"We could just get a rowboat ... again ... and go see how deep the wreck is. If it's just below the surface, a swim probably wouldn't be too difficult," Seren surmises scratching his chin as he looks out into the water, shivering slightly.
I'd like to have a look about this boat myself Seren. Not sure if there is anything to be found or not. Anyone have any magic that could assist such a swim?
"None here, I'm afraid. I float better than I used to," says Melianthe, thinking back to an episode with a shark and a rope. "We could buy a scroll and have someone go down. That's probably you, Segang." Melianthe frowns at the idea. "Personally, I'd prefer to focus on leads that we can all address as a group."
The ship will still be here tomorrow. Let's check out all our leads today and then do more in-depth investigation tomorrow.
Segang nods. The ship can wait. But if other leads lead no where then I go for a swim.
You head to Gray next. As you enter the somber district, a trio of Pharasman acolytes are leading a mule cart covered by a heavy shroud. They appear to be headed towards Potter's Ward. One of the priests trails the cart, swinging a smoking censer back and forth.
A glance around the entrance to the district shows no obvious piles of the dead, or any other untoward activity in sight.
Segang points out who the priests are and their function. More of the city die. These priests carry recently dead poor to the graveyard.
Cherias nods, having figured out that the priests were carrying the dead, but not recognizing their destination.
Cherias will move as quickly as he can, pulling his hood over his head as he catches up with the trailing priest. "Greetings, sir, I do not wish to keep you from your grim but necessary task" he says somberly, "We are from the Citadel, and need to ask: How many have gone to the boneyard this day?"
"They will know something about how many are dying and where," says Melianthe. "They always know."
She approaches the acolytes. "Hail, servants of the Lady. May we speak with you for a moment? We have been entrusted by the Korvosan Guard to investigate the sickness that swells the ranks of the dead."
The trailing priest gives Cherias a sidelong glance from beneath her heavy hood, but does not stop or cease her censer-swinging. At closer inspection, you see she is steadily reciting a silent prayer litany. The trio and their cart continue towards Potter's Ward.
"Follow or leave?" says the witch quietly to the oracle, watching the priests trundle on.
"I didn't realize she was praying. Hmm. Follow I think."
Melianthe nods and walks a little faster to catch up behind the Pharasmins.
Don't see how knowing where they put the dead will help anyone. Segang complains quietly to no one in particular as the group walks.
"See, I knew the Shoanti were behind the plague--you're clearly stalling us," half jokes, half snarls Melianthe at the barbarian.
Oh, yes, it is I who am stalling us…
After following the clerics quietly to the Potter's Ward, you see that a new mass grave has been dug. The air is thick with the scent of the recently disturbed earth. The pit is empty of corpses, however. The clerics stop the cart at the edge of the pit. The two escorts silently go to work, removing the shroud and revealing a dozen bodies beneath: young and old, man and woman, they all show the marks of blood veil.
The third cleric stows her censer, finishes her litany, then turns to you at last. With a small bow, she responds to Cherias. "Only Pharasma knows for certain, but if you mean here in Korvosa, perhaps twenty or so." She shakes her head and frowns. "We have been called on to retrieve these mortal remains today, but this disease has claimed more that we have not yet seen. We will be busy."
"I didn't notice you praying before. Thank you for telling me. That seems like a number we might expect from a plague like this. Is this the first such grave you've had to dig in the Potter's Ward recently?"
The cleric nods. "We dug it this morning. Depending upon how long this disease runs its course, it may fill quickly."
"Twenty in just a couple days? That seems fairly deadly. How's that girl doing that we helped the other day?" Seren looks concerned.
"Come, let's move to another lead ... I feel we need to DO something."
Melianthe offers prayerful hands to the priest in thanks and nods to Seren. "The Asmodeans, then. Horns of the Moon, I'm not looking forward to speaking with them."
Absinthe's face briefly twists into a mask of utter disgust.
"Count me out," she says, her voice unusually brusque -- and with deadly anger simmering underneath the surface. "I am not going anywhere near those devil-worshippers unless it is with steel in my hand and their blood on my hooves!"
The tiefling visibly has to wrestle with her emotions before she can speak more normally, and she addresses the priestess of Pharasma. "One begs your indulgence. As the stewards of death, what do you believe the most likely cause of such a sudden and - to one's knowledge - heretofore unknown disease appearing as if out of nowhere? And... is the disease transmitted by air, do you believe?"
The cleric only shakes her head. "I would not know such a thing for sure. Diseases have many means of transference, sometimes more than one... and that does not account for magic or curses. As well with the symptoms. While blood veil may be unknown to Varisia or Avistani lands, it may be common in Garund or the distant east."
"One is intrigued by your mention of magic in this case," Absinthe says. "Have you any reason to suspect a supernatural component to this pestilence?"
"It does seem a little farfetched that so many people came down with it in a matter of days."
"I could not say one way or the other. I have not seen more than these few afflicted." She gestures towards the cart, which the other two clerics are slowly unloading into the pit.
Segang stands at a distance breathing through his wet silk.
"Not so farfetched, Cherias, if it is highly contagious. Friend Priest, have you been able to tell where the disease originated, within the city, that is, and whither it is spreading?"
She gives Abby a forgiving look after her Asmodean outburst, as if to say, I understand.
"No, but these all came from Old Korvosa and the northern shores."
Cherias looks worried at the mention of his home district.
From Gray, you head up Citadel Hill back into the Heights. The Temple of Asmodeus () sits at the edge of the western cliffs and overlooks Conquerer's Bay. The massive building is constructed into the shape of a five-pointed star made of red marble.
As you've heard, there are indeed priests here serving the ill. The scene is in stark contrast to the mob outside Abadar's temple. Here instead are three orderly queues leading to three desks, each manned by a lawyer-priest armed with pen and ink. Templar guards dressed in the colors of Asmodeus stand prominently around the square, maintaining order with stern looks alone.
Frustrated by the lack of conclusive leads, you return to Citadel Volshyenek to check in with Marshal Kroft. You find her alone in her office. As you enter, she looks up from a stack of reports. Her eyes are bloodshot and heavy with fatigue.
"Dire news from all fronts... Please tell me you've learned something useful?"
Segang will report what the group has found, stressing the information about the plague ship and his believe that there may be clues at the bottom of the bay. We will need some magical air to check the ship properly. he confides. Can you provide any?
"Not another line," hisses Melianthe. She approaches the end of one of the queues. "Can you tell me what's going on?" she asks, not bothering to sound very polite.
Cressida follows along, obviously struggling to keep her eyes focused. She clears her throat roughly before responding. "There are a dozen similar reports coming from all around the city... my men are tied up maintaining the quarantines and keeping order. Sorting out the legitimate healers from the scam artists was half the problem we discussed this morning."
"The sunken ship sounds like a fair lead, if you want to dive for it. I have no magical methods to offer you, but I'm sure you can find some for sale around the city." She shoves over a pile of scrolls forlornly. "I've got rumors of were-rats teeming the sewers and attacking folks, lazy carters failing to deliver bodies, zombies in the Vaults, missing people in the Heights, Academae wizards dueling to the death... I've even got some nobles making official complaints that I hire freelancers!" The Marshal sighs and rubs her eyes again.
Melianthe's target, a middle-aged man with blood veil's pocks, gives her a wary glance up-and-down, "Some healing and restorations for those afflicted, for those willing to sign contracts of payment or servitude. Actual cures are limited, and a bit... pricier."
"Do you have any alchemists who can analyze the sample of the lavender liniment? I think investigating the ship will be out next target tomorrow, once we secure air bubble or water breathing spells."
She shoves over a pile of scrolls forlornly.