"Damned fool did you a disservice - though more charitably I suppose he may have been more concerned with stopping infection before it killed you. I'm afraid replacing eyes is a damn sight harder than repairing them." Aduard apologises.
Karl shrugs. "I get by well enough. It's taken some time, but I can usually make my way through my home without bumping into something."
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The ride to the Sanctuary is quite from Edison; he rides quietly, without aplomb, his eyes fixed on every blind spot, his ears twitching at the sound of every snapping twig. His hands lie relaxed as he grips the reigns, one over the pommel of a long and heavy sword, the other over a quiver of arrows, fit to burst.
He casts a glance at all of you, but allows the bustle of maintaining a drive to drown out his musings if no-one responds
"Thank you goodman. May the good gods send that I am wrong, and your sight soon returns." Aduard offers as he leaves.
"Bah!" Aduard is scathing "A waste of time, money and intelligence. Little more than a pyramid scheme! Hiring tutors to force education into a mind is something nobles resorted to when their precious little dumplings lacked the will to actually work - but at least it was effective. This attempt to spread a single tutor over a class is ludicrous!"
He points at Edison. "Look at all the truly great scholars and you will see a single, decisive factor: passion. All of them pursued their education because they wanted it. Their will was used to push them through the truly difficult patches, and no small number fell by the wayside, but it was their passion that inspired them."
Aduard waves his hand dismissively "Geb. Nex. Jatembe. even Tar-Baphon and Aroden himself, if the old stories are correct. Some had a passion for learning. Some for power. Some simply knowledge for knowledge's sake. All had a passion."
He looks directly at Eidson "It does you credit to seek to advance the boy, and scholarly pursuits - especially those of the arcane - can be an excellent career. But find the boy's passion - or have him find it. Spend your effort and money on helping him find and pursue that, and your child will be the better for it!"
"Maybe he'll end up a potter - but if he has passion for pottery he'll have a better life than a bitter scribe with a head full of rotting knowledge he has no care for."
Aduard turns maudlin, his eyes drifting to Brogol's recepticle "Apprenticeship, now. That's different. A good master only accepts a student with passion, and does his best to see that student surpass him." he shakes his head "I was ever a poor master. Even Lorrimor - for all his virtues - has no once-apprentice to take his place in the world."
I met the Professor, actually. This's some years ago now -that child of his was still a sprite of a thing- but he passed through town when we were havin' some odd and awful happenin's 'round my town. I was still new to the job, still being taught my place in the whole community, but there'd been slaughtered livestock, monsters roaring outside homes in the night. A missing child. But he stopped through and offered to help us out.
It was one of the darkest night's I've ever experienced. Edison's gaze grows wistful, his eyes finding the middle distance as the horse trots along. I was huddled with him outside an exposed pasture with a couple cattle we'd hope'd draw attention, staking out'n all. You talk a little bit, times like that, you whisper; if you just sit there rigid and waitin' for hours, all you're gonna do is lock yourself up. But he and I talked about the things he'd seen, the work he'd done. He didn't go into specifics, but there's a...uh...a gravity, about folk like him. They draw you in, the enormity of their spirit and deeds. I could tell, in a night of talking, that that was a great man.
The beast showed itself eventually. Started off invisible, talking to itself. Not even talking, ranting. Rambling. 'These cows're keeping me up'. 'Screaming folk help me sleep'. It leapt from the darkness, its invisibility fading. We did our thing. Scarred up one of the cattle somethin' awful, but it died under our efforts. The Professor knew what to do with the body, too. Had me drag it out into the woods in a shallow grave filled with tinder, then burned it. Said that was the only way to keep the monster suitable at rest.
The night and the Professor've always stuck with me. The hunt was somethin', don't get me wrong, but it was the man -what he'd said and what he'd done- that changed how I view my job. Edison's eyes leave the middle distance with a chuckle, and he tosses his gaze back to Aduard.
I'm right awful at this, Master Aduard, but what I'm tryin' to say is that, though he may not have had a proper apprentice at the end of his long'n storied life, every single person he touched'n helped, all the stories he helped shape and the paths he made clear...well...for what its worth, I consider Professor Lorrimor a teacher to us all. We are his living...uh...protegees. The onus is on us to walk the paths he helped us on.
And I appreciate your guidance on the schoolin', too! The wife's the one for numbers'n such, not me. My eldest's got her brains, thank Deadeye, and he's been strainin' his brain towards somethin' of the arcane nature for near five years, now. I'll try to look more into apprenticeships, instead. Bring the boy a few, let him follow his heart. It's always the plan, isn't it. Still, a bird's gotta fly.
Esta taps a foot nervously against the floorboards of the carriage and stares out at their surroundings as she listens to Aduard and Edison speak of education, her eyes flickering briefly to Edison when he addresses her. Listening to Aduard's views on the subject, she can't help but think of her own history of learning and honing her craft, and smiles slightly before turning to the conversation.
"I dunno if it'll make much of a diff'rence, Mister Wyatt, but I agree with Mister Bookman. Mostly, anyway." she says. "Y'gotta want t' do somethin'. Can't just force it. Otherwise you'll just end up sad an' bitter an' hatin' life." She presses her lips together hide a small smile. "I dunno know much 'bout formal education though, so I can't really have much of an opinion on that."
She looks down and absentmindedly scratches at the palm of one of her hands. "Before I started healin', I didn' know what I'd do. I figured I'd prob'ly just carry on farmin' like my parents. I didn' even really know that healin' would be an option for someone like me until I had, um... a little bit of a push." She clears her throat and sits straighter. "But I'm all self-taught. I got my hands on any book I could find an' did a lotta readin', an' I travelled an' learned even more by watchin' other people an' practicin' when I could."
She looked back out at the countryside. "When I met Professor Lorrimer, he was hurt and bleedin' on th' side of a road," she said quietly. "I healed 'im, an' he was grateful, then before he left, he told me that I was made for this, an'.. that was that. We parted ways pretty soon after. He wasn't the first person t' thank me, or tell me that what I was doin' was good, but there was somethin' 'bout th' way he said it..." She cuts herself off abruptly and reddens in the face and ears, turning back once again to the countryside.
"Aaaanyway," she mumbles. "It's good that you're willin' t' let your son decide what he wants t' do."
The carriage ride offers little in the way of scenery—depressingly grey marshlands surrounding the narrow track that runs along the Lesser Moutray River—but is blessedly short.
Karb Isle appears to be something of a misnomer; the "isle" being little more than a spur of land jutting into the sluggish waters of the river. The sad remains of a broken building can be seen, burnt timbers sagging into an undergrowth of nettles and thistles. Nature is trying to take back the charred ruin, as though trying to erase some dark memory. Nearby, a small cluster of gravestones jut from the weeds.
"Well," Esta mutters as she watches the ruins of the "isle" come into view. "This couldn't look more depressin' if it tried, could it?" She jumps down from the carriage as it comes to a stop and doubles over, clutching her side with a wince and a sharp intake of breath as her wounds and fatigue from their previous fight make themselves known once again. Irritated at herself for letting the day's events cause her to forget her health, she quickly remedies her mistake and takes a moment to heal some of her wounds.
Feeling immensely better and eager to focus on something more than the dull, monotonous landscape around them, she looks around for a good place to start exploring.
"I'm... gonna go look through that buildin'," she says, eyeing the gravestones. She carefully makes her way towards the burned, broken remains, Oolong trailing closely behind her. Not really much to look through, she thinks to herself as her eyes scan the dilapidated building. Maybe the gravestones would've been a better—
Her thoughts are cut short as she trips over a small pile of rubble. Grabbing a charred and fragile beam of wood to keep herself from falling, she glances down to check her footing and is met with the sight of a dark, deep hole in the ground. Staring into it with wide eyes, she takes a deep breath, realizing just how close she had been to falling in.
"I, um," she calls out with a gulp. "I found somethin'." She straightens herself and takes a step back, examining the area. "An' it 'ooks like someone's been here, too. All o' th' rubble's been cleared away from th' area." She inches closer to the hole and kneels next to it. "I dunno where it goes. Could be a cellar? Can't see much from up here."
Edison slings himself down from the carriage, casting a discerning eye over the ruins as he rummages with his pack. He slaps a buckler over his wrist, and holds his bow in the same hand as he moves over to examine the remains of the Sanctuary, sucking air in through his teeth as he comes to grips with the difficulty of the task.
He moves to examine the dry land around the ruins itself while Esta investigates the interior of the building muttering to himself as he does.
Wet land is good for holding tracks. Also good at wiping 'em away again.
He begins working his way around the relatively dry perimeter of the isle, looking for tracks, ideally from a foot large enough to corroborate Karl's story, or shed more light.
He glances over at Esta's call, then dials in on the discovery.
Odd place for folk to be hangin' 'round. Seems to me somebody either got lucky finding this shaft in the ruins, or knew it was there.
He approaches the shaft, unless his search for tracks reveals anything else enlightening.
Edison pauses on his way over towards Esta's discovery, his brow furrowing as he stoops to examine a patch of bare earth.
Folk've been through here, not too long ago. They make a habit of it too, now that I'm seeing it. Worrisome, though. They've been moving barefoot -you don't do that in a swamp, too many nasty critters in the muck'd take advantage of that. And more than that, the nails on their feet're far too long. Talonlike. Sharp and dangerous.
He moves over to Esta and the chute, peering downwards, his free hand running along the hilt of his heavy sword. He wracks his brain; Ustalav is a dangerous land, and he's faced a fair number of things that go bump in the night
Aduard sighs, left boots ruined as he steps into ankle deep mud on the way. "Talons? Hmmm... May I see?"
The Doctor draws his pepperbox, checking once, and then again, to ensure the gun's chambers are loaded. "Nicely done, Miss Vyrelian. You too, Master Wyatt. Bookman, we're blessed to have such intuitive companions. Certainly, my eyesight is not what it once was - I saw neither the shaft nor the tracks."
Stopping next to Aduard, Karras draws his formula book and begins a quick sketch of the tacks. "Though perhaps the years of hard-earned wisdom will pay dividends here. Talons you say?"
"Or not," The Doctor continues, frowning. "These tracks are unfamiliar to me. One second while I make a couple of notations..."
"Master Bookman, I assume you have some small sorcery that can alight a bauble. For when we decend into the hole."
Edison spits into the mud, distaste evident on his face.
Careful, folks. These're ghoul tracks. Few of 'em, too. Be careful of their claws, they've got a nasty disease on 'em, and worse, they can hold your body fast with a solid blow.
Edison eyes the group, taking in their builds and gear, and chews his cheek thoughtfully.
I know I'm not familiar with all yer tactics. If we're looking to investigate this chute, how do we wanna do this? We should be ready in case the ghouls come down behind us; monstrous as they are, they are adept at hunting the living.
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"Ah of course," Karras says, Making a notation next to his ghoul-track illustration, before snapping his book shut and placing it carefully back into his satchel.
"Ghouls. They could be an opportunistic pack, taken to this blighted place for the safety it provides to disappear to once done raiding nearby communities... or their very creation could be tied into the evil that befell Kharb Isle..."
"As to your question; I'm afraid I joined our companions recently, after the death of my able assistant, Brogol. Miss Vyrelian and Master Bookman may have other thoughts, but I'd say this. If there was ever a time to call upon the favor of your god, Master Wyatt, now is that time."
"I can step forward and block the pack from our more vulnerable members in a pinch, but I have no doubt you're better equipped to do so. And I am still hobbled by that damnable spider! I'd suggest you work at keeping the pack at bay, delivering your god's justice up close and personal. I shall intercept any stragglers that come for our friends, and they will concentrate on debilitating our foes from afar."
The Doctor's eyes shine in the darkness, a fire lit there that belies his cordial nature. "Regardless, I am pleased to have foes that respond poorly to fire and buckshot, rather than spirit beekeepers. I'll do my best to end things quickly."
Aduard barks a bitter laugh "Indeed, doctor. A corporeal foe seems a luxury after spectres, wraiths and phase creatures. I'd be pleased to enlighten any trinket you care to name - though experience with a deflty fingered fiend has taught me it is worth the time to so treat a number of items at one time."
"It will tire me greatly, but I may be able to ameliorate the spider's venom. How hobbled do you feel?
He turns to Edison "And I concur on your analysis, Mr Wyatt. My only caution would be that the curse that makes ghouls has been known on rare occasion to affect other unclean creatures. Does anyone have a mechanism to prevent this paralysis? The disease leaves time to be treated, but the paralysis does not, as I recall."
I got a spell to put some pep back in your step too, Doc, Edison offers. As long as we save something in case the situation goes farther south, we should do fine.
Edison listens closely to Doctor Karras and Master Bookman.
Perhaps myself in front then, Doc, and you behind, in case something comes down behind us? I can provide my own light, and have a number of tools to keep their damn, dirty claws off me.
He slings his bow over his shoulder, and draws his long bastard sword, hefting that and his buckler, finding his rhythm in their weight.
The Doctor lets forth a dry chuckle. "I'm afraid I have no curatives for paralysis, good Bookman. Like all diseases, the best cure is prevention. I suggest we avoid getting bitten."
"I shall take you up on your offer, Master Wyatt. And, I can offer you a little science in return." Removing a small metal vial from his satchel, the Doctor waves it, before handing it over to Edison. "This is a concoction of my design. I'll forewarn you that it tastes horrible. But the effects are to make your sword land heavier, your physique more muscular."
Give me a moment to prepare a special bullet. I suggest that when we take our remedies, we hurry. My bullet will only have potency for a minute. The concoction to give Mr. Wyatt strength only a handful more than that."
Edison nods and moves forward to Karras, fishing a wooden amulet from around his neck. The oaken bow and arrow lies dwarfed in his palm as he begins to chant, a low, bass rumble in his chest as he reaches out with his other hand, clasping the Doctor by his shoulder.
Hopefully that helped, Doc. And I will take you up on that, he says, moving to the chute as the group prepares. Best to be ready for the worst, whether or not it comes.
Edison drinks down the potion, nodding with closed eyes as he swallows it down. He then raises the crossguard of his sword to his brow, muttering a prayer.
Old Deadeye, guide my hand. This world is full of strife and evil, and I beg that you allow this humble servant to dispense your will. In the name of you, my home, and the good folk abounding, I move to serve.
He moves his sword away from his brow, and as it does, fire springs into being along the blade, and the weapon begins to shed bright light along its length. With a nod to the rest of the party, Edison moves to the chute, and will lead the way when the time is right.
Aduard undertakes his own arcane preparations as Edison and the Doctor spend a few moments.
As they start off, he curses. "It has occurred to me these denizens may be ex-victims, and therefore witnesses. For the life of me I can think of no way to compel them to stand before the Court, however."
Even as he says it, memories unroll in his mind, his claim proved false.
Party Buffs:
Aduard HP: 24/26 - AC 15/11/14 Status: Mage Armor/False Life
Esta HP: 27/29 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Mage Armor
Karras HP: 35/38 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Holy Water-Alc. Fire Infused Shot
Edison HP: 49/49 - AC 22/13/19 Status: Bull's Strength/Divine Bond (Flaming Weapon)
The party descends through the chute, Edison's flickering blade lighting the way. The hospital's damp cellar is remarkably unscathed by fire, but otherwise a mess—a clutter of upended barrels, overturned tables, strewn instruments, and shattered glass. A grisly trophy of burnt heads dangles on chains from an iron candelabrum that hangs from the ceiling.
Four pale creatures scuttle forth from the darkness, humanoid in frame only, their black eyes reflecting the light. The stench of death and corruption that clings to the lair intensifies as they approach, becoming nearly unbearable. Without hesitation, the ghasts bare their fangs and rush forward.
Edison surges forward, his flaming blade held aloft. Seeing the layout of the monsters, Edison charges towards the center of the room, putting a crate on one side. His eyes narrow on the ghoul in the far back of the room.
By Deadeye, you no longer belong here. By my blade, I'll return you to rest!
A silver light flares from the already-glaring blade, and suffuses the creature at the very back in holy radiance.
Edison then takes up a defensive stance, holding his sword high, ready to swipe at the first beast to move close to him.
Party Buffs:
Aduard HP: 24/26 - AC 15/11/14 Status: Mage Armor/False Life
Esta HP: 27/29 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Mage Armor
Karras HP: 35/38 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Holy Water-Alc. Fire Infused Shot
Edison HP: 42/49 - AC 22/13/19 Status: Bull's Strength/Divine Bond (Flaming Weapon)
The creatures hesitate only briefly as Edison's blade alights, but quickly recover their courage and rush the paladin. The first is struck for its trouble, though a deep gash opened on its side. The ghast hisses and lunges, grimy claws biting through the paladin's armor.
The others move to surround the paladin and tear him apart.
Aduard shuddered. 'He's surrounded by those damned things, and they've already infected him.' he shook his head 'not long for this world.' "Back in the chute, you fool! They'll mob you!'
The wizard had not lived this long by facing down overwhelming force - leave that for Paladins. he started to slip back up the chute, past the others.
First, though, he paused a moment and reflected. With a sigh he activated the spell he had spent so long last night reconstructing.
Spears of ice burst from the ground in front of Edison, ripping past the gouls that ringed him and creating a wall for his back.
https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/i/ice-spears/
Aduard will then squeeze back along the passage (at double cost) to stand at the back of the chute.
#1
Reflex DC 18 Halves damage and avoids trip.
Reflex Halves damage and avoids trip.
Edison grunts in pain, shoving the creatures damned, dirty claws away from him, even then feeling a numbing pain beyond the wound itself.
Edison bites down hard, and ignores the wicked weight upon his limbs, lashing out at the most wounded one, ignoring the one left aglow by Deadeye's power.
Edison's next grunt is in satisfaction, as his sword bites deep into undead flesh.
The Doctor growls, low and feral, and slides along the wall, opposite of Aduard and around Esta, the two men switching places as if engaged in a complicated ballet. Raising his pepperbox, Karras fires, a flash of light and sharp bang resounding around the underground chamber.
There was the Ghoul of Gracie Street, and a pack of zombies in the Caliphas sewers that the Doctor and his then paramour, Esme, dispatched in the Doctor's younger days. But never had Karras encountered a pack of the damned so deadly as these abominations of the natural sciences. It would be a pleasure to put them down.
Seeing Edison surrounded, Esta pushes past Aduard with a strained, worried groan, and sidles along the wall into the room, keeping an eye on the ghasts as she positions herself. When she's sure her idea will spare the paladin any injuries, she lets loose a gout of flames from her outstretched palms, enveloping the two ghasts nearest her in a roar of fire.
Aduard HP: 24/26 - AC 15/11/14 Status: Mage Armor/False Life
Esta HP: 27/29 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Mage Armor
Karras HP: 35/38 - AC 16/12/14 Status: Holy Water-Alc. Fire Infused Shot
Edison HP: 42/49 - AC 22/13/19 Status: Bull's Strength/Divine Bond (Flaming Weapon)
Ghast Red HP: 3/17 - AC 18/14/14 Status:
Ghast Yellow HP: 10/17 - AC 18/14/14 Status:
Aduard
Green takes 4 piercing/6 cold and is tripped.
Blue takes 10 piercing/9 cold. Lethal.
Edison
Green takes 12 slashing/2 fire. Lethal.
Esta
Red takes 14 fire.
Yellow takes 7 fire.
Yellow
Edison AoO
Red takes lethal damage.
Two spikes of jagged ice burst from the cellar floor at Aduard's command. One knocks a ghast to the ground. A second ghast, slowed by the wound Edison gave it, is impaled. The creature shrieks in pain as it dies a second time, slowly slipping further onto the spike as it struggles.
The ghast on the floor barely has time to rise before its head is swiped from its shoulders by a slash from Edison.
Karras's shot is rushed and misses both the remaining ghasts, but Esta's unleashed glame engulfs them. One avoids the worst of it, and continues to press the paladin. The creature lands a couple blows, but they bounce from Edison's armor.
The second, maddened from its burns, turns to eviscerate Esta. Seeing his opening, Edison cuts it down before it can reach the witch.
Gritting his teeth as the creatures claws ablate themselves upon his breastplate, Edison turns on the lone survivor, once again bringing his god-blessed blade to bare.
To judgement, then.
Edison attempts to swat the beast's claws aside with his buckler, following up with a stab along the center line.
Aduard holds, shocked to find the enemy fall so fast.
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Cursing as his shot goes wide, the Doctor spins the chamber of his pepperbox and rushes forward, then fires another shot, a sharp bang and flash of light again resounding around the chamber.
The shot bursts the ghoul's head burst like an overripe fruit, cold brains and bone splattering the wall behind it. It staggers for a moment before collapsing.
Edison turns towards the last ghoul as Karras' shot finishes the thing off. Raising his blazing sword high to cast light over the group, Edison takes quick stock.
Nice shot, Doc. Everyone alright? Anyone get clawed or bit? If not, we should make use of these magics while we can.
He shifts his weight forward, deeper into the room, gladly serving as a vanguard to the exploration.
With the ghouls slain, all that remains is to inspect the room—including its grisly centerpiece.
Buried among the debris in the cellar are 12 silver crossbow bolts in a rotting quiver, a slightly melted gold belt buckle (15 gp), and an iron bracelet with silver filigree work depicting a moon eating an owl (75 gp).
"Thank you, Master Wyatt. I'll admit to being a crack shot in my youth. Some days these days, I still have my moments."
Holstering his pepperbox, the Doctor retreats to a corner of the cavern. Intending to sit atop a musty wooden box and think on the next steps they should take, Karras' attention is diverted by sound of rolling glass - a vial, kicked loose from the debris by the Doctor's careless boot. Reaching down, Karras lifts the vial and holds it to the light, squinting to read the faded and fine print.
"My old eyes, you see, can still pick out some detail. Look here, clue perhaps; a vial labelled 'Vorkstag and Grine, Chymickal Bleach.' What purpose would such a chymickal serve, do you think?"
Hell of a weapon you've got there, too. I've never seen anything like it, just heard about'em in stories.
Would there be a reason anything like that would wind up in a sanitarium? Has anyone ever heard of this Vorkstag and Grine? If they're still around, they might be able to shed some light on any strange goings on.
Aduard took a moment to look around with his mystical senses.
"I'm impressed, Wyatt. I thought you were a damn fool, running in like that. As it was I think I jumped too soon on those ice spears."
Aduard shook his head "I think you were the only one to take an injury."
Spinning the pepperbox's chamber, the Doctor slides it back into his holster. "Thank you, Master Wyatt. It was an unasked for gift, a curiousity of my travels after university." The Doctor doesn't offer any further commentary on the gun; the tale of gambling and vice in an Osiran brothel would certainly be ill-received by the god-touched.
Pulling absently at his beard, the Doctor tries to recall the name on the vial, which seemed tantalizingly familiar. "Chymickal Bleach is used for cleaning and cleansing particularly difficult clothing and messes. The uses here could be as benign as cleaning besotted undergarments, or as nefarious as removing the traces of a murder."
Back against the wall, Esta watches Wyatt for signs of being burned by her magic. Satisfied that she had indeed spared him any injuries, she quietly joins the others as they talk, scanning over the room's centerpiece.
Something about the candelabrum draws her interest and she moves closer. Squinting up at the ghoulish fixture, she studies the scorched heads before noticing one that stood out against the others—the rest bore some sort of deformity, but one...
She drew in a breath and stepped away quickly, her heart hammering in her chest as her eyes fixated on the face in front of her, sporting a pair of badly bent, round spectacles. "I think," she said loudly, her voice catching in her throat. "I think I mighta found Doctor Brada."
"Really?" Aduard perks up "Good wo...oh."
He thinks for a moment "How's the jaw? It might be possible to contact Dr Brada long enough to ask some questions." Aduard casts a quick glance at Edison "Let's call that plan B."
"Ah yes!" the Doctor exclaims, snapping his fingers. "Vorkstag and Grine! Operators of an alchemical factory in Lepidstadt, the two are generally well-respected, but darker rumors swirl. Some have commented on Master Grine's peculiar appearance, but most attribute that to gnomish eccentricity. Others have noted how odd it seemed that although no workers are seen going on shift at their chymic works, the smoke from its chimneys never slows. Finally, some whisper that Master Vorkstag has a great many friends in high places, and that whenever any minor trouble comes his way, someone is always ready to speak up on his behalf."
Turning his attention to Esta's grisly find, Karras doffs his hat. "Well, I suppose we should get him down."
Edison's eyes narrow as he follows Esta's eyes to the ceiling fixture. A look of disgust blooms across his faced.
Damn ghasts.
He continues to glower at the morbid discovery. It seems like he's only half listening to Aduard and Karras as they discuss the next steps, though he nods when Aduard suggestions collecting the Doctor's head.
I think that wise. Hopefully the Doctor will spare us one last imposition before they return to their earned rest.
As he gets into position to help Doctor Karras get the head down, Edison grumbles darkly.
Always friends in high places. Reliable as the changing of the seasons; put enough people in a town to make it a city, and this kind of corruption'll always follow.
Using the longspear, Karras and Edison lower the heads to the floor.
He thinks for a moment "How's the jaw? It might be possible to contact Dr Brada long enough to ask some questions."
Esta pries her focus away from the heads and turns to Aduard with interest. "How exactly would you go 'bout talkin' to him? Can you do that with..." She glances back to the remains. "With just a head?"
A flat smile graces Karras' lips. His companions were continually surprising. "I'd like to see this."
Aduard looks thoughtful.
"Actually bringing back the soul of someone dead this long would be di..." he gives a sidelong look at Edison and continues "damnable. Literally, as I understand Pharasma's policy. I do think I could use a variant of a spell used to talk to inanimate objects such as rocks and trees. That would let us question what the head has seen after it died. Presumably that should include the aftermath of the immediate death."
"On the other hand, this will take substantial amounts of my reserves. I'll need at least nine hours prep to begin, and I'll be exhausted for the day after. I suggest we resume our investigation, and keep the head in reserve."
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The return journey to Lepidstadt doesn't take long, neither does locating Vorkstag & Grine's Chymic Works. The factory lies on the outskirts of the city, a small brick building topped by a tall iron chimney that belches yellow smoke. Large, leaded windows arch in a dozen places along its walls, but are so begrimed as to appear opaque.
A twenty-foot-high stone wall surrounds a small courtyard on the southeastern corner of the building A heavy oak gate bars entry beneath a sign proudly proclaiming “Vorkstag and Grine, Chymic Works.” A bell hangs by one side of the gate.
Beyond the gate, an iron cart sits unattended. You can just make out a dog's kennel in the southeastern corner of the courtyard, it's opening and occupant hidden from view.