyeing the shady-looking half elven with an expression one might wield whence they look at a particularly enthusiastic three-legged puppy; adorable, perhaps, and it tries it's best, but it is largely ineffectual, altogether missing the point, and slobbers in an incredibly drooly manner. The Wizard turned back to the Bartender.

He stared at the "drink" disdainfully. If he had wanted to imbile a mixture of rainwater and grime, he would have just lapped at the walkpath leading to the inn. It likely would have been more hygienic, too.

"Pah. I'll pass. Innkeeper, tell me about the Mages who once ruled this town, and their towers. Something to pass the time."

edited 19th Aug '15 11:09:13 AM by pblades

it's OK, but I won't allow you to roll for me anymore if I can help it xD

The half elf gets up, and starts acting normally as if nothing had ever happened. He sits and looks at his drink. Damn it, he tried his best! Nah, it's okay. Worth the try. He laughs with himself. Then something crosses his mind.

"Actually, do you guys have heard some rumors around here? Maybe a dungeon opened somewhere or criminals/monsters we can hunt down for bounties. I could use the money."

"And Adelaide, imagine how pleased your Lord would be if you come back not only with money enough for covering your travel costs but actually riches to spare to help rebuilding his lands? That and helping the children - don't you ever forget the children." Daren says to one of his companions, perceiving just how unpleasant she is about the costs.

"Ander, you could use an adventure or two for inspiration to compose more songs, right?" he nods to the human bard.

"You guys can come, too!" he says to the other two on the table. "Gnome friend, I bet with more money we can go to a place more...refined. That means less rats!" and to the cleric "with all due respect, sir, but there's no point suffering for your god here in vain when you can sacrifice yourself with brave acts that while will help spread your faith, can also make you stay at anywhere better than this gods-forsaken-pisshole!" Daren spits on the ground, then smiles at the halfling. "No offense."

"Plus, as a cleric you're not obliged to avoid comfort if you work hard for getting it, right? Come on folks, just imagine the amount of riches we could loot-I mean, earn(hehe). Let's go adventuring on vacation! Come on, people, give me some mission that will leave us very rich or very dead, whichever comes first!!"

At this point, Daren was giving his speech with a foot on the bench and the other on the table, hands on his waist, and there was a glint in his eyes and smile as he stopped talking...for what probably will be certain silence.

edited 19th Aug '15 3:05:41 PM by Kyef

And indeed there was silence, for a few moments... before the tattooed elf drained her tankard of ale and let out a wet belch that somehow sounded disdainful. The dwarf sniggered. "What she said. The only problem we've been 'avin' is a bunch'a adventurers comin' in an' drinkin' all our fuckin' ale," she said, lobbing her tankard half-assedly in the general direction of the rogue. It missed and bounced off the table, spraying ale droplets across the floor; the elf made a rude gesture at Gorthmog. "All the same, ye out-o'-towners. Ye show up, skulk around fer a week, then steal all ye can grab an' bugger off." She waved a dismissive hand at the lot.

edited 19th Aug '15 5:32:20 PM by RedSavant

A rather bored Ander perked up at that comment. He took one sip of ale, stood up, and turned to the woman. "Really? How would you like some help with that? A few adventurers to keep the... undesirables out of your town. I'm sure you've heard stories of adventurers and you know what we can do to protect people in their time of need".

Role for charisma (persuasion)

Putting this here for now: the flying mug is an improvised thrown weapon, but the attack roll of 1d20+2 = 10 misses Daren's AC of 14, and that's before the penalties for drunkenness apply.

EDIT: And I'm cheating a little here - there wasn't actually any intent to initiate combat, or I would've remembered to make you all roll initiative. My bad.

edited 19th Aug '15 10:18:03 PM by Pyrite

"Hmgmg... you truly think there is enough honest to earn money in this city to even do what you're talking about?" asks Adelaide as she digs a spoon into her meal, taking a big mouthful of the food... and concentrating so very hard on finding something to like within it "I mean, there don't seem to be many lawful causes to chase around here..."

"Oi! No lobbing drinks at the other customers, even if they're annoying prats!" the halfling yelled over his shoulder, before turning back to his newest patrons. "The law, missy? The guards have their hands full already, and it's the good people of Golimar - like these ladies over here - who handle things most of the time. Can't complain."

"Hear, hear!" The drunk raised his mug abruptly, sending a cascade of foam dripping down onto his face.

"Shut up, Al, you're not helping. Now, if it's work you're looking for, there's plenty to be found at the Bounty Office, since the guards figure it'd be easier to outsource part of their job. There's at least one rat-catching job every day, at the very least, and we get bounties for wanted persons every now and then. Plenty of unsavoury folks coming in and out these days, most of them 'adventurers' like yourselves who don't realise that this is one of the better inns in Golimar. Don't believe me, ask around tomorrow. Now, about the towers... what'll you give me for that information-"

"Boss!" Gorthmog interjected, annoyed. "They're on the edge of town, so you might've seen them on your way in if you weren't too busy avoiding the crap in the streets. Bunch of mages moved in about a decade ago, or so I heard, and started doing questionable things with the woodland animals and dead bodies. Nasty bunch. After one particularly bad owlbear invasion, the gangs chased them out. Not sure why they even came to Golimar, of all places. Not like there's anything magical around here."

"There is abundant magic, if you know where to look," the pale man in the corner spoke up suddenly, his voice thin and reedy. "Is not the skull of Neruok evidence enough?"

"Nope." The innkeeper looked unconvinced. "Fat lot of good it's done, you punk. It's been about as useful as you when it comes to attracting customers."

"Pfft, you just don't know how to appreciate my talents. The world is a cold and cruel place."

edited 19th Aug '15 11:03:28 PM by Pyrite

Vondal finished off his stew, and then downed off the rest of his ale. "Quite fortunate that you had everything ready here for me. Now then, onto the matter at hand." He stretched out his arms, stood up, and then pointed at the skull. "That skull over there is cursed with necromantic magic. But is it any surprise? Honestly, a horse shoe, rabbit foot, maybe even a ring or necklace, those are the sorts of charms you hope to have luck from."

He held up his hands in mock questioning. "Never a skull. Why would you buy a magic skull in the first place? In any case, in exchange for waiving my fees for room and board for today and tomorrow, I'll say a few prayers, take the skull off your hands, and dispose of it properly the next time I head to the temple. Once it's gone, though, you'll have to rely on your own hard work to turn this place around and drum up business."

He glanced at the table. "And if the food I just had is any indication - it's going to take more than just a priest."

The innkeeper stared, jaw agape in a visage of abject horror.

Gorthmog, though, was far less surprised. "Dwarf's got a point, boss."

"Look, they only told me it was a magic item which belonged to a great sorcerer!"

"It is!" The pale man looked clearly offended. "Of course, he was actually a wizard and a necromancer, and it belonged to him because it was attached to his body at some time in the past, but that's not the point. It's not my fault if you don't know how to use it properly."

"Oh, and I suppose you know, wise-ass?" the halfling shot back, and temporarily silenced him. "Anyway, Gorthmog, I want that skull down- waaaait a minute."

He eyed the cleric suspiciously. "How do I know you're not trying to pull a fast one on me, like those other guys?"

edited 20th Aug '15 3:51:21 AM by Pyrite

"Perfect!", the bard exclaims, "Come, my friends, let's find ourselves some danger and daring do's!" he says as he proudly marches out of the tavern.

...only to march back in with the question of "Where is the bounty office?"

Gorthmog's meaty palm smacked against his forehead. "It's closed for the night. Also, in case you haven't noticed..."

He yanked one of the shutters open, sending a cold spray of rainwater gushing onto the sputtering drunk, and slammed it shut just as quickly.

"...weather's not that great."

edited 20th Aug '15 3:56:53 AM by Pyrite

"Oh" A disappointed Ander sat down and returned to his drink. "I blame Daren for getting me excited".

"Excuse me, sir," Vondal said, fixing his gaze on the halfling sharply. "I am an Acolyte of Serena. I carry her golden light in my very hands." He held one of his hands out, and a light glowed from it as he pressed it against his chest.

"You dare insinuate that I, a cleric of the Mistress of Pain, would misrepresent myself? Calm yourself and think. Which is more likely: That a group of destitute adventurers were desperate to sell a cursed skull to an equally desperate innkeep, or that you happened to buy one of those oh-so-common blessed skulls?"

Cast Guidance cantrip on self, persuasion

"Hey Ander, don't look at me. I'm sick! Hahaha! Aaand now drunk!" Daren turns his whole drink into his mouth and swallows in big gulps, a little pouring over his cheeks. Putting drink in was never the problem for him - it was keeping it there that was hard. Anyway, he was planning to drink himself to sleep, so..."Dang it!" He shouted, as he hit the now empty mug upside down on the table.

I'll make a constitution saving throw if needed.

Well... if these weren't going to be some relaxing vacations as the money her Lord paid for would indicate... then if she could earn some more and hone her skills in the meantime, Adelaide sees that as a worthy enough cause. Training, bringing some good and law to the place as well as deal with shady, criminal elements... seems like a win, win really "Alright then... If it will help the place and the busy guard, then I'll look at the bounty board first thing in the morning!"

"Count me in, of course" Ander said with a raised mug,