I do not want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here. Why am I here. Why am I here. Couldn’t I just wait outside. Please. Please. Please. Please. I want to be out of here.
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I’m just going to- not speak. And not get spoken to. And hope…
I look at the entire rest of my caravan group in silent hopes that they begin to lead a conversation.
Wanderer performs the appropriate social ritual by following Nyna’s lead, including sitting when Halina states to be seated.
When introduced by Nyna, he gives a nod.
Wanderer attempts to get a read on the temperament of the people at the table.
I silently tap the rim of the chair I’m sat on in anxious fervor.
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roll sense motive for me?
9
(22 actually can’t count)
and 20 against the elf, right?
(is an elf a humanoid)
oh, I misremembered how it worked (I thought for some reason it was +2 vs. humanoids/+4 vs. human humanoids). Elves are humanoids.
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(most PC species are humanoids (+ some species no DM would let their players actually play), the big exceptions are tieflings and aasimar, which are outsiders)
Nyna is tense, and trying not to show it (mostly successfully, but not nearly so well that you can’t pick up on it). She’s already rather on edge from the grief at losing her husband — for some reason, you get the impression that it’s not entirely unmixed, but even so it’s not as if she wanted him to be murdered. But beyond the grief itself, she’s also nervous that you guys are going to do something inappropriate and embarrass her.
The baron is fairly openly assessing you to see if you’re worth taking on as clients in the sense of a patron-client relationship. You get the sense that Martyn Kaver’s death has put him in a bit of a rough spot, and he might be willing to forgive minor lapses of etiquette that would normally be disqualifying if he thinks you’ll be up to the task. He also seems a bit worried about something, but you don’t think it’s related to your presence.
Your impression is that the baron’s daughter just cares about being a good hostess, with no particular ulterior motives. She’s giving everyone a warm smile, and she’s even thoughtfully attempted to ensure that Bugibugi wouldn’t feel excluded by giving him someone to talk to!
The elven woman sitting across from Bugibugi is kind of confused about what she’s even doing here (it’s not like her boss normally invites her to eat at the table, even when there are guests over), but she’s not about to complain about getting a crack at the food while it’s still warm. Even so, her reflexes from her job are still active; she’s trying to assess everyone in your party, plus Nyna, for their combat ability, just in case you inexplicably decide to start a fight.
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Why did everyone go silent. Everyone. It’s been so long.
(It’s been maybe eight seconds.)
I need a topic. I don’t want to embarrass my family. I. Don’t want people to hate me. And…
I turn to Nyna, and squeak out a question in almost a whisper. “Are you… holding up… okay. After. Uhm.”
I can’t… pause. “…After what happened.” I finally eek out.
It’s… been on my mind. At least. So. And. I hope it’s… wait am I not supposed to talk about murder at the dinner table oh no did I do something wrong I-
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“We will be reunited in Axis,” says Nyna, in the tone of someone saying something by rote that they don’t entirely believe.
(Even those of you with relatively little religious education almost certainly recognize the name “Axis”, unless you specifically prefer not to — it’s the Lawful Neutral afterlife.)
“I am grateful for your work bringing his killer to justice,” she adds, more to the baron than to you.
“We are all lucky that such talented individuals were present,” says Halina pleasantly. “Where did you learn such skills?”
This latter question is directed more generally at the group, though it isn’t necessarily the sort of question everyone would need to answer.
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I look around to the rest of the people, now with begging eyes.
…
I’m not getting any help.
I need to think of an excuse.
I squeeze the side of my chair.
“I… just… got lucky.” I undersell myself. I’m not trying to seem humble, I just want this to end.
“They…” Being the killer. “Made countless mistakes. Because of. How rushed it was. They messed up their dress. And a bit of fabric fell.” I go for gender neutral terms to try and avoid the fact this is a real breathing person, whom is being held very close to us. I could be referring to anyone. “…I knew how to trace the fabric, and they were the only one who fit the description.”
I try not to mention the chase, for countless reasons.
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Halina nods sympathetically. As if sensing your extremely obvious discomfort, she attempts to change the subject. “Have you lived in Granite Hill your whole life?”
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