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Rin had exchanged banter with Mick and Rosalind, telling them, "Just got off the dayshift meself."

He currently sat at the table, eyelids hung low in a tired gaze. The barmaid in front of him did perk up his day just a bit. Rin couldn't help but notice he didn't see many like her around. After she places the drink on the table, Rin leaves a few extra coins for her service. "Thank ye, lass." He took a quick sip. "You pour a good mead", the dwarf said with a curt nod and closed eyes.

Once the food choices were given, he said, "The fish stew sounds 'bout right", Rin said. "A Kegsuasunder loves a good piece of fish... Even in stew." He had heard Brenna talk about diner before going upstairs. "I cannae say what the redhaired lass who went upstairs would prefer."

Rin's hammer hung from his waist, handle pointing away from the bar. He turned back to the barmaid. "So lass, are ye from 'round these parts? Ye gotta unique style about ye."

Brenna goes upstairs, and Martha comes to bring her a candle.
"I'll call you when yer dinner's ready." she says. "That girl, Caitlin, she's annoying, isn't she? Henry Fitzroy, Henry Fitzroy". There's a touch of bitterness in her mimickry.
She lights an incense stick, which takes some of the smell of sweat that clings to the beds away. The fire is unlit, and it is cold.

"I was born in the royal palace at Great Whiteminster" says the attractive barmaid, to Rin, "my mother was a cook in the kitchens there. The ladies taught me how to talk to courtly folk, the manners, the addresses, things like that."
She flashes Rin a demure smile.

There are two other dwarves in the inn, Pint, and Mistress Weather's companion, Dalin. Dalin is holding forth.
Rin recognises him as a member of a very special sect of dwarves, who are pledged to speak only the truth, the Firin.
"Mistress Weather can most definitely heal" he says, "I've seen it with my own eyes. She knows all the herbs, what they do, how to mix them."
"Yes, but can she tell the future?" says the Petulan ambassador, "That's a different sort of skill."
"Maybe people make the future come true, by believing in it" says Caitlin, "I believe her."
"I'd like to know" says Captain Baring.

Mistress Weather's cat comes up and deliberately sniffs Rin, as though checking him out.
"Maybe she wants some pieces of fish" says the barmaid, "Dinner will be served shortly".

Pint frowned some at the explanation behind the sun card and how it represented life giving or some such. For one, they were right that he, as a dwarf, didn't instinctively know that the sun was a good thing, and though he didn't hate sunlight, he didn't much care for it either. Secondly, it was always a rule of thumb for Pint that when it came to witchcraft - no matter how mundane it looked - he never assumed things.

Nevertheless, the explanation came and he relaxed some, resting his back on the chair and crossing his arms before shrugging his shoulders. "Seems pretty straightforward to me. Some bloke tries to harass Brenna and I knock 'im down on his arse. Then we have some good ales over it, aye?" As much as Pint was the type of dwarf that liked to make his own fortune, he had to admit that he sort of liked where this fortune of his was going, liking nothing more than to fix things with his axe.

As Brenna excused herself, Pint followed her with his gaze until she was out of sight. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and wondered why he decided to become all protective over the human ex-noble, even already sort of agreeing to fight to defend her honor if it came down to it. He figured he always had a soft spot for protecting perceived damsels-- even if they were a head or two taller than him. The dwarf sighed and his thoughts wandered to that cleric he saved back in the dwarven mines wondering how she might be doing.

The arguments all around him all felt like background noise to him and it was only the door opening that made Pint get back on track. His hand resting on the axe head of his Urgrosh juuuuust in case he needed it. All this talk about this Henry fellow had him ready and spoiling for a fight, even though he had just fought Mokk moments earlier. Pint was always ready to fight as a good proper dwarf.

But surprisingly, it was a pair of dwarven folk that came in. Pint arched an eyebrow and suddenly thought these might be the dwarves he was looking for. Even though he heard one of them saying that he was a 'Kegsuasunder' or some such, it was still worth a try.

"Hey brothers!" Pint raised his own mug of ale and sauntered over to Rin. "Ye blokes know where I can find some bloody dwarves that only say the truth?? I's got some business with 'em-- though not the bloody kind mind ye, just in case yer wondering." He said chugging down his beer and complaining about it soon after. "Uuugh! Blimey this might as well be water..." Pint is not exactly a detective and his idea of being subtle is to just act like himself.

Brenna thanks Martha for the candle as she digs into her traveling bag for something, then gives a small smile and a half shrug to the accusation that Caitlin has been annoying.

"I suppose," Brenna acknowledged, still thinking about the fortune from Mistress Weather despite her best efforts not to and the signs that seemed to point to Henry Fitzroy. "Have you ever met him? Henry Fitzroy, I mean. Is he really so handsome?"

Then laughed at herself. "Not that I suppose it matters. Have you heard? He's to be married to Lady Helena." She smiled at the cranky maid to show she was in jest. Of course she'd heard. They'd all heard it what seemed like a dozen times downstairs.

"Oh aye", Rin replied to the barmaid. "All courtly manners and everything. Right charmin'. 'Preciate ya, lass." The stubby fingered dwarf lifted the drinking vessel, taking a long swig. Rin's dwarven stomach could tolerate a great deal of mead. Luckily, it was the taste he had missed during his long patrol. Rin took a deep breath and set down his drink. "Ahh... That's hel-fee." 'Healthy' was one of the favorite slang terms of the Kegsasunders.

Rin reached over to the cat, putting his fist forward first. The Kegsasunder connection to animals let Rin know this was how cats liked to be greeted. After all, he noticed that they greeted each other like that. The cat would likely rub his chin to the side of his fist to exchange scents. Rin then moved to scratching the cat's chin. All the while, he focused on his drink and the conversation.

"Yeah, wee bit a fish for 'em later", he replied to her about the cat. Rin stared at his drink momentarily, taking in its rich scent.

It wasn't long after that when another dwarf approached.

"'s why I always go with a mead meself", Rin replied with a grin. "Ye cannae mess up fermented honey." He had been thinking about what the newcomer first asked. "Me thinks ye be lookin' for the Kirin." He thought for a second about where he remembered seeing it. "Matter of fact, me 'hinks the lad over there might have a connection", he said pointing at the other. Rin's sing song voice really turned the last sentence into an almost musical affair. He stressed and extended the second syllable in 'connection' heavily.

"Lets go talk to the lad, mate. Ye doing well?" Rin was just tired after a long day. He was interested in what had been going on here. A wide array of people had been moving in and out of the place all day.

"Ey, donna gimme yer life hacks right now, lad. I donna need none of that shait." Pint gave a grunt as Rin suggested that he switched to mead, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to get some ale after a fight with a Rhinoman, and get a crappy fortune read to him. He figured that if he drank enough of it maybe he'd start feeling a buzz or something, surely even the humans could manage that.

Thankfully it looked like his luck was starting to change as it turned out that Rin was, in fact, familiar with the dwarves he was looking for. "Aye! The Kirin! That's the blokes." And what's this? There was one here already?? "Fantastic! Let's go!"

Pint set his mug down and took up Rin's offer to accompany to talk to the Kirin dwarf. Though, as Rin asked if he was doing well, Pint had another of his overly honest bouts.

"Nay, I ain't doing alright. I was expecting to kill some orcs up 'ere like its propa', but all I've gotten is shitty ale, shitty food, shitty fortunes read to me, and I'm probably gonna get fleas all over me beard tonight. Plus I'm pretty sure I'm having lady problems and I'm too sodding dense to realize it. Tells a lot about a trip when the best thing that's happened is fighting a Rhinoman."

"At this point, if I ain't gonna gets me some orc scalps, I just wanna drag this honest dwarf back home so I can get me money already."

"Have I met Henry Fitzroy?" says Martha to Brenna. "Oh have I met Henry Fitzroy? Yes, he's always staying here. I suppose he's handsome. He's the King's illegitimate son. He comes over as really generous with his money, but it's all a front. He only gives anything to anybody if he thinks he'll get something out of it. He uses people. Captain Baring hates him, he's a totally incompetent commander. And he won't get horses for the soldiers."

She sighs.
"Keep away from him. I wish I could, but Rosalind the landlady, she said I had to, I had to ..." she tails off. "Someone should tell Lady Helena. That poor girl."

Pint goes over to talk to Dalin.
"I'm Firin" he says, "It's a rule of our clan that we never lie. You can always trust a Firin dwarf. So when I say Mistress Weather can tell fortunes, she can tell fortunes. Seen it with my own eyes. For example she was telling a fortune in court. It was a young man. His father had arranged a marriage for him, and she said he'd get an ugly wife. She only foretells bad things. Well guess what, she was right."
"Always telling the truth doesn't mean always knowing the truth, however" says the Petulan ambassador.
"I'd like a test" says Captain Baring, "but I can't think of a fair one. Maybe Mistress Weather had intelligence about who the unfortunate young lady was."
"The cards know the future" says Mistress Weather, "And I can cure this dwarf of his fleas. Just this little magic lotion. It's poison, but it's not enough of a poison to harm a person, only a flea. You can dilute anything enough to use it as a medicine. Spread this on yourself, and you won't be flea bitten".
She delves into her bag and proffers a small jar.
"That's the same with the bitter almonds" says Macey, "If you eat one or two, they relax you. But a dozen or so would be deadly poison. Also if you let them build up. The body needs time to clear them. You can't eat them every day. I've instructed Alfonce."

"I'm sorry there are no orcs for you to fight" says Captain Baring to Pint, "I appreciate that a dwarf like you is always in search of adventure. But the Royal Mile Inn isn't really the place to find it. We've cleared all the orcs from the road, there hasn't been an attack for months. And we have soldiers stationed here. You're perfectly safe."

The cat sniffs Rin, then miaows.
"Something is wrong with that pussy" says the pretty barmaid, "maybe it's afraid of dwarves. But I don't see how it can be, seeing it travels with a dwarf." She puts a hand out to stroke it, and it withdraws. Rin sees what he thinks is a golden wedding ring on her hand. Then he realises, it's on her middle finger.

"Dinner is ready" says bald Mick. "Now just remind Rosalind what each of you ordered, and we'll bring the food out".

"I don't think I can face dinner" says the elderly man, who has been sitting quietly in the corner, all along. He goes upstairs, where he's likely to cross Brenna coming down.

Captain Baring looks extremely worried about something.
"What's the matter, Captain Baring?" asks bald Mick.
"Oh, nothing" says the captain.

The cat leaves the bar, and goes into the kitchen.
"Very odd cat" says the pretty barmaid, to Rin.

Rin's voice raised an octave higher, but also louder than Pint. "Come off it, lad.. Ye act like mead ain't suitable fer a dwarf. Ye say the ale tastes like shy-tuh… Mead is always right. Ye want a proper ale brewed, meet a Kegsasunder." His expression was now slightly cold and focused more on his drink. Rin has brewed a few batches in his time, but his brothers and sisters run a tavern and brewery. The ruddy dwarf avoids ale when he doesn't want to be reminded of home. After a long day, all he wanted was that sweet mead taste.

Pint wasn't facing a jovial Rhinoman anymore. Rin was a simple dwarf from the lowlands. Pint's attitude seemed only typical from one dwarf to another. Mokk might have seen Pint as surly, but Rin sees 'just another dwarf'. It was actually comforting in a way.

He was glad to be of assistance at least. Rin did travel a fair bit for a commoner, working on various fortification structures under a conscript contract. He'd worked with all manner of dwarves. A human king enlists dwarves to advance siege technology with dwarven engineering. This requires dwarves of all types of backgrounds.

While talking to Pint, Rin notices the cat, half paying attention to it and stopping to smile at the barmaid. "Jus' hungry, methinks", he says about the cat.

Rin was drawn back into the conversation when Pint brought up action. "I know, mate. I know." He spoke in the background while Pint continued. He mentioned potentially leaving. "Ye fought the bloody Rhinoman? Well done. Feeling a bit antsy meself. There's guards round fer a reason. Let's say we put a patrol together and move past this border and hunt some flippin' highwaymen."

The idea of regular patrols which pushed down the roads at night might not be a bad idea. Although most guards may have been here just for a room or food, there had been a lot of talk of patrols and watchmen. There could be a serious threat to any nighttime travelers because of armed opportunists.

"Under Cap'n's orders... a course", Rin said as he sheepishly bowed his head to Captain Baring.

There were likely assigned guards for this task. Then again, Rin was a guard conscript under contract of local rule. Perhaps it was his duty to get out under the stars and see who crept alongside the roads.

The call for dinner came up soon afterwards. "Fish stew fer me", he reminded. The topic of the cat came up. "It's just hungry", Rin said to the barmaid. "Might wanna toss it somethin'."

Brenna's joking attitude melted away a bit at Martha's seeming distress over the topic. It seemed she was suggesting that Fitzroy took advantage of his position of power with the women here, or at least Martha.

"Maybe... once they are married, it will be different," she suggested softly. "He'll have to keep up appearances." It was purely an attempt to make it seem better for Martha's sake. It would not be different. People didn't change who they were because of marriage.

It also cast a whole new and even more unpleasant light on Mistress Weather's fortune. Could she really be suckered in by a devilishly handsome bastard son of the king? Perhaps... she admitted to herself. But with as much warning as she had now, she knew better. She hoped.

But what of Martha? For the first time in a long while, Brenna wished she were on better terms with her brother if only so she could ask of him a favor to hire the girl at the keep in Aylesbury.

"Why would Rosalind ask that of you?"

At last! Pint chooses not to contest Rin's argument about mead versus ale as he instead focuses on Firin.

"I got business with one of yer kind, mate!" He points towards the truthful dwarf somewhat accusingly. Although as Rin, Firin, and anyone who has dealt with dwarves before, Pint doesn't have a lot of tact as it is common with his kind, and everything he says comes of as confrontational.

"There's been an incident at the dwarven mines down south. One of ye truth dwarves is being called to help out sorting out the true ownership of it or woteva' tha' sod. They can give ye more details there. Anyways, I need ye or one of yer clan to accompany me back south. The sooner the better."

Pint glanced at Mistress Weather momentarily as she mentioned having something for the flea problem. It looked like at the bare minimum Pint was going to have to stay a night at the inn, and he didn't want to risk getting flea bitten at all. "Sure! Gimme a bottle." He gave a grunt as he dug around for some coin.

Not before rolling his eyes at the Captain however. "Tsk, the last time someone told me I was perfectly safe I almost got lynched by a mob of angry miner dwarves-- long story."

Ultimately though, Pint did like Rin's idea and nodded. "Aye, I'm keen on that, mate. If anything a walk out would be good to stretch me legs. I'm good for going on a wee bit hunt if yer up fer it."

"I'm in," says Dalin, the Firin dwarf, "we'll go all three dwarves together, shall we? If the Captain agrees, of course."

"Capital idea to take a walk before dinner", says Captain Baring, "I'm afraid I can't promise any orcs or highwaymen, but you dwarven chaps are useful to us because you can see in the dark. It'll free up some of my men to eat with the rest."

Pint, Dalin and Rin take up their weapons and pull on their outside clothes. Captain Baring takes them outside the inn and into the courtyard, then undoes the gate.
"Ring the bell when you're ready to come back", he says, "Here's what I want you to do. Circle the palisade, and just check that nothing odd is going on. Don't split up. I said there wouldn't be any orcs, but you never know. Then go for a short distance down the road in both directions, again just checking. Don't be longer than half an hour, or we'll get worried."

He shuts the gate and returns inside. The three dwarves follow his instructions, and circle the palisade. The forest has been cut back maybe a hundred yards round the palisade, to create grazing for horses. There's a ditch running round the outside, then an earth bank, then the palisade atop it. It's not dwarven standard military engineering, and wouldn't stop a determined attack. However it would keep out troublemakers and wild beasts.

By the time the three dwarves have completed the circuit, their eyes have adjusted to the dark. They see things in shades of red, based on heat; dark black for the cool leaves of the distant forest, slightly grey for the grass, and very faint red for the palisade. However there is a bright red spot, maybe ten yards into the forest, opposite the gate. That can only mean one thing, a warm-blooded creature.

They are just considering what to do, when they hear a scream from the Inn.


Brenna is still talking to Martha.
"Rosalind the landlady?" says Martha, "What's she to do with Henry Fitzroy? Why, she's his mother. That's how she got the Inn. The King set her up somewhere far from the court, after he had tired of her."
She laughs slightly.
"Anyway, you'd better go to dinner".

The elderly man crosses Brenna on the stairs. He looks faint and ill. He makes his way to a bedroom, and Martha goes in with him with another candle.

The tables are pulled together to make a single large dining table, and a place at the head is laid for Captain Baring. Peter and the soldiers sit in the places next to him. Then there is Mistress Weather, Macey, Caitlin, the Petulan ambassador, and Lady Helena.
Kitty and I will get your drinks" says Betty, and takes drink orders.
Captain Baring is served first, by Kitty. Then Kitty and Betty and bald Mick serve the other guests, fish pie or chicken stew, as ordered.
"Capital stew, isn't it?" says Captain Baring, "Alfonce has made good use of your spices, Macey".
"Only the best" says Macey.
"There's too much almond in it" says Lady Helena, "It's not clever to do that. It's the mark of a lazy chef. I suppose he thinks that if you put a decent sauce on it, you can serve any old scraggy bit of chicken."
"You know, young lady, maybe for once you are right" says Captain Baring, "It's a bit almondy. In fact ..." he gasps, then collapses.
"Quick," says Mistress Weather, "he's been poisoned. I can cure poison. Take this."
Before anyone else can react, she's pouring the contents of a bottle down Captain Baring's throat, but he has already gone blue, and it is obvious that he is dead.

"Murder" screams Rosalind, "And in my Inn".

Rin threw his set of chain mail over his tunic before heading out. He did a similar walk around the Palisade early the previous morning. It made for a simple enough route, though if it were left to the adventurous dwarves they'd probably march through half the forest. Rin held his hammer in his right hand, not wanting to risk the sound unsheathing might make. Then again, a large part of the ruddy dwarf figured this patrol would be as uneventful as the morning's.

His dwarven eyes scanned carefully, as did his ears and even his nose. Rin's body felt electric and hyper aware. The sound of a nocturnal songbird sending a 'whiporwhil' type hooting call spooked Rin just enough to make him lift his hammer and take an attack stance.

Luckily he relaxed before raising alarm. Just as they started to make their way from the Palisade circle to the roads, they noticed the shape in the distance. Rin raised his fist, stopping the group until they huddled close. "Right. Stay low lads. "

The scream at the inn inturrupted the dwarven planning. Their heads turned. "There are guards back at the inn", Rin whispered. "We need to identify that thing", he grumbled lowly while pointing at the blurry heat form.

He dug into a satchel on his belt. "Lemme check me viewin' glass... See if I cannae sneak a betta' peek." Chubby dwarven fingers pulled a simple set of magnifying binoculars that may or may not work well enough with his nocturnal eyesight.

Brenna nodded and started down the stairs, unsure if her original suspicions about the source of Martha’s distress had been correct or not. But at least that explained why Fitzroy would visit a run-down place like this.

In truth, she was hardly paying attention to the crowd gathered at the table until Helena’s grating complaints reached her just as she got to the bottom. Maybe right after dinner she’d retire back to the room and hope they could hurry out in the morning before Helena was ready to go so she didn’t have to listen to her all day tomorrow too.

But her head snapped up at the sudden scene, eyes widening in surprise, but then immediately looking at the faces of those gathered, trying to determine if any of them didn’t look as surprised as they should.

No matter what, it seemed she'd be eating the bit of trail rations in her bag for dinner.

"Ey, relax will ye? We're dwarven fighters over 'ere, not halflings or somethin'." Pint chuckled as the Captain worried about them, and told them to stick close to the fort. As far as he knew he was just going to stretch his legs a little and hang out with the lads, if any orc where to show up it'd only prove to be a bit of entertainment.

Nevertheless, never let it be said that Pint was going to let his guard down. He kept his Urgrosh out and resting on his shoulder as they patrolled around the fort, just in case they ran into any trouble.

And when it rains it pours as they say. When the three dwarves ran into something, Pint's eyebrows furrowed and he held his Urgrosh on both hands-- but almost immediately there was a scream coming from within the fort.

"Dalin, go back in the fort and see wot's going on. I'll feel safer knowing there's at least one dwarf in there." Said Pint to Dalin, Rin was right in that they needed to identify whatever it was they ran into, but to Pint it was also imperative that Dalin staid safe as he needed to bring him back south to the dwarven mine.

In the meantime, Pint fully intended to stay with Rin until they figured out what was out there lurking in the darkness. His hands gripped the handle off his Urgrosh ready to fight as always.

Rin focuses his dwarven manufactured binoculars of marvellous contrivance on the warm shape. It's approximately human-size, and lying in a prone position facing the gate.

"It could be Mistress Weather such as what is in danger" says Dalin, "it's my job to protect her. You two stay out here and investigate that thing out there."
He rings the bell. There's a delay, and a guard comes to the gate to open it. Something small and warm slip out as he enters, you look at it, and it's Mistress Weather's cat.

"There's been a murder" says the guard "Captain Baring. He's been poisoned."
He shines his lantern on the scene, and the dwarves curse as their night vision is destroyed by the combination of light and intense heat from the flame.

Meanwhile Brenna is trying to work out who is responsible by checking their immediate reaction. But it is almost an impossible task. There are about a dozen people round the table, then she herself is surprised. However it must be said that Mistress Weather reacted very quickly and very coolly.

"I am now the commanding officer here" says Lieutenant Peter, rising to his feet, "and rest assured we will find out the person responsible for this. No-one is to leave the inn until we have found the culprit, and reinforcements have come from Fort Middlesburg."

The bell rings.
"The dwarves" he says, "could they be responsible? They were the last to have a significant conversation with him."
"But why not kill him outside there and then?" says Caitlin, "and pretend it was an attack by orcs? Who could have detected such a crime? Surely it cannot be the dwarves ...."
"Austin", says Peter to a guard, "go open the gate".
"Yes, sir" says Austin, and gives him a salute.

Rin's dwarven viewing glass was not such a surprising item to posses. It had been mentioned that he was a soldier who's worked a long shift throughout the day. The satchel on his belt has also been mentioned as the spot where he drew his coins from. The small brown bag attaches to his heavy rope belt via two tight loops. The monocular viewing glass is the least of all items a stout guard might require.

The satchel carried more than coins and a glass. There were eating utensils and a trusty knife used for skinning. The latter item rested within a small sheath attached to the bag. Rin also carried flint and sometimes carried a bit of tinder. No smart dwarf should travel with something like '1 weapon and the clothing on their back'. Survival is everything in this era. Rin carries as many items as he can to make life easier.

There were also a few dried herbs and a flask of a colorful potion (besides the flask of liquor). Wrapping used to make a bandage tallies out the bags contents. The point is that Rin IS surely prepared. There is little contrivance in that.

Rin was proud of the way each dwarf took control of the situation. "Right, safe travels back Dalin." He knew Captain Baring told them not to split up. If both dwarves felt so impelled for the Firin to return, so be it. "But we ain't splitting up on our approach to that shape", Rin told Pint as he tucked his viewing glass back into its pouch. His hand returned with the flask of dwarvish hard liquor.

A quick nip from the silver flask and he was tucking it away. "Let's work down the terrain", Rin said as he studied the shadows. Soldiers knew not to silhouette themselves and use natural features to stay out of sight. "Stay low. Me 'hinks it be facing the gate. Whatever it be." He pointed out a path where they could crouch in the tall grass, move through a dip in the hill and try working around without being noticed. "Some kinda person, I'm sure." In these times, being in such a spot after dark was more than suspicious.

Of course the proposed route wasn't without risks of its own. The still air could give away their footfalls if they weren't extremely careful. The route also might be upwind, based on the gentle wind. "Ye thoughts, lad?" Rin was ready to hear Pint's advice and tactical opinion as well. After Pint's final say, he'd be prepared to move out with the other dwarf. Once again, he secured his hammer in his grip.

Their voices were low, almost whispering in avoidance of being heard over the distance.

((Thanks for waiting on me! I've really stretched myself too thin on RPs so might only be able to do 1 reply every few days until some of them slow down!))

Brenna's own list of suspects was long... but Lieutenant Peter sure went to the top of her list the moment he suggested it might be the dwarves.

She'd been thinking of slipping quietly into the kitchen for a quick look, but could not let that idea go unchallenged. Though at least Caitlin seemed to think it was ridiculous as well.

"If it was an axe to the gut," she said, "then maybe anyone would believe it was the dwarves. Poisoning isn't their way!"

Like Rin, Pint also liked to carry around several items on his person that might help on a particular occasion. Besides his trusty Urgrosh, he also carried with him several throwing knives, a hatchet, and even a short compound bow with a quiver of arrows. A weapon for every blighter out there, as he put it.

When asked for his opinion on the matter, Pint pursed his lips and handed his Urgrosh to Rin. "Here, hold me Snickersnack for a mite." It was fortunate that Rin was a fellow dwarf, otherwise he would not trust anyone else with his weapon of choice. And one could tell that Pint was very fond of his weapon since he had a name for it.

With his hands now freed and hidden in the tall grass, Pint pulled out his bow and notched an arrow, aiming for the figure in the darkness.

"I got the blighter in me sights. Let's call 'im out, and if he does any funny movements I'll put an arrow through his head."

As much as Pint wanted to satisfy his bloodlust and drop the interloper with a sneaky shot to the face-- this was an inn, and it -could- just be a traveler.

Rin had indeed noticed the shortbow slung over Pint's back, along with the tankard strapped to the front of his kit. Now there was an idea! Rin took the axe in his left hand. With heavy handed dexterity an elf could barely match, the Kegsasunder tossed each weapon from hand to hand... One, two. Until both weapons landed in either hand.

He twisted the axe and hammer, rotating his shoulder blades and returning to a low fighting position. "Right lad." Rin simply called his hammer 'the kneecapper'. He often carried two hammers and was more comfortable with the Urgosh in his right. "Looks like ye took proper care a this weapon, me 'hinks", Rin told Pint just before the other dwarf warned the interloper.

((I did forget that Pint had that bow in his profile pic. I didn't mean to skip the GM's turn. Just figured I could add to Pint's post to round out the scene for the GM's next response.))

((GM's note: binoculars were invented in the 19th century. However you could maybe have them as exceptional items of dwarven manufacture. The dwarven manufacture is the contrivance, not Rin having them in his backpack)).

The two dwarves bob down, and for a moment discuss what to do, in hushed tones in case the figure in the woods can overhear. Pint's plan is accepted.

Pint shouts a demand for him to come out, in Common. The figure pulls himself up to full height, and Pint trains the bow on him. Then he turns and runs back into the forest. You hear twigs cracking and branches brushing as he runs.

((Pint roll for attack and damage. Target loses dexterity bonus because you are shooting him from behind. So you will need a 12 or higher to hit))

Meanwhile. in the Inn, Dalin returns with the guard.

"Well, dwarf" says Lieutenant Peter, "there's been a murder. Captain Baring has been poisoned. Where are the other dwarves? Have they escaped?"
"I very much doubt what you are saying" says Dalin, "the other two dwarves struck me as nice, straightforwards dwarves. Not your murdering type. Someone was looking at us from the woods. Then we heard the scream from the Inn. So it was agreed that I'd go inside whilst they investigated the strange character in the woods. I know Captain Baring told us not to split up ..."
"Why did he say that?" asks Lieutenant Peter, "Did he know there were outsiders about?"
"I don't rightly think so" says Dalin, "It was just a precaution. He didn't seem to think there were any orcs in the area. Quite proud of sweeping them from the road, in fact. But there was something on his mind, I think he was worried about something."
"Normally he wouldn't like guests taking it upon themselves to protect the Inn", says Lieutenant Peter, "but he seemed to want everybody down, no-one upstairs on the watch tower. That was his last order, an unusual order - not that I thought anything of it at the time."

Brenna gives her view that poisoning isn't the dwarf way.
"Then who's way is it?" says Lieutenant Peter, "we need to investigate. I note that you, Dalin, are the companion of Mistress Weather. If the other dwarves don't return, then I shall know ..."
"Surely the other dwarves won't run way" says Caitlin, "Which will prove they are not guilty. I don't for one moment believe it was the dwarves."