"Shame we can't dump this stuff, but hopefully what Anok said was true and the market will eventually stabilize. Back to the inn for a drink or thirty?"
Melech nods. He doesn't often turn to drink as escapism, but today seems the perfect day to forget, if only for a short time.
You make the slow, plodding trek back to the Tooth and Hookah. The moment you step inside, Melech's vision is filled with a great read blur as he's practically tackled by Sigrun. The Ulfen woman engulfs him in a tight hug. It lingers several moments before she releases him and kneels down to hug Ulysses in turn. "Gods. I'm so sorry, both of you. Falto told me what happened. Then they showed up." Her pale face, marred by a few splotches of sunburn, noticeably darkens. "That b*$*+ Velriana started getting on people as soon as she walked in about this Eye thing they're searching for. Falto got angry, told her to have some respect for someone who died saving their asses, and Velriana said..." She clenches her teeth. "She said if Nevai couldn't handle a few ghouls, he deserved to die. So naturally, I punched her in her stupid f~&#ing face." She huffs and crosses her arms. "Falto and that Hellknight buddy of his had to hold me back. I thought the innkeeper was gonna throw me out, but instead he tossed out the Scorched Hand for incitement." She snorts.
"I was worried when none of you showed up. Are you okay? Where's the scrawny guy?" You can only assume she means Filibus.
Melech's eyes go wide and he looks at Ulysses. Not two in one day. We shouldn't have let him go off alone! "He is supposed to be here."
He rushes to the innkeeper and asks if he has seen Filibus.
The innkeeper shakes his head. "Afraid not, sir."
Sigrun puts a reassuring hand on Melech's arm. "Before we go jumping to the worst conclusion, let's go take a look around the city. There is more than one bar in Wati; maybe he just wanted to be alone. Everyone handles grief differently. Come on, let's go look around. And we can get a drink while we're at it. There's a dive not far from here that I hear serves dwarven firewater. I don't know about you, but I do not want to be sober right now."
Melech looks at Sigrun and nods. Her words are true but he fears the worst; what else would feel on this cursed day? "Thank you, Sigrun. Let's look, but no drink until we find him. Come on, Ulysses."
Sigrun snorts. "Speak for yourself. I will drink as I please. Come on, let's go."
Despite her words, Sigrun manages to keep from drinking at the first three bars you search. At the fourth, you discover a man fitting Filibus' description had been there, and looked deep in his cups. He'd left not an hour previous. Confident you were on the trail, Sigrun insisted on pausing for a beer (it took her all of six seconds to drink it).
You head the direction Filibus was last seen going, moving in some semblance of a line back toward the Tooth and Hookah. You are only about a block away when you approach an alley and hear voices.
One of the voices is sibilant and clearly feminine, but with a strange, unhealthy wheeze. "You failed me, boy."
"P-please. I did as you asked. I led the ghouls to them. And now Nevai is dead because of me! Please, I did what you asked..." Your blood runs cold from the familiar voice: it's Falto.
"You did not do as I asked. I wished to interrogate that Taldan brat and her cronies, and now they've slipped through my fingers. If you want the curse lifted, you will have to--"
The voice cuts off as your round the corner of the alleyway. About forty feet down, you see Falto, beaten and battered, on his knees in front of a tall, lithe woman dressed top to bottom in dark clothing. What little skin can be seen beneath is a mottled gray, and her eyes are pitch-black voids with white pupils floating in the darkness. A scimitar and kukri rest at her hips, and beneath her layers of black silk is a set of studded leather armor the color of charcoal. She whips her head toward you at the sound of your arrival, then back at Falto. "I suppose not, then."
Before you can react, her kukri is out and dug deep into his chest. Then she twists in place and vanishes into the deep shadows of the alley. Sigrun cries out and runs toward the rake, scrambling over piles of trash and sand to reach him, as Falto collapses on the ground.
"Shadowdancer. I know something of the shadows myself, but she is on another level entirely."
Melech rushes to Falto's side and tries to determine if he can be saved.
Ulysses flicks his wrist and the wand of cure light wounds appears in his hand. If Falto isn't already dead, Ulysses taps him with the wand.
Sigrun also reaches down and touches Falto. Together, the two of you heal the grievous wound in his chest which thankfully missed his heart and lung. However, he continues to convulse and cough blood; a quick look at his dilated eyes and clammy skin, combined with slight foaming at the mouth and the copious blood in his lungs, shows Melech and Ulysses that the blade must have been envenomed, but neither can quite tell what poison it is.
Whatever it is though, it looks really, really bad. It's basically liquefying Falto's insides from what you can see. Sigrun hurriedly digs into a belt pouch and pulls out a vial of antitoxin, shoving it down his throat.
It's black lotus extract, one of the most deadly poisons that occur in the natural world.
Falto's eyes look glassy and distant as he struggles to speak. "M... Melech...? I'm... I'm sorry Melech... I d... didn't want to... Ulyss...es..." He stops trying to speak to cough once, violently, spraying all of you with small specks of bright crimson. "I ... m... sorr... sorry.... Nev..."
His eyes roll into the back of his head and he goes still.
Sigrun, eyes wide, checks his neck, then puts an ear to his mouth for a moment. She blinks as she looks up. "He's.... He's not dead! I... I think he stabilized. But gods, he's in bad shape. Melech, help me carry him. We're too far from any of the temples that are open. We should take him back to the inn so we can watch him."
Melech nods to Sigrun, gesturing for her to help him pick up Falto. "Okay, let's go. But if Filibus isn't there, I'm going back out to continue looking."
You carefully carry Falto back to the Tooth and Hookah--thankfully only a few blocks away--and your entrance causes quite the commotion. Falto's companions are present and immediately take him up to their suite; the cleric of Sarenrae looks particularly stricken by the turn of events. "I will take care of him," she says. "I can ease the damage to his internal organs tomorrow. Thank you for helping him. But... what happened?? I thought we lost him for sure when the ghouls separatedus earlier today, and now this..."
While there is no sign of Filibus in the common room, a quick inquiry lets you know he arrived not even a half hour before, looking pretty well sloshed, and went up to his room to pass out.
Melech shakes his head. "We don't know. We were out looking for Filibus and just happened upon him. A tall gray-skinned shadowdancer woman had him. He, uh..." -- he leans in and lowers his voice -- "he said he led the ghouls to your party. He got Nevai killed!" His face twists in anger, as if it is the first time that Melech realized the gravity of what Falto has done. "Then she said she wanted to interrogate the 'Taldan brat' and her cronies and something about a curse. Does any of that mean anything to you?"
She frowns in confusion. "I don't know what 'Taldan brat' they could be referring to. There are no other Taldans in our party other than Falto; Volgus is Chelaxian, Bedev is Nexian, and I am from Qadira. As to him leading the ghouls to us, that makes no sense. We were all together when we were jumped by those ghouls. He'd been with us the whole way. There's no way he could have 'led them' to us, he didn't have time. Are you sure you heard him correctly?" She pauses for a moment. "Although... he did lead them away from us. He was the one who told us to split up and lead the ghouls away from each other and then toward the necropolis gates in the hopes of getting the Voices' help. But all the ghouls followed Falto. I just thought it was a stroke of bad luck, but..." She trails off as she stares uncertainly up the stairwell to the second floor, where Volgus and Bedev took Falto.
She sighs. "As to a curse, I do not know. None of our party is cursed, so far as I am aware, but I hadn't really thought to look. I will check my fellows for curses when I can. I... I hope what you say is not true. Falto is always brash and rather overfond of bravado, but he has been nothing but kind and generous since we came together four days ago. Nothing in his bearing would suggest he is capable of something like murder. But..." She shrugs helplessly, as if she has no idea what else to say.
She hides it relatively well, but you get the distinct impression that she's sweet on Falto, and is not taking the news that he might be a killer well.
"I... must go. I am sorry for your loss." She hurries upstairs without waiting for a response.
After she's gone, Sigrun shakes her head. "Now I really need to get drunk. I don't feel like going anywhere else, now. Guess I'll drink here." She sighs wistfully. "Dwarven firewater will have to wait for another time." She turns to Melech and Ulysses. "Care to join me? There was something I wanted to discuss, but I forgot all about it with the news about Nevai and then the search for Filibus."
Melech gives a meaningful look to Ulysses (who is predictably oblivious), then nods to Sigrun. "I think I could use a drink. Something strong. Ulysses?"
Ulysses flashes his signature gnome smile. "I'll get the first round."
As you hunker down at an unoccupied table, grateful to get low and away from the heat a bit, Sigrun drinks half her mug of beer in the first few seconds. "I know the timing is terrible, but I've been thinking about what happened with Talia and Miah. Farah left early this morning. She left a note, something about having something she needed to do in the desert. I..." Sigrun's shoulders droop. "I think she went out there to die. I can't blame her. Miah and Farah were really close, even for twins. I think they had some kind of mental connection due to their magic, and I think something broke in her when Miah died."
She polishes off her beer before looking back up. "I dunno if you've ever heard of the Pathfinder Society? It was my dream to join their ranks ever since I was a girl, hearing stories about adventure and finding ancient ruins, fighting evil dragons and monsters... Kind of stuff we in the Linnorm Kingdoms eat up, you know? And it wasn't like I had much going for me there; I was the daughter of a goatherder, nobody to teach me to fight. Dad wouldn't--he was gonna marry me off to a neighbor to increase his flock. The Linnorm Kingdoms ain't exactly progressive. So I left. Got myself admitted to a bardic college in Absalom. Joined up with the Society when I graduated. But then I heard about the pharaoh opening Wati's world-famous necropolis for exploration and I just... I had to come. It was exactly what I'd been looking for. So many stories hidden out here in the desert! That's what I live for, you know? Stories. I want to tell 'em all." The shine in her eye vanishes as her face falls. "I wasn't expecting the horrors we found. Undead, yeah. Sure. But mutant vermin the size of a horse?"
She rubs the sides of her empty mug absently while she mulls it over in silence for a bit. "I... I gave up. I was gonna throw in the towel when Talia and Miah died. But... I don't think I can. I would never forgive myself if I didn't at least see this thing through to the end. But I need a group." She looks back up at Melech and Ulysses. It's hard to say through the spots of sunburn on her face, but you suspect she's blushing.
"So... is your offer still open to join you?"
Melech doesn't even look at Ulysses before he responds. "Yes. Absolutely. We ... need a fourth."
Ulysses raises his mug. "As long as you vow to keep telling us stories!"
Sigrun grins and claps her hands together. "Awesome! You won't regret it. I'm sure I can't replace a cleric, particularly one of Nevai's caliber, but I do have some healing, and my studies at the college gave me a little knowledge on a whole lot of different stuff. I'm pretty good at identifying magic items, too." She grins at the pair. "Next round is on me!"
She hurries off and comes back with a tray full of mugs a few moments later, placing two in front of each of them. She raises one of the mugs and says, "To Nevai. May he dance in the sun's rays, and may the Eye of Horus look favorably upon his soul."
Sigrun looks suspiciously at the headband. "This is a dead man's headband," she says, "but it's been cursed. It functions normally, but it can't be taken off once put on, and if you die while wearing it, you'll come back as an undead. I don't recognize these necromantic energies... What the hell?? It makes your head fall off and animate as a skull! Weird. That make any sense to you?"
Melech visibly recoils from the headband when Sigrun describes its curse. "I don't want that thing anywhere near me. If either of you wish to keep it, I won't stop you, but I'd prefer we sell it as soon as possible."
Ulysses shrugs. "It's no use to me. Speaking truly, I'd heard of headbands that enhance your intelligence or likability. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed."
Melech looks at Sigrun. "Have you heard what we are meant to do tomorrow if the Mausoleum is still inaccessible?"
Ulysses suddenly remembers the wedding ring they found on one of the headless corpses. He pulls it out of the pack and walks up to the bartender. "We found this ring in the House of Pentheru, on a corpse that was less than a year old. Tomb robbers, no doubt. Do you recognize either of these names? Akar and Panhet?"
To Melech, she shrugs. "Wait, I guesh." She's on her fifth pint and looks like she's finally buzzed a bit. "Nommuch else ta do."
Sigrun's bleary eyes narrow for a second. "Mmm. Think I herda summun named Pan... Pan... Pan-hat in the Veinsh. Makesh mud. Weird job. Makin' mud." She hiccups, and it sounds like a very girly shotgun going off. "Nother round!"
She stands up from the low table and immediately falls over, falling into a deafening aria of snores.
Okay. Perhaps she was more than just "buzzed."
Melech chuckles. "Looks like she's done for the evening. I'll take her to her room. I think I'm done too, but maybe we can make a trip to the Veins tomorrow if we can't get a new tomb to almost die in. Good night, Ulysses." He shrugs Sigrun's oversized body onto his shoulder like it's nothing, then takes her upstairs and deposits her in her room.
He starts to walk out, then turns and rolls her on her side. Wouldn't do for their new party member to choke on her own vomit before they even get a chance to adventure together.
Despite her heavy frame Melech has little trouble getting her to her room.
The night passes, thankfully without further incident. At breakfast, word reaches you that the situation at the Grand Mausoleum continues, and that the crowd there has become even more agitated. Most people seem to believe it will come to blows between the Voices and the citizenry.
Filibus is also in the common room, looking much improved from yesterday. He is busily eating a breakfast of coffee and sliced fruit while looking over his notes in his journal. He glances up at his fellow party members soberly. "Morning," mumbles. He looks significantly more subdued and less chatty than usual.
If the Veins are your next destination, it doesn't take long to reach; the gates into the Veins District are only a few blocks from the Tooth and Hookah.
"Morning, Filibus. It's good to see you in one piece. This morning we're going to the Veins to try to track down Akar or Panhet. There's nothing else to do, so." He shrugs.
Ulysses drags himself into the common room, then sits with the others. He pulls a vial off his belt, downs it, and visibly sits up a bit straighter. "I could really use a haversack."
Sigrun, bleary-eyed and disheveled, slouches to the table and plops down, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Apparently she heard Ulysses, because she wordlessly plops her haversack on the table next to her. One look makes it clear the bag is magical. "Yuh," she mumbles, and starts sipping her coffee, staring vacantly at the wall.
Clearly, she is not a morning person.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to stay here while you run that errand. I don't really feel like going anywhere at the moment, and it doesn't sound like you'll need me for this. I'll stay here and keep my ears open for word about the Grand Mausoleum."
Sigrun follows you, at least, looking slightly more human after a few cups of coffee. You make your way into the Veins, an amalgamation of shanties, warehouses, and canals that abuts the River Sphinx. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the layout, simply various ramshackle layers of kilns, woodcarvers, and mud brick manufacturers. While not quite as lawless as Bargetown, it's still not the kind of district you wander around in at night.
Fortunately, it's a bright early-spring day, and the streets are bustling with people. Sigrun's memory of hearing the name 'Panhet' is spotty at best (she was likely drunk when she heard it) and while Panhet isn't exactly equivalent to 'John Smith,' it's not terribly rare either. Eventually you ask a few people and are led to a small two-room hut in the middle of the Veins. A younger woman, maybe early to mid-twenties, answers the door. She's in plain brown trousers and blouse, both of which are caked in old bits of dried clay. Her face looks somewhat haggard, as if she just woke up from fitful sleep. "Help you?"
Ulysses steps forward. "Begging your pardon, miss. We happened upon something that might belong to you and we thought it best if we returned it." He holds out the ring.
Panhet stares blankly at the ring, as if she doesn't actually believe it's there. Finally she reaches out a tentative hand and gingerly plucks the ring from Ulysses' hand. She utters a shuddering breath. "Oh, gods. Akar..." Tears stream from her face. "He's dead, then. Mother was convinced he ran off with a harlot, but I knew Akar would never do that to me..." She stares for a long, silent moment at the ring. "Where did you find this?"
Ulysses looks a question at Melech. Are we being honest here? Melech shrugs.
He clears his throat. "Well. Um. Yes, miss, he is dead. I'm sorry to say that we found him in the Necropolis. Seems he was a tomb robber."
Panhet looks like she is trying very hard to not take offense. "My husband was no tomb robber, Master Gnome. He was an honest, law-abiding man. I do not know how he ended up in the necropolis, but I promise you it was not to despoil the dead." She does her very best to unclench her jaw. "Regardless, you have put my mind at ease. Wait here."
She closes the door. You can hear some rustling and fishing about inside. When she comes back out, she hands a pouch to Melech. "I had been saving this as a reward for anyone who could bring me news of Akar's fate. No one could give me definitive proof until now. There is no way Akar would have parted with this ring under any circumstances but death. Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I must leave for work."
She looks in no state to be working, but she doesn't allow for any argument; she locks up her door and hurries quickly down the street, disappearing into the crowd.
You check the pouch, and inside are 15 platinum pieces.
The div had the power to charm others and implant suggestions. It's entirely possible he charmed Akar and convinced him to make his way into the House of Pentheru so the div could give him to the vargouilles for breeding.
You also remember Banker Anok mentioning there had been a handful of vargouille attacks over the past few years. It's possible the div had been breeding vargouille in this way for quite some time, sending fresh vargouille out into the city to wreak havoc, and Akar (and the poor headless chap in the bathroom on the first floor) were just his most recent victims.
"Oop. It just occurred to me that he was probably compelled into that house by the div. Oh well, no harm done!"
Melech shares a oh I think there was harm done look with Sigrun, then shrugs again. "I guess back to the inn?"
Sigrun shrugs. "I got no business in town."
You return to the inn shortly after. Filibus eventually excuses himself to his room to study in quiet; he seems to be withdrawing quite a bit. Everyone grieves differently, you suppose.
The day passes slowly, especially after the rapid-paced four days previous. The oppressive heat of midday makes the time feel like it's moving as sluggishly as everyone in the hookah bar's common room. Water and beer flow regularly, though they don't feel exceptionally thirst-quenching at room temperature when "room temperature" is over 100 degrees even indoors.
Melech tries to relax as much as possible in the heat. They've had a rough few days and he isn't going to pass up the opportunity for a break.
Ulysses excuses himself to work in his alchemy lab.
The oppressive heat bears down on your bodies like a hot, dry weight, squeezing the moisture from you like a sponge. The layers of bright scarves and wraps do little against the heat building indoors, but thankfully the inn is relatively well-constructed; open, curtained windows allow an occasional breeze, and the mud-brick floors remain fairly cool.
As the unbearable afternoon sun slowly dips past its zenith overhead and begins its descent into the west, the inn cools noticeably. Finally around dinnertime, a young man rushes in. You've seen him about a couple times with one adventuring group or another; he looks to be Chelaxian, like your historian compatriot, but significantly younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. His leather armor is covered in scarves and useless charms he probably bought from vendors preying on his naivete.
"The Grand Mausoleum!" he pants. "Th... there was a riot!"
Gasps and mutterings flow like a wave out from the boy and through the gathered adventurers. The lad plops down at a table and asks for water before relaying what he saw.
As it turns out, the gathering at the Grand Mausoleum eventually turned violent after the city watch came in to try and break it up, and the crowd tried to storm the main doors. Commander Nakht Shepses commanded saps only, but once a Voice of the Spire was swarmed and beaten to death, a couple ignored orders and switched to lethal weapons. Six rioters, two city watch, and one Voice were killed. After that, the people scattered.
"It was awful," the young man says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never seen people so angry in my life. They used rocks, sticks, bare fists... just... when they were done with her, you couldn't even recognize her as human anymore. She was just..." He goes green around the gills and swallows heavily. "... pulp." He takes a moment to get his stomach under control.
Not long after, another straggler comes in, about the boy's age. He stands and greets her affectionately and she says, "I take it Liam has told you. They finally cleared the bodies away and made a couple of arrests. It's ugly. But apparently the Grand Mausoleum is back open. They have a contingency of Voices and city guards posted at the door and they're questioning everyone going in, but people can get their next sites who need it."
There is some more concerned muttering among the adventurers. Apparently no one is keen to go there right after a riot, guards or no.
Melech pops out of his chair. Earlier in the day, a day of rest seemed like a great idea, but it only took about two hours for the monotony to get to him. He looks at Sigrun. "If you're ready to go, I'll go fetch Ulysses."
Sigrun nods firmly. "I know we're probably not going into the necropolis today, but let me grab my gear anyway. It doesn't sound like the streets are entirely safe right now for adventurers." She hurries up to her room to get outfitted.
When she comes back down, she's wearing a masterfully-crafted suit of boiled leather plates pocked with solid steel studs that give off a dull, almost imperceptible magic glow. At her hips are two masterwork weapons: a battleaxe and a handaxe. The battleaxe's head is etched with a rune. A hand drum rests in a leather thong at her back, just above her handy haversack. Her shaggy red hair is braided back into a ponytail now.
"Ready."
The group make their way to the Grand Mausoleum. There is a noticeable tension among the crowds as you pass, setting your paranoia on edge. Every glance in your direction--and there are many--seems like it could hold enough violent anger to lash out at you for what happened at the Pharasmin cathedral.
Yet you arrive at the steps of the Grand Mausoleum unmolested. Four city watch and six Voices stand in positions around the double doors looking suspiciously at everyone who comes within a general vicinity. At your approach, two guards bar your path, but one of the Voices steps up and waves them off. It's Bal Themm. She says, "They are part of the exploration, they may pass." The guards reluctantly lower their spears and let you through. Bal nods solemnly before returning to her position.