Le map: https://app.roll20.net/join/1095364/KeCGUw

In the Trade District of Stormwind, greatest city of the Eastern Kingdoms, there is an inn where many travelers congregate to put up their feet on a warm hearth and tell stories of the olden days. The ale is goodly priced and goodly brewed, and there is ever a game of Hearthstone going on in the corner for those who hold themselves skilled in the art to show off their stuff.

About a block away from this fine establishment is a run-down, uninhabited building, its windows boarded up and its fireplace cold for many months. It is in this impromptu meeting place that a Draenei, a Gnome, a Goblin, and two humans meet with a certain Hubert Thornton, a lieutenant in the Stormwind city guard and man-at-arms at the keep.

"-he was a baker, did a lot of deliveries to the keep and the priests at the cathedral. Name of Johnathan Trout. Tripped over a basket and hit his head on the stove. Arm was burned up pretty bad as well, but we reckon that happened after death." Thornton leans back in the dusty chair. "So... you all responded to the add for investigation. I don't know any of you, other than private John here. I'll need to take down your names and other certain particulars," he motions to the footman next to him, who pulls out a charcoal stick and several sheets of parchment. The footman pauses, looks at Thornton, and shrugs sheepishly. Thornton looks at the man uncomprehendingly for a moment, then the soldier shakes his head and holds up the charcoal. Thornton sighs and takes the parchment and charcoal himself. "Anyway, private John will keep an eye on you lot, make sure you get the job done the right way. The only reason we're hiring freelancers is the guard is busy enough as it is dealing with Gnolls and Orcs from the east and south. If I had my way," and he glares at the sly-looking Goblin, the alien Draenei, the Gnome, and the knight, "I'd leave this to professionals. But as it is, I suppose..." and here he seems to swallow something hard, "we need you to investigate. Anyway, you all know the pay, and I trust you'll all be satisfied - it's not every day you walk away thirty gold coins heavier. Now then," he points at the Gnome, asking him each question after the answer to the previous. "Name? Occupation? Homeland? Have you ever plotted to overthrow the government? Would you like to ask about our dental plan - thirty day free trial? Will you be voting for Donaldius Trumpador in the coming Gilnean elections and do you mind if we use your response in poll data?"

Was this...normal for the people here? Humans, it seems, are quite fond of rules, and of polls. Finnora glances at her present companions. The knife-wielding goblin, the strange gnome, and the human guard (At least, she'd been told that's what they all were). What an odd sort of crew. I pull away from the main group for half an hour, stop to read a signpost, listen to what the Naaru are telling me, and this is where I end up? By the Light which preserves me, there had better be a point to all this. [i]She shifts in her seat, then realizes she's being spoken to. The questions are easy enough to answer, at least. "Finnora. Servant of Light. Draenor. No. No. No idea. No."

Steve's gaze slides across the incompetent who no doubt represents the guards recruiting standards and comes to rest on the haggard, exhausted features of Thornton. With a glint in his eye he slips across the room and gestures for the parchment and charcoal, eager to be of assistance. Quietly jotting down his companions answers he smiles to himself. More hands make for lighter work, and by the time anyone notices that his own answers went unrecorded, well, mistakes happen! Who can say at that point whether they were lost, or never existed?

With a passive face, Kod eyes the contents of the room casually while giving his own responses to the questions asked of them.

"Kod. I am a paladin of the Silverhand, and I am a native to Stormwind." Kod takes time to look at the others that answered while continuing to answer the rest of the questions. "No, I've never plotted to overthrow the government. I'm also not interested with the politics outside of Stormwind since there are issues closer to home that need attention. Issues like the one we have gathered here for."

Thornton blinks at the strange name of Draenor, eyeing this blue-skinned outlander curiously. He shrugs at the Gnome's mention of Thermaplugg and nods at his mention of Gilnean isolation. "Donaldius was one of those who suggested the wall. Said something about immigrants or the like." He raises his eyebrows as the Goblin takes his parchment, but nods his thanks. He raises his eyebrows. "Silver Hand, eh? Well at least I know there's some respectability in this group." He takes the finished parchment, thanking the kind Goblin, and hands it to the guard for inspection. The guard tucks it into a pouch, nodding in a knowing manner after eyeing it while holding it upside down. "So. You'll begin now. I'd start at the bakery," adds Thornton. He gets to his feet and glares at the guard until the man jumps up and opens the door, saluting the lieutenant as he walks out. The guard slams the door shut and through the dirty windows, you see them walk off.

You all notice an address to the bakery left on the table - Teatree Lane. This is where the horrid murder was committed, you recollect from your briefing.

Kod takes a look at the address. Saying as much to himself as to the rest gathered there he says, "Best get started with this investigation. I'm going to make my way over to the bakery now." He glances over at Finnora, I find it strange that you'd accept work in an unfamiliar place. Feel free to accompany me if you like."

Kod turns away from the table and makes for the door. As he sets his hand on the handle, he turns back to look between the goblin and the gnome. "Had to be a gnome," he says outloud, but he gives a hard stare at the goblin. It was going to be bad enough for him to work with a gnome, but at least he could put up with it. Goblins, he considered, were entirely different and worth keeping an eye on just in case. He turns to the door and opens it.

Rolling his eyes as the paladin made his way out, Steve shrugged at the gnome, Paladins eh? Not much to do about them. Trotting along after his companion he began to ponder if any baking was done before the place had fallen afoul of poor luck or worse...scribing had proven to be hungry work.

"Oh, did someone get a Gyrocharged Alarm Scroll in the mail this morning? I feel for your embarrassment, but anyone could have ordered that you know. Be glad it wasn't goblin technology, you could have exploded then and there." Rather than escalating the rather odd racist remark, Wedrix elected to brush it off with banter.
"Finnora... was it?" He savors the feeling of saying the name, contemplating the pronunciation. "If you want to spot a dwarf, look for the beard, bigger build, and smell of beer. For goblins... well, try their grimy skin colors, laughably large nose and ears, or the smell of sulfur and incompetence. Welcome to Azeroth, I suppose." He gives an egging smirk at Steve, as an obligatory act of courtesy between their cultures. "Oh, I almost forgot. I don't believe I caught your name, dear denizen of Kezan."

"And a gnome?" Finnora asks, curious, falling into place beside the chattier of the two small ones.

"Well, naturally, we are smart, charismatic, friendly, hard-working, innovative... Sincerely though, we are a bit like human kids, but with larger facial features and a tendency for bright and exaggerated facial hair. We also possess a mere four fingers" he says while waving.

Finnora nods her understanding, to appease him and prevent any awkward questions, but she still can't really see the difference. At least at close range she can see that the gnome (?) shines brightly beneath his shadowy cloak. "Pardon me a moment." Finnora moves up front, to speak to the paladin. His appearance, so full of light as to outshine the sun, isn't nearly as headache-inducing as the gnome's.

When you reach the bakery, you find a Stormwind city guard at the door. He hands you a key and leaves, happy to be able to go home and have his dinner.

John is nervous about being around so many odd folk. He isn't actually sure what manner of creature the blue-skinned woman's supposed to be. Even the paladin makes him a little jumpy - it's not every day you get to meet a honest-to-Light paladin of the Silver Hand. "By your leave, milord," he says to Thornton with a half-hearted salute.

He shakes his head as he turns to the group, strapping on his standard-issue footman helmet. "Well, let's get a move on then. Light willing, we'll all be done with this business before dinner and free to go our separate ways. If you'd follow me..."

John leads the way to Teatree Street, suppressing a yawn. On the way, he glances at the city sights. Same s**t, different day... right?


EDIT: John takes the key, nodding at his fellow guard, and unlocks the door. He opens it, bracing himself for whatever lies within...

Kod takes one last look back into the room and notices Finnora moving closer to the door. He offers her a nod before taking off into the streets of Stormwind.


* * * * * * * * * * *

Kod looks at the guard's slowly retreating form down the street. Odd, he thought to himself, that the guard wouldn't offer any additional information. "Oh well, might as well see if anything was tampered with." He stands behind waiting for John to open the door.

The street seems normal, except the bakery's windows have been boarded up and a parchment is nailed to the door:

"KEEP OUT, by order of the Stormwind guard - Murder Scene"

Two old men and a fat woman rubberneck the building, though, and the woman huffs forward and grasps John's arm. "Officer," huff, "Officer, is it true that this is the work of the Horde?" She sounds delighted at the prospect.

"Well, I, er, no comment," John mutters, clearly flustered. "Nothing to see here, missus. This is a murder investigation. Move along now." He gives the woman a light push with his shield before turning back to the door.

Chuckling, Steve called back to his little companion They call me Steve around these parts adding under his breath, can't hold it against a gnome for what they dont know.

----

Hearing some bystander mention the horde, pulled Steve from the pleasant thoughts of impractical baked goods. Resisting the urge to reflexively spit, he began tensely scanning the street and these strangers. If the horde are playing on the minds of the humans, things were bad. The destruction alone that followed in their wake was bad for business....but once tempers were lit, humans seemed to have trouble noticing the finer distinctions between orc and goblin. Green is green, as far as the rabble is concerned.

Edging closer to Kod, Steve found reason to praise the unfailing paladin code. Worse comes to worse, this was at least one human between himself and a potential mob. Perhaps a member of the silver hand might comfort the rabble, Kod?