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Forcing herself to concentrate through the appalling sight of the state of Sephriel’s body, Willow tries to formulate a first few tentative hypotheses. Given the number of wounds, even if he was surprised, it wasn’t badly enough that he couldn’t defend himself, which fits with him being still in his mask and presumably up and about when it happened, albeit in his dressing-gown. A small blade, so the murderer would have had to get quite close…
The slimy first mate’s sneering remarks jolt her out of her speculations, and she glares back at him as his words provoke an unwelcome response in the captain. The impulse to give Mallick a vicious shake is almost as strong as her curiosity as to what the rascal’s problem is, exactly.
Willow joins her voice to the chorus of protests as the ship’s officers leave.
“As opposed to finding our moment in the bustle of resupplying at Magnimar, for example. Or just arranging a convenient, quiet accident at the ship’s railing one evening. Clearly, we suffer from obsessive over-elaboration,” she elaborates on Conig’s point, with dry sarcasm.
She subsides as the captain and mate sweep off, watching curiously as William questions the corpse. Although she would normally be fascinated by any magical working, she is distracted by the urgency of working out possible next steps, taking her cue from Azora’s question. Who was where, when?
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The captain listens with measured disdain to your entreaties. He only interrupts when his crew's fitness is questioned. "My crew were below decks, far away from the intrusion. It is no surprise that they were slow to react. I myself only awoke when I heard the gunfire and I was just below the bloody mess."
He pauses long enough to exhale and collect himself. "Don't get me wrong, I am assuredly grateful that you dealt with this intrusion, coincident as it may be. Although from the look of them, they do look quite odd for a simple raiding party." He nudges one of their unconscious bodies with his boot. "I'm curious who these lot are. Not the battle-hardened cutthroats I would be expecting."
When you are finished with your discussion, the captain says with some resolve.
"Well, I've done more than many would expect given the situation. Rather than tie you up and launch you into the sea, I'm giving you the chance to prove your innocence. Don't squander it. If you are not the murderers, than find out who is. And fast, or they may strike again."
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As William is finishing up his little bit of necromantic communication, a figure approaches from the darkness of the hold. Another masked elf (that you soon recognize as the mysterious companion of Sephriel) steps to the doorway.
"Is it true? Is he dead?"
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Accepting this is the most the captain will offer, "Thank you Captain. You may wish to consider pairing off your crew, for everyone's safety."
The oracle returns to her allies. By the Flames! How do I find myself embroiled in such a conspiracy? She shakes her head. "We should have had someone stationed right outside his door." She looks at the lifeless form. "Well, let's get this figured out."
Azora casts a spell and perceives the room.
She looks up at the distraction. "Indeed, I would have thought the commotion would have brought you to either the top deck or Sephriel's side. Where have you been?"
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Searching for signs of the assassin, Karlos studies the planks, but the deck in and around Sephriel’s cabin sees heavy traffic and no trace of the killer remains distinguishable from obvious crew movement.
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The mysterious elf's eyes shift nervously through the wooden eye-holes of his humble mask.
"I am Thanzeril. I have served as Sephriel’s bodyguard for two years now but ultimately I have failed at my duties." He moves into the room far enough to view the body and pauses long enough for solemnity's sake.
"I can't say that I was his friend." Pulling off his mask to reveal a young handsome face, Thanzeril continues. "Although we share an important heritage, Sephriel represented the old ways, ways that I do not agree with. Cowering in our towers ignoring the world around us will do no one any good. The world has much to gain from exploring the ruins of Azlant, and I can think of no better group than your Society for that."
He moves over to Sephriel's desk and opens a drawer. "These are yours. Sephriel decided to keep them from you, but he no longer represents our interests here."
He hands you a small pouch emblazoned with the Glyph of the Open Road. Inside you find individual letters addressed to each of you representing missives from your faction leaders.
Defender of Freedom,
Though your current mission puts you at sea for months, you may still be of use to the cause of good. We have obtained a list of the Throaty Mermaid’s crew and believe several of them have information or skills we can use in our efforts to gain control of hearts and minds.
First, the ship’s navigator, Ulamon, has served on many ships, including the Polished Barnacle, which the Mordant Spire elves destroyed. The Polished Barnacle was among the fleet of Sargavan vessels that defeated Cheliax’s navy in 4643 AR. All of the Barnacle’s crew since received special rings from the Sargavan government that I believe may serve us well in our ongoing feud with the Chelish fleet. Do what you need to in order to gain this from Ulamon.
Additionally, a not-so-secret stowaway on the ship, a wererat named Snig Lacorse, could be used as an asset on another vessel were he spying on our behalf. Convince him to disembark in Riddleport where we will place him aboard a more strategically beneficial ship.
For the Good of Golarion,
Ollysta Zadrian
Loyal Lovely,
Though your journey at sea will take you through a number of Chelish ports between Absalom and the Mordant Spire, your mission involves tasks I need performed at sea. It has come to my attention that among the Throaty Mermaid’s crew is a half-elven woman with a most curious background and certain exceptional “talents.” She is currently in the employ of the ship’s captain, but I would be ever so grateful if you could negotiate her employment on my behalf. Given her pedigree it would please me greatly to have such an asset among my court.
Additionally, I need you to hide the enclosed coin somewhere on Sephriel’s person. The Archive has much to gain by learning the secrets of the Mordant Spire and the lost continent of Azlant. Her Majestrix’s best diviners are set to scry on the elven dignitary once he has returned to his island citadel. Do not disappoint me by failing in this.
May the Dark Archive be ever in your thoughts,
Zarta
Seekers of Secrets,
The waters of the open ocean are quite a contrast to the measured halls of the Grand Lodge. Enjoy your time at sea, but serve the Society during the voyage. First, find enclosed a special cabochon from the Grand Lodge itself, which wishes it to be given to Sephriel’s bodyguard, an elf named Thanzeril. He is a vocal proponent for the opening of Azlant ’s ruined shores to the world. The Decemvirate shares this view.
Ensure Thanzeril knows he isn’t alone in his desire to see the secrets of the past open to modern man. Additionally , I’d like you to retrieve the iconic pipe from the Throaty Mermaid’s figurehead for our recreation room. Besides, with all the ancient relics smuggled by Captain Veane and his crew, having a scrying focus to further monitor the vessel’s activities would be invaluable.
With dedication to knowledge,
Otoneraphim, Humble Scribe to the Grand Lodge
Esteemed Agent of the Empire,
I am glad it’s you who will be spending so much time at sea and not me. The salty air is bad for my complexion. Also, while you’re there, you’ll be able to help the Empire maintain our power and glory.
Among the Throaty Mermaid’s crew is a skilled assassin from the Woodbane Hunters guild. I want to hire this woman, named Anera, to eliminate a particularly annoying elven problem I’ve been having. Enclosed is a sealed letter to Anera; ensure that she gets it. If she accepts the assignment, she’ll sign and return the letter to you. In this case, get it to me as soon as you reach land.
I’ve also received a tip that the ship’s cook owns a rare tome on disguising poisons in everyday foods. If you can, bring me her copy of Concocted Libations to Die For. I’ve an upcoming dinner party where it may be useful.
For the Grand Prince...
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Conig takes the note and reads it among the other members of the Grand Lodge. He looks up at the elf and hands it back to him with a nod. Have a look. Conig waits for Thanzeril to finish reading the note before addressing him. You much of a climber? I don't think I'll be candidate for securing that pipe if you care to help.
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Reading the missive, Thanzeril nods his head and accepts the gemstone. "It pleases me that we are of one mind regarding the sharing of secrets between our respective groups. That should be a beneficial arrangement for all. As for the theft of the pipe... I won't let the captain know what you plan to do, but I've already done enough on the voyage to earn me time in a Hellknight's prison, so I am afraid you are on your own with that."
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Despite the circumstances, Willow has to remind herself not to grin ruefully as Thanzeril hands out the wrongfully delayed letters. They could be anything, she knows, but from what little she’s learned of the Society so far, she’s not entirely surprised to learn of Sephriel’s meddling. Wheels within wheels within wheels…
Better late than never, she supposes, but the unpleasantness of the evening will certainly complicate her ability to pursue the suggestions in her missive. Willow looks up in time to catch the last bit of an exchange about a pipe, which brings home just how much Thanzeril is hardly less strange than his former charge. She settles on an indirect, multi-pronged approach.
“Forgive me, Conig, I certainly don’t mean to assume – and please correct me if I’m wrong – but when we have a moment, I think I might appreciate your help interviewing a certain stowaway. In any case – even if that interview’s not something you’d care for – I’d be happy to try my hand at a bit of climbing for you. I don’t have much training, but I could push myself a bit, or at a bare minimum hold a rope or two.”
She turns abruptly to Thanzeril, responding mildly to his suggestion that he’s already done enough to get on the wrong side of Hellknights (not that that’s too difficult, Willow imagines), “Oh? Do tell. And whose are our interests that you mentioned, that Sephriel didn’t represent? Please, speak freely. Even in Kyonin, there are those of us who would agree that our responsibility is not to let the wider world simply pass us by. And now especially, when someone has been bold enough to strike at your charge…”
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Responding to Willow's pointed question, Thanzeril speaks with conviction. "Although he was a respected adviser for the Spire, Sephriel's reluctance to partner with outside organizations is the only cause of my friction with him. But understand, any disagreement I may have had with him about the future of the Mordant Spire was not grievous enough to have led to his murder. Certainly not by my hand."
He pauses and considers his next statement carefully.
"To be honest with you. I was not present in the room when he was murdered for a very simple and base reason..."
He averts his eyes, clearly embarrassed.
"I was with Azuretta in the cargo hold, she will attest to this as well."
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I would be happy to assist, Willow. Conig ventures into the ship with Willow when she's ready.
“My thanks,” Willow says with a small smile. “Apparently one of my mentors thinks Snig could be a useful asset for the Society on another ship as well, so I ought to make a suggestion… Of our most immediate concerns, though, he might have seen something, I suppose? He seems to get about a bit without drawing too much attention to himself. Let’s hope there’ve been no other surprises tonight in the lower hold!”
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Snig lowers the crossbow, the bolt thumping hard on the deckwood. Don't hurt me orcs!" He eyes the spirit warily but continues.
"I didn't have nothin' to do with the elf's death. I never leave this cabin, never had a reason to. But I 'member that night." His statements are punctuated by his heavy overbite resting on his chin. "Two o' the crew came right in here. To get some privacy. If'n you know what I mean. Romance!" He pauses long enough to wipe his lips.
"They didn't notice me, or didn't care, no one ever does. So I watched. It was the elf's bodyguard and Azuretta. I'm sure of it. They were here all the way til we heard a gunshot top deck, then they threw on their clothes and left."
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“Thank you, Mr. Lacorse,” Willow says, holding up her hands and trying to keep her tone measured to show that she’s not being mean-spiritedly facetious, and trying to ease the tension in the small room.
“You look like a man who knows the score,” she continues, adding just a bit of flattery. “Something’s off about this whole operation, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it. That said, this is hardly as tight a ship as it could be, right? You’ve been a great help already with what you’ve just told us, and we’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes open.”
“In fact,” she adds, leaning just a bit closer, conspiratorially, “people I know in our Society have let me know we could use your eyes elsewhere. We could hire you for a place on another ship when we get to Riddleport. Steady work, somewhere captain and crew don’t leave it to landlubbers and honest folk to keep all the daggers from their own backs. How does that sound?”
She lets the offer sink in for a bit. “And like I said, thanks for what you’ve already told us. I’ll be sure to pass on how helpful you were.”
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Snig listens to the offer with mouth agape. His eyes dart around to each of you and he butts in.
"I can't, the ship... it's my home. The world's too large for someone like me. Too much danger, see? Crowds... and guards... children laughing at me."
Then Willow comforts him with the offer of another ship home and his shoulders relax.
"Will they give me any more respect there, I can do other things than just eat rats, you know. If so, then I'll do it!"
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Moving back into the sea air, the group can spot Anera standing on the prow of the vessel, black-bladed knife in hand. She spins it deftly and plunges it into the railing when you approach.
"Come to question me? That was quick, I hope that means you are just checking off names and you started with the A's." She smiles calculatingly, as if to disarm the interrogator among you.
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Moving back into the sea air, the group can spot Anera standing on the prow of the vessel, black-bladed knife in hand. She spins it deftly and plunges it into the railing when you approach.
"Come to question me? That was quick, I hope that means you are just checking off names and you started with the A's." She smiles calculatingly, as if to disarm the interrogator among you.
Conig makes sure to keep a safe distance after the knife trick. Might as well start from the start. Would you describe your whereabout through the evening, then?
Willow remembers now why – or so she suspects – her attempts to break the ice with Anera fell somewhat flat. A certain amount of restlessness and preference for the fresh air abovedecks only goes so far in bridging the gap between an experienced sailor and a timid, if excitable, thing with a dream of wizardry and, on a good day, a bit of an eye for archery.
She tries her best to match Anera’s breezy tone. “That, trying to make sure everyone else is safe, and whether anyone’s noticed anything suspicious or anything else has gone wrong. Those rust monsters in the hold getting loose would be a nuisance, I bet.”
It’s a strange idea, but it’s what springs to mind as she waits for Azora to step forward. She was asking if any of us had seen Anera, right? Meanwhile, as Willow’s gaze sweeps over the deck, she spots her own contribution to redesigning the ship’s trimming.
She makes a joke of it, trying to help everyone keep calm when everyone’s nerves must be on edge. She gestures with her head towards the arrows decorating the wall of the aft cabin, the stern rail… She’ll have to see if she can recover any of them later. “I think I’ve done enough redecorating this evening. No need for you to annoy Captain Veane too.”
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Casting a glance at Nino's instructions, Anera smiles.
"I would if I could Nino. Unfortunately last night was a bit of a blur for me. I fell sick from that awful grog Shira served us for supper and I turned in early. Even asked Killik for something to calm my stomach so I could sleep while my body fought off the sickness. Whatever he gave me he knocked me out for the better part of the night. I didn't see or hear nothing. Up until everyone started waking up saying there were gunshots on the deck."
Anera pulls the knife out with a few motions and sheathes it. "Sorry I couldn't be more help. No one wants a murderer on the ship."
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“I thought the grog was a bit heavy, but then...” Willow gestures self-deprecatingly. She likes to think that she’s fairly tough for an elf, but that’s not saying all that much. Her Common nickname fits her well enough, with all of the attendant consequences as to how well she holds her liquor.
“Maybe we should all go easier tonight. Or see if she has a bit of wine, instead, even if we have to water it?” Willow wonders optimistically, before addressing Anera more seriously. “Keep safe. I’m afraid I’m not sure I’d want to sleep deep yet.”
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Taking the envelope from Azora, Anera wastes no time in opening it and perusing the contents. With a growing smile she pricks her fingertip and signs it in blood, handing it back to Azora with a nod.
"I will contact her myself when we get back to Riddleport."
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As you descend to the galley, Shira Acidaxe looks up from cutting onions with a disdainful look.
"Keep on moving. I've got no time for your stupid questions."
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“Sorry about this,” Willow says, with a grin and a shrug that she hopes are endearing. After all, knowing how she herself would react if her workspace were invaded, she can’t really blame the cook for being annoyed with a bunch of gawkers in her galley. “How’s this sound? I’ll help, balance the distraction either side of the table while we talk so no one really loses any time.”
She can’t really blame Shira, but surely it’s a bit callous to take a murder so lightly. As she pulls a couple of onions towards her, Willow looks around discreetly to see if any knives are obviously missing, remembering the pattern of Sephriel’s wounds.
Though didn’t Azora say something about Shira being skilled in … poisons? How did she know? Anyway, assuming the worst, if I were a poisoner, I would find a way to make it work, look like an allergic reaction, really cruel indigestion, something, out of professional pride, at least, before resorting to a blade.
The elf’s nimble archer’s fingers are mercifully not unhelpful in chopping vegetables quickly and neatly. As she sets to, she promises, “We’ll be quick. For now, we just want to check where everyone was, in case there’s something else we should worry about. I mean, if you saw anything strange before tidying up for the night, say, before all hell broke loose?”
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It is difficult to tell if any knives are missing as everything is strewn about. There are certainly knives to be had, though. Shira grimaces noticeably when Willow picks one up and begins helping. She is drawn out of her huff by the simple question posed. "Nothing out of the ordinary, at all, nope."
Reapplying herself to her work, the dwarf refuses eye contact and snaps. "I was washin' dishes all night, getting a head start on the morning meal for everyone as always, Mr. Rat, not that anyone ever notices how hard I work. Surprised you didn't hear all the clanging and tinging, thought you were perceptive folk. I guess not."
She casts a quick disgusted glance at William when he asks about the elf. "Never really met that one. His guard always picked up his meals and brought back the plates. What a dandy he must have been. Hrrrmph."