Fantasy Forensics

Raking through the burnt-out, but still hot, debris with his steel-capped toe, Captain Wimsey tries to piece together all the evidence he’d uncovered of the night before. Six, or possibly more, agents of a Witches coven had prepared a murderous arson attack against Lord Urdurel’s group of adventurers, while they slept inside.

Probably disguised as stable-hands or by stealthily climbing in through the upper hayloft window, one or more of the Assassins had entered the barn in the early evening, while only the wagoneer; Cookie and one or two of the triplet soldiers were present. They had then, somehow unnoticed, managed to drain the open-topped barrel of water and stealthily pull up the hinged loft ladder.

While that had been happening, a note found in the pocket of the dead ostler, indicated that he’d been lured out of the barn and back to his nearby cottage, under false pretences. Once there, he’d been murdered by the Assassins and his paddock padlock keys stolen.

Then the Assassins had simply waited until the middle of the night, once they were sure the majority of their targets were asleep, before actioning their plan.

Two of Captain Wimsey’s men had been killed while patrolling the surrounding area during the night shift but, judging by the location of their wounds, neither man had even seen their attackers coming. They were both stealthily stabbed from behind, before they could even shout a warning to each other, or to alert the adventurers inside.

After that, two of the Assassins rescaled the back of the barn and climbed in through the open upper level hayloft door, with flaming torches clenched between their teeth. Simultaneously, two more of them were silently chaining up the two doors from the outside and soaking them, and the outer walls in oil, before setting them alight.

The remaining two Assassins had stationed themselves behind the cover of the outer water-trough, with crossbows and poisoned bolts ready to catch anyone managing to break out of either the small or large front doors.

Next, the sleeping adventurers awoke. Probably alerted by one of them staying awake on watch duty and/or the smell of burning oil and smoke. Two of them had previously noticed the stored-away ladder and manhandled it back into position to sleep upstairs in the hayloft, while the others slept below on their bedrolls, around their large wagon.

Then things become even more bizarre. A large section of the lower wooden wall, inexplicably failed to burn down completely and, weirdly, both the two front doors as well, despite the oily residue still present. They still stand; two pointless doorways to the burnt down barn. Distant witnesses also reported seeing flashes of lightning, despite there being nary a cloud in the night sky. Sorcery? The garrison clerk did report that there were two divine spell-casters in the group. Whatever did occur though, it went very badly for the six Assassins. All dead, either sliced open by bladed weapon or fried black by that very lightning.

Walking out through the back of the blackened and skeletal remains of the big barn, Captain Wimsey turns a slow circle. Three men fell here but only one survived the twenty-foot drop. By the look of the two remaining, twisted corpses, they’d been killed before they fell.

Considering how fast the fire had spread, he’s surprised the adventurers managed to escape the flames and amazed that they’d all delayed long enough to free the horses too.

Apparently, the adventurers also refused the rewards offered by the owners of the other stabled horses they’d rescued and instead donated that, and the gold they’d found on the dead Assassins to help rebuild the barn. Only fifty gold pieces; not enough to pay for a new barn but still generous. A hard to believe gesture, considering the reputation that had proceeded them.