Lyrica looks over the corpse and sees if the cause of death is the same as what everyone is saying. However, she nearly gags at the sight and really cannot do a thorough job of giving the corpse and autopsy.
Ezekiel begins to examine Phibes body. Not the first dead body he's ever examined, but it's still not a comforting task. A man going in his sleep, there's something natural to that.
He starts with the obvious, looking at the wound, checking to see if anything is strange about it. Marks or lines that may be poison, was the blade serrated? He also asks to see the knife to match it to the wound. From there, he goes down to check his ankles, to see how they were cut. Once again, did it appear to be the same blade, or even a blade at all? And he also makes sure to check the man's mouth and throat. Why didn't he call out? Could he call out? And what of the eyes? The fingernails? Did it appear that he struggled?
With a professional and discerning eye, the Bonesetter examines the corpse and - at least overtly - relays his findings dispassionately. The wound in Philmore's back is near the spine and is a clear match for the common, non-envenomed, boning knife the priest offers as additional evidence. The blow itself is expert; the blade was turned sideways to avoid the ribs and angled to spear the man's heart. It was a single blow delivered by a powerful thrust, judging by the bruising around the entry site - where the handle of the boning knife struck and bruised the ribs.
Zeke's examination continues at the man's legs. Again, the cuts were delivered by the boning knife and were frighteningly precise: There is a single vertical slice across the hollow of the left knee that cleanly severs the tendons on both sides of the knee. On the right ankle, the wound is more irregular, as if the leg was in motion when struck. Nevertheless, the blow is thorough - shearing the achille's tendon and cutting down to the bone.
Zeke works his way up the body and notes some general bruising along the left side of the victim. It suggests he keeled over to the left side and struck something, possibly the kitchen counter, a wall, or the like. The Bonesetter examines the hands and arms. There is some general bruising that focuses on the elbows. It is consistent with the accounts of Philmore dragging himself around. No evidence can be found on the hands. In preparing the body for burial, the hands and nails were cleaned of the mud and blood that stained them... but there are no defensive wounds that suggest Philmore fought a knife-wielding assailant.
Finally, the Bonesetter inspects the face and neck of the dead farmer. The dead eyes seem to plead, but Zeke knows that is likely a trick of his imagination. On sight, there is nothing to explain why the farmer didn't cry for help. But what the eyes miss, Zeke's skilled fingers find. Something scratches his palm as he works his fingers along the throat. Zeke examines the area carefully and eventually uses a pair of small pliers to work something loose from the man's neck... a blood-streaked sewing needle.
The needle was shoved into his voicebox preventing him from making more than a whisper. It was driven in far enough that it barely emerged from his skin, making it nearly impossible to remove particularly for the crippled farmer.
As Zeke examines the needle, he feels a sense of bile rising in his throat. "I've seen far worse than this. Festering wounds, diseased bodies. But all that was natural. This disgusts me entirely. Whoever did this, they did it deliberate. Doesn't look like he fought back none. No scratches or nothing. The hands have already been cleaned too, so that's out."
Zeke ponders the needle a bit more. "I didn't see any signs of poison, but never hurts to check. Don't suppose you have anyone able to do find somethin' like that, do you Father? Otherwise I can try to take a look later."
Moving to wash his hands off, "What I can say now is that whoever did this knew enough to keep him from running or calling for help. The strike is precise. They know quite a bit about the body. You know anyone in town that sounds like that?"
Galt looks pale at Ezekiel's analysis of the attack. It takes him a moment to comprehend the Bonesetter's questions.
The priest nods and quickly casts a spell then looks at the aura on the body and needle. "There is no poison present, thankfully. As for someone who could do this... no, I can't think of anyone with this sort of skill. We're mostly farmers. Some folks have had to defend their homes and maybe know their way around a weapon or two, but not like this."
Lyrica refrains from looking too closely at the corpse, but listens to Ezekiel's discoveries. She scratches her head wondering about the needle. Trying to find answers, she asks, "Why would somebody go through all of that trouble to silence him with a needle, if they were going to kill him soon anyway? I wonder if Philmore knew something that somebody or some group didn't want others finding out."
In the fading light, Aerik and Marcus find their way back to town. With a little effort, they track down their allies at the Church in time to hear Zeke's conclusions about the murder.
"Hmm, curious." Ezekiel ponders over the wounds. His revulsion at what was done still tickling at his thoughts, he pushes it aside as he would treating a bleeding wound. "Philmore was a farmer, right? What kind of crops did he grow? Did he have any men working under him or did he tend the fields himself?"
The priest considers the question soberly. "Well, he rotated crops as do most of the folks here - otherwise you wear out the earth. But corn was certainly a good cash crop for him and I suppose he favored it. He tended the fields himself - for the most part - but when crops are ready for harvest, everyone pitches in. Can't let crops rot on the vine. So many folks have worked in his fields and he has worked theirs."
"Where are Phimore's corn fields? I wonder if he saw something out there when he was tending to them?"
"Couldn't hurt to take a look around them. Also speaking to this Janys might help, in case she learned something. I'd recommend talking to her first before heading out of town to his fields. Also gives Marcus and Aeryk a chance to get back. Rather have one of those two take a look with us."
"Phil's land is the large field at the end of the road just down from his house."
"I think you are right Zeke. Besides, it is getting a little late. Let's check the field tomorrow when we have a little more light. Perhaps right now we should go talk with Janys Pegason. Is there anywhere else we need to go?"
Marcus listens soberly to Ezekiel's analysis, impressed with how much information he can glean from studying the corpse's wounds.
Later, he recounts the journey he and Aerik took to Sybil's hut.
...So we didn't find much at first, but we followed some tracks, human, barefoot along the river, to a hut. Lady by the name of Sybil lived there. No disrepect to any woman can live on her own in these times, but, well, how can I--she made Zarzanna sound like the wisest, most plain-spoken hetmon in history. She spoke in riddles, said something about coming from fields and water, I think she said it was us who were woodsy men--and she mentioned that she'd had visitors long ago--a man and a girl. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but maybe you all can. Zarzanna knew a lot of the prophecy--if you educated folks can decipher Sybil's words, maybe you can learn something useful from 'em. If you want, I can show you the way tomorrow.
The Priest gives Marcus a curious look, "Who? Sounds like you met Victahana."
"Any idea why she would tell us her name is Sybil?"
The priest shrugs, "She's a strange one. But I'd guess she was trying to tell you she is a Sybil - a seer."
"I would certainly be willing to go and meet her. Any clue that brings us closer to deciphering the prophecy can only help. I just hope she doesn't object to more company. So where shall we rest tonight? It has already been a long day."
The priest looks confused at the mention of prophesy but he makes no comment.
"Well, I think that meeting may best be held for tomorrow. For now, let's head to meet this Jannys, then back to the inn for dinner. Tomorrow will hopefully shed some new light on events. We can explore Philmore's farmlands first, then head to meet with this Sybil, Victahana."
Following Ezekiel's advice, our heroes ask about Jannys Pegason's home. Galt leads them there then leaves them at the front gate before heading back to the church to prepare Philmore for his burial on the morrow.
The Pegason home is a largish, two-story, affair fronted by a white-washed fence and gate. A small private vegtable garden sits off the porch. The front door sits on the porch flanked by a pair of rocking chairs.
Our heroes find themselves quickly invited to dinner by the charming hostess. Jannys is a chubby woman of middling years with apple cheeks offsetting her pale skin. She introduces the party to her family: her husband Tamor, their teen son - just a couple years younger than Lyrica - named Tamor Jr., and their youngest - Rynn a large eyed, blond lass of no more than 5 years.
Dinner is quickly prepared by Jannys and her elderly housekeeper Mykalla who is also introduced to the party. Apparently station isn't something to which Jannys adheres. A fine repast is served at the dining table. Jannys and Tamor keep the conversation light with the children present, Jak, in his element, regales them with improbable tales of faeries with the heads of fishes that grant wishes to all save fishermen.
Once the meal is done, and the dishes cleared, Jannys sends her children to bathe and to bed - leaving the adults to talk while Mykalla clears the table. And so, at length, you find yourselves in the Pegason living room, having a post dinner drink and discussing the events that have befallen Albridge.
Marcus sits, awkwardly silent, looking at Jak expectantly.
Lyrica insists on helping Jannys with the chores. She visits with her on light topics and enjoys being with the children. Once they are to bed and the adults are gathered around the table, Lyrica speaks up.
"I am so sorry to hear of Philimore. In small towns, such death seems to have such a strong effect on everyone. In the short time I've been here, this one seems to be no exception. Why do you think he was slain?"
Jannys blinks at the question, "I have no idea. He was a sweet man."
Jak winces at Lyrica's bluntness. "Yes, that's what we've heard. Quiet, too, by all accounts." Jak pauses to take a drink and consider, recalling what all he's heard about Philmore. "Though not many people could tell us much more than that. We were hoping you could shed some more light on who he was. I'm not sure what will really help us figure this whole tragedy out, but any little thing might. What can you tell us about him? Or about him recently?"
Jannys frowns, considering Jak's words before speaking, "Philmore was a shy man. I think he found it hard to make friends... more so after his farm started to prosper. It caused some bad blood and possibly he felt guilty about it. Lately, for several months at least, he's been even more withdrawn. It looked like he was worried or maybe brooding about something. He never told me what it was. He said a few weeks ago that maybe he ought to give back some of his fields or put them in trust for the town's benefit. I don't think he ever got around to doing it."
Marcus listens, trying to find some motive for this crime.
Doesn't seem like he had any enemies, but the killer made him suffer. If people 'round here didn't bring in any crops and got jealous, then saw the power of the Dark Forces when the Mist came--maybe they'd turn to asking favors from THEM to help their family.
Seemingly out of nowhere, he speaks up: Beggin' your pardon, but what gods do you good folks in town keep, if you don't mind me asking?
"It looked like he was worried or maybe brooding about something. He never told me what it was. He said a few weeks ago that maybe he ought to give back some of his fields or put them in trust for the town's benefit. I don't think he ever got around to doing it."
"He certainly seemed liked a kind and generous man, even if he was a bit shy."
"Beggin' your pardon, but what gods do you good folks in town keep, if you don't mind me asking?"
That's a good question! Lyrica thinks to herself.
Lyrica perks up as she awaits the answer to Marcus' question, but tries not to appear overtly interested.
If Jannys senses anything leading about the ranger's question, it is well concealed beneath her surprise, "Uh, I suppose we worship the same Gods as you... but maybe not. Most of us follow Erastil or Gozreh - the Gods that most touch on farming and community. But we've got a few that worship other Gods or even no Gods. Father Galt serves Desna, but his sermons and help are non-denominational... and no farmer objects to a little luck now and then."
Jak largely ignores the talk of gods, leaving that kind of thing to the folks who know more about it. He waits for a lull, then continues the earlier line of discussion. "You talked about his farm prospering… was that before he bought other folks' fields? The good father said that there was some grumbling when he did that… whose fields did he buy?" He continues with the line of questions, watching the woman and her husband for any give-aways of withheld knowledge or anything. "What kind of folk are they? I know back in the Drear, people feel more than a little bit of ownership for tools and land that's been in their family for a while. Did the previous owners seem agitated or act differently lately?"
"You talked about his farm prospering... was that before he bought other folks' fields?"
"Yes. His farm had a string of good years. He wound up with enough money to buy out some of the neighboring fields."
"The good father said that there was some grumbling when he did that... whose fields did he buy?"
Tamor grimaces at that but leaves the answering to his wife. "That's true. There was some bad blood there for a little while but none of those folks would have killed Philmore. I assure you." Seeing that Jak still wants the names, she sighs, "He bought Old Man Meek's plot, one of the Arvour family fields that touched on his, and... the Scrips farm."
"What kind of folk are they? I know back in the Drear, people feel more than a little bit of ownership for tools and land that's been in their family for a while."
"Well I guess Drear folk and Albridge folk are the same that way... because there was grumbling and anger. All those folks are farmers - but they didn't have Phil's green thumb. Meeks is an irascible old fella, one of the oldest in town. He was a hornet's nest when Philmore wanted to buy him out. The Arvours are a pair of sisters. They were more upset than mad as I recall. It was family land and they hated parting with it.. but they weren't having any luck with it. The Scrips are married with three children. They might have hated losing the land but they were living strictly hand-to-mouth at that time and Philmore made them a good offer. It got them out of farming and into milling."
"Did the previous owners seem agitated or act differently lately?"
"Lately? No. Even Meeks stopped shooting daggers out of his eyes years ago. It's been maybe five years since Philmore bought them out."
"Before his good string of years, was Philmore known to be a good farmer? Better than those others around him?"
Tamor thinks about it briefly before responding. "I don't think so. As I recollect, he struggled as much as everyone else."
Jannys merely shrugs, "I don't recall."
Jak gives a hmph, searching the floor for answers. "It's been awful nice of you to let us intrude on dinner Misses Pegason. Master Pegason." He shrugs, giving sympathetic look to them both. "I wish we were getting to know each other in better days." His face lights up a bit as he looks at Jannys, "But if we have to see dark days, at least I can meet good people at the same time… especially good people with such good spreads for dinner."
He looks over at the group, waiting for them to ask any further questions they may have.
"It sounds like Philmore had some issues with neighbors, but not enough to warrant being murdered. I still wonder if he found anything in his fields that some greater power did not want others knowing about. I wonder if perhaps we should simply investigate his lands next? Jannys, do you know of any strange features on any of Philmore's fields? You know, something like a cave, a mound, or a strange setup of rocks?"
Jannys smiles at Jak and then her looks pale at the mention of something unnatural in the fields. "I... There certainly aren't any caves openings or we would have seen them. And I don't ever recall seeing anything larger than a normal hump like you'll see in any of the other fields. There's an old oak stump in his nearest field - pretty close to the near edge. That's been there forever. If there were stones, they've probably been piled into one or another fence. You don't leave rocks in a field unless you don't mind turning the ankles of the cattle or breaking a plow. If there's something unnatural I bet the witch, Victahana, put it there!"
At the mention of the "witch", Marcus chimes in again.
Aerik and I met Victahana today--do you really think she's dangerous? I didn't much understand what she was talking about, but I didn't get a sense that she would want to harm anyone, especially for no good reason.
"Oh, Janys." Lyrica replies reassuringly in an effort to allay her fears. "I wasn't thinking of anything unnatural? I was thinking of something ancient and historical that may be a part of the natural landscape. I wasn't thinking there would be anything unnatural in the fields. Do you know if there are any historic ruins in the area?"
Aerik and I met Victahana today--do you really think she's dangerous? I didn't much understand what she was talking about, but I didn't get a sense that she would want to harm anyone, especially for no good reason.
Jannys looks skeptical. "She's the only one 'round this town that does things unnatural, or so folks say."
"Oh, Janys." Lyrica replies reassuringly in an effort to allay her fears. "I wasn't thinking of anything unnatural? I was thinking of something ancient and historical that may be a part of the natural landscape. I wasn't thinking there would be anything unnatural in the fields. Do you know if there are any historic ruins in the area?"
"You're talking about something that butchered a man. Natural or unnatural makes no difference. Outside of what I've already said... I can think of nothing strange around the town."
"I agree with you, Janys. Other than the fact that Philmore was murdered, I don't know that i've seen anything that makes me think there's something unnatural at work." He shrugs, "Though I guess with the moon and the mists lately, anything's possible. You'll have to excuse us for our jumpiness... we've seen some strange things in the last month or so. We're here to help you good folks get to the bottom of this tragedy... not looking to spread panic or superstitions. As for Victahana, unless she's a practiced hedge doctor with a history of violence, I'm not sure I understand how she could be connected to all this."
He finishes off his drink, making a show of looking into the bottom of the cup for more.
Jannys refills Jak's drink. "Make up your own minds about Victahana. If you're asking me who I think is capable of this sort of murder - I'd say no one is. But if I had to pick someone, I'll pick the crazy woman who does all sorts of strange."
Jak nods, "We'll keep that in mind."
Our heroes thank their hostess and head back to the Inn to discuss what they've learned over a quiet drink in a corner booth... an easy goal to achieve as the Inn sees very little merry-making this night. At best, for those willing to brave the darkness, there are quiet drinks, the odd toast to Philmore here or there around the bar, and fearful mutterings about his murder. Some locals glance at the newcomers with measuring looks and others with hope. None intrude on their discussion.