Erbert snaps his attention back to Wesprem, says “Caught you eh?  Well, you gave yourself away very easily.  Let’s see, what are you so interested in and hiding in that back room?” Erbert walks toward the door to look inside -

Owin entered the house after everyone and has stayed at the door. When everyone was getting defensive, he instinctively grabbed for his axes and has both in his hands at his side. 

Listening to the old man speak, he relaxes, realizing there's more at play in the area than the fires. He loops his axes back into the leather holsters he has, and crosses his arms as the man finishes. 

"Oh, Erbert, don't go to the trouble. I don't think fighting will be needed. If we could have that wood, it would really help, though."  Owin turns to leave... 

"Noachi , was it? Can you make sure we have enough and they're the right size? I'll grab the ones you select and start heading back to the cart.  Starosta Whisperthin... maybe a small garden for yourself? Grow some food. Some flowers. Make something live around here aside from weeds... "

"Get as drunk as you like," Hurmfar says to the old mayor. "But before you go and get off your head, is there anything else you can tell us about the troubles around here?" 

While waiting for an answer, he looks around, trying to remember if there was a porch on the front of the house or not. Maybe he could tune up his pipes a little before they had to go, make sure they aren't soaked from all the rain.

"Might I suggest starosta," Valhik says from across the room. "That resigning yourself to some apparent ill fate in the face of the baroness is unbecoming of one who wishes not to die on their knees." The gnome relaxes as he feels the tension in the room begin to slowly subside. "If you still wish to help your neighbors you could come with us and provide aid, more than just information. Believe me," he continues with a pained and faraway look to his dark eyes "you'll regret it if you don't do all you can to help those you care about."

“So, honestly now, you would suggest that we look at the Jaltrim place down the road and also speak with Rhea Vallante as well?  We do wish to find the arsonist or arsonists whoever they may be.  Sitting in here and drinking yourself to death is helping no one.”  Erbert reaches the door at the back of the room and opens it, looking through.  “I’m sure that you have nothing else that you are hiding, right?”  

Erbert, as you open the door to the backroom, you see what looks like a disused storage shed with lots of tools, old, rusted farming implements hanging on the wall, and a small woodshop from which Whisperthin seemed to gather the wood. Noachi -- on first glance, despite the age and dryness of the wood, it should work to at least get the wagon into town and a general store that would stock actual wagon axles.

Whisperthin sighs, seemingly resigned to his fate. "Go on and take the wood. You should be able to repair your wagon easy enough with some of this. Dell was a pretty dab hand at carpentry." He smiles briefly. "He probably would have fixed it for you himself, may Pelor protect his soul."

The Starosta listens to your questions and nods. "Everything else I told you were true. The only other person I can think of you may want to speak to is Quentin Stump. His pop is one of the wealthy ranchers in the area. Boy himself is a little shit, though. He hates the Empire and has been vandalizing the Righteous Brand offices in town. Think he blames them for his older sister enlisting and fighting in the war." He grunts. "Maybe serving would make a man out of the little git."

DM Screen

 After hearing your appeal, Valhik, the Starosta stares at you with blood-shot eyes. "No. With all due respect, I'm going to stay hidden until you all are out of town. You may not know how the Assembly works, but I do. They're a bunch of power hungry mages, trying to twist the ear of King Dwendel, and enrich themselves in the process. My successor is probably already on their way, maybe even traveling with you. I need time to figure things out.  I tell you what though," He leans forward. "I'll help you out the best I can. No one knows this town or the people here better than I do. If'n you need any background on these folks or you think you have someone in mind, come out back here and talk to me. I can help that way. And maybe you lot can put in a good word for ol' Theanor with your boss."

He finishes the bottle and looks at each of you defensively. "Oh, and...be careful with Rhea. There's something...wrong with her lately. She's sickly, don't know why or how. Town doctor took a look at her, is totally stumped. Don't think she's long for this world." He is quiet for a moment, then wipes a tear from his eye. "Damn wine making me emotional."

Hurmfar -- there is not a porch, but there is a little corrugated iron "roof" above the door you entered. There are a few holes in the roof so, as big as you are, you won't be able to avoid getting wet, but you feel you could probably keep your pipes dry with some creativity.

Owin would grab what wood he could carry, and start heading back to the cart. 

Hurmfar manages to angle his body to keep the bagpipes dry, even while he's still getting wet.

He begins to play a fairly mournful song he would play when the dwarves got together at the end of Lomil Zatamaradu, the late summer gathering where the clan would remember those who had passed on. The dark rain reminds him of the final hours of the night.

(Performance: 7 - very similar to Amazing Grace)

From inside the house you hear a faint sob as Hurmfar's mournful tune reaches the inside of the house. With the help of Owin, its fairly easy to get the pile of wood down to where the broken cart awaits.

As the group reaches the wagon,  Senior Agronomist Cathwaite sticks his head out of the wagon, holding some papers over his head in a fruitless attempt to protect himself from getting wet. "That took foooooreeeeever." He groans. "I see you got the wood though. Was the yokel in the house of any use? The condition of his fields is rather shocking. Clearly another example of the lax leadership that has been allowed to go unchecked here for far too long."

Noachi -- give me a DEX + proficiency check to see how deft you are at repairing the wagon. Henk is there to help, so you can take advantage.

Hurmfar ends his tune and then stows the bagpipes away where they can stay try in his very large backback. He sighs.

"Long may your chimney smoke," he calls into the house, then he claps his hands together. "Well, work to be done."

He trots off after the others and then he eyes the wagon and the muck in the road."

"Would it help your efforts if I was to stick one end of this wee wagon on me back so you could get under it?" he asks Noachi. "Me mum always said I was the best mule she ever had."

Henk stares at the wagon, then looks back at Noachi, the awe clearly showing in his face. "Where....where did you learn how to do that? That's...incredible, that is! Good as new. No, better than new!"

The half-orc slaps Noachi on the back, hard, but further revelry is interrupted by Cathwaite's voice. "Bloody hell, the wagon is fixed. Good show, hooray everyone. Can we please go now?"

Henk smiles and climbs back onto the wagon, taking one last look at the repaired axle and sighing. "What a woman!"

Cathwaite nods stiffly to Noachi. "Good job on the wagon. I was afraid I would have to walk to Felderwin. I'm practically dying of whatever infernal illness this is." He sneezes, then wipes his nose again. "You are to start your assignment as soon as we arrive in town. I've procured us all rooms at a tavern in town on the Assembly's line of credit. Food will go to the master account, but you are on your own for any spirits. And I will need receipts for all expenses. I hope that farmer was helpful, because you've got quite the job ahead of yourselves. Pray do not prove my faith in you to be misplaced."

The wagon repaired, it is a matter of minutes before you see the makings of a small market town appearing around you. This is Felderwin. The town is built around three small communal gathering hubs called Halls. The roads are mostly mud and dirt with a few small stores and lively taverns from which you hear music coming, even now. Unusually, there are livestock pens right in the center of town, near the Green Hall the town's marketplace, and the largest of the three halls. The Sunset Hall, near the western edge of town, acts as the hub of the town and Tillage's government, and the Lake Hall, on the Scymir River, hosts the town's other major industry, the town's fisheries and fishing boats.

Henk pulls the group up to The Hearth and Plough, and the wagon stops. "Ah, finally! Civilization...or a reasonable facsimile thereof. I am going to take a bath and take my steam treatment. We shall reconvene in the morning. I hope you have some positive developments for me by then. I want this whole affair wrapped up in a few days. Henk, the bags!" He shuffles off into the tavern, the half-orc dutifully trailing behind him, tipping his cap to Noachi on the way.

"Thanks again, miss. That's the best repairing I ever did see. I...."

He does not finish the thought, as his employer glares at him. Instead the half-orc rushes off into the tavern.

Hurmfar smiles down at Noachi. He knows she had the wagon fixed without his help, but he appreciates the kind words. Maybe elves aren't as full of themselves as his dad always claimed. Though the ones that came to trade usually looked at the high walls and the mine entrances of the durkafaren and turned their noses up at the idea of entering. Oh well, he thinks. And then at the prospect of the tavern he claps his big hands together making a loud crack that echoes across the town hub. 

"Oh aye, that will hit the spot. A pint or two of Stahn's Dark Ale, and maybe a dram or two of Balin's Black Whiskey to warm the blood," Hurmfar says already hoping they have good dwarven ale and whiskey. "Then we can knock our noggins together to plan the next steps."

Owin scrapes the mud off his boots as they leave the wagon. Listening to the others, he waits a minute, and then grabs his gear and enters The Hearth and Plough. 

A quick drink, find out where his room is,  and possibly some information... he will head straight to the bar, if there is one. 

Taking Whisperthin and Noachi comments on collaboration in stride, Valhik shrugs in a manner suggesting "so be it" and follows his companions back out through the rain and back to the wagon.

As they roll into town he notes the dilapidated appearance most of the buildings share and lowers his head, shaking it mournfully. What a community this probably was before all of their troubles he thinks. Nothing quite like home of course, but beautiful to the locals nonetheless.

Leading the charge inside the tavern the gnome finds the nearest barstool to hop onto and promptly orders a bottle of wine from the barkeep. "Nothing too cheap, make sure its good enough to get me where I need to go. Have you any vintage from fair Feolinn by any chance?"

Erbert, being deprived of his Scooby Doo/Those meddling kids/Sherlock Holmes moment, walks back out to the wagon, trailing the group.  "Whisperthin, if you are still lying to us, we will be back to discuss this further.  Good day sir."  He climbs up onto the wagon, amazed by Noachi's skill.  As they arrive Felderwin, Erbert is excited, both at the prospect of food and a room to rest, and to pursue the mystery further.  He views everyone in the bar as a suspect.  As he climbs up and sidles up to the bar, he glances around the room, inventing backstories for everyone he sees, scanning for "clues".  

Perception :  13