The Fall of Plaguestone

”Wouldn’t it make more sense to ask questions now?” Cass asks, tilting their head in bewilderment. ”Stories are always more vividly told when the tale is fresh.”

"...Fair enough," Rolth says, looking a bit sheepish. "I'll admit to being in a bit over my head here, the worst I've ever had to deal with were some property disputes. Whatever you feel would be best, you have my full endorsement."

That determined, the group heads back in. Remaining inside is Delma, a couple of locals (the Bard and a badly bruised farmer), a bunch of still unconscious locals, Bort's second, and the twins (who look about as bad off as the farmer). The body is covered in a tablecloth that appears to have been pulled off one of the tables, and it seems everyone else that was conscious must've left while talking with Rolth.

”Excuse me, Ms. Delma?” Cass says while striding over, peppy. ”Constable Rolth asked us to help look into how poor Bort came to his end, and I wanted to ask about how the pudding is usually made.”

"Oh, uhm, Amora, our cook, usually makes it in the back," Delma replies, her eyes widening at the unexpected quesiton. She pauses to think for a moment, before responding. "Steamed turnips, some milk, sugar, and what she calls her 'signature spices'. I'm afraid I really couldn't tell you what those are, she gets her supply straight from... well, she got it straight from Bort before to be honest," She recites, one hand tapping as if she were following a mental checklist, or recipe as the case may be. "You're welcome to search the kitchen if you'd like though, or I can give you directions to her home and you can speak to her in the morning?"

”Let’s do both!” Cass answers brightly. They consider Delma’s information. ”So, the pudding goes from Amora’s cooking, to Phinick bringing it, and then it’s set in front of Bort to eat, then something goes wrong?” They tap along their fingers as they think through each step aloud, and hum at the last. ”Maybe during the bar fight...?”

Meanwhile Tara inspects Bort's pudding. At first glance it appears normal, but when Tara brings the bowl to her nose and sniffs she detects a hint of something acidic, not what you'd expect from a turnip pudding.

Delma gives a shrug. "I'm sorry I can't be more help. The kitchen's right this way, if you want to take a look around. Nothing should have been tampered with," She says, leading the way to a side door behind the bar, pulling out a key as she walks with which she deftly unlocks the door.

Behind the door is a room in the sort of organized chaos of a kitchen dealing with a dinner rush. Used pots, pans, and utensils cover every surface, and warmth and smoke still rise from the fires that appear to have just recently been put out. Of particular note is a large kettle sitting on the closest counter that appears to be half-full of the same turnip pudding that had proven so lethal to Bort, with a mortar and pestle and a few hastily-closed jars next to it.

Tara heads over to the kettle and inspects the pudding. Unlike Bort's, it only smells of turnips. "It seems like the poison was added after it was dished out. We were served by that goblin, yes?"

"Yes, Phinick frequently helps serve when we're busy," Delma says, giving the healer a hard look. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Because if there's anyone who would have no reason to harm anybody it would be Phinick. The poor thing's harmless."

"I'm not suggesting anything or accusing anyone," Tara replies. "But the pudding was poisoned somewhere between this kettle and the table, and Phinick was there at every step between. If someone bumped into him to deliver the poison or was messing with the bowl, he would be the person to ask."

Cass looks around a little more, but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary for a kitchen. "Tara, you stayed at the table during the fight, right?" they asks, turning and stroking their beard in thought. "Did you notice anyone approach the bowl after Phinick dropped off the pudding?"

"I didn't," Tara shakes her head. "But I was watching the fight and drinking, so I wasn't exactly at my most attentive."

Delma relaxes slightly that blame isn't being immediately placed on the goblin. "Well I'm afraid he's not here, I'm guessing he probably left with the rest of the staff while you were talking to old Rolth. You're welcome to speak to him when he comes in tomorrow though," She says, and pauses to think for a moment. "I'd offer you directions to his home, but I'm afraid I don't actually know where he stays when he's not here."

Finished with questioning Delma, the group turns their attention to the others from the caravan that are still in the tavern. At one end of the table the twins Olf and Ulf sit, busy poorly applying bandages to each other, covering a number of bruises and scrapes. More central to the table, not far from where Bort's body sits covered with a tablecloth, the half-orc second-in-command Tamli sits with her head in her hands, clearly distressed.

Cass clambers up on a stool next to Tamli, looking to her with sympathy. ”You doing okay?” they ask, more as an obvious gateway to letting her say that she’s not than as an actual question.

Tamli tilts her head, one eye boring into the gnome. "Absolutely not," She says, turning her full attention to them. "Bort wasn't just a boss, he was family. That old dwarf was like a brother to me, and now- now he's-" She cuts off momentarily, her eyes closing as her breathing grows shaky. After a moment in which she catches her breath she continues. "Now he's dead, and I just bet that fool of a constable is tryin' to blame one of us for it." She pauses for a moment, then turns a more thoughtful eye on Cass. "I saw him talking to you earlier, I don't suppose he asked you for help, did he? He's a fool, but that Rolth at least knows when he's in too deep, that seems the kind of thing he'd do."

Cass listens intently, nodding and making faces sympathetically at the appropriate moments. There wasn’t anything comparable in their own experiences to draw upon, so that was the best they had ready. At the question, Cass nods more vigorously. ”That’s exactly what ol’ Rolth was doing, actually,” they answer. ”I was distracted by the brawl going on, but did you notice anything strange at the table that might help us?”

Tamli looks towards the door. "Just a few people leaving in the middle of it... the goblin, that serving girl, the owner, and that guy in the armor who showed up about an hour ago," She says, before turning back to the gnome. "As long as you're investigating though, I have a request. When you find whoever did this, whoever was responsible for my friend's death... make sure Justice is delivered. Make them regret what they did to Bort."

Aralee approaches Ulf and Olf. "Hey, it looks like you were probably busy fighting, but I'm just gonna ask you anyway- did you notice anything that might help us find Bort's killer?"

"'Fraid we didn't see much of anything," One of the twins says, strapping a bandage over one particularly rough scrape. "Except that mug that hit you in the face, kinda hard to miss that," The other says, wincing. "Sorry we can't be more help, but we never were ones to pass up a good brawl. But the old dwarf was dang near a father to us, so iffin there's anythin' we can do to help, just let us know."

"That must be old Sir Lawren," One of the twins replies, looking to his brother. "Yeah, he always was one of the ones to run when things get dicey. Lastwall messed him up good."