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The dwarf listened to the words of Mistress Weather, keen to take in her perspective. Her words didn't sound like much of an evil cult at all. The orcs themselves carried concerns of their own. Her tale reminded him of stories of conflict between orcs and other races of the Kingdoms. Their presence in these lands could pose a problem. If one orc was seen, more were likely in the area.

"Seemed like a scout ta me", Rin said while turning to glance back at the Pigman. He couldn't help but visualize what the man's face looked like before he was fallen.



Rin shook his head to try clearing the image from his mind's eye. It felt as if the boar's spirit was staring at him, even causing the ruddy hair on the back of Rin's neck to prickle. "Downright spooky, what wit' the murder and all."

Pint crossed his arms and listened to Brenna first, he seemed to be as much as bodyguard to her as Dalin was for Mistress Weather. Hearing her suspicion of what was going on the tower made him consider their next move and he rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

However, before saying anything, he looked up at the woman when she asked if they had seen Mokk out and about. "Eh? Nae, I donna think we saw 'im." He arched an eyebrow at Brenna, as if guessing what she was thinking. "Ye donna think he done it, eh? Donna seems like his style."

Then as Mistress Weather explained all of the medallion's significance, and the true identity of the pig man that they had just killed, Pint made a face at the dead body of the orc. "Looks different than the one's I'm used to killing." But hey, whatever, an orc is an orc, particularly for a dwarf. Too bad it was bald, Pint is always on the look out for orc scalps since his clan pay good coin for any, and ripping an ear or a tusk or its pig nose was probably not going to go well with everyone looking. Pint would have to suppress his greed for now and let this one go, besides, there was more than enough reward waiting for him, he just had to bring Dalin back to the Dwarf Mine.

"Alright.." Pint thinks that's all the info he's getting for now and he nods to Mistress Weather. "Thanks for sharing yer knowledge witc--I mean, Mistress Weather, ye can get back inside nae." He clears his throat and looks at Bald Mick. "Oi, Mick, I know yer having problems with the dogs and all, but can ye do us a favor and bury that orc? Looks loik we got more patrolling to do."

Then he pulls Rin and Brenna closer and to the side away from prying eyes, Rin he pulls by the shoulder, but Brenna gets pulled by the waist since he can't reach any higher. "Let's go check out that watch tower, I bet ye we'll find some clues there."

"Not really... I was more worried about his carriage getting attacked. Not that he didn't seem capable of fending off a few, but if this one's a scout... who knows how many there are?" Brenna said of Mokk. But if there was anywhere they might catch a glimpse of where his carriage might have gone, it was probably the watch tower.

"Which part is the evil aspect?" she asks Mistress Weather as they look at the medallion and tarot card. "The money? Or the power?"

Or was it the alien lobster? Maybe all of them to some extent.

She let's herself be pulled aside by Pint, but her eyes drift briefly to the cat. Cats were always odd creatures, but this one more than any other she'd ever encountered.

Rin looks at the face of the orc. It's hard to tell what colour its skin is in the flaring lantern light, but it is not pale white. It certainly looks like a pig. Bald Mick puts the dogs inside and comes back out. "I'll get Samuel to bury him" he says.

Mistress Weather shows Brenna the moon card again. "See those two towers?" she says "They are almost identical.. But one represents good and one represents evil. That's the nature of the subconscious. Only the wise can tell the difference. The orcs do not consider themselves to be evil, they consider us to be weaklings and fools. They are greedy, but it is power that motivates them more than anything."
She wanders back inside the Inn, followed by her cat. Brenna realises that it isn't really behaving in a very cat-like manner. It seems to be deliberately keeping close to her, more like a dog.

"Doesn't she have a lot of knowledge?" says Caitlin, "It must have taken her many years to learn it all. I wonder who taught her? But come on Brenna, we've got the rats."
Pint pulls Brenna and Rin to one side. None of you has a lantern, and it is dark. Samuel, bald Mick, and Caitlin are standing round the dead orc, Samuel is starting to dig a grave.
"What a horrible-looking creature" says Caitlin, "More of them must be lurking outside the Inn. It must have been posted as a watch, waiting for someone to leave, so they could be attacked. Though who would leave the Inn at night? The murderer, of course. But how did they know there would be a murder? It's all very mysterious, and frightening."

Pint wasn't really worried about Mokk, like Brenna, he too thought that the Rhinoman could handle himself -- and he should know having fought him-- and like he had stated earlier he doubted Mokk had anything to do with the murder. As far as he was aware the Rhinoman was a none issue in that regard. "Nah, donna worry about 'im Brenna. If he needs help from any of us he'll ask, dinnae struck me as the overly proud type." Reasoned the dwarf.

Noticing that Brenna was eyeing Mistress Weather's cat a little too closely, Pint's eyebrow arched and he gave her a questioning look. "Wot are ye looking at, lass?"

"Wot are ye looking at, lass?"

Brenna looked away from the cat. "Probably nothing," she said. Not like a cat could poison someone after all and she didn't wish to appear like a crazy fool for even sounding like she was suggesting such. "Just an odd cat, that's all." But then again, everything about Mistress Weather was a little odd.

"Right... let's go then," she said to Caitlin, feeling a little awkward holding a caged rat in each hand. Plus, it was cold out here after the relative warmth of the tavern, so she followed the witch and the girl back inside. They needed to check the tower, but one thing at a time.

"Here," she said to those gathered as she sat her two cages a little bit out of the way from the table. "Should be able to feed one dinner to each rat and tell pretty quick." At least she hoped it was a solid test.

"Come on Brenna" says Caitlin, and they move, with Pint, rats in hand.

The Inn is a scene of chaos. Uneaten dinners are littered around the table. Lieutenant Peter is questioning Dalin in a corner, and Dalin is getting hot and bothered.
"There you are" says a soldier to Pint, "lieutenant Peter wants to question you also. You were ther last to see Captain baring alive, before he was poisoned."

Brenna and Caitlin try offering food to the rats. The rats are hungry, and nibble a bit from each plate, with seemingly no ill effects. Except when the two girls get to captain Baring's plate. The rat instantly keels over and dies.

"Well it seems clear" says Caitlin, "the poisoners, whoever he is, wanted to poison Captian Baring specifically. But who would want to do that? He was not a very nice man, but there was nothing about him that meant he deserved to be killed."

"It does seem clear," Brenna agreed. But could only shake her head at Caitlin's questions. She had her suspicions, but didn't feel ready to start throwing accusations around.

She stood up and wiped her hands on the scarf tied to her belt, as if doing that would remove the feel of the rats and of possibly touching the poison. Uck.

"May I wash my hands back in the kitchen?" she asked, either of one of the bar wenches or the proprietor (whoever is closest). She did indeed wish to clean off any poison she might have come into contact with, but always wanted a quick look at the kitchen. It was doubtful there'd be anything as obvious as an empty vial laying out, but still, perhaps some small clue...

Brenna asks Betty. "You wash that stinking rat off your hands, love", says Betty, and opens the kitchen door. "Anyone got any water for this lass?"
"What do you need water for?" says Alfonce, "It is not fit to drink the water, only wine and beer."
"It's to wash her hands off those rats".
"Rats, what is the rats doing in the Inn?" Alfonce frowns, "very well".

The kitchen is small and dominated by a cooking stove, fuelled by wood. There is a sink piled with dirty utensils, and work surfaces which look like they have been recently cleared. There is an open store room leading out with hams and bags of flour and racks of spices.
Alfonce pours some water from a bucket into a pitcher, and gives it to Brenna, who splashes it over her hands.

Rosalind comes in.
"What;s she doing in the kitchen?" she says, "guests aren't allowed in my kitchen."

As much as Pint wanted to get on with it, he couldn't blame Brenna for wanting to go wash her hands. Probably a good idea to not let rat guts smeared all over the evidence anyway, plus the smell... yeah, better go do that.

He stood around waiting for Brenna to come back, tapping his foot impatiently. He kept an eye out for Dalin in case he came back too as he definitely needed that dwarf in one piece for him to get his reward.

"Washing away rat stink and maybe the poison that came out of your kitchen," she retorted as she finished washing off her hands and then wiped them on a towel, hardly believing the woman's tone. Here she was trying to be helpful and the woman was treating her like some kind of problem.

This woman was perhaps the least hospitable innkeeper Brenna had ever encountered. Maybe she was getting bent out of shape because she had something to hide, Brenna thought, adding Rosalind to her growing list of suspects. Maybe 'mom' was looking out for her son somehow.

She didn't wait for a reply and headed back into the main room. It was only as her eyes went to the steps, knowing that Pint wanted to go check out the watchtower, that she recalled the rather sick looking man that had been headed up as she'd come down. He'd slipped her mind with all the commotion.

She caught Betty's attention again. "Did anyone check on that man? The one who was over there before..." she pointed to the now empty spot where he'd been sitting earlier in the evening. "He looked pretty ill. Could be he caught a bit of the poison maybe..."

"Lieutenant Peter will question you now" says a soldier to Pint.
Lieutenant Peter has set up a imprompu desk at the far end of the Inn's main room. Another soldier is taking notes. Dalin is there.
"You can go" says Lieutenant Peter, to Dalin, "I want to question the other dwarf, in private".

Pint is led up to the desk.
"Just a few enquiries to build up a picture of what is happening" says Lietenant Peter, "You were the last, with the other dwarf, to talk to Captain Baring before he was poisoned. Can you tell me what happened outside?"

"Also," he adds, "the dwarf Dalin insists that he never lies. But he is the companion is Mistress Weather, an unreliable fortune teller. So it seems impossible, and I'm very suspicious of this claim. What is your view on it?"

Meanwhile Brenna catches Rosalid saying "How dare you bring her in here? What are you thinking of, you thick wench?" to Betty, as she leaves the kitchen.
Betty emerges a moment later.
"The old man?" says Betty, "Oh yes, he's been quiet and ill all day. Something with his stomach, I think. Maybe we should check he's not been poisoned. Things have come to a pretty pass if folks can't eat here without fear. Mistress Weather has an antidote, and lots of medical knowledge, maybe we should get her to see if he's alright."

"Eh!? I donna recall agreeing to being questioned!" Pint said to the soldier as he walked up to him whilst waiting on Brenna. What a bother, he thought, but he really didn't feel like killing the soldier on the spot for doing his job so he reluctantly decided to humor these annoying humans.

The dwarven warrior gave a nod to Dalin as he took his place in the shoddy office and sat with a huff. Without asking, he pulled out his pipe and lit it clearly not having much respect for authority figures.

"Aye, me and that lad Rin killed a big ugly pig orc outside. Shoot 'im the back with an arrow when he was trying to flee." Pint answered the Lieutenant, at least seeing no reason to lie.

Then as the Lieutenant asked what was his take on Dalin's policy of never telling a lie, Pint arched an eyebrow dangerously and stared daggers at Peter. "Lad, are ye somehow questioning a dwarf's vow to never tell lies?" Pint certainly didn't ascribe to Dalin's clan ideals but if that was their vows that was it and at least, as a dwarf, he wouldn't even dare question they were lying.

A dwarf's oath was sacred and that was that. Even a greedy cut throat mercenary like Pint knew that.

"Let's check quickly then," Brenna said, heading for the stairs. She'd rather have brought Pint than Betty, but the soldier was already leading the dwarf to the office for questioning. That can't be good.

So Betty it would have to be. If they happen to find the man dead, she'd rather not find him alone to avoid having any accusatory fingers pointed her direction.

"That boss lady always in such a good humor?" she asked sarcastically once they are well out of earshot of Rosalind.

"Look", says Lieutenant Peter, "Mistress Weather is my prime suspect. How could she not be involved, with her knowledge of poisons? But she's got a rock solid alibi, she was sitting down telling fortunes the whole time. So who else could it have been? Well her assistant, of course. And he went out, he had the opportunity. It must be Dalin. But I've questioned him, and of course he denies it. Then he becomes angry and says he never lies."

"But I'll tell you something else. I said 'You must know that Mistress Weather is a fraud. You must have lied about that.' 'No', he says, 'Mistress Weather is not a fraud, she can really see the future'. 'How do you know?' I said. 'Well this old man came in for a fortune' he says, 'And Mistress Weather says to him, 'Your daughter will be Queen of Westmoreland'. And he's shocked. He pulls off his disguise, and who is it? It's the King! So how could she have known that, if she couldn't foretell the future?' Well", continues Lieutenant Peter, "That's impossible. Or if she could foretell the future, she'd have foreseen Captain Baring's death."

"But we've got enemies within and without. We've got to find the murderer quick. We owe it to Captain Baring. And he or she might kill again."

"Rosalind the landlady?" says Betty, "Yes. It's her Inn you know, not her husband's. The Crown Prince, who is now King Duncan, gave it to her after Henry Fitzroy was born, to get her out of Great Whiteminster. She's a really horrible person to work for, but she's got the sense to be normally alright with guests. I think she's just stressed."

She leads Brenna upstairs.

"Here's the old man's room." she knocks, and a weak voice says "Come in."
"Just checking how you are feeling, Mr Swathmore?" says Betty.
"Oh, I'm not well" says Mr Swathmore, "I haven't been feeling well for quite some time. Maybe it's my age, catching me up. I hear a lot of commotion downstairs. What is happening?"

Pint makes a face at Lieutenant Peter. A scowling face, the one he does when people are barking orders at him like they're supposed to be in charge, when in reality he could reach over and cut their throat without too much trouble to make them stop talking.

He chews lightly on his pipe and leans on his chair whilst Peter talks, then blows smoke out of his nostrils.

"Nae, ye listen ta me here, mate. I donna owe nothin' to nobody! I'm a bloody mercenary. Ye want me to solve this case? Ye better fork over some gold! Ye know wot I'm sayin??" He scoffed, annoyed at the idea that Peter was trying to make him do his job for him. Sure, he felt bad for the death of the Captain, but that wasn't really his job was it? He had other things to do.

"Besides.." He managed to continue and puffed his pipe some more looking more calm this time. "If it really is Mistress Weather and she really can tell the future, that means yer dealing with a divination wizard and we're both way outta our playing field. Ye'd need some arcane support to solve this one."

"Or, ye know, an actual detective. Did I mention I'm a sellsword? Only cases I crack are skulls with me axe."

It dawned on her Mr Swathmore might just as easily be the culprit here too. Sick because he'd had some low level of exposure to the toxin while slipping it to Captain Baring. Yet another suspect in the ever-growing list.

"Captain Baring is dead," she reported, seeing no reason to keep it from the man, studying him closely for his reaction to the news and if it was a genuine surprise. "Poisoned, apparently. Just wanted to check and make sure you were okay."

Lieutenant Peter looks at Pint. He seems slightly intimidated, but knows he can't show it.

"I see", he says, "you will never accept that the murderer could be another dwarf. I understand that, and in a way I admire it. But you can't think in that way. We as good as know that the dwarf Dalin must be the culprit, we only have to prove it and find the motive. Adn when we do, you must co-operate. You must not take the side of the guilty, just because he is a dwarf."

He sighs. "Mistress Weather may have bewitched us. But personally I think she is a fraud. How can a pack of cards foretell the future? It doesn't sound at all likely. Anyway, unless you've got any more questions, you may go. I must interview the other witnesses. We'll get to the bottom of this, don't you fear."

"Baring? Dead?" says Mr Swathmore. As far as Brenna can tell he seems surprised and upset.
"They'll be after me next," he says, "Oh but I feel so ill. I don't have the strength."
"Don't you worry" says Betty, "Lieutenant Peter is on the case. He'll soon find out who the culprit is. And we'll keep you safe."
'Shall we get Mistress Weather to see him?" Betty asks Brenna, "Mr Swathmore really looks quite ill. She has all sorts of medical knowledge."

By his reaction, it certainly seemed the man strongly suspected who the killer was.

"Wait a moment," she said to Betty, anxious to hear more from the man before they dragged Mistress Weather into anything.

"Who will be after you?" Brenna asked Mr Swathmore, moving into the room so that she could keep her voice down, concerned about the actual killer or an accomplice overhearing them. "Do you know who poisoned Baring?"

Pint could sense that he had cowed the Lieutenant a bit, but he decided not to pressure the lad any further-- if anything just out of respect of the deceased captain.

Instead, he scoffed when the Lieutenant assumed that Pint simply couldn't think a fellow dwarf was capable of a murder. What an ignorant human, he thought. "Now, that's not wot I said. Dwarves are capable of murder just like anyone else. I know plenty of dwarves that done it, and I've personally put them down too. I'm saying if Dalin says he didnae do it, he's not lying about it. But that donna mean he couldn't have helped Mistress Weather, he'd technically not be lying."

Pint then shrugged when Peter just refused to believe a pack of cards could hold such power. " Ey mate, I may not like the arcane arts, but I'd be a bloody fool to deny its power. I'd think twice about dismissing it like that."

He stood up as they appeared to be finished but just as he was heading for the door he turned around to look at Peter.

"Oh, aye, there's one thing. Whether Dalin and Mistress Weather are guilty or not.. I'm taking Dalin with me to the mainland. Ain't no two ways about it. I'll bring 'im back 'ere to be tried on my honor, but if ye try to jail or execute him first we're gonna have problems. Ye get me, lad?"