Marcon gives the man a disapproving look for the lie, but wouldn't jab him for it. After taking a quick glance around and seeing the bodies left around, Marcon pales grows pale for a moment, but shook his head and renewed the determined look in his eyes. "We best not linger. But see'n the situation fer what it is... uh... shoot... Mama ain't quite prepared me for this, but-..."He sighs, and after motioning for the man to stick out his hands, he breaks out some rope.
"I know we ain't 'xactly the law 'bout this place. But see'n as ya ain't got much a choice, ya com'n with us fer a spell. Got some questions fer ya. Which you'ze gonna be nice 'nd polite 'bout answer'n if'n ya don't want no further trouble." He warns, taking over the voice position, seeing as others were at least mildly distracted. If able to, Marcon ties Loud Mouth's hands behind his back, leaving enough of extra to hold on with it wrapped about one of his own hands. "Spit. Stopit. Mind grab'n me axes fer me?"He requests in goblin of them during the tying process.
It's only after reaching that point that he looks around confused for a moment. "Uh... ya'll think we should take this to the barn ya'll we're goin to before? And... *gulp*... hide the bodies?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Rigel's search of the bodies yields some coin, but no additional clues concerning where the Redbrands are based or who their leaders are. (OOC: click the spoiler below for random treasure rolls)
Spit and Stopit nod furiously at Vanzaren's question, then scramble off trying to beat one another to be the first to collect Marcon's axes. The little dog at Garet's feet eagerly accepts his gentle strokes, smiling back at him as much as a dog can smile.
The mouthy bandit recoils in fear as Ronk stoops to glower at him and flinches nervously as the bugbear flicks the gore from his forehead at him. He does not resist Marcon's attempt to bind his hands behind his back, perhaps more out of exhaustion than compliance. Rigel pulls a small coin purse containing four platinums off the man's waist...an unusually handsome sum for common street rabble.
"Hey! That's mine you jerk! Give that back!" huffs the ruffian as his coins are liberated from him. "You know, you lot are gonna be in a heap o' trouble when Glasstaff hears 'bout this! Oh yeah, real trouble...we might just have to exact our revenge on the nice folks of Phandalin...you can't be everywhere at once, you know. Maybe we'll gut that meddling little halfling boy...leave his eyes for his mum to find and put the rest on display at the stupid elf's shrine. Right in the middle o' town for everyone to see what happens when you mess with the Redbrands..."
Ronk shugs. "Why do anything with the bodies? If they're found dead, the gang will be mad, if they're missing the gang will be mad."He glances at the dog. "Animals will probably get to them anyway."
Despite Garet's suggestion leaving Marcon somewhat green behind the gills, the man would still later thank the goblins with a curt nod of thanks upon receiving his axes. "Keep up the good work, buds." He adds in goblin alongside a tight, but nonetheless thankful grin.
"And its 'cause if their only missing, their more likely to be mad at those missing for getting probably shitfaced and passing out a good ways a way from town after some roam'n is why. At the very least, it'll buy us some time. Hope at least."Marcon explained to Ronk.
That grin promptly falls away as he turns back to Loudmouth, yanking his arms by the extension roughly as a small reminder. Yet, something about the ruffians words still seem to elicit a momentary worried look out of the ex-farmhand. Enough to where he glances to his compatriots nervously at one point.
"O-oh yeah? Wait, what do you mean meddling? He doesn't know anything, doesn't he? Ain't like he knows where you guys are hiding out in the basement of Giant's Inn or somethin."He plys, secretly hoping the Loudmouth might give up a bit more. "'sides, there can't be more than like three more of guys, I bet. Glasstaff too. I mean, c'mon! He's named a fancy stick? 'nd next yer gonna tell me he some kind of sorcerer king or somethin'. Pfft." He chides the man.
"This does appear to be one of those thing where no matter what we do we're screwed," Vanzaren admits. "Maybe we should go talk to Sildar about it? See what kind of advice he has to offer."
"Right...oh sure, yeah there's only like three more of us, includin' th' boss, heh, heh...should be no trouble a'tall fer the heroes of Phandalin..." the thug teases. He winces a bit, his mouth cocked to one side as if trying to dislodge a food particle with his tongue. Then his facial expression changes to one that indicates "he got it" before he spits a bloody tooth out at Marcon. "Nothin' a little regenerate spell can't fix, right blue?" He winks at Garet, having pegged him as the group's healer. "Well, this was fun but I must confess folks, I'm beat...quite literally...and could use a little rest. So, who's sharin' their bedroll with me tonight, hmm? Or can we dispense with this little 'citizen's arrest' charade and all go sleep in our own beds?"
Still silently fuming over the threat before to a family, Marcon is unable to avoid the spittake in time. He tries to physically brush off the mess, though only manages to smear it instead. After looking turning a more hardened look on Loud Mouth for a few moments, he says without breaking eye contact, "Ya'll gonna have to do that."Then in atypical fashion of the farmhand, he hoists the man up by the collar. "As fer you. I tried to be nice wit' ya. And maybe I could'a been a bit more respectful 'bout yer intelligence earlier. For that, I do apologize."He states, sounding genuine, if somewhat annoyed..
"But consider'n you don't seem to quite respect neither us, or the seriousness of the situation yer in, well... I'm done bein' nice."He then looks down to the Thug's legs. "I'm think'n we start with those 'fore we go to sleep. You don't seem to need them, consider'n ya ain't much in the mood to be helpful. Then, maybe we move to your arms, hm? Won't need those, consider'n ya gotta be loyal, right? Do anything fer the rest of the brands. 'cause they totally got yer back." He says, looking to the appendages, before his eyes roam back lower to a specific spot.
"And you most certainly won't be need'n that piece. We can take care of that tonight as well. Free of charge. Then let ya sleep off the pain. Sound good to you?" He asked as he looks back into the man's face with eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Or you save both us and yerself the trouble, and tell us everything you know 'bout the redbrands. No threats. No more jests. Just a civil conversation. 'cause the only thing right now keep'n yer pecker from winding up a goblin sausage is me. And I'm the reasonable one of the new friends you made tonight."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Alright, go easy lad, I was just yankin' yer chain...listen, I don't know much, I only been with 'em fer a couple weeks. Their hideout is underneath the abandoned mansion on the east side of town. Glasstaff hired us to chase off any new arrivals in town and intimidate the townsfolks...I don't know why, but it's got something to do with some deal he struck with someone named The Black Spider. That's all I know, I swear it! Look, ye've beat me to a pulp, killed me mates, taken me coin and now I've double-crossed me boss by tellin' ya everything I know...how's about I agree to take off this red sash and leave town tonight, if'n you'll let me live? That's fair, right?"
(OOC: give me an insight check if you want to try to determine if he is telling the truth or not)
Ronk grimaces, he eyes going from the thug to Marcon. "I'll break his bones or take his eyes or ears. You're on your own for the other... Bits." His eyes go back to Loud Mouth as he starts talking and the bugbear wonders if he's telling the truth.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
While knowingly not the sharpest tool in the tool box, Marcon tried to give his most discerning, squinty-eyed look at the man. Then while still holding him up in the air, glances over to Garet and the others for any signs of a yay or 'nay' to the idea.
(OOC: both Ronk and Garet are satisfied that the man is telling them the truth, however Marcon has no idea whether they are getting the real story from the man or not.)
"Please mister, uh, bugbear...don't break me arms an' legs! At least give me a fightin' chance out there on the Triboar Trail! If I can't even walk, how do you expect me to leave town? An' if'n I stay here Glasstaff is sure to pry info about all yous out of me with his magic...just, just let me make my escape before they come lookin' will ya?"
"Yer not 'xactly fill'n me wit' a whole lot a confidence there, Big Blue."Marcon deadpans, giving Garet a sidelong look. But after shooting Vanzaren a quick look, and then taking a moment to consider, Marcon lowers the man to the ground at the very least. "Looks like yer get'n a reprieve, my friend. This time. But, if I catch you in town cause'n trouble, OR find out ya ain't learn yer lesson elsewhere-..."
Marcon gets right up in the man's face, make'n sure they were eye to eye. And if he tries to jerk away, the hand he had kept on the man's shoulder keeps him locked in place. "Ya better hope Helm send someone else yer way. Because if it's me, I can't be as nice a third time."Marcon at that point whips the man around, and starts undoing his bindings. If noone else hasn't knocked him unconscious or killed him by then, he whips him back around again, slaps two gold pieces in his hand. "Remember what I said. And fer Helm sake, be a better person. 'cause as you can see. Bein' bad is gonna get you killed! Ya feel me? Now take off the colors 'n get 'fore I change my mind."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
With eyes, wide, the ruffian nods furiously in wild agreement with Marcon's terms. As soon as his bindings are loose, the man reaches down and unties the dirty red sash from his waist and casts it aside. He accepts the donation of coins which he tucks away inside his tunic, then takes a few cautious steps back from Marcon and the others before fleeing into the darkness without single word...a sure sign the formerly boastful thug is taking his second chance at life seriously.
A few awkward seconds pass as the sound of the thug's footfalls recede into the night before the silence is unceremoniously broken by a high-pitched squeal...as might be heard when a goblin's gastrointestinal air pressure exceeds their muscular ability to contain it any further.
Marcon glares after the man the whole time he walks away. Once the hopefully former thug is well out of sight, the angry visage is immediately replaced by one of genuine relief. "That was way, way, WAY to freak'n close, man!" He admits, prior to groaning and dragging his hands down his face. "But now that THAT's all settle, ya'll think ya'll can at least make it to the farm without another incident? At this point, /I'll/ handle the bodies. Shouldn't take me more than an hour or two at most on my own. Then straight to bed fer me."
Unless there is any objections at this point, Marcon goes around and starts at least moving the bodies off the main road at least. After which, he would toss one or two over a shoulder, and make for the ruins(???) to the north.
(Take only if none better volunteered to do the job)
Rigel proceeds to search the bodies of the dead Redbands. He's looking for coin and anything that might indicate where they are hiding out.
Investigation 11
**This Space for Rent**
Marcon gives the man a disapproving look for the lie, but wouldn't jab him for it. After taking a quick glance around and seeing the bodies left around, Marcon pales grows pale for a moment, but shook his head and renewed the determined look in his eyes. "We best not linger. But see'n the situation fer what it is... uh... shoot... Mama ain't quite prepared me for this, but-..." He sighs, and after motioning for the man to stick out his hands, he breaks out some rope.
"I know we ain't 'xactly the law 'bout this place. But see'n as ya ain't got much a choice, ya com'n with us fer a spell. Got some questions fer ya. Which you'ze gonna be nice 'nd polite 'bout answer'n if'n ya don't want no further trouble." He warns, taking over the voice position, seeing as others were at least mildly distracted. If able to, Marcon ties Loud Mouth's hands behind his back, leaving enough of extra to hold on with it wrapped about one of his own hands. "Spit. Stopit. Mind grab'n me axes fer me?" He requests in goblin of them during the tying process.
It's only after reaching that point that he looks around confused for a moment. "Uh... ya'll think we should take this to the barn ya'll we're goin to before? And... *gulp*... hide the bodies?"
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Garet scratches his head. "W..Well m..maybe someone would like to eat..t..them?"
Garet will try to pet little dog ANIMAL HANDLING! : 17 "Hi little ancestor of pride wolfs. Where are you from?"
Rigel's search of the bodies yields some coin, but no additional clues concerning where the Redbrands are based or who their leaders are. (OOC: click the spoiler below for random treasure rolls)
INDIVIDUAL TREASURE: (CR 0-4) 96
4 pp
Spit and Stopit nod furiously at Vanzaren's question, then scramble off trying to beat one another to be the first to collect Marcon's axes. The little dog at Garet's feet eagerly accepts his gentle strokes, smiling back at him as much as a dog can smile.
The mouthy bandit recoils in fear as Ronk stoops to glower at him and flinches nervously as the bugbear flicks the gore from his forehead at him. He does not resist Marcon's attempt to bind his hands behind his back, perhaps more out of exhaustion than compliance. Rigel pulls a small coin purse containing four platinums off the man's waist...an unusually handsome sum for common street rabble.
"Hey! That's mine you jerk! Give that back!" huffs the ruffian as his coins are liberated from him. "You know, you lot are gonna be in a heap o' trouble when Glasstaff hears 'bout this! Oh yeah, real trouble...we might just have to exact our revenge on the nice folks of Phandalin...you can't be everywhere at once, you know. Maybe we'll gut that meddling little halfling boy...leave his eyes for his mum to find and put the rest on display at the stupid elf's shrine. Right in the middle o' town for everyone to see what happens when you mess with the Redbrands..."
Ronk shugs. "Why do anything with the bodies? If they're found dead, the gang will be mad, if they're missing the gang will be mad." He glances at the dog. "Animals will probably get to them anyway."
Despite Garet's suggestion leaving Marcon somewhat green behind the gills, the man would still later thank the goblins with a curt nod of thanks upon receiving his axes. "Keep up the good work, buds." He adds in goblin alongside a tight, but nonetheless thankful grin.
"And its 'cause if their only missing, their more likely to be mad at those missing for getting probably shitfaced and passing out a good ways a way from town after some roam'n is why. At the very least, it'll buy us some time. Hope at least." Marcon explained to Ronk.
That grin promptly falls away as he turns back to Loudmouth, yanking his arms by the extension roughly as a small reminder. Yet, something about the ruffians words still seem to elicit a momentary worried look out of the ex-farmhand. Enough to where he glances to his compatriots nervously at one point.
"O-oh yeah? Wait, what do you mean meddling? He doesn't know anything, doesn't he? Ain't like he knows where you guys are hiding out in the basement of Giant's Inn or somethin." He plys, secretly hoping the Loudmouth might give up a bit more. "'sides, there can't be more than like three more of guys, I bet. Glasstaff too. I mean, c'mon! He's named a fancy stick? 'nd next yer gonna tell me he some kind of sorcerer king or somethin'. Pfft." He chides the man.
ONLY if necessary:
Manipulation: 1.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"This does appear to be one of those thing where no matter what we do we're screwed," Vanzaren admits. "Maybe we should go talk to Sildar about it? See what kind of advice he has to offer."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
"Right...oh sure, yeah there's only like three more of us, includin' th' boss, heh, heh...should be no trouble a'tall fer the heroes of Phandalin..." the thug teases. He winces a bit, his mouth cocked to one side as if trying to dislodge a food particle with his tongue. Then his facial expression changes to one that indicates "he got it" before he spits a bloody tooth out at Marcon. "Nothin' a little regenerate spell can't fix, right blue?" He winks at Garet, having pegged him as the group's healer. "Well, this was fun but I must confess folks, I'm beat...quite literally...and could use a little rest. So, who's sharin' their bedroll with me tonight, hmm? Or can we dispense with this little 'citizen's arrest' charade and all go sleep in our own beds?"
Still silently fuming over the threat before to a family, Marcon is unable to avoid the spittake in time. He tries to physically brush off the mess, though only manages to smear it instead. After looking turning a more hardened look on Loud Mouth for a few moments, he says without breaking eye contact, "Ya'll gonna have to do that." Then in atypical fashion of the farmhand, he hoists the man up by the collar. "As fer you. I tried to be nice wit' ya. And maybe I could'a been a bit more respectful 'bout yer intelligence earlier. For that, I do apologize." He states, sounding genuine, if somewhat annoyed..
"But consider'n you don't seem to quite respect neither us, or the seriousness of the situation yer in, well... I'm done bein' nice." He then looks down to the Thug's legs. "I'm think'n we start with those 'fore we go to sleep. You don't seem to need them, consider'n ya ain't much in the mood to be helpful. Then, maybe we move to your arms, hm? Won't need those, consider'n ya gotta be loyal, right? Do anything fer the rest of the brands. 'cause they totally got yer back." He says, looking to the appendages, before his eyes roam back lower to a specific spot.
"And you most certainly won't be need'n that piece. We can take care of that tonight as well. Free of charge. Then let ya sleep off the pain. Sound good to you?" He asked as he looks back into the man's face with eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Or you save both us and yerself the trouble, and tell us everything you know 'bout the redbrands. No threats. No more jests. Just a civil conversation. 'cause the only thing right now keep'n yer pecker from winding up a goblin sausage is me. And I'm the reasonable one of the new friends you made tonight."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Alright, go easy lad, I was just yankin' yer chain...listen, I don't know much, I only been with 'em fer a couple weeks. Their hideout is underneath the abandoned mansion on the east side of town. Glasstaff hired us to chase off any new arrivals in town and intimidate the townsfolks...I don't know why, but it's got something to do with some deal he struck with someone named The Black Spider. That's all I know, I swear it! Look, ye've beat me to a pulp, killed me mates, taken me coin and now I've double-crossed me boss by tellin' ya everything I know...how's about I agree to take off this red sash and leave town tonight, if'n you'll let me live? That's fair, right?"
(OOC: give me an insight check if you want to try to determine if he is telling the truth or not)
Ronk grimaces, he eyes going from the thug to Marcon. "I'll break his bones or take his eyes or ears. You're on your own for the other... Bits." His eyes go back to Loud Mouth as he starts talking and the bugbear wonders if he's telling the truth.
Insight: 15
Garet Insight: 18
While knowingly not the sharpest tool in the tool box, Marcon tried to give his most discerning, squinty-eyed look at the man. Then while still holding him up in the air, glances over to Garet and the others for any signs of a yay or 'nay' to the idea.
Insight: 2.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
(OOC: both Ronk and Garet are satisfied that the man is telling them the truth, however Marcon has no idea whether they are getting the real story from the man or not.)
"Please mister, uh, bugbear...don't break me arms an' legs! At least give me a fightin' chance out there on the Triboar Trail! If I can't even walk, how do you expect me to leave town? An' if'n I stay here Glasstaff is sure to pry info about all yous out of me with his magic...just, just let me make my escape before they come lookin' will ya?"
Vanzaren approches the group. "You done interrogating this man? Cause I for one am done with this entire group of ruffians."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Garet points at thug 'I..i think we should free him. G...Give two or th..three coins to survive'.
He stands tall 'Gods will judge him. No more blood for today'
(If no one wants Garet will give some of his money)
"Yer not 'xactly fill'n me wit' a whole lot a confidence there, Big Blue." Marcon deadpans, giving Garet a sidelong look. But after shooting Vanzaren a quick look, and then taking a moment to consider, Marcon lowers the man to the ground at the very least. "Looks like yer get'n a reprieve, my friend. This time. But, if I catch you in town cause'n trouble, OR find out ya ain't learn yer lesson elsewhere-..."
Marcon gets right up in the man's face, make'n sure they were eye to eye. And if he tries to jerk away, the hand he had kept on the man's shoulder keeps him locked in place. "Ya better hope Helm send someone else yer way. Because if it's me, I can't be as nice a third time." Marcon at that point whips the man around, and starts undoing his bindings. If noone else hasn't knocked him unconscious or killed him by then, he whips him back around again, slaps two gold pieces in his hand. "Remember what I said. And fer Helm sake, be a better person. 'cause as you can see. Bein' bad is gonna get you killed! Ya feel me? Now take off the colors 'n get 'fore I change my mind."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
With eyes, wide, the ruffian nods furiously in wild agreement with Marcon's terms. As soon as his bindings are loose, the man reaches down and unties the dirty red sash from his waist and casts it aside. He accepts the donation of coins which he tucks away inside his tunic, then takes a few cautious steps back from Marcon and the others before fleeing into the darkness without single word...a sure sign the formerly boastful thug is taking his second chance at life seriously.
A few awkward seconds pass as the sound of the thug's footfalls recede into the night before the silence is unceremoniously broken by a high-pitched squeal...as might be heard when a goblin's gastrointestinal air pressure exceeds their muscular ability to contain it any further.
Marcon glares after the man the whole time he walks away. Once the hopefully former thug is well out of sight, the angry visage is immediately replaced by one of genuine relief. "That was way, way, WAY to freak'n close, man!" He admits, prior to groaning and dragging his hands down his face. "But now that THAT's all settle, ya'll think ya'll can at least make it to the farm without another incident? At this point, /I'll/ handle the bodies. Shouldn't take me more than an hour or two at most on my own. Then straight to bed fer me."
Unless there is any objections at this point, Marcon goes around and starts at least moving the bodies off the main road at least. After which, he would toss one or two over a shoulder, and make for the ruins(???) to the north.
(Take only if none better volunteered to do the job)
Deception: 9.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.