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The messenger from the Sincomakti School sets a letter from Dr. Quolorum on the table and unrolls a map of Ustalav. "The Hungry Mountains have always had more than their share of strange events and hauntings, but Doctor Quolorum has recently become aware of some different-seeming events, apparently connected with a noblewoman, Lady Illirigarde. The Doctor has some places he'd like you to investigate to learn more of these events."
Dr. Quolorum
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The raven skinned Zenj picks up the letter and reads it. He looks down to his companion, a small compsognathus that trots at his heels. Now, here are some people who I can see needing our help, eh Shikaba. Lets see if we can't find this missing Lady.
The compsagnathus squeeks in reply as he scoops her up and places her into a satchel he wears slung across his body.
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This attractive - Man? Woman? It's actually quite hard to tell - wears a well-kept, but visibly dusty, armored coat, has a large shield on its back, and carries an odd weapon midway in shape between sword and axe on a tight leather cord around its wrist, as well as several chakrams stowed in an atypically close position to its throwing arm. Its clothes and armor have numerous patterns, glyphs, and little cartoons branded in, and are bedecked with numerous patches, stamps, knicknacks, and other pilgrim's trinkets...that seem to be constantly shifting around its person like starfish on a rock. Its incandescent hair blows as if in the wind, even though you're inside.
It speaks in a clear contralto/countertenor voice that sounds accustomed to addressing a crowd. "I am Heraclitus Ourobouros, traveler, raconteur, wanderer, mystic, vagabond, stargazer, and errant spark!" It says with a wry grin.
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An attractive robed figure silently slips into the room. A few strange looking knives hang at the man's hips, while a small metallic sphere clings to his arm. A metallic gleam from beneath his cloak betrays the hidden armor. Glancing around, he takes in the group.
'Hmmm. Not familiar with any of them. Twould be dreadful to have to turn them over before getting this task completed.'
Snatching the letter, her studies its contents. 'Research? That could prove useful. Perhaps its a new magical weapon...' Glancing up, his thoughts continue 'Seems our ensemble lacks experience'
Finally, he speaks with a soft, unassuming voice. "I'm Jazk. Pleased to meet you. Anyone know what she was researching?"
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Dunhob is a small village, just a road and two rows of thatched buildings. Notably, every building has a horseshoe nailed to the front door.
Dunhob rarely sees visitors, and your arrival spurs a large crowd to form around you, gawking at the newcomers. Heraclitus especially draws a number of fearful glances from the locals. Before anyone gets a chance to do much, the crowd parts to reveal a frowning old woman. She hobbles forward on her cane, then pulls out a horseshoe and throws it at Hadzi!
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Backtracked before the trail...
An elven woman clad in leather armor with a scimitar at her side steps forward. "I'm not sure the nature of her research will be of much use to the world if we are to begin our investigation of her research in a tavern. Perhaps she's researching new alcohols, or maybe effects of alcohol, or the tavern could be a convenient place to pick up drunkards who can easily be experimented on."
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Heraclitus seems utterly undaunted - indeed, almost encouraged - standing in front of the crowd and delivering a comedic introduction.
What's strange is, there may indeed be evil spirits around Heraclitus - certainly, something is making the horseshoes float about in the air and hop on the ground around it.
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As he sees the old woman about to toss the horseshoe Hadzi curls protectively around his satchel, which contains Shikaba. Seeing some children in the crowd he opens his shaman-purse and lets her step out from the folds of fabric. He picks her up, patting her scaled neck. I am Hadzi and this is Shikaba. She can do tricks
He smiles broadly as Shikaba dances on her hind legs.
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The old woman blinks when Daedîn touches the iron horseshoe. "It be good you are no spirit, but your companions? That one obviously has a poltergeist about her." With that, she lobs one at Heraclitus. It knocks them upside the head and the woman hollers, "Evil spirits begone!"
The rest of the crowd nod, clearly respecting the elderly woman's opinion, though the few children that haven't been dragged away by their parents giggle at Shikaba's dancing.
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This was probably not the best group to assemble to go into a superstitious human town. Only two humans in the whole bunch, and one of those seems to deal in spirits, even if they aren't evil ones. Perhaps they'd trust elves. At least that is more likely than extra-planar beings or snake people. Hopefully picking up the horse shoe will get them to stop.
Thalionwen watches and waits to see if Daedîn (or any of the others) gets a positive reaction.
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Heraclitus rubs its head.
"Hey, that hurt! Talk about too many irons in the fire!"
Then it does something incredibly brave and foolish: It reaches out with the spirits surrounding it and draws a whole pile of horseshoes in its direction, rubbing them against its skin like bars of soap.
"Spirits aren't so bad, once you get to know them. As you can see, I have power over the spirits. If some are giving you trouble, perhaps I can help you!"
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Heraclitus' quip draws some good chuckles, though its use of magic to move around the horseshoes leaves a few of the villagers noticeably uneasy. The old woman puts the horseshoes away and leans on her cane. "I am Maricella Weath, the village elder. I expect you're all here to visit the Lucky Lantern, aren't you? That's where the people who want to stir up trouble always go."
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Chuckling at the antics of his companions, he picks up one of the horseshoes, tossing it light and catching it again.
"They are correct, our heritage aside, we wish to help you lot. If you need pointers in the art of throwing these, I can give you some later." He offers in a raspy voice.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Maricella squints at you and waves her cane around the village. "There are many fell spirits living near here, but our wards keep us safe. Still, we often get strange headaches or can’t sleep at night. But meddling folks like Lady Illirigarde often meet a bad end. That’s why we keep our noses out of it.” She frowns at Jazk, "We aren't looking for help, especially from troublemakers."
Maricella picks up one of her horseshoes as she continues. “She was keen on studying the spirits around Dunhob. She used to visit every few months and do frightful divinations for us. But one night she did a harrow reading for old Veny at The Lucky Lantern, and he died. She left Dunhob after that and never returned." Maricella rubs the horseshoe and frowns. "Lady Illirigarde said her harrow cards touched the mind of a dreaming evil. She left all her magic instruments behind and promised to return when she learned how to drive out the spirits. But she never did. A few years back an adventurer named Wulfer went into the tavern and never came out. That place is haunted.”
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The corpse's scabbard holds a rapier, and the pack contains two vials of water etched with a spiral, and the remnants of some long-spoiled food. Whoever this was, they've been here awhile. The thick layer of dust on the floor shows a trail of footprints coming from the doorway to the common room, suggesting that this person was fleeing something before being killed.
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One of Heraclitus's attendant spirits catches the sword as Jazk tosses it away, and Heraclitus looks it over for for itself, taking a bit of time to be sure it's appreciated the thing as fully as it can.
"'Worthless crap,' you say??? Hardly! This is a fine specimen of swordsmithing! Not enough to be magical, mind you, but still."
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This musty common room is coated with thick layers of dust. Dozens of black candles, animal skulls, and occult idols are arranged as decorations through the room. One table near the center of the room is decorated with human skulls and a crystal ball. A spread of harrow cards lies face down on the table and two chairs are pulled up to it. One chair sits empty and the other holds a skeletal corpse.
Daedîn, as you enter the room all of the candles spontaneously light, and a robed figure appears at the empty table. The figure's features are obscured under its heavy cowl, but you catch glimpses of tentacles wriggling around its mouth as it speaks. "Welcome, travelers. Have you come to seek the wisdom of my harrow reading? These are strange times and those without guidance risk great peril. Stand before my table and learn your fate.”