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“Aye, there’s bin a few people who’ve come in askin’ about that poster. Funny lookin’ sorts mind. Come back this evenin’ 8 o’clock with the others and I’ll tell yer all about it. Save me repeatin’ myself”. Such was the response that each of you received when you enquired with Bertrand Kitchener, the landlord of Marketstone’s Wheatsheaf Inn, about the reward for the return of Alma Grenewell.

Now, as 8 o’clock approaches on a warm autumn evening, you make your way to The Wheatsheaf. Coming through the door, you see that there aren’t many locals in tonight - the demands of harvest time have seen to that. Most of the patrons seem to be people like yourself - fortune seekers lured by the temptation of gold and adventure. And a motley collection you make: an elf that looks like he’s been dragged in from the forest; a halfling who is clearly no stranger to the inside of a tavern; a human who, frankly, looks like he would be more at home toiling in the fields than sporting the chain mail armour that he wears tonight; a black-clad dwarf with an unusually short beard; a second halfling with an oversized key on a chain around his neck; and lastly a human, whose robes mark him out as a user of magic.

As you scan the saloon, Kitchener is nowhere to be seen, but you observe the pot-boy doing a quick headcount, apparently satisfying himself that everyone has arrived, and then shouting “They’re here Mr. Kitchener.”

“Send ‘em up Will” comes a gruff voice from upstairs.

Will looks at you and then nods in the direction of the stairs leading up to the Inn’s upper floor.


8 pm, 24th day of Harvestide

The chainmail-clad human nods (somewhat curtly) to acknowledge the others before approaching the pot-boy and depositing his backpack and shield at the boy's feet.

"Stash this somewhere safe, boy. If everything's still there when I come back down then there's a couple of coppers in it for you. If anything's missing, you'll get a hiding instead."

After ruffling the boys hair, the human offers the other applicants a quick glance and then heads up the stairs, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his longsword.

"Nivek will be expecting a share of that reward as well," exclaims the darkly clad Dwarf. "For Good Deeds should be rewarded handsomely!"

Nivek looks about the others in the tavern as if daring them to join him, "Are you not interested as well, in finding this missing person?, or is gold not enough to spark your interest?" He turns and marches upstairs to join the warrior human.

Paladin wonders who all these people are in his tavern. "It was only a short nap," he mumbles as he peers owlishly into the clay jug next to him. After a careful sniff, he smiles, "Bertie refilled my jug for me! What a kind man! I should go thank him!" Paladin carefully rises to his feet, grabbing his pack and his jug of beety, beery happiness, and staggers up the stairs towards Bertie's voice.

The cloaked elf stands looking over the others with an almost predatory stare he turns and heads up the stairs. He knew little of humans, beyond his mothers warnings. He was not sure what drew him into this town, but the promise of gold was enough to keep him here, for now anyway.

He shoulders past the human and dwarf looking to find an out of the way place to listen to what was to be said. No one here was overly friendly, but there was no worries about that. He pulled his hood back for the first time since entering town as he sat on the floor in the corner. He was after all not here to make friends.

Kitchener’s office turns out to be the first room on the left at the top of the stairs. Inside, the man himself sits behind a desk facing the door. He does not get up as you file in.

You would estimate that Kitchener is in his forties. Thin and wiry, with a pock-marked face and greasy slicked-back hair, he exudes an air of quiet self confidence with more than a hint of cunning. He leans back casually in his chair and seems to be appraising each of you with his dark eyes.

Once you’re all inside the room, Will, who has followed you up the stairs, closes the door and leaves. You hear him descend to the common room below to resume his duties.

There are no other chairs in the office, so you have little choice but to stand across the desk from Kitchener. Without a word, he opens a drawer in his desk and produces a bottle of clear liquid together with an assortment of grimy looking glasses. He pours six measures, one for each of you, before taking a swig from the bottle directly and returning it to the drawer. Suitably refreshed, he takes charge of the meeting.

“Gents … we have a little problem here in Marketstone and I’m hopin’ yer can help. I figured six blades would be better than one, so I hope yer don’t mind me bringin’ yer all together.”

He continues without a pause, preventing you from interjecting one way or the other.

“Yesterday mornin’ word arrived from Northridge Farm, which is about a day’s ride north of here, that Alma Grenewell has gone missin’. Alan Grenewell, husband of the disappeared, claims that she was snatched by goblin wolf-riders. He’s put up a personal reward of 250 gold pieces for her safe return and, in accordance with the district’s laws, this sum has been matched by the mayor and the council.”

“Ordinarily, this would be a matter for the local militia. However, as the militia consists mainly of part-timers, and with virtually everyone in the village busy with the harvest, Mr. Rouse, the mayor, has asked if I could find some hired help.”

“Now, Farmer Grenewell’s claim that his misses has been snatched by goblins sounds a little far-fetched to me. There’s no-one livin’ in Marketstone today that’s ever seen a goblin. Sure, there are the stories from the old days, but fact and fiction get blurred over time right? If yer interested in this little job, my suggestion would be to go and speak with Grenewell up at Northridge and suss him out. See whether he seems genuine, or whether there’s summat else goin’ on. Maybe he’s trying to cover summat up - perhaps he’s done her in, or she’s run off of her own accord. Or perhaps it’s the doin’ of bandits, which seems more likely to me than goblins.”

“Anyway, yer on yer own now. Find out what happened to Alma, bring her back, and the money’s yours. Simple eh? Now, any questions, before I get back to the business of running an inn?”


8 pm, 24th day of Harvestide

Tannen is the first to speak:

"Mr Kitchener, I am Tannen. I would be pleased to investigate this matter further on behalf of the council."

{Tannen will attempt to asks the following questions as appropriate}
"Can you tell us about Alan Grenewell and his wife? Are there any rumours about them? What are the finances like? Is there any chance that Alma has simply run away? What is their family's reputation like? Has there been any word or sightings of Alma since the disappearance? Has there been a demand for ransom?"

"As would I" speaks the Dwarf, Nivek. "Let us first get a measure of this farmer's character and look about the location for signs of these supposed goblins."

After a pause for others to respond with ideas...

Turning to the group, "As it seems we will be working together, Let me introduce myself. I am Nivek Tooms, a humble servant of the Forge Lord." Nivek produces a hammer from his belt, mutters a few words in Dwarvish and taps the hammer against his shield. (a simple prayer for wisdom and protection - non-magical) Puts his hammer back into his work-belt.

Assuming the group is ready to go - Nivek proceeds with the group to the farm in question.

Scathius stands quietly and listens to what is said. When the talking is done he sets the drink untouched on the desk and walks down the stairs to wait for the others.

Paladin carefully reaches forward and picks up one of the glasses. He smells the sweet aroma of alcohol coming off of it and smiles. "Aye those are good questions, those questions that that guy asked. Is Alan exceptionally ugly? I mean uglier than most humans are? And this Alma, is she known to have loose morals? I mean looser than most humans'?" he asks. Paladin toasts Bertie with a silent nod as he drinks the contents of his glass and chases it down with a slug from his beer jug. "I'm just saying, you humans will sleep with anything. All those half elves and half orcs; no one mentions what their other half is. And humans were smote with the ugly stick more than once when you were created. I would totally understand a randy human woman running off with a goblin.

Paladin prattles on over Bertie's icy glare. "And when you say bring this Alma back, do you mean undamaged? Should we kidnap her from her new goblin lover? Because while I am fond of chasing women, I'd be mighty put out if a bunch of humans came busting into my room when I had just found a girl that wad really into me, you know, just because she was married or some such," continues Paladin.

Noting that his companions aren't availing themselves of Bertie's hospitality, Paladin takes another of the glasses and starts to drink it while waiting for answers.