The party makes their way towards the center of the "town," should one decide a place as small as this should be called one. It's about 500 paces to the front of the doorway, where are two men in thrown-together armour brandish a pitchfork in one hand and a torch in the other. They cross their pitchforks in front of the door once everyone approaches. "Hold it! We've been given orders to search and question anyone who might be a spy at the door."
From the direction you walked earlier, a familiar voice yells out as a head a peers out from a hidden opening in the doorway to the building you were talking earlier. Visible now is a middle-aged man, with wild, black-but-graying hair that shoots off in a number of directions. "They're alright, Jgerd! They beat up a bunch'a th' thugs on their way in! That's why they got their stuff!" Then no sooner is the door opened than it is closed and latched again.
"Well, I guess if Hawkeye Willis okayed you, you're alright by me. Go on in."
As you all enter, the two guards begin conversing again. "Aroden's undead wife, I didn't even see that damn emblem anywhere. How in the 9 hells does he ever notice these things...?"
This bar is quite plain, and you enter through the center double doors. There are a few men around, drinking. The staff, apart from the bartender and one of the servers, are entirely comprised of females.
The scene is dreary at best, but such should be expected from a town-under-siege. A redheaded woman with several mugs tied to her belt stands from a table and approaches Hiram "Must be new in town, aint'chya, sugar?" She motions towards the huge casks along the east wall, with a hulking man whom watches over them (and the bar in general. "You rent a mug from Bloodknuckles or just pay to use your own and tap the barrel yourself." She motions her finger towards the northernmost table. "Mr. Fritch is at his usual table. Just stay in the bar and holler real nicely at one of us if you need somethin' more, ya' hear?"
At said table is a Chelaxian man drinking alone with an entourage of empty mugs than he has fingers (and he's not missing any of those.)
Dalard looks up from his current drink and looks over Opal and spots her backpack. "Are... are you some kind of healer?!?" He yelps as he stands up. "If you are, we need you upstairs!"
Dalard bursts through the rest of the party, making sure Opal is following.
"Like death warmed over. My bones ache, and I can't keep nothin' down..."
Disease (Su) Ghoul Fever: Bite—injury; save Fort DC 13; onset 1 day; frequency 1/day; effect 1d3 Con and 1d3 Dex damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Charisma-based. A humanoid who dies of ghoul fever rises as a ghoul at the next midnight. A humanoid who becomes a ghoul in this way retains none of the abilities it possessed in life. It is not under the control of any other ghouls, but it hungers for the flesh of the living and behaves like a normal ghoul in all respects. A humanoid of 4 Hit Dice or more rises as a ghast.
Dalard closes his eyes, getting the message. "Jessup, these folks are looking for Becher. Tell 'em what you know while I go get Becher's emergency supplies and some tea."
Dalard goes to a corner of the room and opens a drawer and begins rummaging. Meanwhile, Jessup recalls you this tale;
"Becher led us through the swamps down an old trail to what used to be the barrel-aging caves. Them caves where vinters would set the casks ta dry ‘em out an give ‘em good flavor. When we got there, the caves was all boarded up, so it took us a while ta get in. The place was flooded, barrels floating everywhere and it had a foul stink to it. We poked around a bit till Becher found the back office. Inside, there was this strongbox where he said the deed was. That’s when they came..." Jessup coughs up a little green-ish, unhuman juice from his lungs. "These things rose out of the muck and started attacking. Dead folk with sharpened fangs. We tried to fight ‘em but they was too strong. They tore Padrik’s arm right off and started eating it..." He coughs again, this time red. "We tried to get out the way we came in. I made it out, but some of the creatures started following us, escaping. They blocked the entrance, trapping Becher and Walmont inside and after that the entrance collapsed on them. One of the creatures that followed me tried to grab me and took a bite out of my leg, so I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I don’t know what happened after that..."
Dalard interrupts the story by grabbing a hammer and smashing a lock on a rusty, old lock. "Sorry, It was locked. Keep going." Jessup shakes his head, wordlessly stating that it was the end of his tale. Dalard then stands up, handing Opal the box. "Didn't sound like much was inside; seems pretty light. Hopefully it can help." He walks to the door and opens it. "I'm gonna go get Jessup some tea..." He then leaves you with the local medic and Jessup.
"Sugar, there's a lot of rumors goin' on round here." The redheaded woman speaks up, easily overtaking the near-silent bar from her seat. "Grald's men have been surroundin' us for a week an' we're runnin' out of food. Dalard's 'classified' anything 'bout Becher, so if you want anything that's not food, another mug, or a good time, you're gonna have to ask him yourself."
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Ander rents a mug and helps himself to one of the casks, taking small samples before finding one he likes. He goes and sits at the table next to Luccinus. He pipes up after the big fighter inquires about Becher. Anyone ever heard of a man that goes by the name Abta Nuatha? And this here ale is mighty fine brew.
"There's a lotta wise women around here, sug'. We girls 'round here tend to pick up on a lot of little things like that. Ask around and maybe entertain a lady for a night; see where you're at." She winks coming upon on the last comment.
Dalard replies with a yell as he clomps down the steps. "I was here when they left; Becher only took the three of 'em."
Jessup responds weakly. "Just ask Dalard for an old map of how to get to the old 'wine caves.' Any of us from 'round here know which way to go, and I wouldn't say we're the brightest folk..." he says as he coughs up a little more blood.
@Ander: I'll see if you got anything on that when I get home. At dinner now.
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When Dalard gets back...
I was able to fix up your friend here. He's not going to die now. Nasty business ghoul fever. He needs rest and care for at least a week, but he will be ok in the end.
Can you get me a map to this place where Becher went? I want to see if we can do anything for him or at leash put that deed in the right hands.
@Luccius: A small crowd jumps at the oppotunity for a gold (in proportions with how unpopulated the town is.) They all try to give you the information all at once. Almost a quickly as you're barraged with information, however, the man who has been watching the casks speaks up. The man wanted info; not beggars." Bloodknuckles stands up, reaching a height of 6'2" and a mighty build that sets him apart from of his middling age. The crowd breaks for him as he move forward.
He adjusts the small reading glasses he wears before speaking. "Keep yer coin for the inconvenience, he states looking around at the crowd. "It's a red-green plant, found on the way to the old wine-aging caves. It's real frilly and got little red beads on it. It's plentiful enough that even Jeane would be able to find it, but pretty useless if you're not making wine. Keep it wet if you want it fresh, though I recommend drying it out and baking it over chicken and an orange sauce. It's got a very sweet taste to it, blends really well."
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Chelsea follows the others and keeps pace with Ander. After stepping back outside into the elements she strikes up a conversation.
"I appreciate you finding those documents for me back in Korvosa. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing me another small favor? There is rumored to be a plant around here called Crone's Tongue. I need to procure a small amount of it for someone, and I am afraid plants do not fall under my realm of study. Do you know anything about it, or could you point it out to me if you see any along the way?"
As per instructions, the party is directed out of town via a narrow footpath. It leads down a gentle but muddy escarpment, disappearing into thick tangles of shrubs and swamp-weed. At the base of the hill, the dirt path turns to soft sticky mud. It winds back through the shadowy mire. Nailed to a nearby tree hangs a moss-covered plank crudely cut into an arrow that points towards the mucky path.
Beneath the moss, faded writing on the plank reads, "Barrel-Caves 2.5 miles." The marker is the first of several that point the way to the caves. The mire muck itself is 16 inches deep in most places