As you all walk into the Hearth and Plough, you immediately are struck by the warmth of the place. In contrast to the gloomy rain outside, this tavern is comfortable, well-lit, and the mood is brighter than you would think given the rash of mysterious fires and the attitude of the Starosta. There is a long and winding staircase that leads to a mezzanine where the rooms are. The barkeep, a cheery-looking halfling lass grins widely at you all and gives you a little half-wave as you enter.

"Hullo, dearies! Come in and warm yer bones!" She immediately begins pulling pints for Hurmfar -- a Uthodurnian dark ale that, living up to its name was black as a moonless midnight. "I've had your kind in here before," she winks, sitting two pints down right in front of the Goliath. She moves on to Valhik, and leans across the bar, with the practiced air of a woman who had done this a million times before. "Feolin wine, eh? I knew this day would come, someday." She reaches under the bar and pulls out a bottle of Ovesia Family Dark Red, sitting it in front of him with a single glass. "It's good to have a gentleman of good taste in this establishment every so often."

A big beefy human on the other side of the bar calls out "Hey, Roslin, I got plenty of good taste!"

The halfling chuckles in her turn and says "I seen your husband, Baric, and I know that's a damned lie." There is a round of laughter around the bar, and everything goes back to normal.

Erbert, as you look around the bar, listening around, you pick up a few snippets of conversation, nothing specifically about the fires, but interesting nonetheless, especially given what Whisperthin told you about some of the notable people in town.

From a couple of roughneck farmers sitting at the bar:

"Say what you will about that bloody war, but hey, its good for the town. The Empire is buying everything we can produce, faster than we can grow it, even..."

"The war is a boondoogle. However well we're doing here, you know the fat cats in Rexxentrum are raking it in even more. I tell you what, King Dwendel is a fool too. Sending thousands of troops to fight the Kryn Dynasty when he should be protecting people like us. The Kryn ain't ever hurt me."

"Okay, Jaltrim. Take it easy, man. You shouldn't really say this stuff out loud to folks around here. The Starosta said some of those folks is coming from the capital, and if they hear you..."

From a few human women sipping wine together at a small table near you.

"Rhea's sitting over there, isn't she? Gods, she looks bad. Looks like she's about ninety." They seem to be referring to a figure sitting by themselves at a dark booth near the stairs. Its hard to determine their gender -- they are so old -- but the eyes are still sharp and as you look at her, she meets your eyes defiantly.

You don't really pick up anything else, but you do note that Renton Cathwaite and the half-orc Henk are not present in the bar-room area.

Noachi, the community seems close-knit and happy for the warmth and company and doesn't seem to pay attention to you particularly.

"Hopefully my good taste at the beginning of this evening will help to alleviate any poor taste I might exercise after indulging." Valhik fills the glass halfway before raising it to Roslin, alongside a courteous nod of the head. Swirling it momentarily he sniffs then sips the vintage, savoring the taste of home. Turning to his companions he motions at Noachi to join him. "My fine friend, judging by your inquiries you are as yet uninitiated to the world of libations and liberty. There's no better way to get your toes wet than to enjoy the fine fruits of the vine if you be so inclined. Roslin my dear, another glass please. And oh by the way, how much will it be?" Placing the wine back on the counter he pulls out his coin purse, prepared to pay.

Hurmfar smiles down at the two pints sitting in front of him. Then he looks over at Noachi.

”Oh aye, lass, but not just any beverage. A dark ale like this makes even the saddest daft bastard love life again. Here, try some.” He says as he slides one of the pints over to Noachi.

Then he looks round and breaks out into another dwarven drinking song.

”Oh gimme a flagon, a barrel, a wagon, / oh gimme a flask, a pot, or a pail, / Keep on pourin’ til I be snorin’ / And let’s drink that Bugman’s ale.”

Then he claps his hands, and knocks back the rest of his pint.

“Now, what’s next?”

Erbert calls out to Roslin "Hullo Roslin, what a wonderful place you have here!  What do you have cooking tonight, anything special in the stew?  I would like a pint of the Urthodonian dark ale as well please.  In my hometown Hupperdook at the Blushing Tankard we used to have a drinking game each night, I don't know if I'm quite up for that tonight, but do you have any festivities planned for the evening?  If not, my good friend Hurmfar could probably play you a tune!  On a more serious note, do you know anything about these fires that have been popping up lately?  Its a damn shame what is happening to the fields, it must end."

Noachi is being sandwiched in between Valhik and Hurmfar, I am sitting on the left of Valhik.  I lean over and say "I have spotted a mean eyed lady near the stairs that I think is Rhea, and old Jaltrim is talking over there at that table.  At some point we should press them for what they know.  After my meal!"  He breaks into a broad grin and pulls out a little notebook of gnome sized papers and a pen and starts writing down names, taking notes, jotting various things down.

Owin seats himself at the bar, looking over at the large pints Hurmfar was served, he grins. He eyes the glass of wine, then calls Roslin over when he catches her eye. 

"Whiskey.. bourbon, rye, doesn't matter. Double. Bring the bottle, please. "  he asks. Then, sitting next to Erbert and over-hearing what he says ; in a low tone he asks Roslin:  "Also, another drink to the lady in the corner by herself. You wouldn't happen to know her name, would you?" As he does this, he gently nudges Erbert with his elbow, in order to get his attention so he can hear Roslin's response. 

Valhik chuckles at Noachi's clear distaste for the strong ale. "I told you dear, something sweet is the taste to beat." 

Wincing as Erbert loudly announces their purpose to the entire tavern whilst questioning Roslin, he then leans in as his fellow gnome whispers his observations into his ear. Attempting to disguise a look at the mentioned individual within a quick survey of the entire premises, he then returns his attention to his comrade. "My dear fellow, might I make the observation that perhaps a bit of subtlety is required for this endeavor? It would hardly do to go announcing our entire purpose to anyone not yet drunk enough to over hear and thus provide them with fair warning that we are after them, giving them ample time to cover their tracks. Still, now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag..." Finishing the cup of wine he grabs the bottle and motions at Erbert to follow him as he makes his way over to the table where Rhea possibly sits. Standing opposite of her he holds up the wine as an offering and politely requests "May I? We've only recently come to town but I believe we may have an acquaintance in common, that is if my friend's ears do not deceive him and you are indeed Rhea Vallante, the one and only?"

Roslin brings an extra glass over to Valhik and puts a glass of water in front of Noachi giving the elf woman a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Don't worry, lass. I don't drink anything but water meself. I see every night how the strong stuff makes most of these idiots behave." She says the last part loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear, but she says it affectionately. "Yer gnome friend is right though. If you are gonna drink, make it something that tastes like dessert. For that bottle, love? 20 gold." 

She moves on to Erbert, and looks at him with a sad air, her gaze sweeping around the bar. "Sorry, love. That's a question for some of the farmers here. Its their fields, and I don't think many of them care to talk about it. People are just here to have fun, you know? Forget about the fecking war, all those who are serving the Empire on the front lines, and ESPECIALLY this fire. This world is cold and hard enough as it is. People just want to relax." She relaxes and smiles at Erbert. "Let me bring you some leek-and-cod soup and a pint of some ale. It will warm your bones and maybe make you relax a bit."

Then as Hurmfar starts singing, Roslin claps her hands excitedly, and joins in for the last few lines of the song. Her voice, while not bad, is a little thin, and it is hard to hear her harmonizing with the Goliath. "Why that's a song for sore ears. I used to live among the dwarves down and Port Zoon and I know that song well, love! And what a beautiful voice for such a big man. Yer friend says you play music too? Give us a tune, and your next ale is on me."

She winks and moves on to Owin, pouring the man a large glass of local rye, and putting the bottle next to him. "That's Rhea." She sighs, not looking at the woman. "Poor dear. Summat is wrong with her. Just a few months ago she were right as rain, beautiful lady, she was. Tough too. Tougher then most of the so-called men in this town. Everyone in town was a little sweet on her, even me. Then, she just started sort of...wasting...." She shakes her head. "But that's her business. How are y'all paying, love? Separate bills or is this on the tab that the...'gentleman' set up for your rooms a few minutes ago?"

Meanwhile, as Valhik comes over, the old woman in the booth eyes him suspiciously.  She pushes her cup forward a little bit, accepting the wine. "That's my name, stranger. I haven't gotten men trying to buy me a drink for months. Not since I started looking like this." She tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a dry, hacking cough. You got me curious. What acquaintance do we possibly have in common, hmm?"

Hurmfar laughs as Noachi struggles with the ale.

"Your loss lassy, your loss," he says as he takes the pint back and drinks it down in one go.

Then, happy with Rolin's attempts at joining in with the song, he looks around the room and at the size of the place and decides bagpipes aren't going to be suitable and begins rhythmically clapping and stomping his foot to create a fast paced beat and launches into another dwarven song. This time as he sings, he begins moving through the room bowing slightly at different tables and dancing with anyone who will join in. All the while, keeping an eye on the one that was pointed out as Jaltrim to see if he's taking any interest in the party.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

(Performance: 15 to try and make some friends with the townsfolk and if he can do two actions, Perception: 8 to watch Jaltrim)

(OOC: Were we already supposed to have divided up the 100 gold from the beginning? If not I'll have to come up with a clever way to pay Roslin less than 20GP)

Seating himself opposite of Rhea and filling a glass for both of them he replies "Oh I pay for quality of my drinking partners' conversations, not their appearance. Appearances as they say, can be deceiving. As far as our mutual connection suffice it to say he is hiding outside of town, living in fear of the very powers which have sent myself and my friends here. I trust you know to whom I refer. He seemed to value his privacy and as I value my own I find it only fair to respect that."

Slowly sipping from his second glass of the evening the warrior returns Rhea's hard stares with his own. "To be forthright my companions and I have been hired to look into the very things I hear you have been looking into. I myself have known pain and loss and have no desire to add to that already experienced by this community. Rather I intend only to provide what humble aid I can in alleviating the troubles here. Good people deserve someone to help them and I figure helping out those already trying to do their part will prove more effective in the end."

(I assumed you all took your 20 gp each when Cathwaite offered it.)

The woman's heavily hooded eyes appraise Valhik and nod thoughtfully. "I told him he was a damned fool to hide. I served under Theanor before he retired. He's a good man, but he was never meant for politics. He's scared by those wizards. Scared and cowed. As much as he wants to, he can't help when he's trying to play Lord of the Manor. If you're here to help these people, I won't spit in yer eye."

She sighs. "First fire was a week ago. The Stump Ranch, largest spread in town. Awful conflagration. Got most of their wheat, and a damned lot of their steers too. Everyone assumed it were an accident. I were a bit suspicious of some..." She looks pointedly at Deke Jaltrim, the big farmer the Starosta already told you about. "But I wasn't gonna make waves. Then my place went up two days later. I saw somebody I thought I recognized, but when I tried to chase them, my body failed me..." Rhea sighs helplessly. "You know, I'm only 42 years old. I was a soldier, a damned good one. And a bit of a looker." She laugh-coughs again. "Whatever this is, its killing me. I don't rightly expect I'll see the next harvest." She drains her glass. "Then Deke's place went up two nights ago. That one was a bit of an odd one, though." She looks at Erbert first, then Valhik. "The weather that day were rainy, like it is today. Don't see how they could have started a fire. Even with magic, the rain likely would have dampened it. I've tried to do some poking around, but I can't stand the way these folk look at me now." She glares at the two women gossiping about her at the table and they look away. "And that's all there is to it. Mark my words, though, you scratch down into the dirt on this, and you'll find some Kryn spy at the root of this, trying to cripple our war effort. I've fought the bastards my whole life. They don't observe the normal rules of war. They're...monsters, they are."

Hurmfar, to your delight, you see much of the bar joining in enthusiastically at your performance, many of the rural folk joining in with stomping and clapping, and a few people even standing and doing a jig, laughing and enjoying themselves -- you've certainly broken the ice with this crew. So many people seem to be enjoying the performance though, that you sort of lose track of Jaltrim and his two companions. As the song ends, you receive a round of applause and a few hearty pats from the farmers -- Jaltrim is gone though.

It is about this time that Henk, the wagondriver, reappears. He's taken time to clean himself up and comb his hair, but he's still caked in a fairly heavy layer of mud. He brightens as he sees Owin and Noachi at the bar and comes over, reciting something he was clearly told to memorize.

"Senior Agronomist Cathwaite will not be joining you tonight. He will be retiring for the evening and rising early to meet the Starosta at Sunset Hall and go over the losses from the fire. He expects a full update tomorrow evening and the identity of the perpetrator. You are also expected to keep an ear out for all those who express seed....said...uhh....bad things about the Empire."  Pleased with himself for remembering all that, Henk relaxes and smiles a bit, the tips of two tusks showing from his lower jaw as he motions to Roslin and orders himself a beet salad and a pint of cider.

"Phew! Glad that's over with. Aww....did I miss the singing?" Turning and watching Hurmfar receiving accolades from the locals, Henk looks a little crestfallen. "I love music."

"Rhea, I appreciate your honesty with us and your help in this matter.  Do you have any clue about what is happening to your body, what is affecting you?  Do you have some sort of disease?  Has a healer examined you?"  Erbert pauses, and considers Rhea, looking hard at her.  "I agree with my friend Valhik, appearances are deceiving, it is what is on the inside that is what matters.   I am wondering if there is a sorcerous source (he pauses, appreciating the alliteration) of these fires and the destruction to the land.  You mention Deke Jaltrim, where is his farm?  Do you have any other suspicions that you haven't been able to look into?"  Erbert suddenly pauses and becomes very still.  

He closes his eyes and says to Rhea, "I will pray to Baervan Wildwanderer to give me the knowledge to uncover the illness that has befallen you.  I appreciate your help and honest words."  He opens his eyes and looks at her again.  "And I'll keep my eye out for any Kryn bastards that may be lurking about."

Rhea grunts. "Nope. Jaltrim's wife is a doctor, and she took a good look at me. Brenatto, the halfling chemist in town here gave me some stuff too. Nothing works." She swirls the tiny remnants of wine in her glass not looking at you. "I ain't scared of death. Hell, I died before. Got brought back, right quick, but it still counts. It seems cruel, though. I always thought the Storm Lord would take me in battle, not let me waste away."

She looks up at Erbert again and nods at him. "Good luck to you. If you're looking for someone to keep an eye on, Jaltrim's a good start. Man's got some funny ideas about the Empire. Those two goons he brought onto his farm ain't much help to him, neither. Something's going on with that one. His acreage is about an hour west o' here, walking."

Erbert turns his head away from the conversation and looks back at the others.  Erbert points his finger at Hurmfar and uses message to send to Hurmfar "Did you see Jaltrim leave?  It sounds like we need to track him and investigate his farm.  Excellent singing by the way!"

Hurmfar makes his way back to the bar, flirting with anyone and everyone on the way back, a big smile on his face. 

When he gets back he carefully sits down on the stool next to the others, making sure it doesn't crack under his weight. He's had trouble before with wooden furniture. Then he sweeps his long arms out and gives Owin, Noachi, and even Henk a big group hug.

"Oh, that worked the kinks out of me bones," he says as he catches Roslin's eye for another pint. 

Seeing Noachi is in conversation with Henk, Hurmfar leans over towards Owin. 

"When Moradin were handing out gifts, he gave me a double helping of size but he did a wee bit of skimping on the thinking parts. So, let me know if I'm veering out of the ruts, but if we want to catch us a firebug we might want to be giving the farms that ain't burnt up yet a look."

(That's fine on the gold, I just didn't want to assume we had it. Blew all of it on a bottle of gold though. Sounds about right.)

Valhik listens closely as Rhea recounts her understanding of events. Nodding and continuing his consumption of the wine. Attempting to catch a glance at this Jaltrim after mention of him, his goliath companion's stirring of the townsfolk prevents him from seeing much. He gains a pained and sympathetic look in his eyes when conversation turns towards her condition.

"My wife was similarly affected by an illness of some sort for which we could find no cure, whether magical or medicinal. I wish you better fortune than we had."

Nudging Erbert to follow him back over to the rest of their party he raises his glass to Rhea and finishes it off. Walking back across the tavern he confides in the magician "Jaltrim indeed seems to be the place to begin, but it is a bit late for beginnings at this point of the evening. I move that we encourage our friends to retire early so as to get an early start on tomorrow's undertaking."

Henk returns the hug gratefully. "Oh, that's nice." As Roslin sits a round of drinks out for those seated at the bar near Hurmfar (including a sweet strawberry wine for Noachi and another Uthodurian black ale for the Goliath). "You made a lot of friends with that, you did." Roslin said. "These are paid for by that lot. First time I've ever seen those cheap bastards buy anyone a drink, so well done you." She says loud enough for the other farmers to hear.

Henk sits back down and beams at Noachi, in between thoughtful bites of his beet salad and his cider. "Him? Oh no, miss. I've only just been assigned to him for this trip. I'm a bodyguard," he says proudly, puffing out his chest. "Made it out of the Mudtops in Rexxentrum, I did. The honest way. Most of my family are involved in....well, they ain't clerics of Sarenrae, that's for sure. Thought I might go that way too. I was always good in a scrap. Good with my fists, and with the cosh. Got in a bit of trouble when I was a kid," he admits bashfully.  "Then Martinent Ludinius Da'Leth found me. Picked me out, made sure I got an education. Took real good care of me. Got me this job with Senior Agronomist Cathwaite too. The Martinent said he's going on in the world, that he's a proteeger or something of the Baroness." He takes a big gulp of cider and sighs contentedly. "But I really shouldn't be talking out of turn."

As the party comes back together, its about six o'clock in the evening. The rain has tapered off into a light drizzle, and the food and drink are flowing in the pub. The evening is yours.

What are you doing?