Jak slips the key into a pocket with a nod to the hetmon. "Thanks, we might do just that."
As the hetmon leaves, Jak makes his way over to the tavern-keep. "Regis?" he holds out a hand, giving the man a hopefully-comforting smile. "You keep a nice tavern. You got anything to knock the dust from my throat? My name's Jak. This is Lyrica and Ezekiel. Hetmon Davril has us looking into the Philmore business. He said you may have some good information. What can you tell me about that night?"
Regis shakes Jak's hand and refills the scoundrel's drink. He's a man approaching 30, somewhat paunchy, and his hair is receding slightly. Jak detects nothing untoward in his answer, "That night? Nothing especial happened as I recall. I closed up the tavern just after midnight and went home. When I came back well before dawn - to start the breakfast baking - I found ol' Philmore in the road. He was dead but still bleeding."
Jak nods as he sips the new drink, "Who in town was closest to Philmore? Do you know who he was with the day and evening before he was killed? Any other strange things happen that day? Even if they seem unrelated... you never know."
"I was here all evening, and he didn't come in. So if he was with anyone that night, I couldn't say. But that wasn't odd; Philmore didn't come in often. He was kind of a loner. As far as people go, he was friendly with Jannys - Jannys Pegason - and her family." He adds hastily, "I don't think they were intimate or anything like that. She's got a husband and all. Jannys is just the motherly sort, if you know what I mean."
Having clarified his point, Regis rubs his chin and considers. "I really don't recall anything odd happening that day. It was all pretty normal, I think."
Aerik and Marcus follow the river West for several hundred feet to reach the town's outskirts before swinging North. As they pass through field and forest, they spot no signs of the Black Mist's corruption. Making their way North of town, they come upon a few small scenes of past battles - turned up ground, broken branches, the odd slash into a tree, the remnants of fire-scorched bones, trampled crops, etc. It seems to match Mordecai's account.
Continuing their survey above the town, they find more trampled crops that are slowly recovering. The prints are mixed - animal and human - but nothing readily identifiable. At best you can spy some hoof prints among them. It could be evidence of the large 'migrations' Mordecai mentioned. The Druid and Ranger turn South to complete their sweep. They cross through several fields of crops, some barely breaking earth and others fully ripe. The strawberries and corn are particularly fine. Amid the fields, they see additional signs of migrating animals.
After another 10 minutes, Marcus and Aerik reach the river East of Albridge. They spot nothing strange save a fair number of muddy human footprints, not shoe prints, wandering along the path of the river.
Jak nods and finishes the drink, setting the empty cup down with a thankful nod. "Thank you, Master Regis." He reaches out to shake the man's hand. "You've been more than helpful, and you serve a fine drink. You can be sure I'll be back later." He doesn't clarify if its for more information or drink.
He gives Lyrica and Ezekiel a chance to finish their drinks , before turning back to the man. "Also, do we see you about rooms? I think we're going to be in town for a bit, and I'd sure like to find a place to unload my pack." He makes a show of rummaging in his pockets, "Though I'm afraid we're a bit light on coin… two rooms, if you have a room with space for three… even if it means I sleep on a cot."
Regis nods, "This is the only Inn in town. Two rooms it is. We'll make ya a good price on it."
Jak takes the keys with a quick thanks. He gives a quick description of Marcus and Aerik along with one of the keys to Regis. "If they come through here, tell 'em we left a room for them, and that we'll be looking into this whole Philmore incident." He puts a few silvers on the counter as a thanks before heading upstairs.
Jak does a quick inspection of the room, seeing if the windows and doors have decent locks… as well as checking to make sure there isn't' something obviously wrong with the accommodations.
Jak tosses his pack in a convenient spot–taking a moment to pull out his cards—and heads back out the door, enjoying the feel of a lightened load. "I figure we should check out Philmore's place first," he says quietly, trying to make sure he's not overheard, "then we can go meet miss Jannys Pegason." He lets his voice return to a normal level, "But if you guys have better ideas, I'm all for that. After those," he shrugs, "we'll see, but it might be nice to just spend some time mingling with the locals… get a feel for the place and hear hwat everyone has to say."
Jak makes his way to where Regis said he found Philmore's body, with the intention of back-tracking into the dead man's house.
Aerik looks at the tracks and then at Marcus.
"Shall we?"
Marcus nods in response, drawing his axe and following the tracks as quietly as he can.
Jak and crew can't find the exact spot where Philmore died. It appears that the blood was dispersed by the liberal use of water. But judging from the mud pooling in one area, you imagine that was where he died. It is nearly in the middle of the road in front of his house - a ginger-breaded two-story affair with a covered porch. As you approach the house, you see more evidence of the crime. There was a partially successful attempt to rinse the blood from the porch and stairs but you can see streaks of crimson. The hastily washed area stretches from the doorway, straight across the porch, and tumbles down the stairs.
Jak notices some neighbors from the surrounding houses watching them. Upon questioning a few of them, he finds that none of them heard anything that night. All of them show various levels of concern about the murder. And Philmore was generally regarded as a good man - though he wasn't overly friendly with anyone. And at least one neighbor said he was a recluse.
Marcus and Aerik...
Following the tracks proves no challenge as they weave through the muddy shores embracing the river. The tracks leads slightly closer to town before they double-back upon themselves. Away from town, the tracks continue for a mile or more. There are several sets of them coming and going. The sun is heading towards the horizon as Marcus and Aerik see the footprints grow to a prodigious amount in all sorts of criss-crossing patterns, surrounding a coarse mud and wattle hut that is perched just below the crest of the ravine that holds the river. The footprints continue along the waterway even further.
Marcus stows his axe and straps on his shield, slowly approaching the hut. He motions to Aerik and knocks on the door with his free hand.
Hello? Is anyone home?
The door opens in a rush. The dark gap is filled with a scrawny, wild-eyed, middle-aged woman. She looks as if she rolls in mud to bathe and uses bracken to comb her hair into a tangled mess. She grins at the ranger.
"My home is blood. My house is bone.
How then could I - from me - roam?"
"I figure we should check out Philmore's place first,"
"Agreed! Let's go. It would be better not to split up, but the three of us together should be fine. I just don't want to getting into anything deeper than we can handle."
Jak gives his biggest grin. "You're with me… how much trouble could we possibly get into?"
Jak does his best to be polite and charming through every interview, making sure to make eye contact, drop the hetmon's and tavern-keeper's names, and generally be as kind as he can. Easier to catch flies with honey, he thinks as he listens to the local folks' responses to his questions about Philmore and anything else that might have happened that night or the day before.
After making a slow circuit, interviewing everyone he sees close-by, even elderly and children (making sure to get parents' approval in the case of the children), he makes his way to the tell-tale mud. After a few minutes of looking at it, then the dead man's house, then the mud again, he shakes his head. "Why didn't anyone hear anything?" he mutters to Lyrica, "No screaming or yelling for help? Neither Davril nor Regis mentioned anything wrong with his throat or tongue or anything. If you dragged yourself way out here, presumably looking for help, why not cry out?"
Not being a tracker or outdoorsman, Jak does his best to inspect the path along which the dying man supposedly dragged himself… looking for additional footprints, or any signs that the man did, in fact, drag himself (as opposed to being dragged and deposited).
Doing his best to be as careful of any evidence as possible, Jak follows the path back to the man's house, still looking for any signs that would indicate whether Philmore moved into the street under his own power. Once in the house, he tries to see the place without considering what he was told by any of the people he'd interviewed so far… looking to see what the scene of the crime told him first. While he's inside, he digs into his mother's talents, allowing opening himself to any arcane auras or presences that may exist in the house.
Jak spots elbow smears along the deck and a bloody hand print on a railing that suggest Philmore dragged himself. The path drifts slightly... so if he was dragged, it was done inefficiently. There are additional depressions in the dirt at the base of the stairs, which could be from elbows digging in.
Entering the house, the place was clearly left untouched by Davril and the town elders. The winding and smeared trail of blood and crimson hand prints are more obvious and undisturbed. Philmore clearly dragged himself as far as the front door. It appears he was attacked in the kitchen - judging from the pooling blood, smashed crockery, broken eggs, and forgotten slab of ham.
There are no additional prints found in the kitchen. The rest of the house appears undisturbed. There is an unmade bed upstairs along with what is presumably Philmore's nightshirt draped across it. The house has a few mementos and some very nice furnishings. All in all, it says that Philmore had some money and lived alone. There are no signs of a woman's presence.
Jak comes back downstairs, passing Ezekiel and Lyrica. "This is weird... walking around in a dead man's house. Anything else you two wanna do while we're here before we go to the next interview?"
"This is weird... walking around in a dead man's house. Anything else you two wanna do while we're here before we go to the next interview?"
"This house looks rather gruesome with the blood spread around it. I wish there was something else here to give us a clue why this happened? It is clearly obvious that there was not a woman in this house to look after the fellow. Do you see how unkept he is? He didn't even make his bed!." A moment later, she adds, "He clearly had the money, but without love, I wonder how rich one's life can really be."
Lyrica searches the house with Jak, but especially the man's bedroom. She is trying to find a hidden box with any documents that may give up his secrets or affiliations.
"I don't know... successful farmer like Philmore? He definitely could have had a woman. Maybe two." He gets a conspiratorial look, "OOooohhh.. maybe one of them caught Philmore with the other.. .maybe a woman killed him."
He seems to realize where he is and wilts. "Please don't tell anyone I said that. Not one of my finest moments, admittedly."
With nothing else coming to mind, Jak heads out to find the Father.
Lyrica's search produces nothing more salacious than some personal correspondence with relatives out in Slowe. The letters discuss the vagaries and hardships of farming.
You run into Father Galt, a middle-aged and well-fed (but not fat) man, out in the road. He has a ready smile for you all and a firm handshake. "Davril told me you've come to help. Welcome! Welcome all! I thought I'd come introduce myself and thank you for coming to our aid."
"Davril told me you've come to help. Welcome! Welcome all! I thought I'd come introduce myself and thank you for coming to our aid."
Lyrica replies with a cheerful grin and a hearty handshake.
"Well met, Father Galt. I am Lyrica Strom and this here is Jak and Zeke. We are most certainly here to help however we can!"
Lyrica chats with the priest and attempts to put him at ease and improve his disposition with diplomacy before getting to the troubling questions.
"I am always pleased to meet a man of the cloth. My father was a priest of Sarenrae and he's taught me to have a strong faith in the divine. I know that when things get difficult, it is always important to turn within and seek solace. If you have time, I would love to hear the story of your own spiritual journey. I'm sure it is very interesting."
Eventually, Lyrica continues with her questioning, happy to let Jak chime in as well.
"Well, as you already know, we are here assisting Davril in the investigation of the death of Mr. Philmore. Could we kindly take a few minutes of your time to discuss this murder? We are trying to determine what the motive was. He seemed like a hard working farmer with a great love of fishing."
The door opens in a rush. The dark gap is filled with a scrawny, wild-eyed, middle-aged woman. She looks as if she rolls in mud to bathe and uses bracken to comb her hair into a tangled mess. She grins at the ranger.
"My home is blood. My house is bone.
How then could I - from me - roam?"
Marcus is shocked into silence for a few heartbeats, then stammers out a greeting as best he can.
Um, yes, hi--I am Marcus, and this is my friend Aerik. We're from Dies Drear, not too far from here. Sorry to bother, but we heard there was some trouble around here and wanted to see if we might could help. What is your name, ma'am? Have you seen anything strange lately?
He frowns a bit, not expecting to get a very lucid response.
The priest keeps a smile plastered on his face as he tries to follow Lyrica's sudden topic shifts. Finally he says, "Ah, a daughter of the Dawnflower, how nice! We should leave chatting about the divine until after we've dealt with the evil here. Don't you agree?" He pushes on smoothly, "I'm happy to help, of course, but I'm not sure I can assist in deciphering the motive for this crime. I'm at a loss, frankly. Philmore was a quiet man - more so in the last year - and he did enjoy fishing though I wouldn't call it a singular passion for him. Does that help in some way?"
The mud-spackled woman opens her mouth in an exaggerated 'O' and circles the ranger slowly, pointing at him with a knobby, dirt-crusted finger.
"Strange ones go and strange ones come
the woodsy men - proud Wahika's sons.
Stranger still, she comes from fields and water
Sybil of Albridge - Gellantra's daughter!"
Jak politely waits for a lull in the conversation before jumping in, nodding respectfully and shaking the man's hand as he begins. "I guess anything might be of help at this point… the whole thing is kind of mysterious, but you know that. I hear you're the one who looked into all this initially. Would you mind walking us through your experience of things? From when you first heard of poor Philmore's death? Also, other than his hobby, what do you know of the man? Does he have anyone who'd have reason to want to hurt him? Was he involved in anything strange? Has he acted any different lately?"
Jak listens, doing his best to pick out any hesitations or changes in the man's demeanor or body language.
"One other question. When you were investigating all this, who all did you work with? Was it just you?"
"Are you Sybil then? Or did she visit you?"
You find no tinge of dishonesty in the Priest, "I'm doing what little I can to investigate the matter on my own. There are few volunteers for this sort of task." Galt reflects on what happened. "At the time of the murder, I was in bed. I live near the church, on the other side of town. Davril sent one of the local boys to fetch me. By the time I got here, there were six or eight others about - mostly the town elders as I recall." He points to the muddy spot in the road. "Philmore was lying face-down here. There was a boning knife in his back. It may have been from his own kitchen. Philmore liked to fish so you'd think he'd have such a knife.. but I didn't find one in his home. From the blood and streaks, it looked like he crawled this way. I didn't see any other suspicious prints - nothing in the blood or on the knife. We looked through his house but found nothing out of place. Like most folks here, Phil didn't lock his doors or windows. So the killer could have come in by any number of routes."
He shrugs helplessly, knowing the information is scant. "I don't think Phil had enemies. Some folks might have envied him for his money, his house, or his skill with crops. And a few noses got bent when he bought more land and pushed a few people off their old acreage. It was all legal and he paid a fair price for every parcel but... there was some grumbling about it."
Galt switches to Philmore's mood, "He's been a bit more withdrawn recently, I suppose. He wasn't ever a chatty man but we'd at least exchange pleasantries. That hasn't happened in some months."
The Priest hems and haws for a bit, "Phil's funeral is tomorrow. His body is lying in state currently... if you want to see it."
The strange woman pulls at her wild hair, smoothing it - a mockery of primping for a lover. She twirls like a child. Her eyes fall on the Druid and she hoots:
"Visitors once I had...
young and old, lass and lad
Come you far from mountain lands
To hear these words... "Sybil I am!"
Laughter bursts from her and is immediately silenced. She looks out over the field of corn behind Aerik.
"I don't think Phil had enemies. Some folks might have envied him for his money, his house, or his skill with crops. And a few noses got bent when he bought more land and pushed a few people off their old acreage. It was all legal and he paid a fair price for every parcel but... there was some grumbling about it."
"Even with grumbling and perhaps a little bit of envy, I cannot imagine that would be enough to commit the act of murder. It is curious that you claim he was a bit more withdrawn recently. It makes me wonder if he discovered something and was keeping it to himself. Maybe he was being blackmailed. Perhaps he carried a great weight on his shoulders. Did he take any trips or do something in particular around the time that he became so reserved?"
The priest rubs his face, thinking. "I can't say when exactly he grew more quiet, I just noticed it after some time. But he almost never traveled and I don't recall the last time he left town for any stretch of time. So I don't think he went anywhere before his heart changed."
Jak listens to the exchange, not thinking of any questions Lyrica hasn't already asked. When the father offers for them to examine the body, Jak gets uncomfortable. He turns to Zeke, "You mind taking a look at Philmore's body, man? I wouldn't have a clue what I was looking for."
"What can you tell me about Janys Pegason? I heard she was closer to Philmore than most folk. Has she had anything happen lately? Or acted different?"
"Jannys? She's a good woman: wife, mother of two, town elder. She's something of a mother hen, so I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to check in on Philmore after he became withdrawn."
Jak lapses back into silence, waiting for the conversation to wind down.
"Well, despite how difficult it may be, I think seeing the corpse may be a good idea. Please lead us there, Father."
Turning to Jak, she adds, "If you want to stay out of the room, that will be fine with me. I will just investigate it do ascertain the cause of death, and see if there are any other clues to be found."
Father Galt leads the Jak, Lyrica, and Zeke into the church. In a candle-lit alcove Philmore Phibes, laid out in his best clothes, waits in an open coffin. There is little smell of decay and the light glow about him suggests some preservative magic holds him.
Philmore is an averaged sized man in his mid-forties. His face is lined from years of exposure to the sun and his countenance seems vaguely sad.
"Thanks," Jak responds, "but I'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Zeke's our guy when it comes to looking at bodies… being a doc and all."
When they get in the room, Jak keeps the nose wrinkling to a minimum. He lets the bone-setter take the lead, trying to stay out of the way as he does his own unofficial search of the body. After a while, he shrugs, mutters a few words, and lets his gifts enhance his senses in a search for any magical residue on the body... trying to look past the preserving magic.
Marcus, unnerved by the woman's madness but unwilling to ignore her possibly prophetic words, manages a smile.
Thank you, Sybil. Are you hungry? I have food if you are. Otherwise, we'd best be on our way.
Jak starts, thinking he saw the corpse blink... for just a second.
At the Mud Hut...
The crazed woman cocks her head curiously and smiles at Marcus' words. Then she slowly steps backwards into her lightless hut.
"Darkness falls, the end of days.
Visitors be on their way."
True to her words, the sun kisses the horizon.