"Ah..." The sound leaves Zastoran's lips as the realization about Marossa hits him. Nonetheless, he continues to smile, evidently pleased by her words. "Well, we've only just met, but I would gladly teach you. That is, when Almah isn't running you lot ragged. I figure she made Garavel go out of his way to hire more hands for a reason."
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Thurrios finds Hadrod and Hadrah at their wagon just a short distance away, not very far from the animal pens. Ordinarily dressed and evidently common folk, the gray in their hair betrays their years, though they are not quite elderly. Hadrah seems to be in the middle of preparing a stew over a small flame, conversing with her husband. Upon meeting the inquisitor, they respond with enthusiastic curiosity.
Quite obviously a talkative pair, they bombard the stranger with questions regarding his looks, his clothing, where he came from, how good at sword fighting he is, what he's doing there, his love life, and all sorts of apparently irrelevant details. It is difficult to get a word in.
"What were you doing when the fire started?" she asks, giving no sign that the stench was affecting her.
Diplomacy it is then!
Sami is a bit surprised as Marossa speaks up, but she breaks into a giggle as the conversation continues. Marossa had been so quiet this entire time it brought a bit of joy to see her so engaged in conversation.
"Well I'm going to go talk with the others. Why don't you two discuss things that are far above someone of my low class."
With that the Samsaran gives a small waving motion with her hand before heading off towards the rest of her traveling companions. Maybe their inquiries had been more successful then her own.
"Minding my own damn business," Dashki answers with a sneer. He initially seems content to leave it at that, but apparently thinking better of it, continues on. "I was just hanging around here, just minding my own business. When the wagon lit up, I looked around for the cause. Gods know no one else bothered to."
"Who the hell are you anyway?"
Unfortunately, Thurrios proves unable to steer the conversation towards the subject of the fire. His efforts however, are not completely fruitless. As the subject turns toward their line of work, Hadrod sighs, some of the excitement of meeting a new stranger having worn off.
"Still, I hope little Rombard is all right out there," he says woefully, looking towards the animal pens, "He got loose during the fire, you see. I wasn't able to find him..."
Hadrah rolls her eyes. "It's just a goat, Hadrod. We would have ended up cooking it for food anyway." The statement earns a dirty look from her husband, ending that line of discussion.
"Really though, I dunno how all them broke loose. I put that pen together myself! And the lock wasn't broken either... It's like the damn thing just popped open on its own..."
"Or you forgot to lock it, dear."
"Khatijah," She answers bluntly, apparently unfazed by the man's abrasiveness.
"Did you happen to find anything?"
"Well I am very sorry to hear about your lost goat. Could you show me where the breakout happened?"
Once they show me the spot, I'll throw down some skill checks looking for tracks or traces of what may have happened here. This is a clue!
"No," Dashki answers with equal bluntness, looking out at the camp with a frown, "But I have a good idea of what caused it."
"Pugwampis." He spits out to the side after saying the word, as though it had a bad taste.
Hadrod leads Thurrios over towards the animal pen, explaining how numerous times during the journey to the Sultan's Claw, he had to assemble and dismantle it repeatedly to house the animals. He insists that never once had they escaped before. As though to make his point, he unlatches and latches the lock on the gate, demonstrating that it is in working order.
Looking down at the loose dirt near the gate, Thurrios finds dozens of animal hoof-prints, likely from when the pigs, goats, and sheep had escaped the pen. Spaced together unevenly, nothing about them seems unusual. Upon closer inspection however, the inquisitor notices something strange, all but completely obliterated by the other prints - tiny, clawed footprints, in no way matching the feet of the animals in the pen.
"Pugwampis?" Khatijah asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, pugwampis. I'm almost certain pugwampis were responsible," Dashki replies, folding his arms. A moment passes before it seems to occur to him that Khatijah does not know what he is talking about.
"Terrible critters that crawled out of the Darklands, beneath the earth. They spread like vermin and bring bad luck wherever they go. They worship gnolls like gods, so they're always infesting their communities like rats. But the gnolls hate 'em, and are always trying to kill 'em. But the little jackal-heads always come back."
"That stupid fortune-man's wagon was always filled with candles. It was only a matter of time before an accident happened. With a pugwampi around, that time just came sooner rather than later."
I thank the Hads and go looking for the others.
"I see. Do they worship you as well?" Khatijah says in that same, flat voice, only the slight widening of her eyes giving even a hint that that last part was a slip.
Great Khatijah, you idiot. Now he's going to fight you and your going to get whipped, clapped in irons and left to die, or worse!
When Thurrios finds the others, he will inform them of the following:
- The mercs didn't see a need for a fortune teller either
- The mercs were sorry to see him die
- The mercs dislike Dashki intensely
- The mercs says Dashki wasn't around when the fire started
- The mercs think Dashki has the hots for Almah
- The mercs suspect Eloais was knocking boots with Almah
- The mercs wondered if that is what made Dashki jealous of Eloais
- The Hads' animal pen was suspiciously broken out of
- I found tracks from small clawed feet near their pens
- They are still missing a goat named Rombard
Once we're together, and Thurrios hears about the Pugwampis, I suppose he'll guess the claws are Pugwampi tracks. He's no idea what they are, and no skill to roll to find out.
Dashki tosses his head back and barks out with harsh laughter.
"No, but if that were the case, I'd have to beat 'em to death with this stick here," he responds with a crooked smile, gesturing towards his staff.
"I see. Thank you for answering my questions. Take care." With that, Khatijah returns to the others.
Once there, she tells them, "Dashki said he was looking for the cause of the fire. He said he didn't find anything, but he thinks it's pugwampis."
Sami will let the others know that Zastoran is most likely innocent. His story seemed legitimate and she got the impression he wasn't the type of person to commit a crime like that.
Khasra sighs. "Pugwampis. Not that again. Someone always believes that junk, no matter where you go."
"You say that almost as if you think I believe it." Khatijah states after Khasra makes his opinion known.
"If I didn't say it, I didn't imply it. Are you looking for offense?" he says as he cocks his head to one side in a curious manner.
Pugwampis are of a variety of evil fey called gremlins, creatures well known for their destructive, mischievous tendencies. They are tiny and weak, but boast a slight resistance to magic and weapons not wrought in cold iron. Their very presence is sufficient to wreak havoc, quite literally making the people around them "unlucky."
Having evidently spoken with the red-armored Pactmaster guards, Garavel rejoins your group.
"Do you have any leads?" he asks, with his usual demeanor.
"I'm not telling him. It wasn't me that heard about the little things, although it does mesh with the sign I found near the pens."
"Does it matter if I did?" Khatijah asks, her voice as flat as ever as she turns her attention to Garavel.
"Dashki seems to be the only within the camp that may have done it, but he says that it was pugwampis, whatever those are."
"Does it matter if I did?" Khatijah asks, her voice as flat as ever as she turns her attention to Garavel.
"If I have something to say to you, I will. You heard it from Dashki did you not? I just said that someone somewhere always believes it was pugwampis, and since we were talking about him that means I was referring to him." Khasra says in a slightly irritated tone of voice.
Khatijah doesn't seem to even notice that Khasra is even talking to her, seeing as her attention has moved onto Garavel and Thurrios.
"Pugwampis?" Garavel repeats, with an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "I have never heard of such creatures. But if this is something Dashki told you of..." He trails off, letting out a small sigh. "At any rate, we had best report this to Almah."
Marossa returns to the group after talking with Father Zastoran for a little bit longer, stepping lightly up behind the tree near to the group as she catches the tail end of the conversation with Garavel. Unobtrusively she unfolds the last paper she possesses, pulling up the packet she presses the small flat section of dried pesh under her tongue and shivers as she starts to feel calmer.
Stepping out from behind the tree, Marossa slips up behind Sami and smiles for a moment, quietly waiting to be told where to go.
The five of you return to Almah’s tent with what you have learned from your investigation. Garavel follows after you a few minutes later with Dashki in tow. The gnoll expert seems none too pleased to be dragged into this matter, but in Almah’s presence his sour mood seems to vanish entirely. The two of them stand off to the side as you report your findings. Her reaction to Dashki’s theory seems far less skeptical than that of her majordomo.
”I see. So these… pugwampis were responsible?” she asks Dashki, tapping her chin. "How many would you say were involved?"
”One or several,” Dashki answers, his tone much more respectful than it had been with Khatijah, though his manner of speech is just as rough. ”Their kind are probably crawling all over the hills around here. Not unheard of for ‘em to snoop around camps.”
”Then it should be easy enough for you bring one back to me, no?” Almah replies with a pointed gaze. Dashki merely shrugs, not at all surprised by the prospective. Nodding her head, the merchant princess turns her attention back to the five of you.
”I think you all see where I am going with this. I know it is late, but it will be hard to start our mission if everyone in camp believes that my gnoll expert is an arsonist.” She glances at Garavel pointedly when she says this. The man’s mouth twitches slightly, but he says nothing. ”I want you to accompany Dashki and collect one of these ‘pugwampis’, dead or alive. If what he says is to be believed, it should not be terribly difficult.”
"What makes him a gnoll expert?" Khasra asks with the same flat demeanor he has been using.
"I've studied their kind. Hunted them for years," Dashki answers, taking the question as an affront to his profession.
"Hunting parties departing from Solku often hired him on as a guide," Almah elaborates, "I learned of him through word of mouth. His advice has not led us astray thus far."
"Dead or alive," Thurrios muses, "that will make this easier."
"This better not be a "snipe hunt" Dashki."
Khasra ignores Dashki's attitude and continues to listen to Almah.
Great, now I'm in a group with two bone-heads.
Khatijah keeps her mouth shut, and waits to see what the others do.
"You saw 'em tracks yourself," Dashki says with a shrug, "Speaking of which, that'd probably be a good place to start."
"Well, obviously, it's the only real lead we've got."
Thurrios will show folks where he found the tracks.
The five of you leave the tent with Dashki, who follows along as Thurrios leads everyone to the animal pens. You notice that Dashki moves with a limp, using a gnarled wooden staff for support.
Still awake, Hadrod and Hadrah nearly swoop down on your group like vultures, at least until Dashki shoots them a dirty look. The gnoll expert takes a torch out of his pack and lights it, before moving to inspect the footprints.
"Mhm, those are pugwampi tracks all right," he says after mere seconds. Raising his torch a little higher, he looks out into the darkness beyond the confines of the camp. "Out there's our best bet."
Thurrios will throw down with some more searching and tracking to see about finding these rascals.
Khatijah follows along and stays out of everyone's way. She was well aware that she was no tracker.
Thurrios ponders the nature of fire.
They say it's hot, but what do they know?
Torch in hand, Dashki leads the party out of the camp, hobbling along by using his staff for support. He keeps his eyes glued to the ground, searching for signs of your quarry. After a while he seems to find a steady trail, though he makes no effort to inform you that he has found one. Instead, along the way he elaborates a little more on the creature you are looking for.
"Keep your eyes sharp," he says with a hushed tone, eyes darting side to side, "These critters are much smaller than even a halflin'. But you'll know it when you see it."
As you travel further and further into the wilderness, the terrain takes an unfamiliar turn. The earth beneath your feet is now hard and cracked, and the hills ahead are rugged and covered in rocks. Cacti seem to be in abundance. Undeterred, Dashki continues onward.
You follow him for a few hundred more feet, until suddenly, a sharp sound pierces through the air - a brief cry, not at all unlike that of a human scream.
Khatijah watches the others, seeing what they do before acting, though the sword at her back is now in her hands after she quickly unsheathes it.
Thurrios will look to the others, "I was expecting the cry of a goat, as one is missing, but a human is unexpected."
He moves in the direction of the noise, drawing his weapon as he goes.
Marossa follows tentatively behind Thurrios, her right hand nervously clutching near the waist of her skirt as she holds onto a small dagger she keeps as a last resort, her ears listening to the sounds coming from ahead. "Is that really a human?"
Dashki keeps the way lit as your group inches toward the direction of the sound. Another cry of terror rings out, sounding even more desperate than the last. After moving forward a few more feet, you find yourselves at the edge of a particularly dense thicket of waist-high cacti, evidently the origin of the noise. The strange cries give way to the sounds of panicked bleating, doubtlessly that of a goat. From their pitch and timbre, it sounds as though the animal is in pain. With a grunt, Dashki holds up his torch and peers into the thick growth.
"Hmph. Sneaky bastard," he remarks vaguely, "To think it managed to drag that thing all the way out here."
As you stand around the area, there is a subtle, inexplicable shift in the atmosphere. An odd feeling of apprehension comes over you, as though something could go wrong at any moment...
Thurrios points into the thicket, "the goat is in there."