After taking notes on the content of the messages, Ryle takes his notes and samples back to the lab.
()
Surrounded by alembic, fluids, notes, and quickly depleting polypurpose panacea - for clarity - Ryle is doing his best to solve this. But the data isn't cohering. And what led to all that blood? A lot of people would have had to die, but no scenario he can think of makes sense, and any scenario he can think of is nauseating. Time for something better, to take his mind off the sickening parts - just so he can focus on the more important bits.
If he prepares a sobriety potion for the morning - the motions to do so are almost automatic now that his full lab has been set up in his Hopefield office - it won't even get in the way of being productive then. It would be irresponsible not to, really, if a little buzz would help him attack this problem more successfully.
()
Ryle is found passed out, next to a pool of vomit. The sobriety panacea is in reach for when he wants to get to work, but it won't spare him the embarassment in front of whoever finds him. And on his desk are notes... successful ones?
"Ryle?" Raven walks in. "How hard would it be to make synthetic blood? Blood that is realistic enough to-" Raven wrinkles her nose at the scene, then, sighing, props up Ryle and slaps him, while pouring the sobriety potion into the puddle of vomit with the other hand.
Ryle looks forlornly at his last opportunity for relief, poured upon the floor. Despite pain ringing in his head (and cheek,) he decides best to focus on the task at hand.
"Depends on the rest of your sentensh," he explains. "For aesthetic purposes? It's, uh, easy. Harder depending on how convincing you want to be - the, uh, ah, stage loves the cheap stuff. Ugh. For ritual purposes? Imposh- impossible. Medical purposes? Not cheap, and never as good as the real thing, but enug, uh, enough to tide a patient over, it can be done. Enough to fool another alchemist? That's a, uh, race between technichshs.
"On my desk there should be some notes on that. Don't remember much but might have, ah, made some progress. Grab notes. And water. That would help. It's a..." he heaves over a fortunately not-too-fancy lab outfit. "Common solution. Ha ha."
Raven nods, deadpan. "Thank you. And, Ryle, if I ever see you this drunk again, I will keep you captive in my room until you sober up. You're an alchemist, you know exactly how excruciating the effects of that will be. We can't have the person who's keeping track of our coinage a complete lush, and you know it. You're barely functioning as is." The young mercenary gets up and turns to leave, before tossing over her shoulder, "I will also notify every distillery, inn, pub, bar, and wine cellar owner in Hopefeld that they are not, under any circumstances, to give you alcohol. And, if you get desperate enough to either start brewing the stuff yourself or start paying out of your own salary or the kingdom's treasury for bribes, I would advise that you look at the series of decisions that lead you to that point," Raven says coldly, before walking out of Ryle's room.
Ryle glares at her with as much dignity as he can muster (that is to say, exactly as little as it sounds like) before she walks out, and sips his water. "I would never, ever pilfer from the treasury!," he spits out after her, while leaving the other half of the accusation unspoken - he already mostly brews his own.
He can kick the door back with his foot without moving much, and so does so. Nursing water and headache for a bit, he gathers himself enough to stand up and rest on a workbench. What an idiot he is. He deserves this exile and this humiliation both, and all the others, too. He has just enough faculty of concentration to brew another potion to cure his hangover - and after that, he'll have enough to look through his notes. He can only hope they'll redeem him. That, or the work of the day ahead.
Leaving the duty of guarding the mysterious basement to Akiros and his men, the party falls into a routine of aiding in the founding of your settlement. A month, then two, then three pass in a flurry of days and arriving settlers, bringing and the hardships of a truly frontier lifestyle. It isn't glamorous work, but farmlands needed cleared, houses raised, and wild animals deterred. With your guiding hands, the settlement begins to set down roots, and prosper.
These months aren't without their share of setbacks, however. On occasion livestock go missing, taken by wolves, poachers, or worse. But that's when the murders start. It is Kesten Garess that brings the matter to your attention, in between your many efforts.
Settling down at the table he most often makes his reports, Kesten looks slightly more weathered from his journeys, but he has managed to keep his mustache as immaculately trimmed as ever. He clears his throat and then announces, "It is difficult for me to report, but it seems that we have a murderer in our midst. It seemed like it might have been circumstance at first: a maid named Saki was reported missing, but in investigation I had learned that she spoke of returning to Restov. Then a shepherd, Beven, disappeared with his flock a month later. Wolves we thought. Then, last night, we found one of Akiros' reformed bandits, not a bad man but a bit of a drunkard, dead, brutally stabbed to death about 20 feet from the alehouse. With this near his body." He holds up a single silver dagger. "Putting the dates together, the disappearances and deaths all seem to be a month apart from each other. I'm at a loss, but I thought you might wish to be updated on this development."
Raven, for her part, has been setting the groundwork for her Blades program. She spends the majority of her time training the volunteer militia, and despite her harsh manner, the men and women under her guidance begin to develop a strong loyalty to their general. Raven also plans out the future defenses of Hopefeld with Kesten and Akiros, and often makes public showings in the growing settlement at pubs and areas still under construction, offering both guidance and help where it's needed. Hopefeld is still small enough to do those kinds of things, after all. She also makes good on her promise to Ryle, discreetly informing all of the producers and holders of alcohol to not to sell anything to him, including brewery supplies.
At Akiros' report, Raven picks up the dagger and inspects. "What night were the attacks?"
Ryle is busy conducting a simultaneous survey, audit, and census. Do we have reliable maps of the area, and where can we get them? What are the known, and most likely, mineral deposits within our domain? What kind of immigrant inflow are we experiencing, what is the trendline, and how many people would come in the event of a civil war? How long would it take to put the most readily available croplands into cultivation? And if this information can be disseminated, too - to better inform farmers, merchants, and local leadership of community needs and the likely market situation - then even better. He's also perpetually on the lookout for potentially reliable civil servants.
He also approaches Vorsirion about setting up some kind of educational system. Doesn't need to be elaborate - but a slightly more sizable literate minority could be excellent for expanding the sphere of trade and governance.
Unfortunately the best way to do half of this is at the public house - where he's too ashamed to show his face. Didn't he escape the civilized world to be free of one shame - must he find himself in another? He's working increasingly through subordinates; angry at himself and at Raven - all the angrier at her because he knows he lacks the right to be.
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Vorsirion has seemed more distant and moody than normal, and has spent much of his time locked in a tower. The tower was higher than the rest, and gave him a nice view of the growing kingdom.
His role of Magister worked well for the elf, and did not require him to interact with a large number of people.
He thought of the role he had, to guide the kingdom's higher learning and magic, promoting education and knowledge among the citizens and representing the interests of magic, science, and academia. He oversaw the governmental bureaucracy except regarding finance.
Initially, the elf saw the need to identify key individuals that might have magical talent, or that might be able to oversee an education system. He had sent out a proclamation asking for anyone to come forward if they had magical talent or training in education.
Vorsirion's brow furrows as he listens to Kesten. "This is troubling, indeed. Let me see that dagger," he says.
Once he is able to handle the weapon, he closes his eyes and uses his object reading power.
Thurl spends the intervening time helping the fledgling army in its training regimen; his knowledge of local flora and fauna would be, he feels, instrumental in preparing the fighters for anything that they might encounter.
Insisting that the military units be more than just the tip of a spear, the half-orc quickly picks out the the more exceptional of his current roster of recruits and begins assigning them to units of 10s and 50s when each of those number benchmarks is reached.
While the first few practice sessions are whole-group affairs, he quickly begins having individual practices with the group leaders, then allows those leaders to train their individual units.
Satisfied they have overall reached a level of sufficient competence, he begins teaching the unit lieutenants about different battle formations and their use in battle; it is in the midst of this training that he receives word of the recent trouble.
"Troubling is likely an understatement, if this is what my experience tells me..." the bass voice rumbles. "Occurring on a roughly monthly basis, starting with livestock and working up to other targets, the most recent victim armed with a silver knife...last night, you say? I will simply ask the first question that comes to my mind...and I'm sure others of us, too. Was last night a full moon?"
Ryle cocks an eyebrow. "I thought those were a myth? A way for peasants to excuse..." His voice trails off as he realizes Thurl knows what he's talking about, whether or not he's right in this instance.
Alamina spends her day as she might have while traveling with the caravan. Each morning, she meets up with the priests of Erastil, after they deliver their sermons and lessons, before the people head off for work or chores. Conversing briefly with them, she asks about any issues they've been having, troubles with their flock, or other concerns to be addressed.
From there, she makes a circuit of the growing community, touching base with all the folks starting up their days. With a kind word and friendly smile, Alamina tries to make sure all of the citizens know who she is and that she is there to help them.
After the midday meal, she heads to the medical clinics, set up near the meeting hall of Erastil, lending her healing skills and magic if needed. She never hesitates to channel for healing, but prefers to allow mundane techniques be tried first.
Once all that is taken care of, she makes time to meet with the other councilors, making plans and talking of the community as it grows. She does not mandate anyone's attendance, but if anyone misses more than one or two days, she goes after them to ensure they are well, happy, and still interested in helping to rule this land.
Finally, she goes to bed early, so as to be awake for the dark night sky, where she talks to a small group of Desnan worshipers. Delivering brief sermons of the Dreamer and her involvement in the lives and hopes of people, Alamina returns to bed after midnight, only to begin the routine anew come morning.
Raven has been working with Thurl on his training excersises.
"Full moon? What would that have to do with anything?"
Alamina is relatively clueless outside her knowledge base, and has next to no knowledge of creatures such as Thurl is describing.
"Can we increase our patrols, keep a closer eye on the streets as this killer stalks it? Maybe we have to take a more direct approach, and investigate ourselves? Our constabulary is willing and strong, but they are hardly the detectives you lot present."
"What night were the attacks?"
"Was last night a full moon?"
Kesten thinks for a moment. "Last night was the most recent attack. On the night of the Full Moon, yes. I can verify that the previous disappearances were on a Full Moon, as well, although there's already been some rumours of werewolves starting. I've tried to see if I can get Svetlana to squash those. Even if it is some sort of a lycanthrope, it isn't going to help if people start looking for fangs at each other."
He thinks a moment and adds, "Now that you mention lycanthropes, though, Jhod Kavken has been acting funny since the word of lycanthropy has come up. I can't read what's been bothering him, just seems like he'd be more prominent in trying to guard his flock, when he's been awful quiet."
As Vorsirion handles the dagger and uses his object reading, he doesn't see any real significance to the blade itself. He does, however, receive a blurry, almost fevered vision of the clean blade being plunged into vicious gaping wounds and emerging in a spray of blood.
"Can we increase our patrols, keep a closer eye on the streets as this killer stalks it?"
"We can certainly keep a look out, though right now it's a bit of a haystack in a field of haystacks until we know what more to look for."
Raven nods and steeples her fingers. "Kesten, I need you to get Lloyd to compile dossiers on all the victims and deliver it to my desk within a week. I want to see if there's any common thread among the victims. Thurl, give me a rundown of everything you know about lycanthropes. We need to know our enemy. Where's Jhod? Let's set up an appointment with him, see what's got him so jumpy. Ryle, I need you to track down any skilled blacksmiths in Hopefeld, or within easy range of it. A silver dagger isn't exactly a common request, we might be able to get a description of the killer's human form from them. Vorsirion, do some research on lycanthrope weaknesses. Silver's apparently a common one, but it would be immensely helpful if you could find others, and see if you can distill the effects of silver somehow. An alchemical process might work, Ryle can work with you on that. 'Mina, could you go on damage control? A speech should calm the populace, I can help you write it, if you wish. I'll train my squads on dealing with more bestial enemies, keeping discipline, and adhering to tight patrol patterns. We don't want any random guardsperson wandering off and getting eaten, and if the lycantrhope gets bold, they need to be able to defend themselves."
Thurl gives a nod. As soon as Raven is able, he proceeds to tell her as much as he can about werewolves and lycanthropes in general; not just her, but everyone in the group, if he can gather them together.
"I would suggest locating any newcomers to Hopefeld who showed up about the same time as these attacks began. Further, keep an eye out for anyone who seems unusually tired or is suddenly less outgoing. Lycanthropes heal very quickly, but silver would definitely stunt that process...if memory serves, I believe it's even possible for silver weapons to scare their flesh, even if it does otherwise heal...though that may not be true of all the shifters."
"I have a quiver full of silver arrows and if there are any other archers in the group, it may be beneficial to split them up, though I would say among no more than three or perhaps four of us."
"My preliminary census has already identified such artisans, or at least a number of them, General, and I will certainly speak with them, and look into a proper response from my own craft" says Ryle, nodding in agreement; turning to acknowledge Vorsirion, "but you are surely right, Magister, that we must speak with Jhod in all haste. Warden Thurl, do you know what we need - I am speaking both legally and, if the worst is true, physically - in order to preventatively detain him? Of course he is politically important and we must avoid the appearance of offense, but...
"Certainly detention is most preferable, but there are a number of factors to be considered. There is even the possibility, however remote, that the one we seek does not yet even realize he is a lycanthrope." Thurl says, then goes silent, mentally combing through his knowledge of the beasts, trying to think of any way he's learned to identify them in their human form or otherwise remove the threat without causing panic or paranoia to set in among the people.
Kesten nods at Raven and adds, "At once. If you have need of any other information, I'll return as soon as I can."
After some amount of time Kesten returns bearing a small number of parchments. He clears his throat to get the party's attention, then sets the sheafs down on the table. On them is a short writeup on each of the missing or murdered individuals, although there is very brief information.
He shrugs apologetically. "I'll continue looking into what I can find, but here are the details I could find.
Saki was a maid formerly with the House Lebeda. She may have gotten around, if you can take my meaning, though from all accounts a nice enough sort. Didn't seem to be taking to the frontier in particular, however, and her employer seemed to think she might have just left to return to Brevoy. I couldn't find any record or reference to her return, though. There was some mention of a sister back in Brevoy, but I imagine that's unrelated. She worked in the Grey Goose, one of the first inn's that were set up here.
Beven, unmarried, approximately 15 years old. Orphan hailing from the countryside on the outskirts of Restov, apparently came here on the second wave of settlers. Seemed a bit of a loner, content to take care of his flock, get sell some mutton, then head back to the outskirts of the settlement. Someone did mention that he was skilled with a sling and could take a wolf at fourty paces, so he could moderately fend for himself.
Then there was Osgrove, the drunkard I'd mentioned. On of the 'reformed bandits' that stayed on with Akiros, indifferent worker, indifferent man. Kept to himself as well, and never mentioned family or relatives. I would point out that he seemed to have taken an interest in joining the Blades, although he was told he'd need to sober up first. I was given the impression that he was attempting to live up to that, although that seems to have fallen through given his proximity to the taphouse when he was found."
He frowns a bit. "So far I haven't found a correlation or similarity between the three, although if you are able to make something else of it, I can look into it further."
Raven nods. "Thank you, Kesten. I'll see if I can draw any common threads if we have time." She then turns to the rest of the group. "Jhod seems to be our biggest lead at the moment, then. I suppose we should go visit him."
"Is there any correlation to where the bodies were found? Were they in the same area or wildly disparate? I'd also like to know more about this bandit that was discovered with the dagger. You said he was stabbed to death, which implies that it wasn't a werewolf that was responsible for his slaughter. Even that being said, though, the mere fact that he was carrying a silver dagger lends to the thought that he knew more than the rest of us. That might be a worthwhile lead to pursue, as well."
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Vorsirion considers what they have found about the victims.
"I would suggest a common thread between the three, which is that they were somewhat disconnected from others. Not necessarily loners, but perhaps social outliers. That might make them targets," he muses.
"But I concur that we should visit Jhod immediately. Perhaps he knows something."
Ryle has his eyes trained on Jhod as they approach. At what point does he become aware that they, and a retinue of picked men, are walking towards him? How does he react when he does? And the reaction of the company surrounding them - are they loyal to him?
"Jhod!," he calls, before launching a small query that could be interpreted as directed towards a suspect or a fellow councilor of the realm, depending on how wary one was: "We have some things we'd like to discuss with you!"
Jhod Kavken appears to have changed little in the months since you first met him: a balding pate and serviceable clothes over his holy symbol of Erastil seemed to almost be a uniform for him. His role as a religious leader towards the god of Communities was in display as you approach him and a small knot of men raising a barn, each of the men straining with ropes and pulleys. As he notes your small detachment approach, a briefly apprehensive look crosses his features, and he whispers to one of the nearby men, who resumes the heaving work.
Gesturing for you to join him away from the earshot of the sits at a rough table and faces you. "My lords and ladies, I would ask you what brings you here today, though I would guess it is regarding the matter of the murder that was discovered. I would offer my services however I may. Many of the clergy here have started to whisper rumors, and whispers often have a habit of turning to fear and violence."
Raven sits somewhat awkwardly in one of the chairs, then clears her throat. "We're all too aware of that, Jhod. Thank you for having us. You've been somewhat... quiet, ever since the rumors have started circulating. Could you perhaps enlighten us to any troubles you or your congregation have been facing?"
The young general begins asking a variety of questions, some meaningless, some relevant enough to maybe get some clues.
- "I'm not all that familiar with your faith. You value community and familial bonds, correct?"
- "Ever seen a man named Beven come around here? Tends to a flock of sheep, maybe he would've gone to the clergy of a god dedicated to farming if something went wrong?"
- "Lycanthropes may not be the cause of these disappearances and the recent murder. The only clue was that the only victim we've found was wielding silver. Any other monsters that you know of that would be interested in loners that are vulnerable to that materiel?"
"Thank you very kindly - your cooperation, and care for your flock, is greatly appreciated.
- What do you know of lycanthropy in general?
- Would you be willing to attend us in our investigations tonight?
- Are you willing to be put under oath by Thurl?
- Who do you know that would be in a good position to attest as to the recent goings-on of people in your retinue?
The young general begins asking a variety of questions, some meaningless, some relevant enough to maybe get some clues.
"I'm not all that familiar with your faith. You value community and familial bonds, correct?"
The cleric nods. "Community and Family are forefrong in the Worship of Erastil. They are two of the tenets that seperate that uplift sentient races above being mere beasts. They make us strong in the face of a wildnerness filled with creatures possessing greater strength or strength in numbers, yet we overcome."
"Ever seen a man named Beven come around here? Tends to a flock of sheep, maybe he would've gone to the clergy of a god dedicated to farming if something went wrong?"
"Beven, Beven. The name is familiar, although I have met many in these last few months. A shepherd? Ah, yes, I remember the lad, though vaguely. He asked for a blessing on his flock before departing, although I have not seen nor heard of him for months."
"Lycanthropes may not be the cause of these disappearances and the recent murder. The only clue was that the only victim we've found was wielding silver. Any other monsters that you know of that would be interested in loners that are vulnerable to that materiel?"
Jhod thinks a moment, carefully considered the monsters that he knows of. "A Devil, perhaps? Although that seems unlikely, it is always a possibility. A devil would delight in picking of loners."
What do you know of lycanthropy in general?
Here Jhod blanches a bit. "Lycanthropy is a curse of the Beastmother, though other foul dieties may hold claim to it. The inflicted are overcome by bestial nature, attacking friends or family when the moon calls to them. A bite of claw can cause the affliction to spread, although those naturally born have greater control. Silver is their bane, and is the only sure way to prevent their healing."
Would you be willing to attend us in our investigations tonight?
The cleric thinks only a moment, before noding. "If there is any aid I can render, just ask."
Are you willing to be put under oath by Thurl?
Here, Jhod's face hardens. "Under Oath? You mean, under detection Magic? I have nothing to hide, but I would wish to know what charge or information you would need to have verified first."
Who do you know that would be in a good position to attest as to the recent goings-on of people in your retinue?
Jhod looks puzzled. "My retinue? I'm not sure I understand what you mean. The followers of Erastil? Priestess Evanore may be able to elaborate in ways I cannot, but she and I would be the most knowledgable of the clergy."
Thurl stands silently, his arms folded across his broad chest; he thinks for a moment, wanting to ask a question that hasn't already been asked.
"What whispers have you heard? It is true that quiet voices can inspire disquieting deeds; as a member of the immediate clergy, I would imagine you have a better finger on the pulse of the locals."
Jhod appears to be mostly telling the truth, though Thurl catches a glimpse of something in the subject of Lycanthropes that Jhod seems profoundly guilty of. Not that he is one, or that he is involved with the murders, but something clearly troubles the cleric.
Jhod looks to Thurl and Vorsirion. "The whispers are full of fear and apprehension. In these Stolen Lands, anything can and often may happen. If a danger has presented to itself within the heart of this new home, where can they be safe? As to the werewolves themselves... the Afflicted have little sense of anything when their curse manifests. Natural born werewolves may form into packs, but I have not heard of any in some time."
sense motive
"Jhod, we are not your enemies here. We are concerned for the citizens here, the members of you flock. There have been only a few taken thus far, but who knows what will happen going forward. Whatever you know, if it's a person, an area, or even a silly wive's tale, we need to hear it. Please help us help the people."
Jhod opens his mouth a moment, then closes it, clearly conflicted about what he might say. Finally he relents, drooping a bit, looking a decade older in moments. "It isn't someone from my congregation I'm hiding, so much as my past. Before I came here."
He sighs. "I believe that Erastil granting me a vision of the Stolen Lands was a path towards redemption, yet the events you ask about make it clear that I have not earned that deliverance yet. You see, before I came here, I abused my power, as a leader of my flock, to set a lynch mob on an innocent man." He pauses. [b]"Well, not truly innocent, as we determined after his death that he was a murderer and a thief. But in the fervor of a lycan-hunt after events started just like this, he was the most clear culprit. It all fit, and the mob picked him out, and I did nothing to stop it. I... I helped urge it along. It was only after we discovered the -actual- werewolf that we learned our mistake."
"I think that perhaps this a final test. A final chance. We must find whoever or whatever this is, before a frenzy takes what we have worked so hard for and innocent lives are lost. Yes. I will aid you in this, however I can. I must."
"That is a hard thing to admit, Jhod" says Ryle, "We need leaders like you. Not just ones willing to help, as you are, but ones who are aware their judgment can be deeply flawed. Power has a way of occluding that. And..." he says, thinking, "you bring up another point as well. Panic could do as much damage as the lycanthrope itself."
Addressing everyone, he asks "What's the talk about town as far as what's going on? My, ah, own unwise judgments have kept me from the better sources of gossip."
"Talk of silver, a full moon, and murders really only brings one set of talk, lycanthropes. For obvious reasons I don't want to jump to conclusions, although even I had to think it might be that."
He considers a moment. "You know what you might do? Speak to the innkeeper at the Flagon, where Osgrove was found near. Maybe he'll have something to add about what Osgrove was doing there. I could also help you look at the body, if you lack anyone trained in medicine. I know you are quite capable of causing wounds. Identifying them can be a different thing entirely, though."
Raven nods. "Thanks for the offer, Jhod. I might need your assistance in autopsying the body." She gives a wry smile. "I didn't always have the luxury of someone who could heal me with a light slap, you know. Had to make do with a needle, thread, and a canteen of whisky."
Ryle is scribbling away at some sort of chart, lines being drawn between words in an incomprehensible shorthand. "How intelligent is the creature in its bestial form? Perhaps we can lure it? Vorsirion, you appear to make use of some kind of sympathy with objects, do you not? Do we have remains of any of the victims from which you could use your, ah, distinct methodologies to gather pertinent information?"
"A great deal will depend on the nature of the beast's lycanthropy. Cursed werebeasts, by my understanding, are able to maintain some degree of human intellect, even in their transformed states; those that are afflicted with the curse of lycanthropy, though, may have no knowledge whatsoever of what is going on."
Jhod listens to the party, visibly relieved that they seem accepting of the burden that seemingly haunts him. Parts of him seem conflicted on how to handle this new development, but he cracks a brief, grim smile, before turning to the matter at hand.
"There are conflicting reports on what actually occurs with the Afflicted when their curse is rampant. Some appear conscious, while others lose themselves to the Beast and are horrified by the bloody mess that they find when they wake the next morning. I believe that there is a range of conditions that may vary by the strain of the afflicted or how closely their own personality matches that of the Beast." To Ryle, he adds, "From all accounts, the Beast of the Afflicted exhibits a blend of animal cunning with human intellect."
He glances at Vorsirion. "The settlement is growing, yes, but there are still a great number of individuals that live on the fringe of the society, where two of the apparent victims come from. I doubt it would be as easy as just sitting in the middle of the town and waiting for someone to grow fangs.' He thinks a moment. "You might encourage people that would normally avoid the center of town to come this way, however."
Raven shakes her head. "We might be getting too fixated on these lycanthropes. Remember, the only evidence that a werewolf might be behind the disappearances and killing is a silver knife. It might be just a superstition piece, might be the signature of a serial killer, or it might be a werewolf. We need to keep our options open. Werewolf is a possibility that we need to investigate, but we can't jump to conclusions here."
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Vorsirion retains a neutral expression. "Well, the only clue is not the silver knife. We also have murders happening every full moon. There is, if I'm not mistaken, another tonight. So what is the best way to protect the townspeople tonight? Perhaps we could retain an active guard in town and we could investigate these 'fringe areas' tonight."
"Hmm..I suppose that is true. Getting tunnel visioned on a werebeast of some kind is not what we need to fall into. That said, the sooner we do begin moving, the sooner we will solve this and hopefully prevent any further loss of life. I would suggest that we need to go see this reformed bandit's body. As the only murder victim we have a cadaver of, that seems a good place for at least one of us to go."