Vermundr is on board for most of the monster story. It isn’t until Croon starts discussing a vehicle that can travel under the water that he discounts the whole thing as a tall tale.
”The fishermen on the docks didn’t seem to have a high opinion of your work. Why would that be?”
"Haha they think I'm a kook. But that's ok, just wait and they'll all see."
"Aye it don't show on no map but there's another place down in the swamp. It don't even have a name. But theres an Illmarsh tradition that some of our young ladies foster there and go on to marry tribal chieftains. My sis was one." he says somewhat proudly.
An otherworldly abomination. Even Zed's cold demeanor can't ignore the chill from the description. "I hope we do not have to face such a beast."
"Yep." Croon says. "Old folks. Been here since before Illamarsh in anycase."
"But they rarely come to town, pretty private folks really, kind of sworn off society and just live off the land."
He yawns and his back cracks as he stretches.
"Anyway, time is getting on. I've had a long day an I'm sure you have too." he looks around and then says; "If you can find a space you're welcome to stay here I suppose. Haven't had much company in a while, but I'll leave it up to you."
Zed frowns at Hazel's concern. He was so jaded to being stared at, ignored, or otherwise outcast, that he hasn't considered the locals attitude was not his fault. "I wonder if we examined a local if we could notice anything." He ponders aloud.
Croon shrugs.
"Well I don't know about that Ms Stokes, we Illmarshers like to keep to ourselves that's for true." he says. "But it works both ways. Mot 'civilised' folks don't like the way we look on account of the Soddentimbers and they say we smell and all that - Musties they call us, you hear that?"
He wrings his greyish, plump hands.
"And there was all that Piper business, those years ago.... that gave us a bad name. Anyway, I guess if people don't like us then we don't like them too much either. But you've all been good to me and I believe that one good turn deserves another. So if you want to clear some of this out, it'll be comfortable enough."
"I'll put the kettle on again."
After spending an uncomfortable night on the greasy, cold floor of Croon's workshop the party awakes to the sound of impatient hammering on the metal door.
You look at eachother, not sure whether to answer or not when the hammering begins again.
Croon drags himself out of the rear room muttering curses under his breath. He is dressed only in an oil-stained set of shorts and you see for the first time the full effect the Illmarsh Look has on some of it's citizens. Croon's skin is patchy and spot ridden, with a greyish tinge in places and slack in others. It is a grim-looking genetic condition but one at least that doesn't seem to dampen the spirit of this particular old man;
"Who the hell is banging on my door at this time of the morning? Don't you know I do my best thinking when I'm asleep!!"
He unslides several bolts and swings the door open.
In the frame is a tall, thin man dressed in pitted chain and a leather vest, a longsword hanging from his belt. There are several other men behind him all similarly armed.
"Ah. Sheriff." says the old man.
"Croon." the man replies, the derision in his tone clear even in that one word. "You've got the strangers in there." It isn't a question.
"Aye. They didn't feel that welcome at the Whistler's Place by all accounts, or anywhere really."
One of the men behind the Sheriff snorts at this and whispers something to his mate.
The Sheriff tilts his head to the left so he is looking beyond the inventor.
"Mayor Greedle would like to say hello personally." he calls into the workshop.
At some point after dusk has fully settled in, Vala pulls Vermundr aside and exchanges quiet, whispered words with him.
"Sweetheart, I know it was troubling you, and if you still feel strongly that what's being done to that man out on the stones is wrong, I can grant you flight if you've a mind to set it to what you think is right. You'd need to be quick though, it won't last for even a full ten minutes."
Vala pats Hazel on the arm and offers softly, "I'm sure the sheriff and his men are here to escort us to the mayor, dear."
She then calls out more loudly, "Very well, Sheriff. Are we so pressed for time that the mayor will be seeing us in our undergarments or have we a few minutes to get properly dressed?"
Zed wakes with a start, rolling to his feet and grabbing his weapon in one smooth motion. As the others begin organizing themselves he stands near the back, half turned towards the entrance.
"Take your time." the Sheriff's voice calls back. Croon stands in between looking back and forth.
Hearing that the Sheriff, while possibly unfriendly, is not crashing through the building to apprehend them, Zed quietly dons his gear and waits to follow the others.
"I believe that man may be a murderer but his punishment.. it's cruel. It may be worse than the blood eagle the mad jarls in the north sentence their worst enemies to. Yes, give me your enchantment. Ten minutes will be enough. Mercy can be swift."
***
His wolf prickles at the sheriff's tone but Vermundr doesn't find the thin man and his armed posse much of a threat.
Still in nothing more than his own smallclothes, the big man scratches at his powerfully muscled and impressively hairy chest as he stretches. "We can't all stand around here while the ladies dress. Why don't we meet you and the mayor at his office later this morning? After we break our fast. Kazamir can hardly move most days until he's had a cup of that dark bitter tea he favors."
"Plenty of time." the Sheriff calls back. "Things don't move so fast in Illmarsh. We'll wait. Croon." he says with a nod as he eases back from the doorstep and settles in besides his men, talking among themselves.
Croon slides the workshop door shut.
"Hmmmm, welcoming parade for you lot. Must be important, or you've ruffled some feathers." he adds as he moves into his back room and starts throwing on his heavy workclothes.
"I don't know that we've been in town long enough to ruffle any feathers. What can you tell us about the mayor? I doubt this is a social call."
"Thank you for the hospitality regardless, Mr. Croon," says Constantin as he stifles a yawn. He brushes off his tophat. "Do all visitors receive this kind of invitation from the mayor?"
"Hard to say on account of the fact we get so few visitors!" for some reason Croon finds this hilarious and chuckles to himself heartily. "Mayor Greedle is a small man in a small town looking to make a big name for himself. He's a pompous politician." the tinkerer says, as though that explains everything.
Under cover of night you fly silently across the expanse of the Bay toward the Tern rocks. As you get closer, the soft moans of a man begin to rise up to you over the swell of the waves and the drifts of the wind.
The man is scrawny and blotchy. His hands are lashed to the rocks by thick, but rusted, iron chains. It is very obvious that he is near death. His eyes are glazed and milky from exposure and and his lips cracked. Blood has dried on his scalp and the rock where he has bashed his own head against it and you can see that where his feet dangle into the water, that flesh has begun to be chewed away by myriad small sea creatures.
He is barely conscious when you land on the rocks.
Retrieving his dagger, the big man looks the near-death prisoner in the eyes and offers him some parting advice. "I'm ending this madness. You deserve to suffer for your crimes but even the Savored Sting knows when its enough. Make peace with your gods."
After the span of a breath, he drifts close enough to drive the blade of his dagger between the dying man's ribs into his heart.
"Well let's not keep the Lord-Mayor waiting."
The man dies not with a scream, but with a gurgling hiss. He doesn't stir out of his near-unconsciousness but evenso you feel you have delivered a mercy
The sheriff and his men lead you through the town, if anything attracting even more attention from the locals than the previous day.
You head back through the town square, past the statue and toward the large Townhall.
Throughout it all the sheriff says nothing.
Eventually he knocks on a solid door inside and you are led within.
Mayor Early Greedle is a scrawny man with oily skin and red-splotched cheeks, dressed in a formal, though somewhat shabby, coat and top hat. He appears slightly out of breath and has a gasping manner of speaking. He introduces himself and says;
Thank you Sheriff Anders, that will be all. My name is Mayor Greedle and I'd like to formally welcome you to town! he says cheerfully.
Zed follows along with the others. Well, not an arrest after all. He thinks with mild surprise. He is fine with the silence from the Sheriff. Evidently the man is an overglorified escort for them.
Zed inclines his head (slightly) to Mayor Greedle, watching the man closely. What's going to be his game here? He wonders. For the moment he stays silent, trusting the more charismatic and less odd party members to begin the conversation.
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Still in nothing more than his own smallclothes, the big man scratches at his powerfully muscled and impressively hairy chest as he stretches. "We can't all stand around here while the ladies dress. Why don't we meet you and the mayor at his office later this morning? After we break our fast. Kazamir can hardly move most days until he's had a cup of that dark bitter tea he favors."
Kazamir's head comes up, a slightly petulant, wounded look on his face, but it quickly settles into a sheepish, resigned acceptance, and he nods ruefully.
Kaz takes a step forward, bowing deeply.
" Good Morning, Mayor. We are honored by the gift of your time and attention. How may we be of service?"
I wonder what THIS is all about?
"I've heard you have been asking questions of our fair townsfolk. Perhaps I can be of help. The sooner you conclude your business the sooner you can... say farewell." he replies, quite cheerfully.
You get a sense that he is nervous about something
Zed uncharacteristically speaks up quickly. "Yes, that's all we want."
He claps his hands and smiles with wet lips.
"Great! What can I do for you?"
"Many gratitudes, your Honor: In pursuit of our mutual goals and the interest in the tranquility of the community and harmony between us, and, with all respect due to you and your community by us as humble and appreciative guests, we will briefly summarize our objectives and desires, so as to facilitate a rapid and uncomplicated return to the most desirable status quo that this settlement enjoyed before our untimely, if unintended, disruption to its tranquil idyll."
As he drones on, Kaz will spend a point from his phrenic pool, and activate the Empathy skill unlock, trying to detect thoughts on the mayor.
”As such, your honor, we must direct our inquiries to certain other travelers, outsiders, as one may describe them. Strangers, even, to your fair community. In recent days, we have become aware that a traveler named Gregorus was recently bound for Illmarsh, and one can hardly understate the urgency with which we are tasked to seek him. Given the magnanimous hospitality and accommodation that the officials and citizens of Illmarsh have shown, we would hate for our failure to be the cause of even the slightest inconvenience or unwanted attention to the good town and its people, and thus, we appeal, not only to your charity, but to your self-interest, for, as we mentioned, the sooner that M. Gregorus is found, the sooner we may all be but what we most sincerely hope will be a pleasant memory.”
”M. Mayor, can you tell us where M. Gregorus can be found at this moment, or where and when his whereabouts were most recently known?”
DC 16
You detect surface thoughts. The amount of information revealed depends on how long you study a particular area or subject.
1st Round: Presence or absence of thoughts (from conscious creatures with Intelligence scores of 1 or higher).
2nd Round: Number of thinking minds and the Intelligence score of each. If the highest Intelligence is 26 or higher (and at least 10 points higher than your own Intelligence score), you are stunned for 1 round and the spell ends. This spell does not let you determine the location of the thinking minds if you can’t see the creatures whose thoughts you are detecting.
3rd Round: Surface thoughts of any mind in the area. A target’s Will save prevents you from reading its thoughts, and you must cast detect thoughts again to have another chance. Creatures of animal intelligence (Int 1 or 2) have simple, instinctual thoughts.
Each round, you can turn to detect thoughts in a new area. The spell can penetrate barriers, but 1 foot of stone, 1 inch of common metal, a thin sheet of lead, or 3 feet of wood or dirt blocks it.
"No sir, no one like that has come to town lately. In fact, you’re the first foreigners we’ve had through here in some time."
He smiles with a wide, thick-lipped mouth that makes him seem immediately unpleasant.
"Sheriff Anders tells me you've been staying with Croon the Crackpot. Why, you can’t believe a word he says! Everything’s a conspiracy to him or has something to do with 'the Watcher', whether you’re talking about the weather or the latest grand invention he’s got his head caught up in. It’s a wonder he hasn’t blown up himself yet. Or worse, the town! Good-natured fella, though, as long as you don’t take him too seriously."
He changes the subject rather quickly and when Kaz presses toward his thoughts he picks up a jumbled mess that is hard to sort through but all indicates he is deeply concerned about something - possibly your presence in town, possibly not.
Zed frowns, trusting his instincts more than the magic.
Zed steps forward. His patience was very deep, but there had to be at least a semblance of progress otherwise they were just pushing against a mountain. "Your Honor, I will speak frankly." He doesn't ask permission, he states what he is going to do. "You and your townspeople do not want us here. We do not want to be here. We want to finish our work here and be gone with all possible haste. But let me be perfectly clear." He steps forward again, this time getting well into his personal space. "We will find the truth. The only question is if we are going to flip this town upside down to do it, or if you're going to help us."
The mayor looks you all over as of trying to make a decision, chewing his lip as he does so.
He takes a deep breath and says;
"All right, I’m going to come clean with you. Something’s going on in this town, and I can’t sit by any longer and watch it slowly die."
"The Recondite Order of the Indomitable Sea—it’s our local temple, and most of the townsfolk are loyal churchgoers. It’s no secret that the Order pretty much runs this town. Oh sure, I’m the duly appointed mayor, but it’s the vizier who pulls the strings. And I think he—or someone else in the Order— may be behind the disappearances of some of our townsfolk, I think that's why people have been suspicious of you. They've never liked outsiders and when people have gone missing they come to the conclusion foreigners are behind it."
I don’t have any proof, only suspicions, but I can tell you that temple is not all that it seems to be. Like I said, practically everyone in town is a loyal follower of Father Voltiaro, including the sheriff, so there’s no one else I can trust."
"I need your help. Normally you would be suspects as strangers in town, but I’ve had you watched since you arrived—don’t look at me like that! You can never be too careful with strange folk hereabouts! Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’re not involved at least and in these troubled times, that’s my only certainty. You look like professional sorts who know your way around the business end of a blade, and I need someone from outside to look into this for me. Therefore, against my better judgment, I’m asking you to solve these disappearances and bring whoever’s responsible to justice."
"I’m beseeching you on behalf of the good people of Illmarsh to go to the Order’s hall and take a look around. I’m sure you’ll find the priests are hiding something. If they’re behind this, you’ll be removing a blight from this town, and earning the gratitude of its humble citizens. I assure you, you will be well rewarded from the town’s treasury. Fish isn’t the only bounty we take from the sea. There’ve been enough shipwrecks and whatnot over the years that we’ve got some gold amassed—surely enough to gain your services for a short while. And if that doesn't persuade you.... well I may know a little more about that rider than I let on earlier. If you help me, I’ll tell you everything."
He looks at you anxiously.
He is genuinely anxious and worried about what is happening in town
As the shell is cracked open and it's revealed that he's just a man desperate for help, Zed nods and steps back. "Good. Then consider us allies."
Vermundr snorts, surprised by the Mayor's transparency and impressed by Zed's ability to get the truth out of him.
"Tell us about the Recondite Order. What gods do they serve? And what's their connection to these Neighbors we keep hearing about?"
Kaz's obsequious demeanor vanishes like a puff of smoke on a windy day, and his flat, businesslike mien returns.
"We will need a list of those that have disappeared, any information commonly known about them, and their last known whereabouts," he says, fishing his journal and pen from his haversack.
"Well the Neighbours, they’re from a little settlement out in the wilds down bay; so small it doesn’t even have a name. Never been down there myself, and I don’t know many who have, but they’re good people. Folks around here consider them a kind of good luck charm for the town. I suppose there’s some trails that lead to their village or what have you, but they mostly just come to town every once in awhile when they have business to attend to."
"As for the Church, they are dedicated to Gozreh. But I'm sure it's not all it's meant to be on the surface."
"I can't say they are behind these disappearances for certain but there is something going on."
He says, wringing his hands.
“It’s true, we’ve had several people go missing recently—over a dozen so far. The sheriff and his deputies haven’t found hide nor hair of any of them, not a single clue as to what might have happened to them. It’s like they just up and vanished. People say it’s part and parcel of the bad luck we’ve had recently, but I’ve got my own
suspicions.”
He goes on to describe the people who have gone missing. There is a mix of age, gender and social standing. Given that Illmarsh is so small they have similar routines but no one knows where they disappeared from. In some instances they didn't come home, in others they disappeared from their beds without a trace.
"I suppose about 2 weeks ago now. We’ve had a turn of bad luck lately. The fishing boats haven’t been coming in full for the last few weeks, and folks are starting to get nervous and some are blaming the Watcher. I wouldn’t say it’s a crisis yet, but I expect folks’ll look anywhere to blame something."
"The Vizier of the Order says there’s nothing to worry about—the lake has always provided for us, and it always will, provided we respect it and keep to the old ways. Things’ll turn around; they always do. But like I said, it wouldn't surprise me if he was involved in all our troubles somehow.”
Vala huffs softly, the harshness of the sound softened and muted as she keeps her mouth shut. Shaking her head softly, she offers simply, "It wouldn't surprise me if..." she lets the thought die with another shake of her head. "Forgive me." Thoughts of Jonathan bent over Kendra's body in repose cloud her mind briefly as the scope of the mayor's request dawns on her. She draws her lips into a tight line, ready to press on after their quarry, but she glances to the others, lastly at Hazel, and she deflates a little. "Of course, mayor Greedle, if your people need help, we're more than willing to offer what aid we might."
"I'm so relieved you'll help." the mayor says with a sigh.
"We'll need a writ or some other sign that we are investigating on your behalf", Vermundr adds after mulling over the scenario. "We already have targets on our backs. If we do get into trouble with the sheriff or some of the more impulsive locals, something official will keep it from coming to bloodshed."