Arval tries to follow the tracks he found at the door to see if they lead to the statue. If he does not find any clues this way he will look outside to see where the footprints lead.
In the three rooms Arval finds the following:
- A broken back door
- Heavy footprints in broken wood, indicative of something huge wearing boots with iron nails
- Scratch marks on the floor near the railing
- Broken tile below the railing
- More scratch marks on the floor leading to the workshop
- The destroyed workshop
Kawrock ruffles his feathers in frustration. "I am perplexed. From what Brodur told us he just found himself here when he was living out in the swamps. Being a construct made by magical means there must be a way to control a construct through similar magics. I do not know of such a spell, but I do know some spell require line of sight? Perhaps that is why one of the windows is clean?"
The windows look to have been cleaned and all of them can be seen through, however two of the windows are grimy around the edges, indicating they have not been opened for a long time. The middle window has no such grime.
"Or maybe someone came in and took the idol before Brodur even got here?"
|
no, the simplest solution is usually the way to go. Someone controlled him to steal the item, then left him because...to take the blame?, he was no longer any use?, he's part of some further plan? We need more information.
Lena looks at the party after she writes down what they have found.
I think we are finished here. This is fairly irrelevant right now, as he has not even be charged with this. We should get mounts and go to that village, morast, while still have daylight. Let's arrange horses (ponies for eldon and me), and while, say arval if you don't mind big man, gets those the rest of us visit the witness lazne to question him. Then we ride for morast
She starts to head to the door and out.
and eldon can show us the correct way to ride as we go.
"Only thing I can conclude is that he went in through the back door and moved to the workshop. I think we have exhausted our options here for now. Let us head off."
Lena asks him to fetch the horses and he does so. Returning a while later with the mounts.
Eldon shrugs. "Fine with me. Let us go to Morast!"
He smiles at Montaigne while Arval returns with the horses, hoping the man hasn't forgotten about the payment that should've followed delivering the book.
I don't want to ask for money... so please remember you owe each of us 100 platinum...?
Montaigne smiles back benignly and wishes everyone safe travels. Eldon suddenly realizes it was Judge Daramid who had the money, and the group stops by her home which is in the district. Although the Judge is not in, a butler is there, and provides everyone with their agreed-upon payment.
With full purses and a thorough investigation of the University complete, the party makes their way out of Lepidstadt and towards the village of Morast. It takes around two hours to make it eastwards out of Lepidstadt and towards the massive Dippelmere Swamp. As you travel outside of the cleared woodland the air grows wetter and soon a variety of tiny insects feast upon you with savage delight.
Morast is a curious little town with xenophobic, difficult residents giving rise to all sorts of rumours about their ancestry. Perhaps they are bred with swamp creatures, or with each other, but they have both a greenish cast to their skin and insanely long lives. The villagers make their living selling blood caimain, a red-scaled sort of crocodile.
Eventually the hamlet of Morast reveals itself as the group makes their way down a narrow trail. It is obviously impoverished; a miserable collection of wattle-and-daub hovels built on stilts above the swamp and connected by soggy wooden boardwalks. A few coarcle boats can be seen bobbing out on the lake and there is some activity within the village as people walk from place to place and stay outside to talk.
Eldon buys a spell component pouch at a store the party passes, because he suddenly realizes he's never done that.
Morast is a place Eldon has never heard of before, but of course he won't tell anyone else that. Instead, he brags about the last time he visited Morast. "Very interesting place, I'll tell you. You'll be surprised to see what it has to offer."
"Doesn't look all that good to me actually. Looks like a really bad place to live actually."
He says as he swats a fly from his face.
"Where shall we start?"
The group stands a short distance from the town, watching it from afar. None of the residents have noticed them on the path yet, likely because of the horrid clouds of biting insects.
Kawrock snaps his beak at some of the larger insects that fly around him. "I can see why Brodur liked the birds here so much." He takes a look around at the town in front of him. "Any ideas on where to start? Maybe find Ellsa's parents?"
"If they be hatin' on th' Beast fer killin' their folk, then we best be puttin' our best foot foward, so t' speak. Meanin' tha' th' little one outta be th' one t' start th' talkin'."
Arval knows only one way to really greet people. He slowly walks into the village and waves to the nearest people.
"Hellloooo! How are you?"
He calls as he walks closer to them.
The reaction from the people milling about the town is fairly spectacular as Arval emerges from the bushes to walk towards. Everybody seems to turn as one to affix Arval with the universal "who the hell are you" stare. He approaches the town, calling out his greeting. A few children run away as the strange, greenish people continue to stare at Arval silently.
Finally, an older, fascinatingly ugly man stalks up to Arval from the group. His features are partially hidden beneath an old, wide-brimmed hat. He carefully spits a purplish substance over the side of the boardwalk before he speaks in a near-incomprehensible dialect.
"W'dun lahk furriners 'round these parts ye savvy?"
Arval looks back at the group as a big mob forms in front of them.
"I don't get the feeling we are welcome."
He turns back to the mob.
"I uhhh... We uhhh... are here? Uhhhh..."
He turns back to the group with a questioning look on his face.
"Help?"
Feeling nervous as the crowd grows, Kawrock tries to stay out of sight at the back of the group. He clicks his tongue twice as he fights his anxiety.
No, Arval...! Why...?!
Eldon jumps out of the bushes, joining Arval as fast as he can.
"Greetings, people of Morast!" Eldon starts, giving Arval a deadly glare to silence the daft man up. "I have traveled far and wide in my life, and have met many people. When I heard of Morast, I knew I had to visit it. It's an honor for me to be here with you!"
He bows theatrically. "I have no doubt you've also heard of me before this blessed day on which we meet. My name's Eldon Appleton, the epic storyteller of the epic adventures of yours truly."
Eldon pauses to let his own awesomeness sinks in. Surely it must be a shock for the people of Morast to see the famed Eldon Appleton in front of them.
"I have not come alone," Eldon continues, pointing at Arval and the bushes behind them. "I've brought some of my assistants with me. The others will join us shortly. This one's a bit daft, as you've noticed, so don't pay heed to him or whatever he happens to say."
"Anyway... I have come here for more than just a pleasant visit. The main reason I have come, is to investigate what happened when Brodur, the one who's known to you as the Beast, came here. Is anyone willing to elaborate on that event, to tell me how he or she experienced what happened?"
The man looks over Eldon for a long moment as the eloquent halfling gives his story. He carefully spits, and then smiles a greenish, weird-looking smile.
"'Ey Magga I ken ne'er seena halfie talk so purty!" he shouts delightedly over his shoulder. He regards Eldon and then nods once. "Ye'ssistants an eedjit, ye ken?" The old man gives Arval a glare.
The old man shoves a plug of swamp weed into his cheek and begins happily chewing on it as he begins his tale, the greenish juice dribbling from his mouth only punctuating the horror of his story. His accent also becomes a great deal more decipherable.
"Names Lazne, I'm gonna be up at court tomorra but you can hear the story too since yer polite. I'll talk nice-like for yer furriner folks. Some good manners will go a long way, ye ken? So for months we been losing folks who stray from the village after dark, we all know'd the Beast done it, but we never seen the critter. Then, it starts attacking houses! Breaks in a door, steals a woman from her bed never to be seen again!"
He waves his hands dramatically as he speaks.
"So I says to meself I says, 'Lazne ye old fool, what are you doing shivering in your bed? Get the bastard!. So I got a good angry mob together, got some torches and caiman spears, and waited. Sure enough, Beast come again - huge, hulking bastard! 'Bout 7 foot tall with a weird shambling walk. So we come at it with torches! Cowardly thing turned tail, and ran into the water so we gets on our boats to chase it! We chased it all the way out to our boneyard, little island out in t'swamp. - heh heh heh."
He grins and slams his hands together.
"Out at the boneyard it were attacked by a blood caiman! Gave it a right good bite to the shoulder. Hoo boy, it yelled oaths and curses like I've never heard, the worst whore in Lepidstadt woulda blushed to hear the stuff coming outta the Beasts mouth. Dragged the Beast under water - we all thought it were dead! Its blood done tainted our boneyard too, had to build a new one. Small price to pay for safe rest, ye ken? So now I hears from the court they got the Beast locked up! I'm gonna enjoy seeing that foul thing burn, let me tells ya!"
Whiskeyjack trudged up to where Eldon was chatting with the villager. He glowered at the muck on his new plate armor boots, and pulled the flask from his belt. "Tha' there be a good story, true enough. Brave ye were t' be goin' after somethin' tha' big. Look out fer each other, too. Jest like me village back home. Care fer a drink?" Whiskeyjack held his flask out to the villager, wondering why the man had that greenish tint to his skin, but too wary of upsetting the man to ask.
"Yes, he's an idiot," Eldon replies. He calmly listens to the man's story afterward.
Whiskeyjack then joins the conversation. "Ah, this stout dwarf here is my assistant Whiskeyjack. He's not as smart as I am, but luckily a whole deal smarter than you-know-who."
"I admire the way you rise to protect your loved ones. It's indeed very brave of you to go after someone that size. Could you tell me how you discovered Brodur was responsible for the missing people? Was the name of the girl who was taken Elsa? Elisa?"
Lazne grabs the flask. "Right friendly folks ye are, ya come with drink yer welcome at Morast." He cheeks his swamp weed and takes a swig from the flask.
"Dwarves always got the best booze. And what's that ye say? Brodur? Creature has a name? Pfah. And I ain't ever heard of no Ellsa. No wimmins here by that name. As for how we knew t'was the Beast, we always hear'd tales of a big creature what stalks at night, taking people from their beds And lo and behold a big shambling bastard gets found taking people from their beds! It ain't hard t'figger out!"
"Where'd ye say th' Beast went missin'? Got et by a croc or such? An' i' went from takin' people out fer a stroll t' breakin' int' homes an' grabbin' folks from their beds? Ye ken keep tha' flask, by th' by. I got more. I always got more." Another flask appeared as if by magic in the dwarf's hand, and he took a swig himself.
Arval moves to the back of the group a bit and remains quiet, trying not to stand out anymore than he already did. He looks at Kawrock and whispers to him.
"Don't think they like me that much."
Lazne looks at the flask, grins, and tkaes another swig.
"Here's to th'dwarves and their weird friends!" He wipes his mouth, and jams some more foul-smelling swamp weed in there to chew on.
"Well, Beast was nabbing people from their homes, we round up a mob, chase it off. It takes to the swamp, we boat after it, and it goes to our boneyard. Little island where we bury our dead. At the boneyard, it gets bit by a caiman, swears up a storm, and gets drownded - or so we think. Foul thing probly doesn't need air."
Curiosity gets the better of Kawrock and he slowly steps forward. "Might I ask what you are chewing on?"
"Mebbe we ken be seein' this boneyard o' yours where th' Beast go' attacked? We be lookin' fer somethin' the creature had on 'him, and mebbe i' got dropped there." Whiskeyjack was sure that the villagers would never help them if they knew the group was out to save the Beast. It would be better for everyone if Lazne just thought they were curious, or better yet, bounty hunters of some sort.
A gasp sounds out from the gathered villagers, with several backing off in fear. Lazne holds up a hand and looks over Kawrock for a moment.
"Yer with this lot? A'ight birdman, we been seein' strange stuff 'round these parts and ye seem peaceful. This here be tellenweed, habit we have 'round these parts."
He pulls out a little plug of dried green weed and tosses it over to Kawrock, but keeps his distance.
"Careful, it tastes strong! Heh heh." He turns and begins walking through the town, waving for the group to follow. He calls to the other villagers. "These folks be peaceful! Birdman ain't no harm t'none a'ye."
The walkway sways beneath the weight of the party as he leads them all down towards the edge of the swamp. A large number of circular wicker boats, wide enough to seat three or four adults, are pulled up against the shoreline.
"Ye want to go to th'boneyard? Fair enough. I'll get some'a my sons to pilot 'em for yah. TOBIN! CREL!" Two young men with similarly green-tinged skin approach somewhat nervously, taking up oars.
Lazne turns and nods over at the group, spitting some more of his tellenweed out. "Any more questions? How d'ya like the tellenweed, birdman?"
"Not at the moment, but maybe when we return," Eldon tells Lazne and gets into the boat.
Kawrock struggles to keep the tellenweed in his beak as he does not have the lips or cheeks usually used to hold such things in. He chews as he walks, but much of it has fallen out or splattered the front of his armor by the time they reach the docks. "It is very bitter, but tasty. Unfortunately I do not posses the means to fully enjoy it though."
"Caiman are large reptiles that live in the water, similar to an alligator or crocodile." Kawrock says in response to Lena's question.
Lazne grunts approvingly at Kawrock. "Well ye can't argue with the strange deformities th'gods inflict upon us. Now get in th'boat!"
The group pile into the two coracles and the young men start to row them out. Attempts at conversation go nowhere; they're obviously uncomfortable speaking to outsiders and their accents are almost incomprehensible. It is now the late afternoon of a busy day as you bob lazily down the enormous Dippelmere Swamp. The insects are as bad as ever, but there is an astonishing variety of wildlife out here. Tall, graceful cranes, frogs in a rainbow of colours, and the occasional red nose of one of the legendary blood caimans.
Eventually, you bump into land. A tiny, miserable island rises from the swamp, a tangle of trees covering its dour, reed-choked surface. Hundreds of fetishes hang from the trees—simple, roughly humanoid figures made of sticks and bound with twine. Larger fetishes are planted in the ground on various parts of the island, leaning drunkenly in the soft mud. A large nest built of sodden swamp wood sits high in the boughs of a trio of tangled trees on the northwest side of the isle.
The two swampers refuse to get out of their coracles, and indicate they'll wait while you do whatever it is you came here to do.
It is about this time you notice that Rustom is missing - it seems he didn't come with you to Morast and his absence has just been noticed.
"I could swear Rustom was with us? Did any of you guys see him today? He didn't fall out of one of the boats did he?!"
Arval looks at the island and slowly climbs onto it when he judges it safe. He fingers the charm around his neck as he gets nervous by the creepy island.
"What are we looking for again?"
He asks nervously.
"Didnae he say somethin' 'bout catchin' up t' us later?" Whiskeyjack shrugged.
"An' we be lookin' fer clues. Things tha' stand out, or don't by their absence" Whiskeyjack demonstrated by scouring the small island, looking for anything out of place.
While Arval barely avoids walking into a tree, Whiskeyjack begins to search the island.
Almost immediately, he finds a small coracle which had been hidden in the trees and bushes. It contains an oar, a moldy leather travel bag, and what looks like some damp cloth. However, when the damp cloth is touched Whiskeyjack immediately can tell it is a detached human face!
"Please tell me that's not Rustom's!" Eldon hurries over to inspect the face.
"Gah! This be a bi' revoltin'. Anyone we know?". Whiskeyjack laId the face down gently and then wiped his hands on the loose grass nearby. He looked at the coracle and wondered who it belonged to. The blood caiman's meal, most like. Something was very wrong here. Gingerrly he grabbed the bag and dumped its contents onto the ground.
It's difficult to discern who once owned this face, but it looks more than a day old, and has a different complexion to Rustom's. While Eldon looks frantically around he notices some dried blood at the bottom of the boat. As well, a rope extends from the boat into the water.
Whiskeyjack dumps the contents of the bag onto the ground. In the bag is a damp artisan's outfit - shirt, breeches, shoes, and a cloth apron.
Arval gags and turns away from the sight.
"I... Uhm... Am gonna look over there."
He moves to the trees with the nest in them and throws up. After he wipes his mouth and takes a swallow of water he begins searching around the trees the nest is in.
Kawrock checks the island for Brodur's tracks while the others search for clues.
He clicks his tongue twice in disgust as Whiskey Jack lays what looks like someone's face on the grass. "Why would you want another persons face? It's not like you could wear it right?" Kawrock looks at his fleshy faced companions for a confirmation to his theory.
"I know of a case where someone tried to do that," Eldon tells Kawrock, "but that person was mentally ill. Though we're dealing with flesh golems and all that... So maybe a local necromancer has been collecting parts for a new project?"
Eldon grabs hold of the rope that extends into the water and begins to pull it.
"Lend me a hand here," Eldon says as he pulls the rope, not realizing that's probably not the best line after mentioning a necromancer who collects body parts.
It was one of the more curious notes you had received, but the importance of the request was not to be understated.
Dr. Drabardi,
I pray this letter finds you well. I request your attendance at my townhouse at 56, Oak Way. I have an opportunity for you to do a favour for an old friend, and make some money as well. This is a private matter. I trust you will destroy this letter and speak of it to no-one.
E.D.
You recognized the stylized initials at once, having had visited a few gatherings at the good Judge's house, sharing some mutual friends.
It is now late afternoon in the month of Rova. The walk to Embreth's isn't too far, and it's a nice day after all. THe city is still in a state of obnoxious celebration over the capture of the Beast, a curious creature rumoured to be a golem of some sort who was captured after breaking into the University and ruining poor Dr. Montaigne Cowl's department of antiquities.
Embreth's townhouse is a stately, if smallish residence in the University district. You are greeted at the door by her valet, who quickly checks the street before seeing you in. Embreth stands up to meet you in her living room. She is a tall, severe woman in her late sixties with keen eyes and a precise, if haughty way of speaking. Most certainly the finest judge in the city.
"Iozif, it's good to see you." She smiles and hands you a snifter of cognac. "Gauthe, from Cheliax, 14. Please, have a seat. I trust you have heard about what happened to our dear friend Dr. Petros Lorrimor?"
Eldon gives the rope a mighty heave and falls backwards, but the effort is enough to pop an enormous sack out of the water. The sack is huge - at least large enough to hold a body.
The inside of the sack contains some curious items - a rope, a gag, a rusted lantern, a trio of heavy knives, and a rusted shovel. Eldon also notices that the bag has been soaked through with blood.
Kawrock begins to explore the island, looking around for footprints. Unfortunately the nature of the earth is such that it doesn't show prints well. However, he does find a camp site on the southern end of the island. Around a fall small firepit are a waterskin, the aged remnants of some trail rations, and a strange glass vial.