Those who partake of the food find it quite tasty. The roast duck is still not dried out, though it is not freshly cooked. And the ham was honey basted during the roasting.
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"It seems to me that if we want to know more about what is happening, then a conversation with Rexall the Apothecary might be in order, no?"
"And I would like to examine the Mulnarin residence, and the remains of the barn. Perhaps there are clues to why they were hanged."
"It does not sound like the Priests of Abadar are the most trustworthy right now."
"Yes. Rexel should be able to help. If he's alive. He was friends with the sheriff. Of course, the Mulnarin farm is closer. And if you head in that direction, maybe you could check on Missus Vesk at the manor. Her husband died, and she hasn't been doing well, poor thing. Haven't seen her walking about today."
"I believe that Sherrif Onessa may have gone to check on the state of an orphanage outside of town, and possibly to another location past there. Do you hàve any idea what that would be? Also, what is Vorthad's role in this community? Why is he so well-armed?"
"Vorthad wasn't part of the community, he was a guest at the inn."
"Not sure what the other place would be. Do you have a map? Rexel would be the best one to ask, anyway. He says he's been here over a hunderd years."
Morgrom guzzles the last of his ale and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "So wha' started all this? Some stranger come ta town? You unearf sumfing? Why is Abadar's cronies comin' out at night killin'? Seems like sumfing still ain't right here."
"Madam, I am afraid we have taken leave of our manners. May I introduce Haer Kul, an investigator of no little renown in Silverhall." He bows with a flourish.
"This noble fellow is Mr. Prahd Goatsfoot, champion of Law and an expert marksman.", indicating Prahd. Then, indicating each member of the party in turn:
"Mr. Petronicus, a gentleman of culture and ancient knowledge. Mr. Bardos a jack, if you will, of all trades. Mr. Morgrom Hellblade, a devout warrior of unwavering faith."
"And last but not least, Mr. Thorthal, whose great strength is matched only by his great heart and his greater accent."
Bardos eats, uncharacteristically saying a prayer beforehand.
The innkeeper nods at Haer Kul. "Vessa Cormindi."
To Morgrom she replies: "Nobody knows where it came from. Vorthad was new in town, but he didn't get sick til after the others. I don't know what is going on with them priests - they just closed themselves off, then I saw what I saw. The sheriff would be the most likely person to know something, if you can find her."
She eyes the holy symbol that Bardos is wearing. "Where did you get that? It looks like the one that Treningar used to wear."
"Treningar?" Was that a priest of Erastil? Do you know how or why their temple burned?"
"Yup. He was head priest. A good man, but proud. And he kept telling me that I should be getting married and whelping kids. Mad folks burned the church, and all of them sheltered inside."
"Any chance you can come up with a magic cure? Three priests in your group, surely you can come up with something."
At the mention of healing, Morgrom lets out a deep, roaring belly laugh, "Healing!" He slams his fist down on the table, tears streaming down his face, gasping for breath.
After his fit subsides, he wipes the tears from his cheeks and continues in a more subdued tone, "I like ya, woman. Healing. As if the God of War is concerned about saving lives." He shakes his head and smiles, "That's beyond me. Maybe they can help ya."
"I am no priest, only a faithful follower of Abadar. Thorthal, don't turnip your nose, they're good for you."
"Once everyone is done eating, I suggest that we go see Rexel, or the Mulnarin farm. I also worry that someone else will have seen the sherrif's map now, and we don't know their intentions."
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Vessa raises an eyebrow at Thorthal. "Huh. I woulda thought that dwarfs eat lots of turnips. Just pick them from the other side."
"Though I spose you mostly eat mushrooms."
"I concur with Mr. Goatsfoot. Rexel first. And let's stop by the Sheriff's on the way to Rexel to get the map. It will help us when we ask for information about the orphanage and the other marked location."
"Mr. Thorthal, the turnips are very good. You are depriving yourself." Haer Kul takes a large spoonful of turnips.
Vessa asks "What about Vorthad?"
Bardos finishes a tankard of ale.
"Vessa, I would be happy to perform any healing necessary, but the curing of disease is unfortunately beyond me, and to be honest this is all pretty new to me."
"A'm currently on a nuts, berries an' barley diet."
"As unpleasant as it may seem, the best thing for poor Vorthad might be to keep him restrained until the madness is completely passed. For added safety, you may wish to also lock him in a room in case he escapes from his bonds. We can check on him when we return."
"Perhaps Rexel may have a concoction that will help him."
"Compliments on the turnips, by the way. They are truly excellent," as he casts a sidelong glance at Thorthal. "May we take some for the road?"
Vorthad stops struggling, and glares at Morgrom from where he sits on his bench.
Haer Kul looks closely at Vorthad. Does it appear that his madness has subsided? .
Vorthad no longer appears to be berserk. Beyond that, it is difficult to tell.
"Hello,Vorthad. Are you quite yourself now?" Do you remember what has just transpired?"
"Who are you? Everything is so foggy. I should be in my room!"
Morgrom leans forward, "Yer suff'rin from disease. We subdued ya so ya don't have ta be killed. Seems most o tha village has been suff'rin and are now dead." He leans back and slams his fist against his chest, "I'm Morgrom Hellblade!" Gesturing to the dwarf, "That's Thortal," and then over to he crossbowman, "an' that's Prahd. Now, you tells us a story."
Haer Kul seems unimpressed by Morgrom's roll call, but continues to look at Vorthad.
"How did you come to be in this town, and what do you remember after you arrived?"
"I heard that caravans moved out from here, and I hoped to hire on as a guard. Then people got sick and crazy, and I helped defend this inn and the people in it. A couple of days ago I didn't feel well when I woke up, so I locked myself in my room so I wouldn't hurt anybody."
"How unfortunate," Haer Kul shakes his head in sympathy. "It seems very difficult to escape the madness here. Your efforts were no doubt appreciated, though."
"You must be hungry. Madam Cormindi, if it is not too much trouble, can you offer Mr. Vorthad a plate and a mug of your fine ale? And I will have another mug for myself." Haer Kul digs out another gold coin for Vessa. "This should cover Vorthad's meal, and my next one as well."
Turning back to Vorthad. "Please accept this in apology for the rough handling." (His eyes dart briefly to Morgrom.)
"By any chance, when you were inquiring into caravan work, did you hear anything about a darkwood shipment destined for Silverhall? Our employer has engaged us to find out why it never arrived. Anything you might have heard could be useful to us."
"How long typically passes between bouts of madness? Does anything seem to trigger it?"
Vessa speaks up.
"From what I seen, if they calm down they're good for an hour or so. Then they're okay unless more fighting starts."
Bardos watches and listens, not appearing to have anything to add to the line of questioning. He sculpts some mashed turnip into the shape of an ancient-looking temple.
"Perhaps it would be safest to keep you in the holding cells in the Sherrif's Office for now, so that you are neither a risk to yourself nor others? Will you come willingly? We will endeavour to find a cure."
"Ummm... if that's the only way, I suppose."
Vessa promises to save the leftovers as the party makes their way back to the sheriff's. Although the keys are missing, Haer Kul is able to unlock and lock a holding cell without them. Unfortunately, the cloth map has also disappeared.
Past the general store, a trail leads west beside a quiet mill pond. It enters the woods for a few dozen yards before ending at the base of a great, gnarled sycamore tree. A narrow, wooden staircase wraps around the trunk a half-dozen times before reaching a small, two-story hut nestled between the branches thirty feet overhead. A simple sign at the base of the stairs reads: “Apothecary. Come on up.”
Contradicting the sign, a voice yells from above: "Go away! Or I'll burn all of you!"
"Mr. Rexel? That is not very hospitable. We are unaffected by the madness and seek information. Might we talk to you?" .
"Sounds like something a crazy person would say to trick me!"
"I have bombs, and I'm not afraid to use them!"
"Threatening us with bombs when we are at the bottom of a tree that you live in seems more like something an actual crazy person might say" says Prahd, trying to keep his tone light. "Let's talk."
to assist.
"We would prefer that you did not use the bombs just yet. We have come from the Inn. Ms. Vessa Comidin sends her regards. She told us you might have some insight into this plague of madness. Do you have anything that might help someone recover?"
"Huh. Okay, I suppose a maniac wouldn't be referred by her."
"Who are you?"
Vorthad shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe you should check at the mill, though the owner is dead. Things were crazy here, can't see much work getting done."
"I am Haer Kul, one of the finest investigators in Silverhall," bowing with a flourish. "And this is Mr. Prahd Goatsfoot, a man of law and order. My other companions," indicating each in turn, "Bardos, a man of many professions; Thorthal, a great warrior with a gentle heart; Petronicus, a man of knowledge and culture; and Morgrom, well, he grows on you over time."
Haer Kul begins making introductions, but gets the hiccups halfway through and becomes unintelligible.
"Please allow us to engage in a mutually beneficial discourse that does not involve anyone being detonated, disembowelled or otherwise inconvenienced at this most troubling juncture for your humble village. I believe there are many who need our help, no? Should we not all sit down to formulate a plan to save what is left of this place?"
"Are you trying to threaten me???"
"We do not threaten. Ms. Vessa Comidin asked that we try to find out why the Mulnarins were murdered, and what happened to their children. Will you help us in this?"
"I, Haer Kul, appeal to you, gnome to gnome."