Marleyna tries to dry her eyes on her sleeve, and nods, sniffling. She allows Dalton to lead her back to the Korzha house. Inside, Viorec Korzha immediately runs to Marleyna and sweeps her up in a hug; Brekka joins him, then looks up at the party with concerned eyes. "I'm sure y'all did what you had to do," she says. "We'll take care of Marleyna for now. Orni's been sent to his room; I don't want him to know about all this. Not right now. He wouldn't understand."
Viorec nods. "Let us know if there's anything you need us to do."
Nearby, Calwen waits, stroking Dio's head. It seems she understands the gist of what has happened at the Bartley residence.
Something forces Bartley's mouth open, and you see hundreds of mosquitoes ripping their way out of him- attacking him, crawling all over him... which should be impossible, being that he is only a spirit. All manner of vermin pour out of every orifice, and the spirit shudders and screams as the things consume him; the flying insects whirl about like a stormcloud, buzzing around you as if present in the material world as well. Within moments, nothing remains of Bartley's spirit; it has been consumed, somehow.
The buzzing of the moquitoes, however, remains, and on the floor, the slain Bartley's body seems to shudder for a moment; it is only then that you realize that it is crawling with insects. The basement floor is swarming with them. It seems the same fate that befell his spirit now threatens his physical remains as well; moreover, those same insects are now swarming into the basement.
"Warshawski. Turn around and please tell me I am not seeing things."
He backs slowly toward the stairs, hearing the voice in his head and the sweet sounds of its whisper. He recalls the wand from the crazed gnome and draws it as fast as he can, knowing full well that the flames can devour most mundane insects.
The last descriptor is what worries him.
He holds the wand in his hand, fortunate that his earlier greed is going to pay off. The magic stored within is simple for him and very familiar and he finds some warmth within it.
He holds it in preparation, though he is still unsure whether or not he is going mad.
Calwen did not expect this turn of events. The others must have found something far worse than they expected in the Bartley house and it was strange that he fought to the death over it. If that was what happened. What had Doriv wanted Bartley not to talk about? Something the others already knew? Or was there something else?
Back outside all the impressions had been flooding over her, like a storm composed of lies and deliberate ignorance become the louder the closer they got to the truth.
She was glad that Dalton had found the strength to comfort Marleyna when Calwen herself did not was good. So she cared about Dio. All of this must be even more confusing to him than it was to her. There had been a spark of rage inside her that she had been barely able to contain when the mayor spoke. He preached ignorance and apathy. The feeling that there was something off about him grew stronger and stronger. After she had unhooked the string of her bow she caught herself almost grasping for the sword on her back. She had to struggle to maintain her self control. The promise she had given the fey, the promise to avenge Armand was burning inside her.
This festival had some meaning or some purpose. It was probably part of the ritual to protect the village, but it might also be a means for the mayor to consolidate his power in a coming conflict.
She forced herself to focus on those who depended on her. She had done a poor job as she failed to keep Marleyna from the scene. She watched girl on the verge of being a woman in her sorrow. She would not leave her alone in that.
She raised. "I shall take care that you get what is yours and that what was your sister's and your mother's is honoured. There once was beauty which must not be forgotten."
Marleyna had mentioned dresses earlier, obviously they were important to her. Calwen put Dio gently on the floor and gave him a sign to come with her as she left to pick up some essential things from the house that was now Marleyna's, even though she better would never enter it again. She wanted to look for Windmane as well. She took a moment to put her hand on Marleyna's shoulder. "Know that I'll always there for, sister of the White Rose."
Dramin's apology reminded me of how young he was. Today would scar him but I think he'd come out better for it. Later, I'd take him aside. We'd have a chat and he'd know that I didn't hate him for what happened.
His plea asking me to turn around sounded urgent. I turned, wondering if the a~*!%+%'s soul had gained some power. Sometimes they do. But this was beyond anything I'd ever seen. I had ignored the shade's words as nothing more than a desperate attempt to keep some company. I was wrong.
This was a warning. Something powerful was telling us to back the hell off. Or else.
"BACAROV!" I shouted, hoping he was still upstairs. We had been playing interrogate the ghost for a while. "GET THE F!&$ DOWN HERE!"
When he heard the woman yell, he knew it wasn't just him. "Warshawski! This isn't anything of Zon-Kuthon's... Its her work, I can feel and hear her everywhere!" Dramin eyed the wand and the bugs that were beginning to swarm. "You spiritual types purge places with fire right?"
He activates the wand's magic in a quick muttering of arcane words and suddenly waves of fire burst forth toward the now forming bugs.
"Wait! Dramin!"
But it was too late. He was already spreading fire across the room.
"Damnation, Dramin! I wanted Bacarov and the mayor to see this first! So we can explain WHY we not only killed a citizen but burned down his house before the village's biggest celebration!"
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Bacarov nods in agreement to Marsh's statement. "Yes, milord. Allow us to handle the house of horrors here. I'd like time to finish up collecting any details I missed in my initial sweep." He clasps his hands he behind his back and inclines his head once. "Well done handling the crowd..." He cocks his head to the side. "...you'll have to teach me that trick someday."
I still don't trust you. But you're heading in the right direction. He doesn't say it to the departing Mayor Kreigler. But he's definitely thinking it.
He turns back to the house, standing shoulder to shoulder with Marsh. "The skinny, addled looking woman with fury in her eyes. Doriv, the one Kreigler said was sweet in Bartley, if I don't miss my guess. She seems to have a connection to the Lupescus. We'll probably need to move against them next. Rumor mongers...and the Lupescus are old money in this town..." Bacarov pauses, finally looking Marsh in the eyes. A look of concern crosses the Inspector's face. Memory of a cold, rainy night in Magnimar. "Vinnie...you okay...?
But the thoughts of welfare for his friend are cut off by Warshawski's scream. Bacarov turns on the run and heads back into the house. "Vinnie, you and Dalton and Calwen keep people out in case they get curious. I'll call for more back up if it's warranted."
When he clears the front door and is out of sight of the others, he pulls two things; his short sword and his wand of curing (clw). He sorts out the top floor then heads for the cellar where he sees Warshawski is half up the stairs...and bleeding.
》
He sees Dramin with the gnome's wand...
Then he sees...
"And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go get Leonard. I would go no further without him here..."
- - - -
Viorec comes forward, shaken by the events at his neighbor's house, but also full of a renewed sense of determination; clearly, the death of Bartley is something he wishes to move past as quickly as he can. "I think we're gonna take Orni down to the Festival Grounds here in just a bit," he says. "Marleyna, you want to come, or...? I mean, if you don't, feel free to stay here. I don't mind."
Marleyna looks up at Calwen and Dalton. "Um... I might do that... just so that I'm not standing around thinking about what happened... Might be good for me, y'know? If, uh, you decide you want to go in there to get my things... an' Brie's, an' my mama's, just let me know. I'd like to go with you if I can." She sighs. "Good thing I hadn't put on no make up yet. It'd be ruined after all this cryin'... I dunno if there's any point to tryin' to win Queen of the Festival tonight, after all this. I'd hate to waste this dress, but... I mean, how'm I supposed to go compete after... well, this?"
- - - -
He also knows that, given the moisture of the earth and wood around him, a quick spray of fire might solve his problem without setting the basement ablaze around him.
As soon as Bacarov comes down the stairs, and Warshawski's warning leaves her lips, a wave of fire bursts forth from the tip of the wand, bathing the insects in fire. Many of them are consumed immediately, but somehow, still more pour forth, crawling out of Bartley's mouth and nose and eyes and ears. The entire floor of the basement will be covered in them soon, and quite a few of them have begun to crawl over your boots and onto the stairwell. The sound of their tiny legs crawling across the floor grows louder and louder as they begin to surge out of Bartley with greater and greater numbers...
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"Judge of the gods!" Bacarov exclaims, sheathing his sword and instead going to his shoulder satchel. "Up the stairs immediately, both of you! Dramin, be ready to fire the house on my command!"
The Inspector's hand comes free, a jar of clear liquid bearing the Golden Key of Abadar etched into the thick glass. Without pausing he hurls the jar with all his strength at the ground where Bartley's body lay engulfed by insects.
"I am a priestess of his most holy order of justice, Sebastian. You will learn to carry these and trust them in the dark places of your work. Your father did, and so shall you." His mother's voice clear in his memory.
》 (Holy Water of Abadar)
He stomps his boots to rid them of the bugs and looks to see the result of his throw. Whether it works or not, I'm burning this son of a b+*~& to the ground. I'll get all the oil in Ravenmoor if I have to...
The sound of the glass vial shattering is followed immediately by a high-pitched hiss, which in the chaos of the Bartley basement sounds almost like a scream of agony. The insects scatter, many of them steaming and burning as the holy water washes over them. The swarm scatters somewhat, before quickly reforming and surging forth again... this time, with enough force and concerted effort that Bartley's body is tugged along with them. The flying breeds have begun to form into a cloud, whirling about as if preparing to strike.
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Bacarov tries to choke back his revulsion and reassess the situation on the fly. Okay, the water works, just not much of it left...and I'm pretty sure an Abadaran temple isn't nearby. By the Golden Key...what's happening?
Jeb she's himself and sets to motion. "Go, go, go!" He shouts at the others and (assuming the other two beat feet as requested) dashes up the stairs behind them and attempts to slam the trapdoor shut. From his satchel he pulls another jar of holy water and pour it over the surface of the door.
"Dramin, fire the house now! Leave me a path out and I'll hold the trap door here!" He balances on the door, working with the bolting to jam it closed. "Hopefully when they emerge, they'll get a face full of flames for their trouble!"
Dalton spent years, over a decade of his life, preparing himself for physical confrontation. He knew fifteen different ways to disarm a charging opponent, and four ways to escape a full nelson headlock. His swordsmanship was accurate enough to bisect a leaf as it fell to earth.
His mouth felt dry. Paying a girl an earnest compliment made his physical rigors seem so straightforward.
"For what it's worth, Marleyna, I think you look...great."
So, so lame. You just witnessed this girl's father's death at your colleague's hand, the best you can manage is great?
"Orni and Viorec should feel honored to escort such...a beautiful lady, and I see that they are. Go with them." He clears his throat in discomfort.
The bugs were still coming. His body and his soul weren't the source of the creepy crawlers. He was just a portal on both the physical and spiritual planes.
Nothing had ever made me want to throw up more than that moment.
I climbed up out of the hole and pushed my way outside.
"Get back!" I shouted to the crowd outside. "Get back now! We've got a potential hazard here!"
"Bacarov get out of here, I have this. There is no need to risk one of us for this disaster." Dramin's voice was level and full of certainty, if one could call it that at a time like this.
He wields the wand in one hand and rummages quickly for another item, a scroll he had on his person. "You know, they always laugh when I pick up one of these. If we make it out of this alive, I need to really get around to writing it down for myself." He lets out a sigh despite the havoc on its way and signals Bacarov to start leaving.
The Arcane writing on the scroll reaches out to him and his eyes glow white to read the text. "Heritparnti" The scroll burns up and the stored Hold Portal is cast upon the trapdoor.
He sounds a little regretful as the scroll's ashes fall to the floor. "I suppose I should have prepared better. Remind me later to do some more scribing for us! Help me get some mundane flames going, this wand won't last much longer!" The voice taking charge seems alien to him but after the high of using a scroll and the thrill of the chase he doesn't second guess himself.
He brandishes the wand and heads toward the exit.
"Coming?"
Almost as soon as Dramin's scroll burns away, the trapdoor shudders as some force pushes against it, drawing an agonized creak from the wood below you.
Having heard the commotion and Warshawski's warning, several people come forward- Marsh, for one , as well as Mayor Kriegler, who throws his hands up in exasperation and shouts, "What now?!" Another person shoulders his way past the few remaining onlookers and rumbles up to the door of the Bartley house: Leonard Kriegler, no sickle in his hand this time, but looking no less surly than he did when you last saw him outside the Mayor's house.
Leonard shoots Marsh a vile look. "What've y'all done?" he asks, spit flying from his lips. "I hear Robb Bartley's dead, an' now y'all screamin' bout a hazard?" He looks at Andretti. "How come these outsiders gotta come shakin' up everything an' causin' so much trouble? Why couldn't they'a stayed in Maggle-Mar?"
"I am starting to wonder if my brother's viewpoint does not have some validity to it," Andretti Kriegler mutters. "What hazard? What's going on here?"
- - - -
At the Korzha house, the distant sound of Warshawski's shouting and the sight of both Krieglers running back into the house draws the attention of Dalton, Calwen, and Marleyna, sparing the girl time to blush at Dalton's compliments. She peers out the window. "I heard Warshawski shout something..." she says. "What's going on over there? Everybody looks like they're in a panic."
That's all the signal Dalton needs. With an apologetic nod of acknowledgement and thanks to the Korzha family, he's out the door, sprinting down the road back to the Bartley house.
"His body." I tried to lower my voice. I didn't want to cause a panic. "Insects are pouring out of it. Not a few bugs. Swarms of them of all different types. Out of his body AND his soul."
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"Good thinking, mate." Bacarov steps back from the trapdoor as soon as the spell is in place. He studies the magical warding, concerned at how long it might hold.
He checks his pack quickly for his notebook and the locked book they'd found in the bedroom earlier. Then he scans the area from where he's standing to find anything else of value to the case.
That done the Inspector begins pulling materials from the ramshackle house into a couple of piles. A quick toss job to add more kindling. When Dramin signals he's ready, Bacarov nods and follows him out of the house. "Don't let anyone tell you you're not just a trove of usefulness. Well done." He spies the mayor and his brother, their agitation palpable if not understandable.
Back to Dramin, "If we survive this, and you're willing, I'll put in a good word with the Watch. We've a special group of folks who delve the greater mysteries of our land's heritage. It might be just what you're looking for..." He sighs and claps the man on the back. "Keep an eye out. If it looks like the bugs are breaking loose, fire the house."
He strides over to stand alongside Warshawski, catching the end of their conversation. He looks to the ground, collecting his thoughts and responds. "I understand your concern, sir. It was not our intent to cause such a level of disruption. But it is our intention to help Ravenmoor. Our first day here, albeit disruptive, has rooted out an evil threatening the safety of this place." Bacarov folds his hands before him, the common stance he assumes when talking to those outside the circle of of a criminal investigation.
"It's up to you how this should be received gentlemen. In the course if our investigation we've uprooted a man committing atrocities in basement dedicated to a dark god of pain. We've destroyed a large supply of illegal flayleaf which you yourselves have indicated has plagued the town. We will follow that lead to purge the ring responsible for it's distribution."
He looks directly at Leonard and continues, "When attending life of the vineyard, would it not be the duty of a man to prune away the rotten branch and root? Will you not aid us in making Ravenmoor a jewel of peace and health?" Taking in both the mayor and his brother, he says in a calm tone. "I need both of you, Mayor Kreigler, Mr Kreigler. Is not this goal worth disturbance and uncomfortability?"
》 (spell vs door)
》 (other evidence)
》 *(Bros Andretti)
. . . .
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"Easy there Leonard. Ya, just missed a great speech your brother just did on the subject."
"Do ya need a napkin? You got a little, um, spit right there."
"But you heard it right, Bartley's dead, committed suicide by watch actually. Good thing for the town too I hear. Your brother had to send you down here several times and drop a few fists on him I'm told. Can't imagine what might have happened to ya if you had come to find outabout the cult goin on in the basement on yer own. If you had gotten dead you wouldn't have been here to help your brother."
"Your brother was goin to have you come over and clean the place out. Good thing you didn't cause you hear that?"
The evil power below throws itself at the trap door buffeting it.
"Some evil bug s+%! is down there and tryin to get out. Could have eatin ya, huh?"
"Everything that's been goin on is comin to a head now. Good thing Inspector Bacarov and his team is here---they are experts in the occult see. They'll get this in hand."
"Of course it would be easier if there was actually a Priest of Desna in town, but I am guessing there isn't one right?"
"Would love to hear your stories though Leonard and don't worry---We'll be headed back to Magnimar soon enough."
The rest of the party assembles at the Bartley house, with Dalton appearing like a bolt of lightning and Calwen coming right after. The Krieglers exchange glances before returning their attention to the investigators in front of them. Bacarov's diplomatic words seem to have calmed them somewhat. "Very well, Inspector," Andretti says. "We will work with you on this, to the best of our abilities." His eyes say more: But we'll be keeping an eye on you.
Leonard speaks first, keeping his eyes locked on Marsh the whole time. "Yeah, I came an' set Bartley straight a couple times, sure I did. Blacked his eye on one occasion. Least he deserved, I say. Didn't even know he had some kinda basement down there. Anyway, I ain't afraid'a no bugs! You open up that trapdoor if'n you wanna; I'll squash 'em. You jus' see if I don't."
With a huff, Andretti begins fishing in his collar, clearly offended at something Marsh has said. "Well, my good sir, if it's a priest of Desna you require, then behold." He produces from his shirt a holy symbol resembling a butterfly, attached to his neck on a thin silver chain. "Now tell me, what would you have me do? My skills are those of a healer, not a destroyer. How shall this Cleric of Desna help you with this bug problem?" He takes a look at Warshawski and nods to her. "I can see the blood on your shirt, my dear. When we have figured out what to do here, I shall see to those wounds at once." He steps over the trapdoor and brandishes his holy symbol. "First, let's see if the Starsong's magic might overcome the vermin beneath our feet."
He rubs the holy symbol between his fingers, closes his eyes, and begins to chant. His expression grows troubled as he concentrates, continuing to murmur, for nearly a minute. The holy symbol begins to glow dimly as sweat builds upon his brow. Finally, after a moment, you all realize that there is no longer a beating against the trapdoor, and Andretti steps away, appearing exhausted and somewhat confused. Leonard acts as a crutch to keep him from collapsing, and Andretti begins coughing violently.
The trapdoor is silent, and the entire Bartley house seems to grow curiously still.
"Eh, good work. We could really use some holy water once you recover."
"I got brandy and smellin salts, want any?"
Calwen slowly had the feeling she got into a theatrical play right in the middle. "Vermin?" she wondered. She would have asked the others what in the name of the light happened here, what they found and what had worried Warshawski so much. But she did not trust Kriegler.
She was a bit worried that no one was protecting Marleyna and the Khorzas anymore. Dio may be a dragon, in a way. But he was a very little, very young and easily scared dragon. Calwen took delight in how well Marleyna and Dio seemed to be getting along, though. Not that she had a particular reason to believe that anyone would want that, she just had a bad feeling about this.
She was curious what he had in mind and whether the power he was drawing on was actually that of Desna. Half singing, half whispered she intonated: "We'll take our hearts outside, leave all lies behind, I'll watch the stars go out..."* as she watched him, calm and steady. But whatever he was doing it seems to have worked.
When Andretti finished she watches the door to the basement curiously. "Whatever ... vermin you expect down there, it seems pacified." She gets her shield from her back. "My sword will likely do me little good but torches might help, as long as we take care not to set the house aflame while we bring light into the darkness."
She looks around to see whether anyone has some.
_____________
"It's wizard locked for the moment. Best to leave it that way."
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"Please leave it for now, Calwen. It has been secured magically and by the blessings of the Mayor here." Bacarov takes in a breath and gives her a friendly smile. "I've managed to accrue quite the account of the basement in my notebook. Once I'm finished annotating, you're free to review it. For now, the aggression of the bugs...seems assuaged by the blessing and the consumption of the Bartley corpse." He pulls his notebook forth and scribbles a few words. Almost like the bugs sought to remove a rival...?
He arches an eyebrow, honestly curious as he asks his next question. "What do you hope to accomplish by opening the door? My concern is for the townsfolk."
When Marsh refused to investigating the basement it was indeed like a cold shower down her spine. What are those humans trying to hide from me? What am I not to see? First they had been more sparse with information that Calwen had herself - Calwen had given them everything other than the identity of her contacts and got little in return. Then they had tried to keep her out of the village, and while it had been important to guard the Khorza house, it had been a convenient side effect that Calwen had been left out of what was going on here. This was not the way she had imagined this cooperation.
However, Bacarov's offer to have a look at his note book severely soothed her. It did in fact, embarrass her. This notebook was something very personal to him, he noted all kinds of things in it; not that she new exactly, but she did not want to find out how personal the thoughts were was the point. True, she read Armand's notebook as well, but there had been no other way to learn what he had been thinking and what had happened after he was dead and she did protect his secrets.
"If you fill me in later that will do, but I appreciate the offer."
She blinked twice when asked asked why she wanted to look down there and a wave of distrust flooded over her again. The reasons were pretty obvious and safety was in fact her primary concern. "I would like to make sure that whatever was down there is actually dead and that the house is safe now. In my experience, hiding ugly things down a dark pit does not make them beautiful, quite the contrary and I would not want to wait until it crawls out on its own. Marleyna has requested to look over the house and collect some items of memory. Things she cherishes or that belonged to her mother or sister. It is her house now by human customs and rules, is it not?"
She looked at the trap door. "Besides, is Robb Bartley's body down there? I do not see it anywhere here... Despite what he has done to Marleyna we may still want to burry him, in order to give closure to his life in a visible way, even though that can certainly wait a bit longer. Will this spell linger? Or fade eventually?"
"However", she focuses Bacarov again, "Your question raises the counter question: Do you have any particular reason not to open the door and to believe that the village was safer then? And I am not talking about the smell or the spell. In my experience evil does not go away just because you do not look at it."
"If there's an infestation of bugs in the basement, it seems to me that the simplest solution would be to burn the whole place down. It could even be made into a part of the festival...nobody will turn down the spectacle. If Bartley was the parasitic scum that everyone makes him out to be - and having met him personally, I'd say that he was - at least the purging of his home would bring some final sort of amusement to the other townsfolk."
The monk's thoughts touch on Bartley's daughter, now the owner of this property. He frowns. "I doubt Marleyna would want to reside in a place where such evil happened. Let her move through the uninfested areas and take what she can bring with her; her clothes, and personal effects. Burning the house down might offer her some catharsis. It's my opinion that the greater distance she puts between herself and Robb Bartley's memory, the better off she's going to be."
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Bacarov absorbs the discussion quietly, letting Calwen work through her questions and glad to see Dalton's.m growing comfortably within the company. Once they've finished their piece, he clasps his hands before him, contemplative. "The body is what worries me, yes. If my eyes are to be believed, the insects were using Bartley as a...doorway of sorts. The insects, mosquitoes it would seem, showed weakness to holy water, fire and obviously to the good mayor's prayers."
Or perhaps his command? Bacarov studies the mayor for a moment as he recovers.
》 (+13 | secret messages)
Bacarov makes mental note of the thought and continues. "My further impression is that the bugs retreated when they realized both magical and clerical magics barred their escape. Further conjecture would mean they may have retreated back thru their portal to seek other egress." He sighs. "Or perhaps consume a rival...I'm still formulating that theory."
"I do not wish to sow mistrust, Calwen. I am just not comfortable removing what barriers we see are working before we better understand what we're dealing with. We've all witnessed something particularly...vile today. It would behoove us to compare notes and level set." To Dalton, "With watchful eyes abound, I see no reason why we can't provide the young lady time to retrieve her belongings. But as to the note of ownership, the home will pass on to her name as soon as my investigation is complete. For now it is a crime scene and under my care. I just want to make sure it's safe...or if it needs to be burned."
He looks to the others for opinions and suggestions. "Perhaps a few moments here to share what we've seen?" He loons to the Kreiglers and says, "I think your valiant efforts here have won the hour, gentlemen. But I would request time alone to confer with my company if possible. I'm sure you need a moment to regain your strength before returning to the festival."
Calwen raised her eyebrow at 'such evil'. She did not have the feeling that Dalton was not referring to hitting Marleyna with a rod or a similar implement.
"That sounds a little exaggerated. Whatever you, Mister Kriegler, have done with Desna's help, it seems to have been effective." And if it was not Calwen would want to know about it; Calwen still suspected his reverence for Desna to be a charade and to find out what he had done down there might support or falsify this suspicion. "And if properly prepared we should be able to handle and infestation, even though I must admit it surprises me how aggressively they were able to push against the door."
All of this was odd. "Burning down the house does not guarantee that a possible infestation is eradicated either..." Whatever was down there had to have come from somewhere, after all. Unless... well, that would be too speculative.
She was just about to respond as Bacarov came up with an explanation. That was more than just a mere infestation, of course, it sounded more like dark magic. And required a lot more explanation.
"However, we should present the situation to Marleyna and ask how she wishes to proceed."
I stumbled in, following Calwen. I listened to her discussion with Bacarov. They didn't have the facts. Even though I was shivering with disgust and, yes, fear, I had to put the matter straight.
"This wasn't a purely physical infestation." I said, softly. "The insects weren't just pouring out of his body. They were pouring out of his ghost. He was trying to reveal certain truths to me. This wasn't trying to get rid of a rival or anger over being held. This was a method of shutting him up."
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Bacarov fits more of the puzzle into place as Warshawski speaks up. He frowns and restrains any impulse to continue while the mayor and his brother are at hand. Instead, he nods patiently and adds, "As I said, I'd like time to share what we've observed."
He looks towards the Kreiglers to see of they will indeed depart, providing privacy for Bacarov and the group.
The mage had been quiet the whole time. He was taking in the discussion and was weighing down the options.
Or at least it looked as such.
That siren song and calling kept pulling him to the door, and he was filled with some sort of drive.
Though when he heard about magic and divine combinations and the theory that it was a portal, his head was instead left with thoughts and theories, with no room for seducing sounds.
This wouldn't last forever though, he knew deep down the song would continue even after he solved the problems and tested the theories in his head.
So he spoke up.
"I heard her. I hear her. The bugs and this whole thing is calling, her name is everywhere." He tries to be vague due to the strangers but his tact is lacking.
"I want to know more unfortunately. Though if we head down there again, I fear it may prove too deadly and I have need for this crowbegotten head of mine for the time being. The bugs are nothing compared to the big picture here; the torturer seems like a red herring out of a performance, something seems extremely off. Warshawski is right though, execution; that body could not hold that many bugs and it did not match the domain of Zon-Kuthon." He looks to her hoping she can provide some answers that he couldn't.
He sat down and looked up, perhaps trying to find some sense in the conflicting motivations he had.
"We need to talk and I need to know some more."
Kriegler coughs, and tries to regain his feet. "I will be fine," he says weakly. "I need to lie down a while. Please, Leonard, take me home. Miss Warshawski, please do not allow those wounds to fester. Once I have allowed this bit of nausea to pass, I would be happy to spare you a bit of Desna's healing power with you." He then nods to Bacarov. "If you wish this crime scene to yourself, then we shall take our leave. Please let me know beforehand if you decide to burn it down, however. Or, Mr. Marsh, if you still require holy water..." Andretti and Leonard make their way out of the house, and begin heading toward the bridge toward the Kriegler manor.
Marsh tries to catch Bacarov's eyes, glances at those flappin their lips and then back to Baracov's eyes.
"WTF man, you got suspects right here and you are lettin these airbags divulge the entire case?! Might as well give em an invintory list of what we have in our packs and what spells you got left in yer heads."
"Yeah we can always use holy water. I'd like to see you create some when its more convenient for ya. See you guys at the party later."
Calwen cast a look at the sealed door again. "We should head back now. Maybe we should at least put something heavy on the trap door for now - unless you are sure that the magical seal will hold." She watches over her shoulder to make sure that the Kriegler's are gone.
She lowers her voice. "It may also be helpful to mark the environment to make it simpler for us to see whether someone tempers with it... maybe such an 'alarm' spell? Well, you are the investigators."
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Bacarov closes his eyes briefly, a barely perceptible nod to Marsh. Yes, I know. But I can't control people's tongues now can I? A thought causes him to smirk the big man's way. No more than I can stop your tongue from wagging nor your flail from swinging. He passes by the man and grips his shoulder. "We need to talk later..." he whispers to him.
He bows respectfully to the mayor and watches him go. Once gone he turns back to the gathered group, his face dark. "Two things I will say, and I'll have no arguments if you're all intent on staying with this investigation."
He holds up a single finger, "One, no one accepts healing from the mayor or anyone else in this town...maybe with the exception of the Korzha household if they offer medical treatment."
He holds up a second finger, "Two, we never discuss the particulars of this investigation in front of others outside this company. There is no room for exception in this. By spilling information just now we alerted the mayor and his brother to our intentions and the direction of our inquiries. The disclosure of Bartley and his menagerie...then the mention of Dramin's dream lady..." He glances over his shoulder briefly to ensure the mayor and his sibling are truly gone. "Those two, they had an interesting reaction when she was mentioned."
Back to the group. "Make no mistake, we're in it deep. And until I see otherwise, going forward trust extends to this circle alone. I'm even going ask that we limit information to Marleyna. Even if she's not an enemy in hiding, she's young and can make a foolish slip up."
He runs a hand thru his hair, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I wish we'd not outed so much...I should have been more careful to warn you all ahead of time. My timetable got pushed a little too fast and I didn't adapt quickly enough..." Bacarov looks to Warshawski and the others. "Well, let's get on with it. Warshawski, lead us off. What did Bartley tell you?"
He nods to Dramin, "Once she's done, what about Calwen's questions? How long on the Hold spell? What else can we do to keep the place warded?"
"Once we're done here, we're going to need to move quickly. Festival or no. My thought is Doriv, maybe the Lupescus. They should be next." He looks to the elf. "Calwen, what sort of connection have you made with the Lupescu girl? Can we leverage it?"
Dalton crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow when Bacarov mentions not receiving healing from the Mayor. "Andretti seemed on the level to me..." he mentions quietly, but doesn't interrupt.
I found a seat. Something that didn't look like it was covered with lice. As I sat it felt like the weight of a city was on my shoulders. I was careful to lean forward and not let my back touch anything.
"There were four victims in the basement, their souls still there. A Shoanti trader's daughter. Two elves who were hunting nearby and lured in. Someone named Doriv helped him overpower them. Possibly torture them as well. The last was a merchant. An older woman who passed this way. Marleyna might know her name."
I knew my voice was flat. My eyes were closed. Trying to remember was hard but I did it anyway.
"He learned the worship of Zon-Kuthan from his father. The Doriv woman isn't a worshiper but helped, apparently because he paid her attention."
"Doriv is the source of the flayleaf. A field. North of Ravenmoor on her family land. She and Bartley sold to bandits, Shoanti... send it to Riverport. He said the Lupescus, Loomises, Talbots and Whatleys all bought from them as well."
"He knew nothing about men wearing stirge masks, though he said Alizna makes masks of some sort. He seemed genuinely baffled by the idea. He knew nothing of the blight, though Brie talked of it. Apparrently, flayleaf is either unaffected by it or hasn't been affected yet."
I took a deep breath. Then I continued.
"Elias almost beat on Bartley. He saw his abuse on Marleyna. But Elias stopped, backed off and left. He didn't know anything else about what happened to him."
"He also knew of Armand. Apparently, he was quite the charmer with the ladies. He was tempted to kidnap Armand and bring him downstairs but Armand left, going to the abandoned farm on the south end of Ravenmoor."
"The mayor's wife hung herself in the church. Or so Bartley said. Apparently, she and the mayor were restoring the chapel when it happened and it has laid barren ever since."
I opened my eyes.
"That is when I decided to leave. He tried to entice me to stay. Said he knew of a cult in this town. He was about to name names when the insects... out of his soul and his body. I've never seen the like."
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Bacarov tilts his head back, letting the information was over him. He tries to piece the items together with the puzzle pieces already on the board. The names of those related to the drug trade add up, enemies probably eager to move against them quickly to preserve their illicit trade.
The abandoned farm house catches his attention. "The farmhouse. Is that the same source of the rumors of odd goings on, Night Creepers? The Chenowitz place?"
He makes notes in his book, flipping back to previous pages to add and subtract.
Then there's the mention of Kreigler's wife. The temple. "Such an event could...twist a man's faith," He thinks of an old legend from the north of Magnimar. Then he looks Dalton's way. "...or it could strengthen it. I want to trust the mayor, he seems a decent sort, but the way he handled the crowd...his reaction to our discussion here...I'm just not sure."
He looks to the others and their reactions. As he does so, he offers the use of his healing wand to Warshawski to ease her discomfort.
Dramin gave Bacarov a level look. "You have no idea how hard it is to not just dismiss that door and walk down there right now. So I let something slip, not much of a problem. The way I see it, if they are in contact with this dream lady then they already know about us, if they are our enemies they already must suspect that we know. Its not every day a party like ours walks in, slays a man and then shrugs off a swarm of indomitable evil like it was nothing." He takes a deep breath. "If anything we learned more about them and their potential allegiances. Anyone who has met this dream woman would have shuddered and if you say they did..." He trails off and looks at the trapdoor.
"We have less than a minute remaining if my guess is correct. It's not supposed to be anything close to a permanent solution. I suppose we may have to go down there at some point, especially after seeing his... soothing ritual on the insects. I myself have nothing remaining to stop this thing from opening, though I confess a simple hold portal would not have stopped it anyway."
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Bacarov stiffens at the news about the spell's duration. "There was a cabinet in the kitchen. A rundown thing but it looked heavy. Or I could jam the trapdoor shut with my crowbar."
"Or we go with the original intent and head down there. My guess, they're gone." Bacarov grabs his crowbar from his pack.
Vinnie motions to the trap door incredulously.
"Why are you gonna reopen that can of worms. we got enough enemies up here with them locked in."
He looks out the window to ensure the mayor is gone.
"The mayor seems to have a taste in women and art doesn't he?"
"He didn't like the mention of Bel or whatever her name is."
"Maybe the mayors wife found out about whatever it was that he was into, or maybe she got herself dead and was strung up for show. Who knows, but I dont trust em. Peculiar he told us about two female elves in a basement, but tries to tie it to someone else. There is no flipping way all this crap has been going on unseen around here."
"Did you see how the crowd reacted?!
"Anyway forces are getting ready against us now. Probably meetin at the manor house under the spooky paintin right now."
"I say we go find Marcum. I don't want him sneakin up to us, would rather have it the other way around. Maybe he was trying to find Calwen to save her because he knows somethin, who knows, could be an ally. He supposedly keeps the bandits away. Then I would crash the mill."
"But, you guys talk. I'm goin over to watch the Korza's we just painted death warrants on em. Heh, over my dead body---meh! In this f*!!ed up little town it might happen."
"Oh, want me to pop that book open we found?"
"Nothing's going to happen to the Korzhas. We'll make sure of it." the monk narrows his eyes as he gazes off in the direction the crowd went in, his arms still crossed.