Storm King's Thunder

Flint's journeys take him to the Military Quarter, where the Yartaran militia conducts its business. Asking around using his military background and position in the Lord's Alliance leads him, in a roundabout way, to a pub on the east end of town. 

(You are free to enter if you wish, or to wait/prepare/etc)

// assuming Flint is with Ink and Matrix, Flint enters the pub. //

Ink, the whole walk seems distracted, not really paying attention to where Flint had been leading him. He follows Flint into the pub and after a quick glance, comments quietly to himself, "Sure is an odd place for the Waterbaron to be hanging about."

This is obviously a hangout spot for officers of the Yartaran militia, and your small group sticks out a bit like a sore thumb. All eyes immediately turn towards you for a moment, in casual interest. The gazes of a few officers linger, though the majority go back to their drinks and conversations. There are perhaps a couple dozen patrons here, give or take.

The barman, a man that looks as if he has one foot in the grave, stands behind the counter with a deadpan stare. 

No one approaches you. 

Don walks up to the barman and as he does his hair greys just a bit at the temple. "Can I get an ale and help finding someone?" Don asks friendly like.

"Make it three lad."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, not used to traveling with people." he hesitates, "Or are the three just for you Flint?"

The barman, who has pallid skin and a wicked looking scar running up all the way from his jawline to his thinly-haired scalp, eyes Don with disdain. He pours the drinks without looking, fixing his unsettling, deadpan gaze on you.

"Three silvers," he croaks as he places the drinks down on the counter. 

He then raises his voice to those in the taproom. It sounds like sandpaper on gravel. "Oi, this fellar is looking for someone. One of you gents can help him, yeah?"

Flint pays for the drinks and hands one to Ink then eyes Don "startin' wit' one lad, will see how it goes fum dere. "

// Everyone in the bar is free to make a Perception check //

Ink tries to make himself smaller upon the onslaught of eyes turned in their direction... 

Leaving Flint to the person hunt, Ink focuses his attention on the various cliques of soldiers in the bar, knowing that such groups always eventually form. He's trying to see if he can make out any obvious differences that set them apart from each other (for example, marks/iconography like the Harpers, Zhents, Hand of Yartar, anything cohesive that's separate from Yartar's actual standards)...

// Perception Check for Ink.... 11 //

Meanwhile, Quill has proofed into existence above the roof and has found a perch she can comfortably keep watch from of the ongoings outside the tavern.

// Using Ink's inspiration... Perception Check for Ink.... 22 //

Don thanks the barman. "I'm looking to buy the water baron a drink, would he be about?" Don asks the room in a pleasant friendly voice. 

Perception: 6

Flint perception as he scans the room above the rI'm of his tankard  8

12

 Ink, overhearing Don's questions sends a quick whispered message, "The Waterbaron is a woman by the name of Nestra Ruthiol..."

Don looks at Ink and uses his telepathy to answer "Then why isn't it water baroness? Backwater people... <sigh> Thanks for the info."

Aloud he says, "I'm sorry, of course I meant the Water Baroness, I believe her name is Nestra?" Don looks around with a roguish smile trying to look nonthreatening and pleasant.

Matrix heads towards the jail with Crownsguard and goes up to the... head clerk? Person "we are here to speak to Harthal Zymorven, on behalf of his father in regards to a family heirloom and to look into the murder charges. Just to assure his father that the Yartaran investigation is as fair and thorough as possible, you know how these fancy people get. No matter how many times I told him you guys are beyond reproach he still requested we look into it"

Jail: 

The guard on duty looks Matrix over carefully. "Murderers usually don't receive visitors. We didn't even allow his ex-wife to see him; why should you be any different?"

The guard looks a little suspect at Matrix' flattery. 

The (unimaginatively name) Military Quarter Tavern: 

The vast majority of folks here are in uniform. Most of them are males of one race or another, though there are a fair few female officers. Simple patches woven into on the uniforms likely denote rank and regiment. Those who are currently on-duty are wearing cheap but well-fitting armor—scale mail and studded leathers, mostly. 

One of the officers, a human in his early 40s with full head of dark hair, rises and starts to head to the back of the inn. He stands out from the rest, wearing a rather nice-looking breastplate and with a greatsword strapped to his back, instead of the standard issue shortsword and baton favored by the majority of on-duty officers.

"Excuse me sir, may we have a word, and maybe buy you a drink for your time. It won't take long. Just have a couple questions is all." Don calls out politely to the officer.

Quote from Awaypturwpn >>

Jail: 

The guard on duty looks Matrix over carefully. "Murderers usually don't receive visitors. We didn't even allow his ex-wife to see him; why should you be any different?"

The guard looks a little suspect at Matrix' flattery. 

 

 Crownsguard will lift his badge, “Hello, I am Crownsguard, your authorized, anti-crime associate. It is in direct relation to an operation being undertaken by the Order of the Gauntlet. We believe that this may assist us greatly in unraveling a greater conspiracy.”