Any tracks are long since faded after weeks in the swampy weather.
Everybody heads back to town and starts asking around. Azrin finds out that these tools are created in a part of town known as Surgeon Flats.
The raven symbol on the tools is a maker's mark used by Zbraslav Horav and Sons, located in Anatomist's Alley. They have a tiny workshop there.
"Well boys," Azrin says with a wry grin, "Why don't we see if Zbraslav Horav and Sons have anything to say about this?"
"Ok, let's go."
You're met by a bookish, taciturn man wearing thick spectacles.
"Welcome to Zbraslav Horav and Sons. What can I do for you." he says, seemingly bored.
"Hello, we're here to investigate the murders. We found a set of surgical tools with your raven mark while investigating the Boneyard. Can you think of anyone to whom you might have recently sold such tools?"
"We probably keep a record in the back." he says, and makes no move to go find it.
After a few moments of awkward silence, a booming voice rings out over the shop.
"Boris! What have I told you about customers?" a jovial looking man says as he walks around the corner.
"Hello, friends! Welcome to our humble shop." he pauses, and turns away for a moment. "Hey, Boris, go sweep the back room, would ya?" he says, before turning back to you.
"Sorry about my son. He doesn't like foreigners, fool boy. Coin is coin, I say."
"Now, what tools were those you needed me to look at? Every order is a bit unique, but surgical tools are my bread and butter here, I'd need to take a look at them to tell you who I sold them to. Got a big ledger right here, for all my purchases." he says proudly, patting a surprisingly thick book for such a small shop. He seems to do about as much business as a shop thrice this size, and there's no indicator anybody else works here.
Azrin hands over the tools.
"Ah! Yes. I sold these to a woman named Vladka Kostel. Red hair, Varisian. Had a nice green scarf with a swan on it. Sadly, not interested in an old man who makes tools." he chuckles.
"But, I digress. She works for an auction house, so I'd be surprised if she still had them. You could go and ask her though. Sadly, I don't remember which one. There are quite a few here."
Azrin recognizes the name. Vladka works for Ledov's Chirurgery Merchants, on the other side of town.
"Alright, let's go."
"yes, I remember something like that..." Vladka says when you approach her about the tools.
"I remember he was wearing a really tall top hat and green tinted reading glasses. Not much else though. My boss, Ollo, might know better."
However, Ollo is not inclined to be cooperative.
"I'm not in the habit of giving out information about my clients. Bad for business."
"I promise that we will only use this information as needed to investigate the murders, and won't give it to anyone else."
"Well...fine. A guy called Radniche bought them, runs a chirurgery supply shop out in Surgeon's Flats."
"Thank you."
You find Radniche at a cramped little shop, piled high with skeletons, pickled things in jars, and alchemical components.
"Oh yes, I know who bought those. But I keep my customer's identities strictly confidential."
"Though, eh, sometimes things just slip out unintentionally when somebody buys something from my store." he says slyly.
"Can't ever have enough Holy Water, I suppose," Azrin says as he buys a flask.
"Oh yeah, I remember now. Was a dapper fellow, dressed in black from head to foot. Owns a chymic work somewhere nearby. Bit fuzzy on the details though." he smiles disingenuously.
Ezekiel begins - with deliberate clumsiness - examining the alchemist's fire in the shop.
Ezekiel gives up on subtly, and decides to go with a logical ultimatum instead.
"Is best for everyone involved if you give us a straight answer. It is very important to life of maybe innocent man."
"What man is that? I only know of one trial being held soon, and that's for the Beast. And he ain't a man." he sneers.
"Do you think it wise to inhibit investigation?"
"Nobody cares about that thing. Just let the trial take its course, burn the damned thing, and forget about it. Like everyone else is going to. No point in investigating."
"Refusing the Beast a fair trial creates a slippery slope effect. If you decide he's not worth the effort of a proper investigation and trial, what's to stop you from doing the same to other alleged criminals in the future?"
"But he ain't a maaaan." Radniche says plaintively. He then sighs.
"But fine. Fine. It was Vorkstag, of Vorkstag and Grine's chymic works."
"You aren't a man. Ha."
"By that he means, 'thank you for your cooperation'."
Azrin pockets the Holy Water he just bought, realizing that his knuckles have turned white from how hard he was gripping it.
Lucky I didn't shatter it. Note to self: Don't hold glass containers while negotiating with self-righteous a-holes
He then leads the group to Vorkstag and Grine's.
"Oh? Vorkstag and Grine? They're very well respected merchants. Grine is a peculiar looking fellow, but Gnomes are that way, you know."
"Yeah but the place is so odd. No workers ever go in or out, but the factory never stops running. You can see the smoke coming out day and night."
When you head there, you finally get a good look at it.
A tall, iron chimney belches yellow clouds into the sky from this small brick factory. Large leaded windows arch in a dozen places on its outer walls, but they are so begrimed as to be opaque. A large gate opens onto an inner courtyard beneath a sign proudly proclaiming “Vorkstag and Grine, Chymic Works.” The building has two floors and a tower, topped by a lightning rod.
"Looks like a nice place to work. Reminds me of the arena."
Upon getting within 60 feet of the place, many of you recognize the acrid scent of acid and bleach production.
The big wooden gate is barred, and it looks as though it's going to stay that way unless Ezekiel applies some force to it. The wall is made of brick, and though climbable, it would be difficult.
There is a doorbell hanging off to the side.
Ezekiel rings the doorbell.
A man matching Vorkstag's description appears through an upper entrance to the courtyard a few moments later.
"What do you want? There's no delivery scheduled!"
"We want to talk."