You have my eternal thanks again, Miss Esta; you have one helluva gift, and none of us would've made it out of here without you. The paladin gives the young woman a nod and a salute with his blade.
Esta fumbles briefly for a response before settling on a mumbled thanks of appreciation with a brief smile for the Paladin, a small swell of confidence warming her chest. As she listens to the others discuss the group's next course of action, she surveys the space around them, her gaze eventually coming to rest on an oddity of the room.
"Should we, uh... check those before movin' on?" she asks, nodding at collection of coffins. "Might be nothin', but... seems a strange place for those."
Fair enough, Miss Esta, the woodsman agrees, shifting his weight over to the coffins, cautiously checking to see if they've been opened. Getting ahead of ourselves; don't wanna leave something behind us...
Aware of Karras' time crunch, the paladin fishes around quickly in his backpack before drawing out a piton and a hammer, and gives a rallying glance to his allies before placing the spike at the lip of the first coffin and giving it a crack.
The coffins are all relatively fresh, clearly having been dug out of the ground recently. Each is empty, their former occupants missing. It would appear that graverobbing needs to be added to the list of crimes Vorkstag and Grine must answer for.
Esta runs a finger over the side of a coffin, and her skin comes away with a thin coating of dirt. "Fresh," she mumbles, rubbing the dirt between her fingers. "'Nother point in Adam's favor, maybe."
She stares somberly at the empty coffins for a moment before exhaling a weary sigh. Try as she might, she was sure she would never come to understand those with wicked hearts and minds.
Closing her eyes, she offers up a silent prayer for those whose eternal rest was disturbed, then turns to the others.
"Let's go," she mutters without meeting anyone's eyes, and waits to confront whatever horrors await them in the next room.
"Fresh parts to cobble together some alchemical monster?" Aduard postulates aloud. "Considering the 'dog' we fought in the yard, there may be far worse than homonculi here. Be ready."
The woodsman's nostrils flare as he exhales hard, staring down at the stolen coffins. The fingers of one hand drum on the lid. With a shake of his head, he clears his thoughts.
They had to be gettin' that stuff from somewhere. Now we know. And so'll the court. With visible effort he tears himself away from the desecrated caskets and turns back to the secret door. Hopefully their gods've already seen their souls to their destinations. We're still on the clock.
His gauntleted hand kneading at the well-oiled leather grip of his sword, he steps to the door, checks on his allies, and opens the door when the party is ready.
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The room beyond reeks of formaldehyde and other preservatives. In the dim light, you can see rows of glass jars lined on shelves, each containing a grisly curiosity: the head of an elf with pale hair and obsidian black skin, a pair of hill giant eyes, the half-transformed head and spine of a wererat, a trio of chuul tentacles.
Two complete skeletons of owlbears loom in the corners, framing a coffin resting on a pair of sawhorses. A handcart sits in front of the coffin.
A narrow corridor on the other side of the coffin ends at an iron grille locked with a padlock. The tunnel continues into darkness beyond.
"A single coffin - at operating height?" Aduard shudders "I'll grab the lid, pull and back off. I'll trust to the rest of you to make sure if something leaps out it cannot grab at me. Doctor, with your experience it might be best you have first view of any possible inhabitant?"
Aduard shakes his head as he holsters his weapon and heads towards the coffin "Has anyone else noticed there are no rats? With all this... meat about, we should be swarming with the things."
Edison stalks forward, eyeing the padlocked grate further down the hall. Reaching up into his backpack, he withdraws a forearm-length, golden tipped, iron rod. Glancing around the dim light of the room, he strikes the sunrod against the wall, igniting a brilliant light at its tip.
The woodsman face scrunches with distaste as the contents of the room are thrown into sharp relief. At Aduard's words the woodsman nods and takes position by the coffin, steadying the point of his blade, and gripping the sunrod in his buckler-d hand.
Agreed, Master Bookman. Doc, its all you.
As they move into the room of horrors, the Doctor's form shifts; he loses his beastial demeanor, his frame becomes more normal to his wiry self. Karras pulls at his beard and nods, one hand gripping his longspear tight.
"It is true I have experience examining the damned contents of coffins, Master Bookman. Pull the lid, I shall do my best."
It was a distasteful act, but a necessary one, in this instance to desecrate the body of the dead. The doctor began rummaging, first through the man's clothing, and then through his hair, his mouth, and along the corpse.
At his request, Esta moves beside Karras and the coffin, having stayed some ways back to study the rest of the room. She takes a brief moment to use her healing knowledge, quickly coming to agree with the Doctor's assessment: the body did indeed seem fresh, yet cold. With a gentle press of her fingers to her chest, she casts a spell and begins her magical inspection—starting with the body in front of her.
Karras's inspection turns up nothing sinister, no wounds or evidence of foul play. Without performing an autopsy, he is unlikely to find the cause of death.
Esta's spell is more fruitful, revealing a pair of faint necromantic auras—one around the body and a second around a wand of stained wood resting on the cart.
"Necromancy. Here," Esta says, motioning to the body. "And... here." She picks up a nearby wand, rotating it in her fingers in inspection. It takes little time for her to discern its purpose. "'S a wand of gentle repose. It keeps things from decayin'."
She looks back at the preserved body, her frustration growing. She breathes deep and turns to the others. "What now?"
There's steel in the woodsman's eyes as he tears his gaze away from the body in front of him, raising the sunrod in his buckler-d hand a little higher to shed light further down the tunnel, toward the great. He motions with his sword, One of the keys y'all pulled from these two should probably fit the lock on that grate. Whatever's beyond it though, it was worth puttin' an extra grille between themselves and it, even behind a secret door.
Keeping the sunrod high, Edison moves down the tunnel towards the locked grate, keeping an eye for any irregularities in the stonework on his way there.
Slipping the ledger into his satchel, the Doctor begins working at the door, trying key after key, hoping to hear a telltale click of gears tumbling, locks opening.
Aduard stays towards the back, wand in hand. he glances towards the wand Esta just identified, sighs, and turns back to the others.
"If we are going to keep finding trouble, I fear I'll have to invest in some sort of combat wand. Ah well, it is my good fortune to have such stalwart fellows our van. And accomplished arcanist in the rear with me, of course, Ms Vyrellian."
After several moments of careful adjustments, the lock pops off the grill and into Karras's hand and Edison leads the way into the tunnel. It continues into the dark for roughly forty yards before connecting to Lepidstadt's sewer — a smuggler's dream.
"Well then," the Doctor says, covering his once-again human nose as he peers into the swirling dark water below. "I think I'll go back up. Use the streets to get back. Master Bookman, did you want to speak to your newfound employees?"
I'll trust y'all to keep an eye on Vorkstag and Grine while I track down some of the local...uh...constabulary, the woodsman says, clearly ready to quit this place of secrets and sadism. They'll appreciate being brought here as opposed to us trussing a couple folk of the community up and draggin'em through town. The evidence we found'll help exonerate your Adam, at least of the business at the sanctuary.
"Indeed. Allow me some time here with my new employees in order to see everyone properly settled." Aduard sighs deeply, then wrinkles his nose at the smell.
"Goodness knows what I'll use them for. I've little interest in purchasing this gods-be-damned charnel house of a chymic works, but my Word is my Word. They've entered my service, and it is thus my obligation to see them provided for. Possibly I should look at purchasing a small farm or somesuch on the outskirts. I did sell my last house shortly before attending the funeral, so now our adventure seems to be winding down I will need a residence."
"You are all, of course, welcome to join me. Doctor, you especially. I have not forgotten my plan to return you Brogol to us."
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Night falls on Lepidstadt by the time the party can return to Lepidstadt's court house. The mood in the previously festive town square is subdued, and the party receives muttered curses and furtive glances as they ride past. The crowd of trial watchers seems to sense that the desired justice against the Beast is slipping away.
Inside, Adivion Adrissant, Adam's barrister takes in what the party tells him. He does not smile, but when he speaks, it is with barely restrained enthusiasm. "If what you say is true, we could pin the disappearances in Morast and the Sanctuary fire on this Vorkstag creature. A skinstealer, how fascinating."
He falls silent for several minutes as he considers the suddenly vast arrangement of evidence at his disposal. "We will need to have Vorkstag checked for scarring on his shoulder, for evidence of the caimin attack. Doctor Brada's assistant, the blind man, Karl was it? We will need to question him more thoroughly to see what will come up in cross. It's a shame we don't have the late doctor's head, there are certain magics that we could use to... He trails off. "Apologies, I tend to ramble when I grow excited."
"Here is what we know. He holds up a gloved hand, ticking off his fingers as he makes his points. "We know Adam was not responsible for the killings at Morast and Herstag. For the former, he does not bear any marks of the caimin attack on the monster the villagers witnessed. For the latter, we know that the killings were caused by the wraith called Brother Swarm. Finally, we have the discovery of bleach vials from Vorkstag & Grine Chymic Works discovered at the scene of the Sanctuary fire."
"Pursuing that lead brings you to Vorkstag, our skinstealer. You discover his macabre wardrobe and his repulsive nature. It contains a skin that matches the description of the Beast seen in both Morast and Sanctuary."
"I believe, and further investigation will bear this out, that you have captured the true murderer: Vorkstag. Using the monstrous guise of this Shambling Man, Vorkstag has evaded capture for at least a year, while pinning the blame on Adam. Who knows how long he has been at large, or if he is even the first Vorkstag. The skinstealer might have killed the original Vorkstag and walked in his skin for years."
"If I can put some doubt into the judges' heads, then Adam is a free man."
Adivion grins, turning to look out the window and into the town square. "Stop me if I'm gett—" He immediately becomes serious again. "We might have some trouble, take a look at this.
Outside the window, down in the town square, a mob is gathering. Ill-equipped with tools and torches, the group grows increasingly agitated as a man bellows at them. Impossible to hear through the lead-paned glass, the party can tell one thing: they are here for Adam.
The Doctor swears under his breath (being in the presence of a lady and all), and turns from the window. "Your logic is sound, Barrister. The only question I have is what Grine's role in this whole affair is? Stay here, we shall quiet the mob, one way or another."
Sadly, Ustalev was a land of superstition, and its people were quite capable - and often were - gripped by mania. This was not the Doctor's first - nor likely last - encounter with a mob. Individually, the potters, and farmers, and weavers that made up the crowd outside would be harmless. But, roused to anger, there was a dark energy that crackled through a mob, and those that fell into it were capable of dark things, darker than the imagined.
Affixing his hat squarely to his head, Karras loaded his pepperbox and stepped outside. The Doctor raised the pistol into the air, and fired it once, letting the flash and crack of the weapon bring a moment of silence to the crowd.
"Why are you here? Think about what you are doing, women and men of Lepidstadt! Think about the precipice you stand on! There is time to turn back, do not give into your darker natures! Do not do something you will regret!"
Ah, Hell! the woodsman curses, checking out the window as the good doctor leaves the room. I see 'city justice' has come knocking. Well, at least this time it can knock back... and he turns from the room, shouldering his bow, checking his arrows, affixing his buckler to his wrist, and loosening his sword in its scabbard as he follows Karras outside.
Edison squints slightly against the retort as Karras fires his round into the air, and steps up next to the Doc as he finishes his plea to the crowd.
Now now, Doc, do these look like people to you? Looks to me like a bunch of mangy beasts've come howling. After all: good, godly folk would let justice by court -attended by a priest after all- be served! The paladin keeps his wrist across the pommel of his sword, scanning the crowd for a ringleader.
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Esta's excitement rises with every word from the barrister in Adam's defense. They'd done it. They had all but exonerated Adam. Relief flows through her, her shoulders sagging a bit as much of her tension seems to disappear.
The relief is short lived, however, as she peeks out of the window at the growing mob outside. Without a second thought, she turns to follow Karras. "I'm goin' with you."
Outside, she stands nervously with the Doctor in front of her, watching the crowd as he tries to talk them down. This isn't her first observation of an angry mob. She witnessed several as a child, during the few instances that her parents acquiesced her requests to join them on their trips to the market. In those instances, she always waited for someone to step in to put a stop to the impending violence, but it never happened, and she never understood why.
But now, standing there between an increasingly agitated mob and the innocent man in their sights, she knew that she would never be one to stand idly by.
Aduard stays with Adivion - at least at frist.
"Did you get my note, Adivion? Some sort of lesser dimensional transport would be the best, but I doubt our ability to acquire such. I suspect some form of disguise or transformation might be.."
From outside there is the crack of a firearm, and aduard swears quietly.
"Seems outside has escalated. I'll be back presently."
Adivion snatches his cape and cane from the chair as Aduard leaves. "I will fetch the constables. Be careful, Mr. Bookman."
---
The gathered crowd—perhaps thirty men and women—stands before the courthouse, armed with improvised weapons and stinking of the alcolholic cider favored in the region. They flinch after Karras's shot, but quickly rally to turn their scorn upon him and the rest of the party.
"We're here to serve the justice," bellows a large man in a bulky robe. "The peoples' justice!" The ragged crowd cheers, shaking their weapons to punctuate the threat.
"Bring out the Beast," screeches a middle-aged washerwoman, her arms discolored up to the elbows by her labor.
"We're gonna put it in the Punishing Man!" someone cries from the back of the crowd.
The woodsman -his body stiff as a board- mutters to his friends as the mob's speakers bark their aggression. Three of them in arms, weapons beneath the cloak, see them? The speaker, and the two on the left, catty to the woman in black?
I'm sorry, is the Folk's justice different from the LAW'S justice? Edison growls at the crowd, his hackles raising, and hand tightening on the hit of the blade. If so, this city'd be better without ONE of 'em. Guess which.
The paladin is seething, his guard up, and his disgust with the nature of 'civilization' on full display. The rabid animals in front of him are about to entreat their only suitable fate: to be put down, for the good of the flock.
Aduard sighs, and replies to the crowd. "Well, I have to admit I'm impressed. We only caught the real Beast an hour ago! Can't let you have him, I'm afraid. Turned out to be dark indeed, killing people - children even - and skinning them."
"Here's the problem; We know there were others involved. Cult, coven - we don't know yet - but we do know they were disguised as citizens. We need the Beast to sing before he swings, or his connspirators are free to start again."
"Till then, only one with a reason to kill the Beast are the ones who were helping him."
Karras nods, his face pinched, and turns the cylinder on his pepperbox. This time, rather than shooting it into the air, Karras levels the gun at the ringleader, the man with the hidden armor.
"Goodman Wyatt and Master Bookman have the long and short of it," the Doctor says, his voice even. "There will be justice for Adam, and justice for the Beast, who are not one and the same. And it will be done in court! A mob's justice is no justice at all; you will become like that which you loathe, if in nature rather than visage: monsters! Spare your souls and don't cross that threshhold. As one that long ago did just that, there is no going back, and Pharasma will judge you damned. Go home, find the good in your hearts, in your hearths, and return in the morning, as visitors to the court, to see justice done. Go!"
Despite the words from the three adventurers, only a few of the townspeople disperse—slipping away from the crowd and into the darkened streets of Lepidstadt.
The group recoils from Karras's pointed gun, but the big man grins, confidence brought on by the mob around him and stiff drink. "Why should we trust anything the lot of you say? You're workin' for the Beast, last time I checked." He turns to the mob. "This crew works for the Beast's defense! They tell lies and spin them as truths to divide us!"
A murmur of discontent ripples through the gathering, their improvised weaponry rattling in anger.
"What did they pay you?" the big man shouts.
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Having stood back to observe nervously, Esta's patience finally cracks at the hardheadedness of the remaining crowd.
"Why d'you want 'im t' be guilty so bad, huh?" She pushes a step past Karras and glares at the crowd. "You want Adam dead so much, an' for what?" Her voice continues to raise as she speaks. "If you kill 'im, you'll only feel better for a minute b'fore the real person you're lookin' for kills someone else!"
She breathes heavily, adrenaline racing through her. "You don't even know what you're talkin' about! You got no proof of anythin' you're accusin' 'im of! But we," she yells, gesturing to the three men standing near her. Her eyes flash with anger. "We looked an' found plenty of stuff that says he's innocent, if you'd just listen!"
She feels the sting of oncoming tears in her nose and holds her breath to calm herself, blinking the wetness from her eyes. "You jus' don't like 'im 'cause he's diff'rent," she finishes, her voice monotone with a new level of tiredness. "He's diff'rent, an' it scares you, an' you don't know what t' do about it."
The big man growls, noticing that a couple more of his crowd has scurried off. "Oh, we know what to do alright." He gestures to another of the robed men, who drags away a canvas tarp atop a parked wagon. Inside are dozens of portable rams, a few ladders, and hempen rope. The second man begins passing the rams out to some of the gathered townspeople.
"This is yer last chance," the large man barks. "Yer last chance to get outta the way o' the people's justice."
Aduard's frustration wells up in him, and for a moment he just wants to make the problem go away. He reaches for an inferno spell, and remembers he avoided memorising it this morning - an eternity ago it seems now - because he had preferred a spell to target what might be a fire creature.
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Aduard draws himself up "How dare you, sir?"
In a voice trained to speak words that can rip holes in reality he speaks, for the crowd.
He turns back to the crowd "Funny fact about the law. If you try to get into the courthouse and we kill you, we get a slap on the wrist, but if you are inured we have to pay for your care. We can't really risk injuring you, but we can kill you. And we can. We're literally the team they sent to Kill the Beast - the actual one. Nobody here wants to get shot, or hit with an incendiary flask, right? Do you know what an incendiary flask is? I'm sure my good friend here can show you?" he waves to the doctor. "I mean, everyone here wants to see a person burn alive, right? We'll just up the ante."
"However, this nameless man just told you we lied. Called us liars. To our faces. More importantly, he accused Mister Wyatt a liar! A man chosen by a God to bring Justice. I believe these to be grounds for a good old Ustalav duel!"
"Given this all hinges, now, on whether we're lying, I propose this. Mr Moron here has a proper, legal duel with Mr Wyatt, after invoking the gods to make it a good old fashioned trial-by-combat. If this random idiot wins we accept that the Gods have seen justice done, back down, walk away, and abandon our charge. If Mr Wyatt wins - and again, the man was literally chosen by a God to do this sort of thing - then you lot accept that we aren't lying and you back down."
"Sound Fair?" he asks the crowd, and not the man he's trying to get solo a paladin.
"Now, for the kids in the crowd! Who wants to see my friend here use a flask on that wicker statue!"
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The Doctor casts a glance towards the paladin, to see just how discomfited Wyatt is with the idea. He had to admit there was a certain ingeniousness to Bookman's plan. In his experience, the types of townsfolk that would be prone to breaking into a courthouse to lynch a prisoner were exactly the types to be gripped in a fit of religious pique. Not that Karras would mention such a thing aloud, in the presence of a paladin.
"What do you think, Wyatt?" Karras growls, his pistol still trained on the leader. "I've dispersed four mobs, and never with as little violence as one small duel."
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Wouldn't mind a bit, Edison growls, his gauntlet kneading the leather of his sword hilt. Y'all here in Lepistadt may not know me, but it is both my business and calling to protect my flock from predators. And, well... the woodsman's eyes flash in the light of the torches as they bore towards the ringleader. Seems like there's work to be done. But something tells me our little loudmouth isn't the kind to square up one-on-one. Takes a special kind of fella to bark orders from the back, encouragin' others to face the music instead. You a manager, son?
The crowd loses some of its nerve as Aduard tries this new tactic, and they step back from the big man, who glances back towards them with annoyance. "I'm more of a hands on sort, you f+$*in' god-botherer," he growls. "You want to lose your life over a child-killin' creature, I'm happy to oblige."
He shrugs off his baggy robes, revealing a hulking body outfitted in well-used armor, a crossbow slung across his back and one hand resting on the pommel of his blade. He grins, although he doesn't seem as confident as the moment before.
Sudden uncertainty assails Aduard as he sees the man better. 'That is a suspiciously competent looking agitator. Could just be an off duty mercenary missing the smell of burning flesh, though?'
Esta's stomach drops as the man reveals his weapons and a solid build. "Ohhh no." She glances towards Edison who continues to glare at the mob leader, and also seems more than ready and prepared for a fight. "Ohhh no no no."
She hurries to Edison's side. "Mister Wyatt don't kill 'im, I'm beggin' you not to kill 'im." She speaks quietly, but with insistence. "He's bein' stupid, but stupidity isn't a crime! He's... he's just scared an' at his wits end with everythin' that's been goin' on, an' he prob'ly doesn't know what all else t' do now." She looks up at him with large, imploring eyes. "I really wanna see Adam freed, but not if it means killin' innocent people. Please. I know you can't back down, not with everythin' we've been workin' for at risk, but... please? I can help."
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The woodsman is half a step forward before young woman's plea reaches him, and he stops mid-stride, falling into a simple, noncommittal combat stance. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes, before blowing it out with a puff.
Deadeye tells us that a flock can be misled, and it is not their fault, but the fault of the land and the predator; outside forces that bend and twist and warp the mind of the flock, seeking to bear it to its destruction. A sick or mad livestock may be put down to protect the flock, but doing so does not change whatever evil exerted itself upon the beast, and does not prevent it further. Sometimes, the slow changing of the land, the scouring of predators, and ever-constant vigilance can do more than a headsman's axe...
Or woodsman's bow.
The paladin opens his eyes.
And when, pray tell, did being godly become an insult, his blue eyes turn from the agitant to the crowd as a whole. Has Pharasma not protected these lands, even as the ravages of Age old foes nip at its edges? Has not Erastil's watchful gaze and trained bow guarded our communities at the edge of the wilderness? Desna has filled and spurred our dreams as Aroden led small, young humanity to its bloom into the wider world.
We stand here, before a courthouse dedicated to law, watched over magically by the Mother of Souls, herself. Who is this man to say that I am the god botherer, as he spurs you all to march against this edifice of law in a territory that desperately needs it? He is a poison to the flock, a mad disease among the meek. He turns his gaze back to the leader.
Sir, I would be more than willing to settle this between us. And I would deal with you fairly. Draw your steel if you insist, and I will do the same. But the rest of you -all ardor and cyst and bile- leave this place, and return home. Don't indulge the poison of this man. There is more at stake here than the burning of a man; what's on the line is this city's soul, and how willing it is to throw it away by embracing bloodlust, and ignoring truth.
Now sir. Either draw that steel, or remove yourself from this premises; knowing full well that the grave you now dig is not only your own, but this city's.
The man tosses a glance back towards the crowd, who seem to have turned in on themselves. A fierce argument seems to have broken out, with some members for continuing to push for the Beast and others beginning to question their involvement.
The big man grimaces and eyes Edison before stepping back. "You know what? I don't need this trouble, it ain't worth my time." He turns his back to the party and blows a sharp whistle, catching the attention of the other, similarly robed men in the crowd. He jerks his head towards the far side of the street and they begin to shuffle away.
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"Is it just me, or does that seems supiciously organised for a mob? Alas, we are without a scout to follow them." Aduard grumbles quietly, in the now empiter space.
"No-one try. None of you are skilled enough, nor expendable enough, and all of us need sleep. Still, I'd be surprised if they don't try something later. We need to tell someone that the guards at the courthouse ran, and if they want this to be a legally binding trial they need to post proper guards."
"Should any of you feel like sleeping near Adam, it might not go amiss. I, however, have a new book I need to study in the brief moments of leisure I have before I close my eyes." he sighs again "I fear I shall have to magic myself clean, for I must sacrifice the time I was going to use to have a decent bath." he looks askance at his clothes "I still smell like that damned shop, and I fear I shall have to burn these clothes."
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It does, doesn't it. Edison's eyes bore holes into the back of the ringleader as they start to fade into the dispersing crowd. He bristles at Aduard's warning.
Might be I could surprise you, Bookman. Think you're right, though. Not worth the risk. I'm unfamiliar with who might run this local constabulary; you're right again though. Oughta have those folk who abandoned their post shored-up.
I can rest with Adam tonight, he volunteers, shouldering his way back into the courthouse. He stops though, and turns to Esta.
Thank you, m'am. For the reminder of our purpose. My wife's got the good head, and sometimes my hackles get higher'n they should... He begins to mouth a couple words, as if to continue, before nodding and turning away and making his way towards the Prisoner's cell.
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"I will stay with you and Adam, Goodman Wyatt," the Doctor murmurs, holding his gun aloft until the mob disperses. "A curious end to a... frankly blasphemous day. Master Bookman, Miss Vyrelian, I plead that you ask the constables for an escort. I wish you both a sound and gentle sleep. Your expansive knowledge, Master Bookman, and your clear moral clarity, Miss Vyrelian, will be much needed at court tomorrow."
Thank you, m'am. For the reminder of our purpose. My wife's got the good head, and sometimes my hackles get higher'n they should...
"You're welcome," Esta says quietly as the paladin retreats.
She then turns to Karras, intending to insist that she be allowed to accompany the men to watch over Adam for the night, but a large, drawn out yawn interrupts her request. As it fades, a wave of fatigue envelopes her; despite her desires, she knows she needs rest first and foremost.
She nods tiredly at the doctor, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Yeah... yeah, that sounds good." She tries and fails to hide another yawn. "I need t' rethink my spells anyway, so..." Now that all there's left to do is rest, she struggles to keep her eyes open.
Turning towards the direction of the inn and a night of hopefully uninterrupted sleep, she takes a few small steps before pausing. She shifts slightly, turning only enough to peek at Karras out of the corner of her eye. "Be safe," she says simply, before wandering away to locate a constable to escort them back to the inn.
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The last day of the trial begins without incident, the events of the previous evening resulting in a doubled presence of the Lepidstadt town guard. The crowd gathered around the Punishing Man—the massive, man-shaped construction of cut timber intended to serve as the Beast's final prison cell and means of execution—has lost some of the festive cheer it displayed over the last two days. Instead, the mood is tense, filled with anxiety for the coming decision. After a brief meeting with Adivion, dressed once again in a black suit more befitting a mortician than a barrister, the party is ushered into the seating area reserved for witnesses.
After the court has been called to order by the black-armored Herald, the judges shuffle to their raised seats.
Chief Justice Khard's glare seems more dour than usual, and when he speaks, his voice is backed by steel that belies his age. "Before we begin today, I am compelled to remind the gallery of the penalties this court carries for violence. This court house is not a battleground, where one side may do what they please simply because they prevail through force. If I learn that anyone threatens the members of either council or their witnesses, I will personally have them whipped out of town or hanged. Lepidstadt is not ruled by mobs, but by law." He eyes the assembled townspeople with barely concealed contempt. When there is no response, he gestures for Otto Heiger to begin.
"Your honors," the prosecutor begins, "I would draw your attention to the events of 6 Erastus, a mere four months ago, at the Karb Isle Sanctuary. The Palatinate alleges that the defendant, otherwise known as the Beast, set fire to the establishment in an act of malicious and premeditated arson which resulted in the deaths of twenty-five people, and the permanent disfigurement of another. I would call to the stand the only survivor of that attack, Karl Bemeur."
A bailiff leads the blind man to the stand, and when sworn in by the court, delivers a similar account to the one the party heard yesterday: that Karl—as Dr. Brada's assistant—had finished his nightly check-up on the patients when he heard his employer cry out. When he opened the door to the doctor's personal offices, he saw the room in flames before the Beast threw itself from the window. He tried to save the doctor's life, but was knocked unconscious after an explosion threw him from the room, an injury that left him permanently blinded. Heiger then carefully draws a description of the Beast from Karl, emphasizing its size and bestial nature.
Then it is Adivion's turn to question Karl. The barrister is gentle with the former assistant, although he presses for additional details and clarifications when Karl is vague. The only significant departure is when he asks whether Karl is familiar with Vorkstag & Grine.
"Objection," Heiger interjects. What relevance does an alchemical company have to do with the crimes at the Sanctuary?" Although his objection is fair, his voice carries a plaintive note, as though he expects what will come next.
"Your honors," Adivion explains, "I believe that Vorkstag & Grine play a significant role in these crimes, one that cannot be overlooked or left unexplored. As the last survivor of the fire on Karb Isle, Mr. Bemeur's commentary could prove exculpatory."
The justices consider for a moment before allowing the question to continue. Karl thinks for a moment before nodding. "The name is familiar, yes. Their chemicals were used at the Sanctuary for cleaning any, ah, messes that patients might have made.
Adivion holds up a hand to stop Karl from continuing. "No need to specify, sir, I believe that we understand the necessities that your job entailed. Did Mr. Vorkstag and Mr. Grine ever visit the Sanctuary to make deliveries?" Adivion asks.
"Yes," Karl replies.
"Could you describe their appearances to the best of your memory?"
Karl scratches his head, recollecting. "It's been months since I saw either of them, but I can try. Vorkstag was taller, pale, with dark hair. Grine was a gnome or a halfling, it was hard to tell either way since he wore a coat with a high collar and some manner of spectacles that hid his eyes."
Adivion thanks Karl, and then rests. He turns to the party, and gives them a nod. It was time to begin.
"Your honors, at this time, the defense calls to the stand: Mr. Aduard Bookman, Dr. Arruk Karrus, Mr. Edison Wyatt, and Ms. Esta Vyrelian."
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After the party is seated, Adivion gives them a thin smile before turning to face the judges. "As we have already established before the court," he begins, "the four seated here have been hired by a third party to serve as evidence gatherers for the defense. They have proven to be fearless searchers for the truth, and have walked into danger more than once so that the court might have as close to a full accounting as possible."
The barrister turns back to the party, having them describe their interview with Karl. When that account is finished, he moves on to the next subject: the party's visit to the ruined Sanctuary, the fight against the ghouls that had taken residence there, the recovery of Dr. Brada's remains, and finally, the discovery of the glass vial from Vorkstag & Brine's Chymic Works.
"Not much to go on," Adivion muses. "What made you decide to pursue that lead?"
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It was not the Doctor's first time in a courtroom, though that was not to say that he particularly enjoyed the experience. The law - and all its attendant networks - were something, frankly, he had skirted around many times in the past. The wigs were distracting, the pomp and formality as dull as any high society ball. Still, they were a means to an end. Karras sat, face placid, head unadorned, hair hastily parted, hands folded in his lap. When Adivon asked his question, the Doctor simply said, "The scientific method, barrister."
The law contained fancy words, and codes, and of course people well versed in both, but Karras had always found the procedure to be as much about the style of the substance as much as the substance itself, despite what Ustalav's prestigious universities had to say. Karras paused and let silence fill a few beats, and then continued his thought, waving his hand in a slight flourish as he looked from magister to magister.
"The court has rules, yes? So does science. Intractable, sometimes inscrutable rules. The first and foremost is that a hypothesis will often lead to more questions, even after the hypothesis itself is largely settled. A theory can be as rock solid as this wooden bench -" the doctor wrapped his knuckles on the seat next to him "- and yet, it is still called a theory, is it not? We had, from my point of view, more than enough proof already to put to the pyre the prosecution's assertions that Adam was the culprit of so many past tragedies. But of course, that would not be enough for our justice system, even one as flawless as Ustalev's." Despite the doctor's even-handed tone, a hint of sarcasm shines through.
"We needed more than the absence of guilt. We needed to show absolution, and the only way to do this was to follow up on every lead, to pull on each string stretching from our hypothesis. Again, I should note, from my viewpoint a hypothesis already proven, that Adam was not the monster he has been painted to be by the prosecution and the prejudice of simple minds! We knew that Adam was innocent, but it raised the question of who was then not innocent. And so, we simply could not afford to ignore the glass vial, no matter how seemingly small a thread it seemed to be. It was still a thread that needed to pulled, for every solved hypothesis leads to more questions, so says science's immutable nature."
"It would have been unethical for us to not follow that thread, given that a life is at stake. And even worse, it would have made me a man unworthy of my title, barrister, a fraud in the eyes of my discipline, my truth, my mistress: science."
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It was-AHKH the woodsman coughs heavily as he leans forward in his seat, taking in the courtroom with an unfamiliar and unwelcome weight.
It was a combination of things-...factors...good court. Not last among them was he glances towards his constituents. Goodman Karl's description of what he saw. He described -at least to us- that the creature he saw in Doc Brada's study was eight or nine feet-ish, and covered with fur, scales, and pale flesh. If'n I could direct this...fine court's attention to the defendant, I believe, you would see that rather falls short of the mark. Edison guides the public's attention to the Beast-hulking, often unmoving, and certainly terrifying, but not particularly furry, or scaled- and glances back to Adivion.
That, plus the discovery of chemikal cleaners bearing their name -they might've seen something that day, swampy terrain'n...such- is what...enthused us to look for alternatives about the Sanctuary, the only available trail of which led us to Vorkstag and Grine's. After that, the Woodsman bristles, still nursing wounds from the previous day. Vorkstag's actions at the door of their establishment spurred us to examine further.