"I think we can open the Barghest door with this." Spectrum said. "I have some concerns though. This will be a challenging foe. If we should fall, there are two prisoners who would either be released by the creature, or be at it's mercy. Neither is an acceptable outcome. I am loathe to leave it alive in this place, but the issue of our prisoners must be addressed."
"One option would be to return them to Sandpoint and then come back to slay the beast. I am open to other suggestions."
"Well, you could always trust them to go back on their own... which would be foolish. We could have them fight with us, but I think betrayal would be more likely than that. Your option would be wisest, but takes a great deal of time and needs us to go back and then here again. We could also just send one of our number, but that would make it harder on us when fighting the barghest. Perhaps your pseudodragons could lead the prisoners to town? Or can send a message to town about the prisoners and what's happened?"
Spectrum thinks for a few moments, and shakes his head. "There are no good options. I am concerned for time. We got lucky here. Delaying would cause further risk to all of us."
Then an eyebrow raises.
"It occurs to me that we could just seal up the secret chamber, take the key with us, and leave the barghest in it's cage. Our primary goal is already accomplished."
"That's what I suggested in the first place," Isme says dryly. "You said you'd rather him dead. We could simply return another time."
"You're right. I was not considering that as a viable option at the time, mostly because I was concerned someone could come along and release the creature. We have the key now, which changes things considerably."
"Lets go home."
Grabbing Lyrie and binding her hands, the group of weary adventurers make their escape from the silenced Thistletop, its forces destroyed and secrets plundered.
Emerging from the camp, you come across a lone goblin, casually walking towards Thistletop; he stops in amazement, blinking at you, gripping his spear. "Longshanks... what?"
Spectrum spoke angrily in the goblin tongue.
"Tell your people Thistletop is lost. Destroyed. And Sandpoint stands vigilant against further attacks. Tell every tribe the fate of Thistletop and that any who take up arms against Sandpoint will suffer a similar fate."
"Now run."
The goblin yelps, then flees.
The forests are quiet as the group moves through them to return to Sandpoint; over the coming days, this changes quickly. Shalelu and other scouts report that with the most prestigious hideout in the region suddenly vacant, goblin tribes have abandoned the idea of war with Sandpoint and have begun fighting for control over Thistletop. Many die, destroying the threat to the town.
A scared town greets the returning heroes, and showers them with acclaim and applause upon hearing the news of their success. Lyrie is taken into custody by Sheriff Hemlock, returned with a contingent of Magnimarian guards to reinforce the town's defences. With the key taken, Malfeshnekor has been sealed away forever in his madness and darkness. The catacombs cleansed, it will no longer harm the people of Sandpoint. The goblin tribes will not bother the town for years to come due to their new civil war over Thistletop.
Autumn was hard; frosts and sleet smote the town of Sandpoint as it raged through its greatest crisis in centuries. Goblin armies, rising forces of sin, a lost daughter home to wreak her revenge. But the bravy of the town was mustered, and it saw off the bitter autumn; and now winter arises to wrap the town in new troubles, new opportunities, in the long, dark sleep before spring.
The night before, as freezing sleet blanketed the town, raincoat-covered watchmen knocked on each of your doors between their evening patrols.
A green watchman, recruited from a passing gypsey caravan, blinks light-brown eyelids at Spectrum, and speaks in a halting voice. "The... the Sheriff wants a word. Morning, tomorrow."
A grizzled veteran, still nursing a limp from a goblin arrow recently shot, knocks on Wyaam's door. "Sir. Sheriff wants a word; tomorrow morning, his lockup."
Taking a quick break by the fire, making a quick sign with his fingers at the thought of who he's been sent to talk to, a one-eyed watchman sends a blonde bargirl up to knock nervously on Chaise's old door. "...ma'am? Bird? Sheriff wants a word; tomorrow morning, if you're... free? Ma'am?"
Sleet, rain and fog stands ready to pound and surround Sandpoint; blasting off old sins, and incubating new ones. The town's light, and it's people, will need to shine ever-brighter to survive until springtime's release.
Wyam nodded to the veteran. "Thank you, watchman. I'll be there then."
After he closed the door, he turned to his personal supplies and began to ready his gear, making sure everything was good come the morning.
The door opens, revealing Isme perched on a nearby stand. The raven gives the bargirl a brief nod. "I'll be there," she says, and the door slams shut without a visible source.
Spectrum nodded, not looking up from his work.
Night passes, and morning comes with a rare barrage of light; not penetrating the chill rising from the sodden grass, but enough to raise the spirits of scurrying townspeople about their morning chores.
When morning came Spectrum was on the porch outside the sheriff's office sitting and reading, waiting for the sheriff to open the doors.
Isme is perched nearby, eyes closed and seemingly still asleep.
Wyam rode a newly armored Fearghus up the the street and to the Sheriff's office. With practiced ease he slipped off the horse and loosely tied him up to a nearby post.
"Morning, Spectrum. Isme." he said to the two of them.
Sheriff Hemlock, his bald brown head augmented by a thick woolen hood, draws shutters and opens the door for you all with a nod of acknowledgement.
Sat behind his desk, he gestures to a few chairs throughout the room for you all. He pulls out an old and ink-stained notebook and thumbs through it, before looking up at each one of you.
“First, let me thank you again for all you’ve done for Sandpoint. It’s fortunate that you’ve proven yourselves so capable, because we’ve a problem that I think you can help us with—a problem that I wish I didn’t have to involve anyone with, but one that needs dealing with now before the situation grows worse."
“Put simply, we have a murderer in our midst—one who, I fear, has only begun his work. Some of you doubtless remember the Late Unpleasantness, how this town nearly tore itself apart in fear as Chopper’s slayings went on unanswered. I’m afraid we might have something similar brewing now."
“Last night, the murderer struck at the sawmill. There are two victims, and they’re… they’re in pretty gruesome shape. The bodies were discovered by one of the mill workers, a man named Ibor Thorn, and by the time my men and I arrived on the scene, a crowd of curious gawkers had already sprung up. I’ve got my men stationed there now, keeping the mill locked down, but the thing that bothers me isn’t the fact that we have two dead bodies inside. It’s the fact that this is actually the second set of murders we’ve had in the last few days."
“I come to you for help in this matter—my men are good, but they are also green. They were barely able to handle themselves against the goblins, and what we’re facing now is an evil far worse than goblins. I need the help. But I’m afraid you’ll need the help too. You see, I’m afraid that this particular murderer knows one of you as well.”
Wordlessly, Hemlock passes a scrap of parchment to Wyam; his name is written in blood on the outside.
"We found this pinned to the sleeve of this bastard's latest victim." He lets it sink a moment, then continues "We think it was left to throw suspicion onto you, and while I'm sure you're innocent, if word got out the townmight not be so understanding. For that, and to avoid a panic, I'd like you to be as discreet as possible in this matter."
"So... tell me. Will you help us again, in our time of need?"
Spectrum's mind was already blurring through possibilities as the sherrif spoke, but that stopped suddenly at the revelation of the letter to Wyam.
"That is strange." he nodded though. "Of course I will help."
He took a careful look at the bloody note.
Wyam's eyes widened in surprise as he glanced over the note.
"I would help you each and every time you required it of me. I will find the culprit and put a stop to this." he said resolutely.
"I can think of no one I know who might do something like this though. You said this was the second set of murders. Where was the first? Maybe if we check back over both scenes we'll find some sort of clue."
Isme takes a chair. It's too large for her but she perches on its back instead of the seat.
She listens to the sheriff and tilts her head at the note. When asked for her help, she pauses, thinking over her decision. She nods when both Spectrum and Wyam voice their agreement. "Then I'll assist as well. Interesting titles the note uses."
"We'll have to talk to Ibor Thorn as well, perhaps have him lead us to how he discovered the bodies. The fresher the scene, the better."
"Thank you" says Hemlock simply. "I have a few leads for you to consider."
"Ibor Thorn; I don't suspect he knows much more."
"The Lumber Mill; the most recent murders took place there, bodies are still present. I'd suggest you go there first; I want the mill cleaned and the bodies buried."
"Ven Vinder; my best suspect for the murder, but far from a likely one."
"The first murders happened a few days ago; three con men from Galduria. Their bodyguard survived, but went mad and is at a nearby madhouse."
"Finally; a rune, a star, was found carved on Harker's chest. I do not know what it means; I suggest you find out."
Spectrum nodded and stood. "The mill then. If we have further questions we will return."
Isme gives her agreement. "Best place to start. To the mill, then. Do you have your glassworking kit with you, Spectrum? It would be useful to get a copy of the rune."
"I will stop for my equipment on our way ."
"Right, then we should get a move on. The dead need not linger above ground too long."
"Thank you." Hemlock returns to fiddling through his diary.
Heading out into the chill morning, the sun starkly illuminates the town; though the white fog of breath crystalizing infront of your faces tries to obscure it. Spectrum makes a stop, retrieving a well-worn kit. People occasionally nod as they pass the group, giving you a small berth; out of respect, rather than fear or mistrust.
Eventually, you reach the lumber yard. The mill is a well-built wooden structure with very thick walls. The roof is of wooden shingles, and doors are simple timber and unlocked. The mill machinery has been disengaged. A watchman stands guard against a wall.
"We are here to investigate the premise for Sheriff Hemlock." Spectrum says matter of factly to the guard.
"Aye sir, absolutely."
He pulls a bar from the door and gestures you in. "Everything has been left as untouched as possible."
Spectrum nods and moves carefully inside with the others.
"Isme, how should we proceed?"
Isme flaps her wings and peers around. "Don't go to the body first. Take a look around to see if anything's obviously wrong. I'd have wanted the watchman to guide us around, highlight things they've already noticed and what they've disturbed, but he's busy acting as a gatekeeper."
The raven sniffs the air, perhaps scenting for blood. "Also avoid disturbing too much. If you see something that seems relevant, leave it where it is so the others can also investigate it fully, and we can commit it to memory or drawing if need be.
"Once we've investigated the location, we can search the bodies thoroughly. Figure out who they were, what happened, and take note of any evidence." She looks at Spectrum. "You especially will need to make a copy of the rune, since it seems of importance."
She cocks her head, remembering something. "Hmm, perhaps we should make a copy of the note as well. No matter, I still remember what was on it.
"Once we've established the facts, we can begin forming theories of what happened and bring up any other avenues of investigation such as asking around who the victims were, what they were doing in the sawmill, and what makes the sheriff suspect Ven Vinder. We should leave those for later unless you're certain those assumptions won't influence your understanding of what actually happened."
That said, Isme takes to the air, taking care not to disturb the air too much as she twitters a short haunting dirge that fits the eerieness of a murder scene, reminding all to be wary.
Spectrum acts as Isme's hands, carefully doing as instructed, adding information from his own wealth of knowledge where appropriate.
Wyam acted as Isme instructed. He carefully examined the surroundings and opted to further examine the outside of the building for anything amiss.
A literal birds-eye view turns up a notable disturbance. On the riverside, a small pier for receiving timber. Isme's keen eyes observe a set of muddy footprints leading from one end of the pier up to the mill itself.
Closely examining the outside of the building, Spectrum and Wyam fail to find anything more.
Isme informs Spectrum and Wyam of what she found. "Let's follow them."
Spectrum nodded and followed Isme's lead.
Isme makes a few sarcastic remarks.
While amusing, they seem to be of little help.
Upon Isme's discovery, Wyam went to fetch Fearghus. "Come on Fearghus, we're going to need your help on this one."
"The most skilled investigators in Sandpoint has to offer are a bird and a horse..." Spectrum mused.
Following the tracks, Wyam discovers that a barefoot human clambered up from the mud under the pier, crossed over to the mill, then scaled the wall to an upper-floor window, entering the mill.
Isme nods, acknowledging Fearghus for his assistance. She begins inspecting the wall and the surroundings of the tracks for any remaining clues.
After, she speaks to Spectrum and Wyam. "I'll go in through the window and follow the trail. We'll leave the wall as it is for now in case we need to get back to it later, so I don't recommend scaling it as well. Go through the front and I'll meet you back there."
She twitters a faint melody, attaching herself to the group with a faint string of magic before she flaps her wings and heads inside.
"Alight. Let's see if we can find where whoever did this went."
Searching the exterior, Wyam is able to find a single pair of footprints; less caked in mud and now caked in sawdust, it is Wyam's best guess that he took a leap and dove into the river to leave the mill.
Flying carefully through the mill, Isme finds several grisly sites of interest.
The Murder Scene- the mill interior is coated with sawdust; strewn with footprints and splashes of blood.
Katrine's Body- The mangled, ruined remains of Katrine Vinder lie on the mill's lower floor amid heaps of bloodstained firewood; next to her, the method of her death, the immense log-splitting chute of rotating saw blades, powered by a waterwheel. Her face is strangely untouched by blood or trauma, leaving her pale and terrified; the rest of her body has been shredded and torn beyond recognition.
Harker's Body- Banny Harker's corpse stands affixed to the wall by several hooks normally used to hang tools. THe mody is mutilated, the face carved away and his lower jaw is missing entirely. His bare chest is defaced, bearing a strange rune in the shape of a seven-pointed star. Almost subconsciously raising a hand to feel the amulet around his neck, Spectrum knows the symbols are identical.
The Axe- a handaxe is embedded in the floor near the log splitter, as if dropped; the handle is covered with bloody finger-marks.
Wyam grimaced as he surveyed the scene. "Whoever did this keeps using the river to come and go to each of the crime scenes. It's a clever idea, the river keeps them from getting tracked until they hit the area. I'd like to say I know where and if they'll strike next, but unfortunately there's too many places by the water."
He then examined the Corpses, he had to clench his fists several times to make sure his mind had something else to focus on.
"I'm not sure what to make of it entirely. Why mutilate the body's? Also, if he tore up Harker's face, why leave Katrine's alone? Did she die before being mutilated? Also, what about that rune shape, do either of you recognize it?"
The Murder Scene: footprints and splashes of blood abound; a Survival check might help determine what happened.
Harker's Body: His corpse is marked with a distinctive symbol, his body is marked with several odd deep wounds.
The Axe: lying against the ground, blood finger-marks cover it; even from a distance, an odd smell suggests it deserves closer inspection.