Ulorian said:
OOC:
First off, I'm not contesting your ruling. Selwark has heard Horsom's comments about the rats. No problem.
Having said that, here are my thoughts then I'll leave it there:
The Innuendo skill would apply if Horsom was using innuendo to disguise his conversation. He's not: he's using volume. If a person is trying to listen in on a whispered conversation, I would suggest a Listen check vs. a DC of 15? 20? Using the Innuendo skill to obfuscate the whispered conversation (thus increasing the DC of the Listen check, or forcing first a Listen check then an Innuendo check) is an interesting idea though.
OOG: Glad to hear you're not contesting my ruling. 
Obviously, the idea here is not to be a "stab of a needle," but obviously someone trying to be quiet does not always succeed, nor is the difficulty of hearing them a set value. It depends, at least in part, on the circumstances of the conversation, and on the perception of the individual involved. The party is not a tight group set aside from the miller. In order to be heard by his companions, but not heard by the miller, Horsom has to guage roughly what he thinks the miller will hear and understand.
A whispered conversation 15 feet away is not quite the same as whispering in the vicinity of someone whose fate you may well be deciding. The miller certainly has incentive to be paying attention!
Innuendo might not be the best skill to choose, but it seemed closest in terms of what the character is trying to do. Without any other skill to fall back on, this would be a Wisdom check, which, in Horsom's case, is the same thing. I might be willing to accept Bluff as an alternative, or at least something that allows a synergy bonus, because one can assume that Bluff includes the idea of avoiding attention (i.e., distraction).
In any event, it is obvious to Horsom that his intent failed as soon as the miller speaks. I explained my ruling only to prevent the assumption that the miller had maxed out ranks in Listen for some reason. 
It doesn't really affect what happens next. Obviously, though, if you disagree with my reasoning, then by all means make your counter-argument. I won't be offended. Since this is a circumstance that might come up in the future, it's better for all concerned to be on the same page!
Wolfheart said:
"the truth of the origins of the spirits will be revealed soon enough. Answer my fellows question, what did the spirits tell you about the manticore? What did the spirits tell you to do with the bodies of the children? How long have thespirits been talking to you? Loose your tongue, miller, you owe as much to the families of the sacrifices. They deserve to know the circumstances of their childrens death's." Dain's dander was beginning to rise, again, and it was all he could do to keep back from the miller and to keep up the facade of being the composed inquisitor.
"There is more than one voice in the mill," Salwerk Miller says, eyes downcast. "It is the cold, old voice of which I speak. It said that the Staff of Winter had been broken." He looked up. As he spoke, the words came faster. It was as if a floodgate had been released. "There are fey, strong Faerie Lords yet, in this world, who may manifest their will. The Old Bone Man had been tricked of his Staff, and it had been broken. The Dead could feel it break, the coldness in their bones. There had to be a sacrifice, there had to be blood, to restore the balance. To contain that which had been released!"
The villagers murmered. Some nodded. There had been reason for the sacrifices they had made. The horror of making such a sacrifice without need was too horrible to consider.
Then Amalric stepped forward.
"This world is rife with gods," he said. "But the Seven hold our fealty and allegiance. Not because of their power -- great though it may be -- but because, of all the gods, we know that the Seven love us. They protect us, and guide us. They shelter us when they are able. They are on our side." He looked at the crowd, meeting the eyes of individuals as he spoke. "Well we know there are other powers, some older and stronger than the Seven. So there is a chance that the miller is right, and had he not acted, the winter would never end."
The villagers murmered, reassured. But Amalric did not intend to reasure them.
"Even so," he continued. "Even if the world itself should wither and be lost for our refusal, there are powers we should never aid. Never do the bidding of. And you" -- he pointed at the miller -- "you
revelled in your secret knowledge."
Amalric looked at the miller, forced the man to meet his gaze.
"I asked these men to look upon you with pity, for the man you once were. Mellador would have us show mercy, even to once such as you. If I were to show you mercy now, it would be only the mercy of the swift death for which you begged. At last I see you clearly, Salwerk Miller. I see how far you have fallen. That ritual you performed, those children you sacrificed -- it was not enough to roast them, was it? It was your sin that called this beast to us." Amalric indicated the manticore with a sweep of his arm. Then he hissed at the miller, accusingly: "You partook of their flesh."
The crowd murmered angrily.
The miller grovelled. "You don't understand. Everything I've done...."
"Everything you have done, you say, you have done to protect your family. Was every name on the ballots your wrote? Or were your children never at risk?"
The miller looked away. The crowd grew uglier.
"Answer me!"
"No," the miller said. It was almost a whisper. "I had to protect them....."
"My Branda died," someone said. It was clear that, if it were not for the adventurers and the priests, the miller would have been lynched on the spot.
"You have given yourself to these heroes to be judged," Amalric said. "So be it. But you are still excommunicate, and accursed among men. If they find pity enough to let you live, go far from this place. We will tolerate you no longer."
As he turned to leave, Brother Hengist caught his arm, and leaning in, spoke softly and urgently.
"Forgive me," Amalric said to the lay brother. "I am no saint, and I am sick at heart."
He turned back and addressed the adventurers. "I leave the miller for you to judge," he said. "Kill him, or take him to Selby, or release him as you will. Or give him to his neighbors, and let them settle their debts."
The crowd murmered, a restive animal, eager to lay hands on the miller. Amalric addressed the miller, and the crowd. "Rats or ghosts, we can no longer allow this evil to reamin among us. On the morrow, we must tear the mill down, and scatter its stones. Whatever dwells within or beneath it must be expunged."
"No!" the miller cried. He threw himself upon the ground and wept.
Sparing him not even a backwards glance, Amalric entered the church. The crowd surged forward, calling for blood. "Give him to us! Give him to us!" The cry was taken up by young and old alike.
Brother Hengist stepped forward and spoke urgently to the closest adventurer, who happened to be Glom.
"No!" he cried. "Do not set justice aside so easily. Whatever evil this is, it is feeding upon the village. Act with justice or mercy, but not with blood lust, or you will tip us all over the edge!"
