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Nearly a year ago, Absalom fought off an invasion o demonflesh constructs and undead marines remembered as the Fiendflesh Siege, during which the city’s siege lord offered every slave freedom in exchange for their assistance in defending Absalom. Practically overnight, one of the city’s cruelest industries came to an end, and many hundreds of the liberated have since become Absalom’s newest citizens. Although most have welcomed their manumitted neighbors with open arms, an unidentified serial murderer known only as the Rose Street Killer has systematically slain at least a dozen of these freed people. So far, the city’s guards have questioned scores of witnesses and suspects with no luck. The Rose Street Killer remains at large, and one of their most recent targets was Nelfurhin Zor, a former scriptorium slave who had joined the Pathfinder Society shortly after the siege. The Society doesn’t normally investigate crimes in Absalom, but Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin is furious that a Pathfinder’s gone missing thanks to this criminal. He’s assembled a team of agents to help solve the case. Don’t let him down—lives are on the line.
Alec strides through the streets of Abasalom brimming with excitement, even if with no shortage of apprehension. Being a relatively new Pathfinder, to be assigned the task of tracking down a serial murderer, and the murderer (allegedly) of a fellow Pathfinder no less, was no small point of pride for the young bard. Also no small point of trepidation, to be assigned such a task was serious business. And as a general rule, serious was rarely his business of he could help it.
Passerby would never sense the internal turmoil from the young bard's exterior surface, as he strolled through the streets with an air of complete confidence, idly whistling a jaunty tune.
Observers would rate him a traveller, vagabond, or possibly a brigand from his looks. Well worn and well travelled leathers, whip, dagger and blade. His face was youthful, his smile easy. Shaggy yellow hair framed blue eyes and a face that was constantly in need of a shave. Yet an observant person would notice the friendly blue eyes were ever watchful and the carefree tune was equally carefully constructed to cause people to underestimate his wariness.
For Alec had seen the road, and knew it was not paved in gold. He'd started out as so many soldiers, entertainers and brigands had. A bored farmboy in a large family. When a travelling show moved through his dusty Taldoran village, he'd been captivated by the entertainers and immediately abandoned his home for the lure of the road. The stint with the travelling show was cut short due to "personal conflicts", namely him sleeping with the wrong mans woman once too often.
So he'd set off on his own, content to roam the world, sing for his supper and explore and learn what he could of the wide world. Naturally he learned the road is rough, and those unwary, foolish or simply unlucky often ended up dead. Luckily he was none of these things, at least when he was sober. Finding the Pathfinders had been a Godsend, giving him both a purpose and an excuse to roam far and wide.
O just hope I dont screw this up
Reaching the meeting place and greeting each of his team with a hearty handshake and a heartfelt smile, he quickly weighs in.
"The Muckrakers seem a good place to start to me."
Pawl Raikuh strides down the street with the other party members, his rusty chain mail clinking softly as he moves. A veteran of military life, Pawl left the Katapeshian Army when his enlistment ran out due to a conflict with an officer over a woman and a bag of gold. Having gained neither due to the political influence of the officer, he set out to put his sword skills to good use.
While in Absalom, he eventually joined the Pathfinder Society and is now on his first mission for them. Having seen the miserable lives of slaves around the Inner Sea, Pawl feels a bit of anger that someone is murdering former slaves. He would like to put a stop to the killer's murder spree and let the formerly oppressed proletariat continue their class struggle against the bourgeoisie.
"Gaining information is always the first step in anything. I agree that visiting the Muckrakers would be a good idea."
Keznan paces behind the tall humans, quickening his steps as much as he can without looking undignified. He rolls his eyes (but discreetly behind their backs). As usual. The tall-lings never seem to remember. Of course, Smudge pads along comfortably beside him, looking as smug as as a cat can. The almost completely white-furred animal, save for a perfectly round patch of black fur on its forehead, rubs its body against Keznan occasionally, but otherwise, ignores everyone completely.
Keznan himself looks almost similar. Rather unusual for a gnome, his hair is purest of white, so white that it practically glows, except for a think streak of deepest black running down the middle. Although taken up by wanderlust like any other gnomes, he does miss some of the comfort of Brastlewark. And not having to double time to keep up with tall-folks. Sigh.
In a lilting voice that is reminiscent of running waters and winter breeze, Keznan replies, "One is as good as another."
'A chat with the Muckrakers sounds good to me. I always enjoy a trip to the puddles."
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You find that the third note concerning the Puddles contains a small satchel with 35 sp.
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Rain patters down onto the muddy streets of Absalom’s Puddles district, covering it with the murky pools of water that give the district its name. The buildings that line the streets have seen better days. Many of them are decaying, shuttered, or boarded up. The door of one of these buildings swings open, letting rats rush out into the streets. A woman wearing leather armor and a bronze badge stands in the doorway, slashing a shortsword into the swarm of rats and urging them out of the building. On her forearm, a tattoo of a dog animates and snarls.
Seeing the bronze badge on the woman, Alec assumes shes one of the Muckrakers he's looking for and strides up to her, waiting a moment for a break in her rat slashing to raise his voice.
"Greetings good guardswoman, I am Alec of the Pathfinders and these are my companions," he introduces each of the others, even remembering their names correctly, "we have been assigned the prodigious task of finding the Rose Street Killer and stopping him. We were hoping you might spend a few moments and answer some questions from us?."
He finished with his most brilliant smile, one he had worked very hard on, practicing in mirrors, or steel pots, or whatever shiny surface he could find on his travels. It didnt feel like his best one, but he felt it would do.
A little less teeth next time, I think
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“Do you need something? As you can see, I’m busy. Can’t have vermin chewing thorough our food stores, and this isn’t even the first swarm of rats I’ve dealt with today. They’ve been everywhere lately.”
She stops as Alec mentions the murders. Kicking a couple more larger rats out the door, they squeal. "Few days back I received a report from a local named Dahlia. Seems one of her friends had gone missing. With this current vermin problem-" Several rats swarm over her feet. "-The Muckruckers don't have a whole lot of time to fully investigate this without more evidence of foul play." She points down teh street. "You Pathfinders want to check it out I suggest heading to the Frog's Tongue, the Inn where Dahlia works as a cook."
"Well," Nat says, neatly skewering a rat with his rapier, "thanks, ma'am. We'll head on over there." With a grin, he adds "Happy hunting!" then turns and starts ambling toward the Frog's Tongue.
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The Frog’s Tongue embraces the water that often floods the Puddles. Recognizing that keeping the first floor of the building dry was a losing battle, the owners instead hollowed out much of the first floor and built a permanent pond, stocking it with frogs for novelty. The tavern patrons primarily use the second floor.
The sign announcing the tavern is a mummified frog glued to a slab of wood. When you arrive in the early afternoon, business is slow. The door to the kitchen is open, and you can see Dahlia frying fish in a skillet.
Continuing to take the lead, Alec boldly strides into the kitchen and greets Dahlia.
"Good day madam, you must be Dahlia? My name is Alec, and we represent the Pathfinders. We have been told you have experienced some people going missing, and we were hoping we could help. If you could be so kind as to tell us what has been going on?"
"Yes, why don't you tell us about it. Perhaps over a drink? I'm mighty parched." With a mischievous smile, Nat adds "Here in the Puddles it seems to be 'water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink'."
"I would definitely like a glass of wine too, Nat. Zat feesh smells quite exquisite as well. Do you have enough for us all, anisatan?"
He looks at the extremely wet first floor and mutters something about water rich city dwellers living in the lap of luxury.
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Dahlia takes the skillet off of the stove in excitement. “Thank the gods, the Muckruckers decided to send someone after all. As I was telling the badge lady with the dog tattoo, it’s not like Justerian to not show up for work. He’s a cook here with me, see, and he loves his job. He’d been a slave for years, and with all that slavery isn’t on the up and up anymore, he finally had a chance to pull his life back together. Puddles ain’t the best place for that, but he was managing just fine. He kept talkin’ about how he was worried that one of those underground slavers was gonna come snatch him back. I thought it was just talk, but now I’m worried.”
Keznan gives Dahlia a gentle and dignified bow as thanks. "I am sorry that he is missing, and we hope we can recover them. How long has he been missing? If it is not too much trouble, could you direct us to his residence? We could start our investigation there."
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Dahlia thinks for a few moments. "It has been nearly a week now. His place? He kept staying in this real rotten old place where no one’d think to look. None would think to look there because it’s not safe. The stairs are full of termites, and the attic’s full of bats. One good storm and the whole place might just fall down.”
Alec listens with a sympathetic ear as Dahlia describes her former cooks living quarters.
"Was there anything else he mentioned? Someone following him? Strange events or odd things around him? Even the smallest detail might help."
When the questioning is finished, Alec murmurs, "Looks like his home is our next stop?"
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"NO nothing like that. He was just worried was all." Dahlia explains.
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Heading off to the manor.
Only weeds surround this once-majestic manor house, which now leans slightly to the west, sinking into the muck. The first floor is flooded, and its front door hangs open. Two staircases lead up to the second floor, their steps riddled with small holes.
"Boy, she wasn't kidding about this place. Looks like the termites have just about finished off those stairs and are probably working on the joists for dessert."
Keznan strokes the fur of his cat then bends over and speaks to her. "Smudge, scout around the manor to take a look. But don't go in. Don't be a hero." The white cat looks back at Keznan with what you can swear is a raised eyebrow, then nods as it quietly pads around the building.
Pawl looks at the stairs and then glances at his armor. He shrugs his shoulders and begins to make his way to them, before stopping upon realizing that the perfect candidate for this situation is with them.
"Nat, I zink zis is a job zou are ze most well suited for. Do zou want to scout zis out for us?"
Alec frowns at the stairs for a moment before moving to the side of the building, "Seems more stable if we just climb the exterior."
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"Step to the edges, folks, where the joists are. The middle looks riddled through."
Keznan looks at the mess in the house then down on his fine clothes, and sighs. Calling Smudge to come to him, the gnome starts to climb up the stairs carefully. But carrying the cat threw him off, and he steps on a wrong spot, sending him tumbling!
Pawl shrugs his shoulders and begins to make his way up the steps following Nat's advice.
Hearing Nat give advice about the termites triggers a memory about houses like this and the possible danger of aggravating bats.
"If we run into any bats, make sure to watch your hair. Try not to run around screaming..."
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Nat points out weak spots in the floorboards as each step creaks and moans as loud as the wind. It only helps so much as half the group can see ahead to pay attention to the spots.
Keznan and Pawl's feet crack through the boards, getting stuck. Large splinters stick through their boots.
But coming up last in the group is Kyra. A large crash is heard as a few rotten stairs give way, sending the cleric tumbling 30 feet to the basement below. Calling out to her the group hears little response. there is no way that she survived such a fall as the Manor claims it's first victim of the night.
Successfully reaching the second floor you see that the light levels are dim and the ceilings look to be roughly 10 feet high.
Nat puts a hand up to signal to his allies his intent to scout, then as quietly as he can he pads forward to peek into the nearest room, stepping on every loose floorboard and dry twig he can find on the way.
When Nat's "scouting mission" is finished, and Alec stops grimacing and groaning at every thud, crack, curse and hiss has finished, Alec pulls a torch from his pack and prepares to cast light on it.
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Alec lights a torch. The flickering embers look to ignite the entire structure of kindling in it's place if not for the moisture from the submerged first level.
Nat peeks into the first couple doors. The doors each seem to be unlocked if not a little jammed. They creak loudly when opened and release a wave of acrid air. there doesn't look to be anything of interest within the mold filled bedrooms as they look to be in a state of disarray.
"Ow! Stupid house!" Keznan pouts, losing some of his usual dignity. At least he didn't drop Smudge, who does nonetheless give him a sharp glare.
Keznan stares at the back of the halfling, wincing at every moan and groan of the floor. Sigh, not a terribly good start. He drops Smudge onto the floor. "Go kitty, see what you can see."
Smudge lightly drops onto the floor, gives the gnome a quizzical look, before padding down the corridor, looking to see if any doors are open, and if so, what are in them.
Pawl looks back at the gaping hole in the stairs where Kyra fell through to her death. He barely knew the girl before she was "terminated" by the depredations of tiny insects. Pawl grimaces at the splinters in his feet, but shrugs them off stoically. He waits for the stealthy individual and cat to do what they do best before moving about on what he figures is a floor that is probably as deadly as the steps.
He hopes that whatever they find here in this gods forsaken dump of a house is worth the death of the girl. He is also reminded of just how cheap life is in the Inner Sea.
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Padding lightly across the floor Smudge makes it to the middle of the room where the cat peers to an open room to the south and another to the north.
To the south the cat sees a moldering bedroom, where a grotesque mass of sewage pulses. The floor in the room seems to slightly burn the pads of Smudge's paws.
To the north, the floor bears several bloodstains, and a dribbled trail of blood leads up the staircase.
The cat, just as quietly pad back. And surprisingly, it speaks! The voice is soft, raspy and haughty. "The room to the south is filled with mold. What looks like a horrendous mass of sewage seems to be pulsing. And the floor burned my feet! The room to the north is stained with blood, leading up the stairs. Happy?" Without asking, it leaps back up onto Keznan's shoulders.
"Sorry about your paws, Smudge. But you did good." Turning to the rest of the party, Keznan continues, "I think we think we should check out the room to the south first. Deal with whatever that pulsating sewage is." Waiting for the tougher ones to move first, the gnome follows behind.
Pawl moves to where he is on the map and takes a look for himself before deciding on a plan of action.
"Sure, let's go check out a pulsating pile of garbage surrounded by acid. That sounds like a fun time." Alec growls as he moves with the group towards the room of horrors.
Times like these I wonder if drudging away my life behind a plow wasnt such a bad idea. Turnips dont eat you.
As they step through the building the boards scowls and mutters, "How do people actually live here? Each day you actually wake up alive has to be a minor miracle."
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The group pushes boldly towards the pulsating pile of garbage. Pawl and Alec round the corner first. This moldering bedroom was where Justerian slept. Other than the bed, which is adorned with fresh blankets and pillows, the rest of the furniture is decaying and covered in dust.
Feeling the tremors on the floor boards the oozing garbage slides forward toward the new source of food. This spooks dozens of bats hiding and sleeping in the rafters. Their shrill shrieks nearly make the Pathfinders leap from their boots as the swarm of bats circles down on them.
The bats screech and fly straight for Alec and Pawl. clawing and biting at their bodies.
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Bats
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Alec (18/21; Bleed 1)
Nat
Pawl (16/21; Bleed 1)
Keznan (14/16)
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Ooze
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"Gah! Who sleeps with a swarm of bats! What in the hells is this place!"
Cursing as the bats swarm around and over him he swings wildly with his long sword, while barking out the words to a protective spell.
Pawl waves his sword in the air at the bats futilely.
Pawl moves to get out of the swarm with a five foot step, then (if he can) attacks the swarm with his sword. He will raise his shield even though it is a futile gesture, but one he is trained to do.
"Um, nice bats. Settle down, now. There's some good bats."
Nat draws his rapier and tries to make himself scarce.
"Oh no, bat swarm and a ... garbage pile? I need to hold off one of them." Keznan reaches into his pouch and withdraws what you could have sworn was a broom bristle and tosses it in the direction of the pile of garbage. While it flies over, he yells out, "සජීවීකරණය කළ!" As the bristle lands, it morphs into a... broom! Which starts attacking the garbage pile.