"I hope we will discover them together," Elise answers Yelek as she sets out, leading you down a well traveled path into the outskirts of Rosehaven. "He was found on his land, outside his home, by the villagers who went to gather more gourds. He lives--lived--alone, preferring his plants to people but still kind and helpful, and they didn't see any other bodies. That's as much as we know right now."
The path eventually fades as you travel onward. Several miles later, you see a small farmhouse in the middle of a large and wild garden. As you get closer, you see that there is a guardsman standing watch near a body that appears to be tied spread eagle to the ground.
"Here is Elm's body," the constable says as you arrive on the druid's land. The body is face down, his arms and legs pulled spread eagle and tied down by vines, and his head is wrapped in vines.
When Goran turns Elm's body over to investigate, he finds that a vine has been shoved down the druid's mouth, which appears to be held open by loops of smaller vines. The front of his shirt is bloody and torn. Some of the spots on his clothes are signed.
Sho cannot make heads or tails of the ground.
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Eamon examined the body for time of death . He discovers some of the blood isn't even clotted yet. this man died recently, last night or early this morning. Eamon states mater of factly. A thought comes to Eamon and he begins to search the ground for tracks.
Do any of you know about plants? Eamon ask. Not much in to horticulture myself...but, it would be useful maybe, to know what kind of vine is stuck in our victim's throat. Eamon continues to search the crime scene for clues while talking.
Taking your time to examine the yard around the body, you cannot find anything useful. There are numerous boot tracks, just as likely from the farmers who found Elm as anyone who might have been there to cause him harm. The guard has trampled all over the ground in his boredom waiting for the constable to return. There was one particularly warty gourd that seemed to be squinting at you, but upon investigation, it was just a mundane gourd.
Inside the one-room farmhouse, you find it to be dirty but uncluttered. The only furnishings are a bed, a desk, a table, two chairs, a chest of clothes, a shelf of food and cooking supplies, and a fireplace.
You find two scraps of paper on the desk under a palm-sized wooden carving of a tree. One is a rather cryptic message and the other is a map of the area around Rosehaven with ten 'X's painted on various positions. There is also a well crafted sickle on the table.
"Yes, there are some boggy areas around Rosehave," Elise says with a shrug. "But I don't know much about plants. Chop out the peat moss, dry it, use it for kindling."
Elise clears the frog out of her throat. "Rosehaven. The town you were visiting. But, yes, if you are done here, maybe we should return and talk with Bertinand again."
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Eamon shakes his head at his companions incompetence. I see the society is up to it's old tricks in saddling me with a bunch of Absalom scholars! A wry smile appears on Eamon's face, for apparently no reason. A Dhampir on my last mission and a Wayang on this mission! Seems the society is intent on selling it's soul to Old Gods! Eamon's brow furrows, as they continue walking back to Rosehaven. To be fair the Dhampir did make a good account of himself on that last mission...hope Iomodea's healing energy doesn't harm my new Wayang friend like it did the Dhampir.
On the walk back Eamon replays the scene in his head and tries to compare, the ritualistic aspects of the murder..with any known religious practice. On a whim Eamon ask, Constable, have you ever scene anything like what we saw before?
"No, never," Elise says as she waits for you to gather and then leads the hike back to Rosehaven.
Upon returning to the village square, you hear and eventually see a crowd of angry townsfolk. They look toward you and begin shouting among themselves. Armeline is there. She gestures towards you and nods before turning back to the crowd and joining the argument.
"Obviously, they're the murderers!" someone shouts from the crowd, loud enough for you to hear.
Elise frowns and turns to say, "Wait here a moment." She heads to the crowd and joins the shouting for a few moment before returning to you. "Come with me," she bids you and leads you to the Silver Flute Inn.
"The villagers are convinced that you're the murderers," she says with slight disappointment. "Armeline is trying to convince them that couldn't possibly be the case, but we should have proof of your innocence soon enough when we find the sailors who brought you. In the meantime, please remain here--for your safety."
Six guards have followed the constable into the inn.
"Being strangers certainly is part of it," Elise says. "I will go see what else has set this off." She heads out the door, leaving the guards behind.
Ivy, the innkeeper, comes to you. "I am so sorry for the trouble. We haven't had anything like this in years. Here, dinner on the house." She lays out a tray of appetizing food.
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Being strangers certainly is part of it," Elise says. "I will go see what else has set this off." She heads out the door, leaving the guards behind.
Ivy, the innkeeper, comes to you. "I am so sorry for the trouble. We haven't had anything like this in years. Here, dinner on the house." She lays out a tray of appetizing food.
Eamon examines the food and pushes it away. He rummages through his pack and instead takes out some trail rations. Damn Galtians! Misplaced hysterical blame on their ilk! Irrational idiots! Well let them try to get at me with out a fight! Taldean heads don't meekly roll they'll find! Eamon very purposely draws his sword while sitting at the table and places it in front of him while devouring his trail rations. His eyes dart to every corner of the room expecting a mob to burst from no where at any given moment.
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Some people are clueless even to the facts as clear as the morning sun. Small minds... Goran complains as he finds a place to sit and meditate on his situation. He stretches to clear his mind first then sits down for some quiet contemplation. They need guidance....I hope the truth will be enough for them.
A few hours later, a crestfallen Constable Elise returns to the Silver Flute Inn. "I apologize for the house arrest," she begins. "It is now clear that you are not the murderers. Another murder occurred while you were detained and I was arranging a rider to catch the sailors who had brought you up the river. Bertinand has been killed in a manner similar to Elm."
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Eamon looks at the constable and around the Inn in disgust. His eyes narrow as he says, It's too bad you don't have a team of trained investigators and mystery solvers on hand. Perhaps you could ask them for assistance! Eamon pauses to gauge the constables reaction. Or perhaps you're highly acute citizenry, would already be rushing them to the chopping block...either way.... Eamon pauses considerable for effect. What has this to do with us constable? Are we free to go? I'd like to catch the next River boat out of this town of forgiveness and joy. I need to report back to my superior as soon as possible. Oh!... your town's openness and hospitality ...; shall be at the forefront of my report.
"Yes, of course," Elise replies to Eamon, contritely. "You are free to leave whenever you wish. However, Armeline had suggested that you might be willing to overlook the inconvenience of house arrest in order to help us stop these murders."
She looks relieved when others make explicit offers to help. "Oh, thank you. I'll take you to Bertinand's home right away. He was killed during his evening prayers."
There is not much left to tell you that the body tied spread eagle on the ground was the priest, Bertinand. His face is bruised and swollen beyond recognition, several of his teeth are missing. Much of the body is wrapped in blood stained pages that appear to be torn from a prayer book, though a coil of intestines spills out to one side. The same kind of vines--pumpkin--hold down each limb and his head, with part of the tendril extending into his mouth and down his throat.
There is an obvious trail of disturbed ground heading towards the fields. It is impossible to tell what made the trail as there are no clear foot prints of any kind, but bits of paper and smears of blood suggest it was the killers. Once the trial reaches a field, it is a little more difficult to follow.
You follow the trail through a field of corn and into a field filled with a bumper crop of pumpkins and gourds. Several of the pumpkins have been smashed. A tiny creature with a gourd for a head and a body made of a tangle of vines and leaves stomps about the field wielding a wooden mallet stained with slimy, orange pumpkin guts and seeds.
He stops when you emerge from the corn field and begins gesticulating at you. He points at himself, then reaches his hand up into the air as if trying to reach a tall shelf, and then makes an exaggerated grimace, making fangs with his 'fingers.' He then points at you and then himself and repeats the pantomime.