Craft (alchemy):
"I vote we bring the gunslinger, and leave the concubines. I can utilize my mutagen to temporarily increase my strength, giving me a significant boost in my ability to drag a travois behind me. Upon it we can place the gunslinger and someone else can drag the demon woman. It would be an honor, after all, since the gunslinger died well."
"How strong can you be?" Jerjia murmurs to him with interest. "You think you could break ... manacles?"
"Ummm... well, I suppose... I...I.." Wits seems to have lost his capacity for speech.
Reynard chuckles at the exchange.
Jerjia is wicked, poor Wits.
Anything else before you leave?
" You can borrow mine when we get back."
As everyone else leaves, Reynard's crossbow trained on the witch, Wits stops to light his fire. Before long it's smoking away merrily, and the stench is atrocious. Whether it will keep goblins away, or attract them is difficult to tell.
Leaving Wits fire smoking behind, the way back up through the dungeon into the late afternoon light is easy enough to find. You don't notice any more goblins, on the way.
Once outside, Wits uses his potion and enlarges himself greatly, makig the trip back to Sandpoint with the prisoner and the dead an easy matter of a few hours walk.
Along the way the enlarged, oddly changed Wits begins to refer to himself as the Master of Tears and speaks in an odd Cockney accent, while lasciviously flirting with Jerja. Wits' usual scientific personality seems to have fled, leaving a vulgar self-absorbed bastard in his place.
"Well well lads and (licking lips) lady, I say we see the old Sheriff and ditch the b*tch and dead man. He's heavy and I have plans to spend my strength on other pursuits, eh foxy lady?"
"Harump-HER," she tells the changed Wits sternly. "Down, boy. Why are you Master of Tears? Tears aren't very scary. You should be Master of Spiders or Small Dark Closets or My Great-Aunt Emilia's Attic or Wind-up Monkeys."
The trip back to Sandpoint is pretty uneventful. Wits' mutagen wears off after around 30 minutes, but that is plenty to get back to the road, and from there Nualia is easy enough to carry. She is surprisingly light, even for one of her slight figure, she seems to weigh no more than a child half her size would.
Sandpoint is dark upon arrival, and an evening fog has set in from the sea, leaving the gas lit streets with an eerie pea green glow.
From the road, the constabulary station is easiest to get to, so the prisoners are left with ease, and with little interest by the door guards. They do promise to rouse Inspector Hemlock.
As most of you were lodging with Father Zantos at the church, that is the next stop. It is also the usual place to take the dead.
An acolyte answers a knock at the door, and goes in search of Zantos without much interest. When Zantos arrives, that changes. He takes one look at the platinum hair and purple eyes of Nualia and faints cold...
"Hmm." Adonai bends down and places a his palm across Zantos' for and hums a prayer to Aroden.
"Not quite the reaction I was expecting." Rynard mumbles to himself.
Wits, now back to his usual, docile self, seems a bit embarrassed by his alter-ego's actions. "I suppose he must have been frightened by her demonic appearance?"
"Is he dead?" Jerjia asks eagerly. "I've heard that if you hit a person who's just died with just the right amount of electricity in just the right place, you can make their heart start beating again. I've always wanted to try it."
"Gods no. I got this. You cantry it on Nualia if you like, though.. The paladin thinks for a second. Maybe Wits might let you try it on him next time he turns into Master of Tears again."
"I'd rather we not talk about him, thank you." Wits shudders when you mention the "Master of Tears."
"I will respect your wishes little friend." Adonai responds solumnly.
"Is the priest still alive? Has he died? Might we count him among our slain foes?"
A flurry of acolytes move the priest to another room, beckoning to you to follow, while other remove Nualia's body.
You end up in a sitting room, plush with leather, and a roaring fire, and while the priest is revived with a small vial of smelling salts, you are each offered a good brandy.
It takes a few moments, but eventually the priest comes round enough to talk.
"I am sorry. I never thought to see such a sight as that girl. You must tell me, how? Where did you find her?"
"Oh brandy! I say, I have missed you my old friend." Wits coos to his brandy glass. "Oh! Yes, well, it seems that she was the mastermind behind the whole sordid affair. Goblin attack and all. Commanded them. Also had some nasty hounds that inspired fear in their listeners. Killed the gunslinger. Dreadful, really. Have you any more brandy? I seem to have emptied my glass!"
Jerjia hands Wits her own untouched snifter. "I never drink. It's easier to exploit people who do when you're sober."
"Based on the drawings in Kaijutsu's sketchbook, she was in the process of becoming half demon or something. Seems she was a chosen on the Mother of Monsters."
Reynard removes his heavy leather coat, enjoying the opportunity to sit in front of a fire.
"They had their own temple down there, full of abberrant monsters under the goblin fortress."
"Umm, well, I see, yes..." Wits accepts the glass, but sips instead of drinking, for some strange reason.
The Father composes himself slowly. Looking at Reynard, "Yes. I believe you are correct. She had scars on her midriff, did she not? And armour designed to display them? Yes. That fits with followers of Lamashtu.
"I apologise for my behaviour. It was such a shock. You see, the whole town has thought that girl dead these past 5 years. That she is alive changes, much, and explains more. It does create more questions though." the old man rambles on a little more, before taking a sip f is own brandy and rising to stand by the fire.
"You do not need to know the past, it is gone. I believe it is safe to say that the goblin threat is over. I shall accompany you to the Constable in the morning with the new evidence, and I shall see that the girl is burried properly tonight. You are welcome to stay, or leave for other lodgings as you wish. May I at least offer you a hot meal though?"
"That would be greatly appreciated Father."
"I wouldn't mind a bit more of the brandy, please, and a bite to eat. Good to have something to wash down, you know." Wits seems to perk up a bit at the idea of food and drink.
"Much appreciated, Father. I'd love a hot meal and a refill of brandy."
A hot meal, good brandy, and a warm fire. The night passes much more comfortably than the day did. The sounds of men working intrude now and again, but by midnight all is silent around the church.
Morning brings a trip to the constabulary, accompanied by the priest. Between his testimony, and your report (taken in triplicate, and signed an initialled on each page) the dour constable is happy that the case is concluded.
"I thank you for you help. You have shown true bravery in the face of dire adversity, losing two of your number to Nualia's schemes." he slides a sheaf of envelopes across the table. "These notes will let all in Sandpoint know what you have done for the town. Food and lodging will be charged to the Constabulary in perpetuity. It is not much, in the big scheme of things, but hopefully it shows our appreciation."
Reynard greatfully takes advantage of the Constable's offer, checking into thee Rusty Dragon, and taking the opportunity to check in on Ameiko.
Wits returns to his room at the Rusty Dragon, pausing to give Ameiko his condolences on the loss of her father and brother. He retreats to his room to unpack his alchemy lab and take stock of any missing pieces or lost reagents.
In the morning, he will approach Ameiko. "Madame, I understand you have inherited the Glassworks after the unpleasantness. If you are interested in resuming operations, I would be more than happy to offer my expertise, to help in resuming normal business. If you would like, you see."
Assuming the constable's notes mean that Jerjia is cleared of all the unpleasantness regarding the bobby's electric torch, she'll make plans to return to Whistledown and the family business. There's nothing keeping her in Sandpoint....
Ameiko is quiet, and quite subdued. "That looks like the way it will fall. I have a lawyer taking care of the fine print, and the firm has enough funds to keep paying the reduced workforce for some time. I cannot make any changes until the legal side of things is completed.
"Your help would be greatly appreciated though, for the moment I could set you aside a room to you for yourself, both here, and ta the works, if you would be willing to help?"
A few days pass, while Jerjia prepares to leave, and Wits settles in. Sandpoint returns to normal, and the celebrations of her new found heros soon subside.
It is late at night, beside the fire in the Rusty Dragon. Jerjia's bag is packed and waiting in her room. The group is having one last drink together. The door creaks, and a bobby pops his head around the door, removing his hat he moves timidly towards the group. "Ah, good evening Gentlemen. Lady", he nods at Jerjia "The Constable would like a quiet word if you could. He is waiting."
Passing through a foggy, dizzle filled night you are soon in the Constable's office. He stands, and offers seats, and then begins.
"First, let me thank you again for all you’ve done for Sandpoint. I am glad you are still here, and haven't taken the plunder you no doubt acquired in that cursed fort off to better pastures. We have a problem that I think you can help us with—a problem that I wish I didn’t have to involve anyone with, but one that needs dealing with now before the situation grows worse.
"There has been a murder, and I fear,the culpret has only begun his work. Perhaps you remember the Late Unpleasantness?, how this town nearly tore itself apart in fear as Chopper’s slayings went on unanswered. I’m afraid we might have something similar brewing now.
Last night, the murderer struck at the sawmill. There are two victims, and they’re... they’re in pretty gruesome shape. The bodies were discovered by one of the mill workers, a man named Ibor Thorn, and by the time my men and I arrived on the scene, a crowd of curious gawk-
ers had already sprung up. I’ve got my men stationed there now, keeping the mill locked down, but the thing that bothers me isn’t the fact that we have two dead bodies inside. It’s the fact that this is actually the second set of murders we’ve had in the last few days.
I come to you for help in this matter—my men are good, but they are also green. They were barely able to handle themselves against the goblins, and what we’re facing now is an evil far worse than goblins. I need the help. But I’m afraid you’ll need the help too. You see, I’m afraid that this particular murderer knows one of you as well.”
At this point, he hands a blood stained paper to Jerjia:
Previously to Ameiko: "Of course, I would be honored to have such a business such as yours to hone. I can see it now! Unbreakable glass! Glass as flexible as fabric! Oh the wonders we can create..."
Concerning the murders: "Gracious! A murder! And someone who knows us? Of course, I daresay we are well known, what with the whole recent ordeals, but still, quite a challenge for the keen mind. Yes. Yes! We must go, must investigate! I have just the concoction for the job!"
Jerjia frowns at the paper before lowering and refolding it. "Second set of murders? Where were the first?"
"Ah, yes, the first murders. There doesn't appear to be any connection, but they, smell the same, I'm sure you will agree.
"Two days ago, a patrol of my men, along the Lost Coast Road, were assaulted by a deranged man near an abandoned barn south of town along the banks of Cougar Creek. The man was obviously sick and insane, his flesh fevered, eyes wild, mouth frothing, and clothes caked with blood.
"The bobbies subdued him, but when they checked inside the barn they discovered the mutilated bodies of three men: Tarch Mortwell, Lener Hask, and Gedwin Tabe – identified by a note."
A deal has come about that I need capital in. It involves property and gold, and though I am not at liberty to tell you the exact details, it will make us all rich. Come to Bradley’s Barn on Cougar Creek tonight. We can meet there to discuss our futures.
Your Lordship
"The insane man has been identified as one Grayst Sevilla, a local Varisian thug. He’s been given over to the care of Erin Habe, caretaker of the Saintly Haven of Respite.
"You are welcome to try and interview the man, but he is clutching to his last thread of sanity only by his silence it would seem. He appears to have been affected by some Chemical substance, we have been unable to identify. It has a specific, and peculiar smell."
"Chemical, you say? I may be able to ascertain the particular cocktail. Can you describe the smell or is it best smelled for oneself? We could examine this man after we see to the murder scene. A bit of looking for oneself is the best means to detection, I think!" Wits looks positively excited by the prospect of murders.
"An abandoned barn and a sawmill? If this guy is looking for me, he's not very bright; I haven't been anywhere near those places. If the crazy man murdered the first people, he couldn't have done the ones at the saw mill too, if he was in custody. Who's this 'Lordship' in the note? There can't be that many Lordships around Sandpoint."
Reynard runs his fingers through his hair, thinking quietly for a moment.
"We should definitely see the scene of the most recent murder before anything that can lead us to the killer is gone. Jerjia, you have any idea who 'The Pack' could refer to?"
He studies the note again.
"The killer says, 'you'll come to love me like she did.' Who is she? Have there been any prominent women die or leave town recently under strange circumstances? Reynard asks the Constable.
"Chemical, you say? I may be able to ascertain the particular cocktail. Can you describe the smell or is it best smelled for oneself? We could examine this man after we see to the murder scene. A bit of looking for oneself is the best means to detection, I think!" Wits looks positively excited by the prospect of murders.
"I'm afraid the smell is most peculiar, I couldn't describe it well."
"An abandoned barn and a sawmill? If this guy is looking for me, he's not very bright; I haven't been anywhere near those places. If the crazy man murdered the first people, he couldn't have done the ones at the saw mill too, if he was in custody. Who's this 'Lordship' in the note? There can't be that many Lordships around Sandpoint."
"Lordship is not a name anyone in the town goes by. My opinion is that the man was driven mad by what we saw, rather than that he was mad, then committed the murders. The bodies of the men are, mutilated. They are in the morgue below this building, but I would advise concerning yourselves with the more pressing matter first. I obviously have your attention, do I have your cooperation?"
"Oh, indeed! I am in. This matter seems a delightful game, does it not? At least these murders take place in a civilized place instead of a drafty catacomb!"
"That just means the predator is better at hiding."
An intense look crosses Reynard's face as he senses the beginning of a hunt. "I'm in."
"Of course I will help, Sir. I know I am new here and on probationary status, but Sandpoint has been a good second home for me and by Aroden I will not sit idly by while a murderer is on the loose. We should talk to this man, then investigate the sawmill. Where is he?"
"Have to find my secret admirer," Jerjia agrees, looking intrigued. "He has very good penmanship. My name's hard enough to write with ink, let alone blood." She shows off the folded side of the paper approvingly.
" Ooh! I wonder if he or she has metal pants too!"
"Obviously not," she tells the lawman witheringly, "or they would have heard him clanking around and caught him when he was doing the disemboweling."
Wits stifles a laugh that turns into a cough as he attempts to regain his dignity. "Well, the madman will wait, but the crime scene should be examined before it degrades. Shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, Wits finishes his drink and heads out, walking toward the local sawmill.
Reynard stands donning his coat and hat and nodding towards the Constable before leaving.