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The party climbs back up to the surface ...
The chill autumn rain still falls on Carrion Hill. Only Humboldt, frightened and shivering, awaits your return. The Crows, he explains, have rushed off to the Filth District where riots have broken out. Rumors of another massacre has unnerved the folk of the Hill and thousands are trying to force their way onto the few river barges that remain in the harbor.
"Garus should be at the mayor's palace right now. Let's go back to the palace. I need to get home soon."
********************
The steep, narrow streets of Carrion Hill are now packed with frightened people. Belongings piled onto carts, crying children in tow, they squeeze their way down to the lower wards in search of a way out of the city. Inside Crown Manor the scene is chaotic as well. Exhausted, disheveled Crows report on their efforts to control the riots raging in the Filth. Mayor Heggry keeps his face buried in his hands while the man named Garus listens grimly. When the heroes appear everyone else is ushered out of the war room, leaving them alone with Heggry and Garus.
"Well?" snaps the mayor. "Did you find anything useful?"
"My Lord Mayor," says Cerinwë, folding his arms across his chest. "You hired us to do a job. Let us do it. We are not here for the fee. Not yet. This meeting is only to keep you informed of our progress. The document in question requires translation. When we have more, we will act on it, or come to you if we cannot."
"It is your city," concedes Cerinwë. "And we would not dream of withholding such an important document from the proper authorities. However, can your people handle the monster when they have finished 'making sense', sir? You hired us for a reason, and that reason is still out there, ready to destroy more buildings and kill more of your guards...more of your people. Leave the investigation to us, Mister Mayor, including the translation of our only clue. Or get your people to handle the building-shattering monster. Sir."
Having had enough the dwarf grumpily speaks up, "If'n any o' 'he Keepers are survivin' 'en tis possible 'ey are tellin 'he beastie where ta go. May'en even betrayed 'eir fellows who we foond earlier. 'he book is sayin 'ey may 'ave some link wi 'he beastie." Meeting the mayors eyes with a steady stare, "We're not needin' translatin' we're needin directions t' 'he Keepers where aboots. Ya c'n worry aboot translatin' later when we 'ave stopped 'he beastie's rampagin'." He looks toward the others, "C'n ye be showin 'im 'he cursed book so we c'n get movin'?"
Garus takes the book and flips through it.
"This script is like nothing I've ever seen. We'll have the Hill's best sages on it, assuming they haven't fled the city yet. Now, this is what I know about the men whose names I see are listed here.
Sulm Marshan you should be familiar with by now. He is a recent migrant from Illmarsh, a coastal city to the south.
Glem Baskerwhel is druid who lives in the somewhere in the swamp to the east. We do not know exactly where. He comes to our markets to peddle potions, which some have are useless fakes.
Waldur Crove is the warden of the Asylum, where we treat our city's most troubled souls.
Arlend Hyve a sage of history who dwells in an abandoned church of Aroden on Elm Way on the southern slope of the Tangles.
Rupman Myre is the owner of a middenstone vathouse, down by the river bank.
With the exception of Baskerwhel, these were all men of good reputation."
OOC:
Some lore regarding the substance known as "middenstone". It is not crucial to our game, but just in case you're interested:
The swamps around Carrion Hill, known locally as the
Wrythe, have long been home to a particular species
of insect that has adapted to urban life with shocking
success. Known as carrion roaches, these deep maroon
cockroaches thrive on the waste and flth of the city, and
while they infest homes in increasing numbers the lower
down the hill one travels, the industrious folk of Carrion
Hill have found a singular use for them.
When crushed, boiled, and mixed in the right
proportions with powdered brick, bone, and gravel, the
roaches serve as the not-so-secret ingredient to create a
substance called middenstone. This somewhat nauseating
mauve material is similar to a mix between adobe and
concrete. Kept in a semi-liquid and foul-smelling state in
the large midden-vats of the Filth, raw middenstone can be
molded into sheets, bricks, or many other shapes. Allowed
to cool, middenstone has the same strength and hardness
as wood but is much easier to mold and is relatively
resistant to fre and rot. Middenstone is used for piping,
bricks, siding, and as a relatively cheap building material.
Middenstone has a peculiar, somewhat sickening, violet
hue which comes from the cockroach carapaces used in
its creation, as well as an unpleasantly organic smell of tar,
oil, and graveyards. The substance’s main disadvantage is
that it weathers badly and thus buildings incorporating it
need more upkeep than those of stone. Of course, to the
creators of middenstone and the owners of the vats, this
is in many ways a welcome bit of job security, as there will
always be a need for more middenstone.
"The men on the list, they may flee if they have not already. But then, whether they are still here at all is a good question. In the hope that they are, maybe we should try to find them now, and return to translate the book afterwards?" Andrei shrugged. "But as you say, what you learn could be vital. I will accept what the rest of you think ought be done."
Lowering his voice to a mere murmur, he added, "Perhaps also it would help to follow Garus."
Cerinwë stars into the middle distance for awhile, thinking.
"The book is old. It is therefore unlikely to be a recent journal or book of transactions which could lead us to the present plans of the evildoers, and equally unlikely to distinguish whether the names on the list are the victims or the evildoers themselves. The book is, I guess, a religious or esoteric work, or possibly a history. Upon reflection, I believe we should pursue the clues first and translate later."
The path before them determined, the heroes make their way down Carrion Hill. Night has fallen and the drenching rain has started again (it's around 7:00.) Discouraged by the darkness and the rain, the crowds return to their homes. Still, there is unrest along the trash-clogged riverbanks. As a barge full of wealthier passengers depart, those left behind on shore howl insults and throw stones. "Go, you cowards!" they yell, "and may the river take you and yours!"
The party finds Rupman's Vat along the southern bank of the river, where the ground is so muddy it is little better than quicksand and raging bonfires of trash burn endlessly. The Vat is a forty-foot high, single story structure built on stilts. It is constructed almost entirely of that sinister substance called middenstone. There are two sets of double doors at on the south end of the building. There is a private entrace at the northwest side. All these doors are locked.
"The Mayor asked us to solve his problem, Mijanor. That may not give us license to do anything, but it does give us license to pursue legitimate leads, particularly those we discussed right in front of the Mayor. Do you think he expected us to wait until the killing began before we entered the homes of those on the list? I think not. He gave us all the authority we need to save the people of this city."
"But by all means, knock first if you like."
"The Mayor asked us to solve his problem, Mijanor. That may not give us license to do anything, but it does give us license to pursue legitimate leads, particularly those we discussed right in front of the Mayor. Do you think he expected us to wait until the killing began before we entered the homes of those on the list? I think not. He gave us all the authority we need to save the people of this city."
"But by all means, knock first if you like."