Evil."
"Yes... There are two stories here, Vorel and my own... and a small intersection." He swallows, and continues. "Vorel was... a foul man, a wicked man, a sinful man. He did all those things, and worse. And those of his blood proved little better." He waves a hand around. "I worked it out. H-he's still here. In the house. He is the house. The fungus... lichdom gone wrong."
"I met Iesha during a rare act of charity I made... we fell in love. My love curdled. I became jealous and greedy. When I would visit Magnimar and my friends, I would lock her away so no one could get to her. I returned one day, saw her together with a carpenter... I look back, and they were doing nothing, but at the time, then... I raged, and when I returned to my senses, I had two bodies, their blood on my hands."
"I sought absolution, help with my friends in Magnimar... they did what they could, they said they did. I paid them for their help. So much. T-then they told me, it could be the end. No more debt, no more retracing of my love's death. T-the woman, the leader. She told me- come back here, to the manor, find a rat with Vorel's sickness. I did so."
"Y... you saved me from the goblins when I came back. I-I think I became obsessed with you. I can hardly remember, it's like that part of me has been claimed by another..."
"I found the rat, and this mold... I took it to her. I was sick. She t-taught me something, a rune..." In the dust, a bony finger sketches the Sihedron rune. "A-and she sent me here." He looks up at you, blue eyes wide. "Why did she send me here? Why? W... what's happened to me?" He shivers and shakes. "H-he's coming soon..."
Wyam let's out a low sigh. He felt bad for Aldern now but there were several problems to deal with now. "You're beyond mere sickness now. You've become something far worse and I don't believe there's any real way to help you anymore. But before you lose yourself completely answer my questions.
I don't know why this woman in Magnimar sent you back here. What is her name? What is she the leader of? Tell me and I'll see that she can't do this to anyone else.
And your Father, Vorel. You said you'd worked it out... Where is the source for him located? Is it in his private study?"
Aldern suddenly gasps and throws his head back, flinging his face-mask away. A terrible rictus grips him as he tries to speak. "X... Xan... Xanesha... seven brothers..."
He blinks, and staggers to his feet. A new, deeper voice emanates as he raises his war razor. A terrible smile emerges on his faceless visage as he stares at Wyam.
"You live! Well and good, for now I shall have the reward of tasting your heart while it is yet warm..."
A terrible stench emanates from the Hurter's rotting flesh.
The undead figure leaps forward and lashes out at Wyam.
The little dragons pulled back from the terrible stench, sick and gagging.
Spectrum anticipated the stench waving off the undead creature. He quickly wound his scarf around his face to ward off the worst of it and waved a hand, conjuring a ball of fire beneath the monster.
Wyam took notice of the concise layer of evil emanating from the fungus and was distracted momentarily as the shift in Aldern took place.
Wyam recoiled from the stench, but even the sudden sharp increase in volatile stench wasn't enough to overcome him but he was taken by surprise for his troubles.
The ghoul, rather Hurter, lunged forward Wyam's armor deflecting the first attack but not the second as a gash in Wyams neck is opened up.
Wyam's fortified body, reinforced by the power of his faith with Iomadae allowed him to shake off the paralytic toxin coursing through his body.
"Hurter! No, Aldern Foxglove! I am Wyam Marshal and today I shall be the one to put you to rest!"
With a merry skip, the coated figure hops over Spectrum's flaming ball, the sparks reflecting brightly in its blue eyes as it smiles. "Yes, light that anger and fury... it will taste all the more delicious when I eat you..."
It grunts and manages to maintain its balance as Wyam lands a strong divine blow; but the creature seems far from cowed by it.
Isme retches from the sudden intensity of the rotting stench, distracting her for a moment. However, she soon pushes through, trying to buy any advantage for the already-wounded Wyam.
With her practiced beak, she reaches for the hidden pouch on her and grabs a tiny bag of powder which she throws into the air before piercing with a talon, scattering sand before it disappears when she blows out.
Immediately, a cloud of golden sand appears in the room, swirling and sticking to whatever it can reach, glittering in the fiery light of Spectrum's flaming sphere.
"Endure and be careful! I can weaken him considerably but it will take time." She coughs after, still reeling from the rotten stench.
With an ugly howl, Isme's powder explodes up to cover the Hurter's eyes before it can shut its eyelids. Utterly blinded, it stares around in a moment of confusion. It lashes out at Wyam.
Shielded by his faith Wyam was able to dodge out of the way of the attacks by Hurter.
"I cannot allow you to harm anyone else!"
He looked back at Spectrum.
"Spectrum, the fungus on the wall, its emanating a powerful aura. Focus your efforts there!"
"Aldern said something about the fungus being lichdom gone wrong," Isme recalls before breaking into another coughing fit.
She stares at the blinded Hurter, invisibly driving her supernatural might at the ghast's defenses then cawing to further confuse its concentration.
The little dragons continued to wretch. Spectrum mentally instructed them to keep out of the fray.
Spectrum flicked his wrist and sent the flaming sphere to the back wall where the fungus grew.
Then he tossed another burst of fire the encompassed the whole room.
Moving his sphere onto the wall, Spectrum sees the fungus suddenly as in the shape of a man's form, and feels a momentary urge to run over and consume it with ravenous gusto- but the danger of the fight focuses him.
With another burst of alacrity, the creature hops its way over Spectrum's spell, sparks only giving him an unholy aura of war.
Concentrating, its eyes blaze forth bluely, destroying the glittering dust covering them.
His form begins to shake with enthusiasm and energy as it seems one final change comes over him. He loses his singular mad focus on Wyam, and bows his head, breaking into a wide grin as he doffs an imaginary hat. "I wonder how your deaths shall affect your friends. What things might you have done that will go unfinished? What will those broken promises spawn? How will your murders shape the world? I am the Skinsaw Man, and I say... let's find out, hmm?" He slashes again at Wyam.
Wyam stared in shock at how much more vicious this version of the man is. His armor and shielding faith only barely held back the onslaught of how dangerous this foe really was as he was knocked to very near unconsciousness. His vision beginning to black out, nearly causing him to drop his sword and shield.
He was not paralyzed, barely for the good it would do them. He was not sure what strength he had left. It was clear, they had taxed themselves too far in coming here and not retreating sooner.
"Spectrum, Isme, run! Go now!"
With holy valor, Wyam strikes a final solid blow before darkness overtakes him and he drops to the ground, unconscious. The ghoul shivers, the effects of the knight's attacks starting to show fruit. "Y-you think you can stop me? I want your heart, little knight, I want it NOW"
Spectrum wasn't going anywhere. The flaming sphere rolled back toward their foe. Then Spectrum stepped into the breach Wyam's body had created and lashed out at the Skinsaw Man, his rapier coursing with energy.
Stepping forward, Spectrum aims a firm thrust at the Skinsaw Man's chest. It tries to dodge it, raising its war razor to deflect the blow. All it does is allow another channel for the sparks as lightning plunges into its chest and along its weapon. It gasps, eyes burning black as its blood boils. "N... no... I... wanted. I wanted! You dead, him eaten, more... I wanted." It drops to the floor, spasms for a moment, then falls still.
The Skinsaw Man is dead.
Spectrum knelt and tried to staunch Wyam's bloodloss.
Spectrum succeeds; the noble paladin's wounds are bound and secured and he rests easily.
As he worked on Wyam he sent the sphere back over to the fungal wall to see if it's fire would scour the taint away.
The fungus withers and disappears.
"You're an idiot if you think we'd run and leave you like that. I'd probably fly." Isme quicky hops over to Wyam and hums a soothing lullaby, gathering magic to heal the worst of his injuries. After she sings, she devolves into a coughing fit, unable to hold it back anymore as the rotting stench still sickened her. She shakes her head. "I am glad you're still alive."
Isme's keen eye catches the fungus's slow regrowth. "The fungus is growing back," she says. "Possibly just fire won't do it considering how much necromancy was involved."
She then methodically searches the Skinsaw Man's body, making sure the undead won't rise up again and seeing if there was any further hints Aldern may have left.
+1 War Razor
Ring of Jumping
Ring of Protection +1
Stalker's Mask
You have served us quite well. The delivery you harvested from the caverns far exceeds what I had hoped for. You may consider your debt to the Brothers paid in full. Yet I still have need of you, and when you awaken from your death, you should find your mind clear and able to understand this task more than in the state you lie in as I write this. You shall remember the workings of the Sihedron ritual, I trust. You seemed quite lucid at the time, but if you find after your rebirth that you have forgotten, return to your townhouse in Magnimar. My agents shall contact you there soon—no need for you to bother the Brothers further. I will provide the list of proper victims for the Sihedron ritual in two days’ time. Commit that list to memory and then destroy it before you begin your work. The ones I have selected must be marked before they die, otherwise they do my master no good and the greed in their souls will go to waste. If others get in your way, though, you may do with them as you please. Eat them, savage them, or turn them into pawns—it matters not to me.
—Your Mistress, Wanton of Nature’s Pagan Forms
Wyam awoke and was pleased to see his companions rather than Aldern standing over him.
"Guess my decision was a bit premature." he said standing up. "You have my thanks for ending what I could not."
"You did the lion's share of the work." Spectrum said was a nod of thanks.
He wiped his hand over his face, looking tired. "I am beginning to think I am not cut out for these ventures."
"Ridiculous, you're more cut out for this than hundreds of individuals. That particular foe, Aldern or the rather the Skinsaw man was especially dangerous." he said, trying to be reassuring his companion.
He stretched feeling much better from Isme's healing ministrations.
"Thank you Isme. We'd not have been able to push this far without you. We'll just have to be more cautious in the future."
He glanced back at the strange fungal shape growing on the wall.
"I'm afraid your right about that. It's going to take more than simple fire to rid the area of that. Direct application of holy energy might be able to do the trick. This could even be the source powering the haunts directly. We're going to have to rest before we can deal with this area entirely."
He looked over the note that Isme discovered.
"Right, seems that we'll have to investigate this note and those mentioned in it further. Magnimar, the seven brother, and this mistress Xanesha. The Sihedron rune. It all leads to them. I don't know if this area is safe, but we should try to find somewhere close by to recover. I'd like to cleanse this area first before more trouble comes from it.
We'll have to talk to Brodert when we get back to town. This Sihedron rune is problematic. Not to mention those who have been marked. I don't know what that means yet, but I hope we've stopped whatever was happening with that."
"Don't kid yourself, Spectrum. We would have failed without you long ago," Isme said to the elf before turning to cock her head at the pseudodragons. "I'm sure Glitter and Array have their own opinions on it."
Leaving Spectrum to deal with whatever his familiars would say, Isme addresses Wyam. "The sihedron rune... Seven advisors who corrupted Thassilon, and these seven brothers. Perhaps the number is not a coincidence rather, significant in its relation to Thassilon. Speaking to Brodert would be a wise course of action. Spectrum will be seeing more application of his scholarship on the ancient empire, it seems.
Isme exhaled. "But yes, some rest would be good, as would clearing this place out. We also haven't explored the estate thoroughly so there may be much that we have missed that might give us further clues."
"You're right that the moss requires holy energy but it will require more than you can provide, Wyam. We will need a divine spellcaster of sufficient strength and skill. As we're unable to deal with the moss, we may still meet haunts if we explore. We're in no particular rush so I don't see why we can't go back to town first and return here for a more thorough cleansing and investigation."
"In that case, Isme, we'll have to leave here now and return later when we can deal with it. Let's go."
Slower than when they entered, the group leaves the haunted mansion, a ransom's remains stored away. Their steps are heavy as they leave this place of madness and sadness and step out into the coarse sea air, start the journey back to town. As they walk, half-winter finally breaks into winter. Snowflakes drop from the sky, frezzing ugly sleet into beautiful ice as a soft white blanket covers the countryside in frozen peace. Steam coalesces in front of your minds, a welcoming visible reminder that you are alive.
You're let through the town gates without any comment; a few guards smile and snigger, others look sternly ahead for danger. After a few more moments, you turn your way to the town square in front of the cathedral.
There, waiting for you, stand a crowd of people. Father Zantus and four clergymen, Mayor Deverin and her assistant, Sheriff Hemlock and eight of his watchmen, red-eyed Ven Vinder, inkstained Brodert Quint cleaning his glasses, rosy-cheeked Farmer Grump, pale Ibor Thorn, ten more bystanders you reocgnize from drinks and fod shoved into your hands from not so long ago, and a beaming Ameiko. She's the first, but the rest all soon join in- a solemn yet joyful round of applause, hands clapping, rising from all of them. A few whistle. They move forward, some shaking hands with you others slapping backs and shoulders, caring to avoid wounds and bruises.
Hemlock steps forward in the crowd, face still grim despite it all. "Zantus auguried success for you... I was unable to prevent, well, all this." He waves a hand around. Ameiko follows behind him, grinning. "Hey, I was able to stop the banner and the drinking. I know it's not after every rough adventure that you wanna jump right into the hard partying." The Mayor coughs politely and extends a hand. "This has been an event kept discreet for reasons of safety... one we are very proud of you to have resolved. The town is deeply grateful, and while we would like to hear the story..." Hemlock nods vigorously. "We understand if you would like some rest before all of that. Father Zantus' temple is warm and ready for your wounds. In the meantime, of course... to show our gratitude." She passes pouches to each of you.
Wyam couldn't help but let a smile show on his face as the small crowd burst into applause.
He felt suddenly very tired, standing in the slowly falling snow, from everything they had done since leaving town till now. Death... and worse had threatened to claim him twice now.
"Thank you. Sheriff, Ameiko," he said, accepting the pouch from her. Then he turned to address the crowd and in a little louder of a voice "Let me say, that this is indeed a welcome sight, compared to the strange horrors and secrets witnessed at Foxglove Manor." he began in an ominous tone.
"But that is a tale for another time, surrounded by good drink and company. For now we are indeed tired and would like to recuperate."
Isme kept her distance, letting her companions take most of the praise and attention. She accepted what thanks came her way and avoided the rowdier means of celebration, letting Wyam speak to the crowd, too tired to bother with most interaction and needing her own space for now.
Exiting from the crowded space Wyam led the way into Father Zantus' temple.
"Father Zantus, while I can safely say that we have dealt with the cause of the murders in Sandpoint and its immediate surroundings, we have yet to fully cleanse the taint that hangs around Foxglove Manor itself. If left unchecked it could possibly spawn more trouble in the future.
Haunts are our biggest problem. I was able to disperse them but not destroy them fully. We've located what we believe to be the source, a failed liching ritual. We need the cleansing power of a true priest. Consecrating the area or maybe even a hallowing ritual for the Manor itself would be the best solutions."
Zantus nods. "I'd heard rumors, but never enough to assume something so unholy... I am at your direction, my son."
Spectrum was silent through the applause and congratulations, but gave his oldest friend Ameiko a hug.
He had much on his mind and some very important decisions to make. As soon as was reasonably polite, he excused himself and retired to his home for a bath and some solace.
The crowd nods, and disperses itsefl from the cold air; a few ready themselves with food and drink for when you decide to celebrate.
Wyam hesitated. " The most Expedient way to deal with the problem would be for you or an experienced acolyte to accompany us back to the manor and perform the ritual directly. That said, the manor is still a dangerous location with the haunts active. A scroll would be the safest method but not necessarily the surest. I promise to guard whomever comes with us to the best of my ability. Of course, I'll pay for whatever supplies are required for this to happen."
Zantus nods. "I myself am best suited to accompany you, I feel. I am not worried; I am sure you will see me safely to the source of the corruption. No payment will be necessary."
Spectrum was never much for celebrations. He was a stoic workaholic, and while he valued emotional attachments with people, he found celebrations to be distracting.
Amieko didn't care if Spectrum found them distracting or not. That was how the icy elf found himself four drinks in at the main table of the Rusty Dragon listening to Isme retail the crowd with tails of their exploits. Spectrum only rarely had to correct the incorrigible bird.
Glimmer, on the other hand, was right in the middle of the table, literally filling people's heads with sound effects and her own colorful commentary.
Drunken Spectrum does odd things. Like mixing dangerous substances into his drinks to see if they had any effect.
He didn't remember exactly how he managed to light his hair on fire, but apparently it was very funny. He did remember the formula he used though. Or, rather, Array did. The hawk-eyed little dragon watched the whole thing from the rafters of the Dragon while he gnawed on a stolen turkey that was much larger than he was.
The next day Spectrum discovered hangovers, and decided to test out some of the recipes in an old treatise on alchemy.
The recipe called Alchemist's Kindness was really what made Spectrum rethink his approach to adventuring.
He'd been approaching his problems head on, like Wyam. That was not his strength. He was clearly better from the rear lines where he had time to analyze a conflict.
And he really did like blowing things up...
The next morning is solemn, despite odd noises and colours coming from Spectrum's abode. Zantus, Wyam, Isme and a few of Hemlock's guardsman embark on horses for Foxglove manner in a quiet procession. A clear sky lets the sun lick fresh snow from the landscape.
The house comes into view. The group dismounts, and passes by the ruined servants' quarters. Wyam notes no ravens, undead or otherwise, perched atop it.
They open the door to the entrance hall and step in. They scent burning hair and flesh. Wyam remembers the manticore, and that it only activates upon returning to the area. He directs the group down the stairs.
The group ready to enter Vorel's workshop. Wyam instructs them on what is necessary. One guardsman enters the workshop, then another. The third starts and lets loose a scream of terror, and tries to run out upstairs; Wyam and the rest catch him and reassure him, Zantus muttering a calming cantrip. They proceed past the workshop.
They enter the pitlike staircase. Wyam feels a moment of pull, but the passing of the Skinsaw man's obsession seems to have removed this particular hazard.
Entering the underground caves, Wyam directs the group carefully past defeated enemies. The watchmen press handkercheifs to their mouths to stop the dreadful smell.
Eventually, they enter the resting place of Aldern Foxglove. Ready for the haunt, Wyam summons a burst of positive energy to burn away the haunt's enchanting powers. Zantus steps forward. Pulling out flasks of holy oils and chalk, he daubs the wall and floor before spreading his hands and muttering a long prayer and incantation. A soft golden glow begins to fill the room as the fungus on the wall shivers and quakes. Then, with a sloshly, barely human voice, the fungus tears itself free from the wall and crumbles into dust, howling. Zantus looks up, sweating, and nods. "...the spirit has been exorcised. Though I doubt Desna would see any objection to this entire accursed place being burnt to the ground."
Now safe, Wyam explores the mansion more throughly, as Zantus sees to the burial of the fallen.
Entering the library, Wyam discovers spatters of dried blood and clots of hair- the site of Iesha's death. From the bookshelf above, a scarf flutters to his feet.
Entering a private study, Wyam finds an impressive painting of a bullfight titled 'Throwdown in Swynetown'. He also finds some scrolls.
Entering the kitchen, Wyam finds a particularly fine silver dinner set with crystal decanters. Some keen sight turns up a hidden clay urn filled with violet garnets.
Peering into the wine cellar, Isme spots a hidden compartment and discovers eight fine wine vintages from distant Cheliax.
Near a patch of crumbled mold, Wyam finds a pickaxe embedded in the wall.
Zantus looks up at Wyam as he re-enters Aldern's tomb, the body already bagged for travel. "What members of Aldern's family remain will arrive for the funeral. I suspect they will permit you to speak there, if you would like to; to tell his story, or not as per your discretion. Similar for Iesha if you would wish."
Wyam nodded. "It would be best for them to know what occurred to their family members rather than to speculate."
"I'll leave it to Wyam's decision," Isme added. "If anyone speaks there, it should be him. Our thanks to you and to everyone here who aided us in clearing this place out."
Zantus nods; a young guardsman salutes, another covers a smile and gestures for him to return to at rest.
Solemnly, the group returns to Sandpoint, bodies in tow.
On their way back to town, Wyam speaks to Zantus.
"I'm glad we waited to hold the celebration of clearing this area of its troubles. I think it might be best to hold it after the funeral and invite the family members to join the celebration so their trip here will not only be a sad memory for them."