Behind another makeshift barricade is a room. Twenty feet across at its widest, this rounded cave contains a scattered pallet of blankets that hasn’t seen use in some time, a wooden washbasin of clean water, and a sturdy chest.
As Boodiddly tries to open the chest, he finds that it is locked. Pulling out his thieves’ tools, he starts to get to work at opening it, when suddenly a single spine extends from right under the keyhole!
The spine pricks the gnome hard in his wrist At the same time, he starts feeling kinda….woozy.
But being the gnome that he is, Boodiddly shakes it off quite quickly as he gets back to trying to open the chest.
It takes him a bit, but the lock isn’t too complicated. Boodiddly breaks his picks at one point, but with Jevar’s repair tools on standby it doesn’t mean much of anything.
Inside the chest is a few haphazard array of beakers and other alchemical equipment—it seems this originally held the alchemy lab—as well as a leather pouch and a clay jar. The clay jar sloshes as it is picked up, while the leather pouch clinks. The pouch contains 65 gp., while the clay jar contains 3 doses of dreamtime tea.
Jevar scrapes mushrooms until his containers are full, before the group heads into the chamber to the West.
As soon as Boodiddly pops open the chest and reveals its contents, Jevar lights up again. Beakers! For more mushrooms! Verily, it is a mushroom bounty. You know I was intending most of it to be for alchemical concoctions, but at this rate I think we can squeeze in some mushroom soup!
He gets over it and looks over the other contents. Dreamtime tea? Another thing to break down and capture a formula for...
Jevar begins carefully packing up the chemistry lab into the team's bag of holding.
We're... going to have to get better locks for our temporary housing...
With nothing else to do, Urzok does what he can to help Jevar forage mushrooms and stow the lab. "This going to be some sort of money making scheme of yours?"
Oh, you know, I hadn't thought of it that way. No, I was more stocking up to make substances for our missions, but perhaps it is a way to draw a small income. It's not like we have Lowls paying us anymore.
Jevar pauses for several moments to ponder this.
Maybe along the way we can even make a bit of a different name for ourselves in town, as self-made men. We get a lot of hostility over being Lowls' former lackeys.
"Umm..." Boodiddly almost says something, then stops himself. "Uh, be sure to wash your hands well, you too. And, uh, let me know if you start seeing anything strange, alright? And don't eat those mushrooms raw."
Jevar chuckles at the gnomes warning.
Yes, I know not to trust strange plans. I was kidding about cooking with them. It's hard to pass up collecting this many reagents though...
Meanwhile Oreb hops off his shoulder and pecks at some, trying them out.
"They would add an...interesting...taste? Would be the best - and probably last - meal of your life! Let's skip all this talk and...wait...do we have a trophy of any kind? Ya know, to prove we did the thing? Remember they don't really trust us in town, understandably."
Shakur ponders as he takes a small chunk of the weird fungal hounds and says, "This is better than nothing, right?"
"They would add an...interesting...taste? Would be the best - and probably last - meal of your life! Let's skip all this talk and...wait...do we have a trophy of any kind? Ya know, to prove we did the thing? Remember they don't really trust us in town, understandably."
Shakur ponders as he takes a small chunk of the weird fungal hounds and says, "This is better than nothing, right?"
The amnesiacs pack up their haul and make their way back to the rendezvous with Toli.
An hour passes rather uneventfully when the fisherman rows up with a rather impressive haul. He points at the fungal wolf head with concern, but then just slowly lowers his hand and says ”I don’t wanna know. Get in.”
As the group ships off, Boodiddly notices Toli avoiding eye contact, as if he doesn’t want to talk with the amnesiacs (more so than previous).
*
Toli, having ferried the amnesiacs, ships off once again to continue his work, leaving the amnesiacs to their own devices.
Jevar perks up at the boatman's admission.
Just safely get us back to the dock, help us unload this copious haul, and we'll call it even...
As they glide peacefully along the lake, Jevar remembers another of Ms. Wrentz's leads, and figures that this fisherman may have heard something about it.
Say, good man. We've heard that there have been some strange sightings at the fish market in town. Something about fish that are mutilated and damaged, before they are caught! How do you suppose that would happen? Have you seen any of these at the market? Caught any?
Toli looks at Jevar with slight confusion at his question. ”Ya know, it’s funny that ya say that.” The fisherman places his oars at his feet—a much more uncomfortable task given the sudden overcapacity of the boat now that it has five passengers—and scours through his tub of caught fish. After a moment he pulls out a trout that is not too much longer than his forearm. The fish has several clear discolorations along its scales that can only be from scarring. A number of the scars are long and thin, but others seem to be roundish, like they came from a puncture wound.
”This one got the worst of it with today’s haul. Only reason I said it was a good fishing spot—okay, maybe not the only reason, but ya know what I mean—was because there was only one or two catches that were this bad. Other parts of the bay has it worse. Look at this:”
Toli turns the fish around so the tail is facing the amnesiacs. He sticks his thumb in a large flap of skin along the side of the fish’s head and pulls toward him slightly, revealing several flaps of tissue that run parallel to the opening like an accordion binder.
Toli shakes his head. ”It just ain’t natural. Makes me actually feel sorry for the guys, and I catch and gut 'em for a living.” The fisherman returns the scarred trout to the tub with the rest of his haul.
"That's some sick shit right there," Urzok says, pointing a finger at the fish. "Hold it open, fisherman," he orders. "See that? The gills have been cut. Clean. Would have barely been able to breath like that," he explains. "That's like hamstringing a deer and leaving it to suffer in the woods. Or clipping a bird's wings and pushing it from a tree."
He scowls at the water menacingly. "Bet that dock-blob has some friends in the deep..."
________
"I don't think it would have had the capacity for something so... precise," Boodiddly adds after finding the right word. "It just did a lot of biting at whatever was nearby. If what you say is true, someone would have to be catching these fish to injure them like this. Why on Golarion would they want to though..."
Strange... when did this start?
Jevar asks, hoping to hear any answer other than a coincidence on or near their release from Briarstone.
"Hold it open, fisherman," he orders.
”I have a name! It’s…” Toli trails off as he looks toward the well-built half-orc and suddenly loses his bravery against the person who could crack his spine if he desired, so he merely complies with Urzok’s orders.
"I don't think it would have had the capacity for something so... precise," Boodiddly adds after finding the right word. "It just did a lot of biting at whatever was nearby. If what you say is true, someone would have to be catching these fish to injure them like this. Why on Golarion would they want to though..."
”Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘precise’; whatever-it-was just kinda did it. It’s not like a doctor went at it with a scalpel or anything. But the fact that it was like that and still alive…” Toli shudders.
Strange... when did this start?
Jevar asks, hoping to hear any answer other than a coincidence on or near their release from Briarstone.
”Ah, jeez. Uhh….month-and-a-half, two months ago? Been like this for a good amount of time. ‘Parently the mongers just started selling the scarred ones back to the locals ‘cuz other places ain’t buying them. Don’t blame them; I know I wouldn’t wanna buy a fish like that. It’s still edible, sure, but it don’t look great.”
Toli suddenly snaps back to attention. "Wait, what was that ya said? 'Deck-blob'?"
Edible...well, I'll leave that to your judgement.
Jevar shudders visibly, muttering offhand to his companions. Nasty undead fish...
"No, dock-blob," Urzok responds. "One of the docks in town had some stupid face melting thing under it. We cut it until it melted through the slats. Didn't even get any cool scars..." he grumbles. "Why? The hell is it to you? You gonna pay us for that or something? Cause my pockets aren't as heavy as they were two hours ago."
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"No, dock-blob," Urzok responds. "One of the docks in town had some stupid face melting thing under it. We cut it until it melted through the slats. Didn't even get any cool scars..." he grumbles. "Why? The hell is it to you? You gonna pay us for that or something? Cause my pockets aren't as heavy as they were two hours ago."
Toli looks at the half-orc incredulously. "Riiiiiiight...anyways, I'm not sure what else to tell y'all; the fish just started showing up like this. It's nothing directly serious, but," The fisherman leans over to look down the side of the boat into the depths of Avalon Bay. ”Makes ya wonder what’s down there doing this…”
After what felt like an eternity of eerie silence, Toli clears his throat. ”You might be able to learn some more from the other fishermen or the mongers at the market. The anglers shouldn’t be back ashore for a few hours, but the market’s open until then.”
Toli continues rowing to the shore and drops the amnesiacs off before kicking back off to continue his fishing.
The anglers were worried about continuing out on the bay during the month, because it was clear that some aquatic something was doing this to the fish and they didn’t want to be sitting ducks when the whatever-it-is suddenly got tired of torturing the fish. But their bosses as well as the mongers basically forced them out onto the bay to keep fishing .
Yeah... also makes you wonder if it's okay to eat.
-----------------
Jevar urges Urzok to first help him get the expanded Alchemist's lab back to their place of temporary residency before heading out to the fish market, where he then mostly stays quiet and listens to the testimony that Boodiddly draws out of them.
Urzok helps shlep the lab to their lodging with Jevar before accompanying him to the market. He contents himself with mean mugging people he feels are too close, but otherwise contains himself, especially and thankfully his growing boredom.
"So what? A bunch of fishermen are spooked. We don't have a way of swimming real good, right? I don't know what else there is we can do, being honest," he says to his allies.
"So what? A bunch of fishermen are spooked. We don't have a way of swimming real good, right? I don't know what else there is we can do, being honest," he says to his allies.
Jevar rubs the back of his head, considering how much more they want to deal with fishmongers.
Yeah, I'm guessing they're not going to have much more to say than the fisherman we just got done... awkwardly talking to... for multiple hours.
He thinks a little more.
How about we rest tonight and then look into The Wailing House? I'd hate to stake it out overnight after our effort today.
"That works for me, Human, let's grab some grub first!" Urzok suggests.
________
"The wailing house won't be a good lead tomorrow. I say we look into Lysie Brilt and the supposed ghost of the streets. If it really is a ghost, I must see to its destruction on my honor as a Pharasmin." Shakur sighs. "With all that we've dealt with, though, I sure hope it's just some vigilante. Or just somebody sadistic?"
Right, fair enough. Maybe we can get a few things done while waiting for sightings in the streets. All we need is a window with a plain view of them.
If you critically succeed, open the spoiler below
She's the "old coot" in town. She's been here the longest and could possibly fill in some gaps about town history... to a point. She runs the Smokehouse, where the excess fish are processed for preservation or export. The poor children who work for her call her the "green hag"... so this should be interesting.
"Sounds unpleasant all over. Let's go give her a visit. Before we go, do you guys think there's anything we can do to convince this town we're not Lowl's playthings anymore? I assume that this woman/hag/whatever is going to respond poorly due to our reputation. What about a disguise or something?"
"I ain't ashamed to be me, but I won't stop y'all if you want to put sacks over your heads," Urzok teases. "Speaking of heads, Elf, you mind firming up the ol' noodle before we hit the hay?" he asks, prodding his head. "It is never a single thing that does me in, but over the course of our work is just feels wrong after a while, you know?"
"Speaking of heads, Elf, you mind firming up the ol' noodle before we hit the hay?" he asks, prodding his head. "It is never a single thing that does me in, but over the course of our work is just feels wrong after a while, you know?"
The Smokehouse is only a short walk from the amnesiacs’ current lodging, so it was fairly easy to find. The building is bustling with activity—young adults going back and forth with buckets of fish both fresh and preserved, with a not-insignificant number of the fish being expectedly scarred.
Asking about Lysie quickly gets the amnesiacs pointed toward a rather plump woman standing on a balcony, watching over the entirety of the Smokehouse, occasionally barking orders at the employees below. She wears a flowy black dress reminiscent of funeral attire, and covers herself with a black veil, completely obscuring her facial features.
When the amnesiacs approach, the veiled woman is so preoccupied yelling at an employee for drying the fish wrong that she doesn’t even notice their approach. Eventually she does notice the four men’s approach and turns to them.
”May I help you?”
She does not even attempt to sound like she wishes to maintain good customer service. Her voice, while clearly female, seems almost…gurgle-y, as if she were speaking through a mouthful of saliva.
Good day, Ms. Brilt. We're looking into some local lore, something known as the "Thrushmoor Terror." We've heard it stalks the streets near here. Would you know anything about that, or sightings of it?
A groan emanates from beneath the black veil. ”More idiots trying to pin an innocent woman for a crime she did not commit. I will say this one final time: I am not the Terror! If I hear one more person accuse me of this conspiracy then I will have to take matters into my own hands!” She spins around and shouts off from the balcony. ”That includes you lot!”
If you critically succeed, open the spoiler below
Murmurs echo up from below—including several mentions of ”…green hag…” She turns back to Jevar and says simply ”And it’s ’Missus.’“
Jevar frowns and takes a defensive tone.
Hey hey! I didn't say you were it, I just asked what you knew about it! If it's happening around here enough for people to associate it with you, maybe you've seen something too. Or, maybe oneof these kids that works for you. Any information would help us look into it and put this to rest for you!
If she doesn't cool it with the attitude, I'm going to have to show her who's boss around here. Urzok crosses his arms and does his best not to growl while Jevar tries to be cordial with the woman.
________
”And what better way to put all those rumors to rest than by catching this Terror in the act and unmasking them for the town to see?” Boodiddly adds cheerfully.
Already suspicious. "Agreed." Shakur adds, not elaborating any further.
A brief chortle comes from under the veil. ”Catch her?! Good luck with that, dearies. Nemira passed when you two,” she points to Shakur and Urzok. ”Were still in diapers! The Terror’s form does not exist on this material realm, so good luck ‘catching’ something without a physical presence.”
Jevar frowns at the passive aggressive response.
Okay, fine, but what sightings have been reported nearby lately? Any of your people here seen it, who we could talk to?
"Wouldn't be the first time we killed something dead from not-the-material-plane," Urzok mutters under his breath. Hells, we asked her for information, not her opinion of our abilities. Being nice must take a lot of patience. Not sure if I'm cut out for all that!
"So you're saying this... Nemira, right, is the Terror? Sorry, was the Terror?" Boodiddly asks, brow furrowed in thought. "How can you be so certain of that? And how did she die?"
Jevar frowns at the passive aggressive response.
Okay, fine, but what sightings have been reported nearby lately? Any of your people here seen it, who we could talk to?
”A ghostly widow wandering at night attacking people.” She motions to her current attire. ”I’ll admit, I fit the description, but that’s sheer coincidence. And my employees might be lazy morons, but even they’re not stupid enough to wander the streets at night.”
"So you're saying this... Nemira, right, is the Terror? Sorry, was the Terror?" Boodiddly asks, brow furrowed in thought. "How can you be so certain of that? And how did she die?"
”Is the Terror. The Thrushmoor Terror is the ghost of the countess, bound to this mortal coil for her unfaithfulness to her husband. She fell ill of the same disease that claimed her husband—I suppose even the wrath of the Eternal Rose is poetic. As for how I know,”
Lysie softly taps on the inside of her left elbow with her right hand, and immediately following are a handful of faint, wet smacks. From the woman’s left sleeve emerges several small, fleshy tendrils, as a pale blue, palm-sized octopus emerges from within the woman’s clothing. The creature settles on the back of Lysie’s hand, where the woman proceeds to run the tip of her fingers across the cephalopod’s skin. Suddenly, Lysie speaks in a soft, solemn tone.
”I was with Haserton on his deathbed. I heard how he cursed that woman’s name. I accompanied Priestess Maivaine in an exorcism of Nemira’s spirit many years ago. My connection to the couple helped in the exorcism. I saw the Terror with my own eyes. To insinuate that I would parade around as that woman who caused Haserton so much suffering is…insulting.”
Jevar grows silent at the revelation of the woman's intimate connection to the malevolent spirit.
A muted Oh... is all he can muster at that point.
The wizard looks ready to depart and for the party to investigate on their own.
Boodiddly tears his gaze away from the comparatively-adorable octopus and pulls out a short pencil and his trusty bookmark. "Thank you so much for telling us this - do you mind if I just make sure we understood correctly?" he asks distractedly as he writes. "So Nemira was married to this Haserton, but he didn't feel like she was faithful to him and he cursed her when they both died of... a disease? And then you helped perform an exorcism - where did you perform it? Maybe Nemira's ghost still spends time there? And do you know where we might find this Maivaine?"
Lysie sighs. ”Nemira Lowls was married to Haserton Lowls III. She was unfaithful to him, and on his deathbed he cursed her adulterous ways. Haserton died of an illness, and Nemira soon thereafter. Years later, I then assisted the priestess in exorcising Nemira’s spirit. As for where, it was somewhere in the alleys near the fish market; my memory isn’t what it used to be. You’ll usually find Maivaine at New Chapel, but she also seems to have gone the ways of the current Count Lowls and the magistrate: she hasn’t been seen in months.”
"Ugh, another nighttime gig?" Urzok rolls his eyes. "If that's what it takes then." He shifts his weight to the other foot.
"What's with the octopus? That like his bird?" he asks Jevar, more than the woman. "Glad we got a name and a place though, I'll work at night if it means straight answers!" He puts a hand on the Wizard's shoulder and nods, a silent assent to depart.
Soon after the amnesiacs exit the Smokehouse, Boodiddly feels a tap on the top of his head from behind.
A young human woman—no older than 17—stands behind the amnesiacs. She occasionally looks over her shoulder back at the Smokehouse, clearly keeping watch for Lysie Brilt.
”You’re, uh, you’re all the ones who were talking to the gree—er, to Mrs. Brilt, right? Can I, uh, ask for a favor? I heard you helped that artist a few weeks ago, so I thought…” The teenager’s voice trails off.
As they turn to leave, Jevar thinks out loud.
Hrm... if the Terror has been missing for some time, we might have to tip locals to keep a lookout for us. And... we might have to build some trust with them so they don't just take our money and give false, useless reports.
He thinks some more on this situation.
We certainly don't want to be there for days and days until it returns.
----------------------
Jevar gives the young woman a curious look, and then also remembers the group needs to better their reputation in town. He replies with his warmest tone (or as warm for a spaced-out academic). Yes, we were speaking with Mrs. Brilt. We thought she might have some information related to something we're investigating. Yes, we helped the artist get out of the wrong end of a misunderstanding. What can we do for you?
”I was, uh, wondering if you could…help me find my brother, Sholn. He…disappeared a few days ago. Last I saw him was under the bridge that we sleep at…All I could find was this massive charcoal drawing right above my head when I woke up.”