A thick layer of sawdust covers the floor, mounded nearly a foot deep in places. Workbenches sit here and there in the room, their surfaces cluttered with saws, hand drills, planers, and other woodworking tools.
Marten directs everyone to stand back, and then he casts gust of wind. He directs the gust in a circular motion around the room to clear away any piles of sawdust that could contain a threat or something more interesting.
Azalia stood watching Anneka, wondering what she was up to, but moved out of the way quickly when Marten told them to stand back.
Anneka meditates and the wind whispers 'Where time moves in Shadows of the past...'
Anneka knows of an ancient crumbling clocktower in the shadow of the Irespan called the Shadow Clock, this might be the location the wind whispers to her.
While Anneka does... something... Ferocia feeds the birds some more food.
"Where time moves in shadows of the past," Anneka manages, struggling to her feet in excitement.
"An ancient, crumbling clocktower," she says and signs excitedly, "underneath the shadow of the great bridge, the Irespan."
The ravens greedily gulp down the bits of ration Ferocia gives them.
"Given how close dusk is, we should warn the authorities, particularly the Church of Abadar, then retire for the night."
Anneka agrees, suggesting they find a safe place in which to spend the evening.
The rest of the evening is a bit of a whirlwind. Given the Justice's involvement the Church of Abadar wants to keep things quiet for now til you can investigate this lead has been completed. Proctor Jyronn Imikar (leader of the Church of Abadar in Magnimar) hears your group out growing concerned, the normally smiling dark skinned, blue eyed Garundi human has a much sterner look on his face. No doubt that Miron is vouching for your story is helping things.
"You have my thanks for bringing the truth of this to light. For now knowledge of this should be tightly held. I will have my clerics heal you of any injuries. I will have lodgings for the night arranged in thanks for you efforts."
"Newly arrived in Magnimar it seems you have not heard about the spate of disappearances. This Cult of Norgorbor is no doubt to blame. If corruption has spread to others on the Justice Council it will have to be deal with. If however Justice Ironbriar was alone in his corruption it might be best for his involvement to be restricted, allow people to draw the conclusion that he was another victim of this cult."
He puts up a hand "Now this isn't something I am thrilled at the prospect of doing, his treachery would discretely be documented but if it was openly known it may shake the people's faith in the government and justice system leading to discord and more suffering for the city. He has been punished and if the cult can be stamped out it may be for the best to handle this with finesse."
"Now some of the victims have been in the Summit. The Church of Abadar officially helps patrol this area. Miron is an agent of the Church, I am charging you with following this lead and not to involve the guards unless necessary given the... extenuating circumstances. Given the sensitive nature of the investigation I would not seek to involve anyone who does not already know."
"Inquisitor Miron I will provide you with some resources including coin as a discretionary fund. If you seek to employ a group of trusted individuals as mercenaries." Looking about the room at everyone "Then that would be a reasonable us of such funds provided they already were aware of the investigation." It's very obvious he is stretching and navigating the legal code to give ye some legitimacy and not having your actions be vigilantism.
He writes a note and sends off Sir Watson, a Paladin of Abadar, to ready the provisions.
Marten asks if there's been any suspicious activity involving the clock tower beneath the Irespan.
"There's always suspicious activity around Underbridge. I haven't heard anything specific about this building but I wouldn't expect to. You might have more luck in the area asking discretely amongst the locals."
Miron hears out Proctor Imikar.
And nods, then speaks and signs.
"Proctor, everything I have seen and faced has only strengthened my view that order must be protected from dire foes. I will gladly accept this task, to investigate and stamp out this cult of murderers."
He turns to the others, still speaking and signing.
"And I would gladly have you all by my side. We have brought our investigation this far, and the clock tower is suspicious. What say we pay it a visit in the morning?"
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Drazh grunted. ”Let me hit the market first. The cult tried to get into my mind. Tried to get me to attack the rest of ye. I’m nay a braggart, but I think that it’s in the best interest of everyone here for my hammer to be facing the enemy. I’d protect myself against their charms before we kick over the rest of the viper’s nest.”
Ferocia feeds the ravens a bit more. "Since you've seen a vision, I'm letting the birds out. They don't need to stay caged."
She caws at them one more time and opens the hutch doors.
---
Ferocia crosses her arms. "Obviously we're going to go with you. Why else would I be in this --" she hesitates a moment, not wanting to insult the bigwigs around her too much. "...place." she finishes lamely.
Ferocia feeds the ravens a bit more. "Since you've seen a vision, I'm letting the birds out. They don't need to stay caged."
She caws at them one more time and opens the hutch doors.
"Give me one feather. I have a divination spell that may be useful."
"Certainly Drazh. Preparation is sensible, given our recent experiences. And Ferocia, I did not wish to make assumptions. You are under no obligation in my view. And more information could be helpful Marten."
Miron thinks of something and turns to the Proctor.
"Proctor, are there blueprints or a report on that clock tower that we could peruse? It might be helpful in our investigation."
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Azalia agrees with the plan to go to the clock tower, and is pleased with the idea of promised funds, but also agrees with Drazh that they should take time to prepare as needed.
She is in awe that Ferocia can talk to birds, and wishes that she could do that too. ... But not enough to actually study how, of course.
The ravens caw at Ferocia. The ravens flapped off after eating the last of the food, disappearing into the dusk after a loose feather is taken from their nest... perhaps Ferocia will see them again.
"I'm afraid the building is quite old, there are no plans for it that I know of. It's derelict, occassionally there are squaters who make alterations to it's structure, generally just to patch it up I suspect. No events to my memory that have required our scrutiny prior to this.
"Oh, hey. Don't forget about that bounty we found." Ferocia reminds Miron.
"Understood, Proctor. At least we will be able to give you a more recent account in the near future.", Miron says with a slight smile.
On Ferocia's comment, he adds:
"Certainly, Ferocia. Thank you for reminding me."
Miron passes over evidence of the criminal's demise, and will briefly explain the circumstances if pressed.
You are given the bounty as stated.
Miron's resources provided by the proctor include twelve potions of cure light wounds and six pouches each containing twenty platinum coins.
Miron is ready.
He meets with the others over breakfast and in a quiet voice notes:
"I believe that making discrete enquiries about the clock tower in the local area could be helpful. It does run the risk of our foes catching wind of something suspicious, but I not believe that we have left sufficient hostile witnesses alive to piece together the purpose our presence."
He resumes munching eggs and toast while awaiting a response from the others.
Unless convinced otherwise, Miron will make said discrete enquiries.
Hidden beneath the grimy, blackened goliath that is the Irespan, the lesser works of men huddle like weeds at the foot of the great trees that are the ruined bridge’s stone supports. Near one of these supports leans a decrepit and sagging clock tower, a dying structure of weathered stone, wood, and rusted metal supports that teeters to an unlikely height of over 180 feet. High above, near the tower’s roof and barely 5 feet from the Irespan’s stony belly, a tangle of scaffolding sits near a section of the structure that has fallen away. The tower’s clock face is frozen in time, defiantly (and falsely) proclaiming it to be 3 o’clock, while above, a stone statue of an angel, her wings crumbling, leans precariously, almost as if she were preparing a final leap from her decaying perch. The Shadow Clock is a minor marvel of engineering.
The locals in the region half expect it to collapse any day, and several Underbridge taverns have longstanding betting pools on how many structures the clock tower will crush and how many people it will kill when it finally falls. The tower itself is made mostly of limestone, with a tangled skeleton of wooden supports buttressed here and there by iron bands. The stone walls are etched by wind, rain, and grime. While this pitted surface might seem to make for a relatively easy climb, the fact that so many of the stones are loose makes such a stunt dangerous.
The only information Miron can gather is that the Shadow Clock is occupied. Large shapes have been seen inside it from time to time, the size of an ogre but no one has entered it to investigate.
That night, Anneka dreams she is flying, her raven wings once more carrying her over the night-shrouded City of Monuments. As she swoops down to descend toward the rooftops, a great shadow blocks out the moonlight and consumes the ground below her. Something much larger than herself, radiating menace and evil, fills the sky above. Panicked, she accelerates, flying faster than an arrow, but the shadow pursues her. She can feel its breath hot on her back, its mighty wings encircling her. She screams in terror, but her own voice is drowned out by the sound, the terrible roar of the thing above her.
Her eyes flutter open. She was never so glad to see the morning light.
_____________
"We will need rope, a way to climb if the the tower is in as bad a shape as they say," Anneka signs as she chews a piece of toast. One of the advantages of signing is that one can easily and politely speak with their mouth full. She swallows "Maybe a grappling hook?" she asks aloud, turning to Drazh.
"There's probably stairs inside." Ferocia points out grumpily. "Don't clocktowers usually have stairs?"
After a moment she adds, "I've got rope and a grappling hook if you need it."
When the breakfast was a heroes' feast, summoned by the Proctor himself, Miron is quietly feeling pretty good about things.
"Let us make use of that grapple and rope, and get into the tower soon."
Miron looks for the nearest entry point.
There is the front door. There are a few points you could enter through on higher levels. There are plenty of handholds but given the state of disrepair it would be an extremely challenging climb.
After getting her reward and realizing that she finally has enough for a really nice bow, Azalia goes shopping. She had been planning on getting either a flaming, corrosive, or seeking bow from whatever was available in town. However, in the shop there is an old black bow that the proprietor tells her is an undead-bane weapon, and she realizes that her recent experiences have made this weapon the perfect weapon for her. It takes almost every copper she has, but she buys it right there.
After she comes back, she works on deciphering the cipher book in Draconic, Elven, and Infernal. She makes some progress, but knows that it will probably take several more days.
____
Listening to the conversation about the tower Azalia adds that she has 100 feet of silk rope and an any tool that can work as a grappling hook.
Or, I can probably just fly up and tie the end of the rope to the top she says, proud of her new spell. Although... do we need more rope? Does anyone know how tall the tower is?
Realizing that a fly spell isn't a cure-all, even though she was excited about it, she finishes a bit sheepishly, Yeah, hopefully there are just stairs.
"It might be worth attempting ascending within the tower, and leaving rope as a second resort. Azalia, if you would?"
Miron readies his bow, in case of interference.
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Drazh looked at the tower with a smile on his face. It wasn’t even hidden by his beard. Apparently slaughtering a corrupt justice and his cultists was enough to get his armor and hammer blessed by the Adabarian priesthood. His hammer was a clan heirloom, and his armor was...well, his in ever sense of the word. To have them blessed was an honor. And! And he even had enough in reward money and loot to buy a Wayfinder. It took all of his will power to not open it up to look at the intricate craftsmanship within it. All in all, he was a *very* happy dwarf.
And now, here they were. In another hive of villainy. If the past was anything to go by, this would also be a profitable venture. That is...if this rickety human-made death-trap didn’t collapse with them in it, of course.
The air inside the clock tower is dusty and dry. Swaths of rubble and mounds of plaster lie in heaps on the stone floor, particularly in the southwest corner. A single wagon sits to the northeast, and six partially collapsed offices line the northern and eastern walls, their doors hanging askew and their ceilings caved in. A wooden staircase winds up into the cavernous space above. High overhead, four immense bronze bells hang from sturdy crossbeams.
You notice that, despite the place’s general appearance of ruin, a fair
amount of foot traffic has been through the area—the floor bears several Medium humanoid footprints and a pair of enormous misshapen prints that defy easy classification.
A pile of hides, pumpkins and hay in the north east corner is easily mistaken for an oversized scarecrow but you notice it almost seeming to watch your group.
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Azalia examines the tower, trying to evaluate how tall it is as well as points where she could attach a rope.
If she finds a good place for the rope and a good place of entry, then she will cast fly and fly up and attach the rope, providing them a secondary way in, or of escape, should their approach through the front door prove fruitless.
It had worked very well before, so Anneka takes a few moments to ward everyone from evil. Taking in Drazh's resplendent armor, she waves a hand and also conjures a shadowy cloak that drapes itself over Ferocia's shoulders. She does the same for herself. Then she grips her wand and bites her lip as Azalia takes to the air.
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Drazh knelt down to inspect the tracks. After a moment his familiar crawled out of his back. The dwarf muttered to it in Dwarven and it chittered back. After a back and forth, he shook his head. ”Lots of movement here. We certainly won’t be alone. Big foot prints to. Size of an ogre, but can’t make out what it is.”
Looking over the floor, Miron nods.
"I concur. We will have company, at least some it very large."
Azalia is able to attach the rope to an area near the top.
"Excellent work Azalia. I like the plan of breaching the front door but having an additional route via the outside."
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Martin studies the Irespan. Before they approach the tower, he'll cast mage armor on himself.
---
As Ferocia looks up at the rickety stairs, and sees Azalia fly up with the rope she turns to the others.
"Don't freak out."
A thick black hair sprouts from her arms, but doesn't stop. It grows to cover her entire bodyHer face twists, large teeth sprout from her mouth, and a massive tail sprouts from her backside. Then her whole body seems to swell and bulge...
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...until Ferocia is a massive monkey!
"Ooo-eee!" she exclaims. She moves her hands, signing, "Ready."
Azalia comes back after placing the rope and sees a dire monkey and almost shoots it, but realizes that the others are taking it in stride, so she tries to act like she wasn't concerned at all.
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”What the...?!” Seeing the transformation, Drazh just stared. He knew the lass was off, but this? Out of everything they had seen, Drazh had been fairly stoic. Even a haunted house didn’t unduly phase him. But this threatened his sanity. How could a dwarf turn into a monkey? Yes there had been claws, but for the most part she had been as stubborn as any child of the mountain. She had just been...misguided.
”Torag’s Holy Anvil! Lass, what are ye?”
His brain went into overdrive, trying to process this. Was she even a dwarf? Then he thought to himself...maybe she was actually a Druid? He had heard tales that druids could change their shapes. Some kind of nature magic, or divine power from a deity of the natural world. But she didn’t cast spells?
”Are ye...a Druid then, lass?” He poked a gauntleted finger at the monkey.
Miron does look over Ferocia's new form with curiosity.
He signs:
Shape-shifting is useful. How did you learn it?
He then moves both hands back onto his longbow while keeping an eye out for a reply.
Marten does not freak out.
"Ah, transmutation. Well done.
"Look, we're unduly attracting attention, I'm sure," Marten says conscious of the thick black cord now adorning resting on his head, his flashy new medallion, his ioun stone, and his impeccably handsome facial hair. "We've got our escape route. Let's head in on the off chance that whomever is inside hasn't noticed us yet."