[IC] Aqua Mortis (Session 1)

"I agree with Nekurr, lets head to the tinker's shop on the way though to find out what their side of this is as well."

Hildar nods "Seems as good a place to start as any. Certainly will relieve the monotony of being the Barons 'guests'"

Nekurr looks confused at Tronus, unsure he heard that right

As the shopkeeper declares once more that "those ruffians need to get what's coming to them," you walk down the row of cabins toward the tinker's tent at the opposite side. The miners' cabins seem well kept, with tidy common spaces and signs of laundry, cooking, and childrearing going on inside.

The tinker's tent is relatively simple; just a wooden table and bench with tools strewn across it. Various pans, washboards, picks, and shovels show that the miners have been making use of the proprietor's skills.

As you gaze into the tent, a bespectacled Catfolk pads up from a couple of houses away, apparently transfixed by the smoldering fire down the block. "Uh... Interesting times we live in, eh, friends? Do you have something in need of repair?"

Nekurr looks at the cat-folk purring a little greeting "Well, can you fix this mess between the miners and the refugees?"

Hildar nods in greeting to the tinker, casting a curious eye over the contents of their tent for anything interesting. As Nekur finishes Hildar chips in with a chuckle "Well, that might be a bit of a stretch for one person. As we understand it someone who tried to allegedly rob one of the shopkeepers was caught in your tent, or trying to get into your tent. Is that correct? We are just trying to get to the bottom of what caused these....interesting times as you say"

The Catfolk purrs back to Nekurr and then turns to address Hildar. "Well, let's see. I already told the constables what I know. But here goes: I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when I heard Old Lady Lone down the way crying out about a thief. I looked up from my work, and this Human girl barged in and threw a bunch of stuff into a pot I was working on. I understand now it was stuff she'd stolen from Old Lady Lone's place. The pot was pretty heavy, and she was a waify little thing, so it slowed her down enough for the guards to catch her." He pushes his spectacles up his feline nose. "Apparently, that riled up the miners, so they started shouting down some refugees coming out of the tunnel they're digging. One of the refugees took a swing at some Gnome trying to talk him down, and the kid took a swing. That set the whole thing off."

"So a wee lass grabbed some things from the old woman tried to grab a pot from you realized it was too big as guard caught up and grabbed here. Miners didn't like what happen and found some refugees to yell at that were in the area. Refugees too a swing at a miner and 'a kid' took a swing and a riot broke out leading to the fires? You know how the fires started and you got the pot still?" Tronus sums up.

"Correction," the Cat says. "The old Gnome who got swung at was another refugee. I think I saw him running off toward the refugee camp after the violence broke out. I didn't see who set the blazes, but I assume it was some of the refugees. Uh... And it's this pot right here. Nearly finished fixing it up."

The pot looks pretty nondescript, nothing more than a large pot a family might use to make stew.

"So the refugee's started fighting each other and the miners jumped in..." Tronus states wondering before checking out the pot.

"That's the long and short of it," he says. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work..."

Hildar nods "Of course. Thankyou for your time". As him and the others leave the tent he turns to them "Seems our next port of call is the refugees then, this gnome sound familiar to any of you?"

"Do you think he is the pipe leaf trader gnome, what’s his name?" Nekurr asks absentmindedly

"No idea, never meet a Gnome who didn't want to run from a fist to the face though."

Nekurr, seeing how good-spirit folks like those from Buzzard's Ford became these beaten, lifeless shells, starts to do what he does best. Well, second best. Preach the word of Fortuna, trying to brings some hope for better days to these people.

Nekurr's exhortations draw the attention of the bedraggled people, but their looks of annoyance are soon replaced by the shock of recognition. People start murmuring: "That's them!" "Nekurr, and Tronus. And Hildar, I reckon!" "Them's the ones whose friend turned into a tree..."

Finally a Half-Elf woman strides forward and stands mere inches from Nekurr's whiskers. Her spirit seems less broken than the others. "You preach of Fortuna. Ol' Erfie says the gods have forsaken us people of Buzzard's Ford. Begone. You've done enough damage already."

"Does she mean the Evil God posing as a God of Harvest and Bounty that demanded a sacrifice yearly or the Spider God that eats beast or anything humanoid and uses it's corpse for hatching eggs? I can figure why other Gods would forsake people that daft. We're here to find out about what happened about the riot and the district almost going up in a blaze... unless the good people of Buzzard's Ford would prefer things to play out as they are currently going... General consensus is not looking good by the way and oddly worse than your current predicament. We'll leave when we're done and we're sorry we saved who we could instead of letting them getting swallowed up by the swamp... Seems like our associate died in vain... But if you're keen to speak for everyone and would prefer I just sock you in the mouth right now and wait a week to see if your people start getting hanged it's an option I guess. Your choice I guess." Tronus says a little bit surprised before his words become more and more venomous. He takes off a glove and flexes his fingers just incase he's request to punch someone in the face by said person.

"What my good little friend here means..." Nekurr tries to keep the already unhappy Half-Elf woman in a not-so-bad mood "You freed yourselves from demonic influence and it will be difficult to return to the right path. But the Gods have not forsaken you. It is clear that Fortuna's ways brought us here just now." The cleric looks at Tronus with a far-too-happy smile "And he is very happy to help those in need when this problem is sorted."

A crowd of ex-villagers gathers to back Acorn Taldaris up. Her burly brother, Vern, looks particularly agitated. You remember he nearly bested Nera in a marksmanship test. Nekurr's exhortation deescalates the tension long enough for a voice to cut through:

"Now, now, that's enough, all of you!" You recognize the voice of the healer, Erfan Eswyse. "It may not feel like it, but Mr. Tronus here is right—we owe these men for breaking the Wayland spell over us." The diminutive elder limps forward. "Now, what say we treat them like the old friends they are, then?"

The words seem to dissipate the tensions fully. The more aggressive villagers back down and go back to their mundane tasks. Eswyse says, almost in a whisper, "Many here still blame you for... what happened to Buzzard's Ford. But you do have friends here. I think many recognize that what you did was warranted, even if things didn't turn out like a bardic sonnet. Now what brings you to our camp?"