"A though occur'd to me. If we know he didn't ask for his money back, do ya think that narrows down his disappearance between paying for his boat out and it's leavin', a single night? Is that anything?" Roger has been slowly ruminating over the mystery. Not his strongest suit, but giving it his best.
"I think you're probably right," Hannelia agrees. "We've got no reason to think he wasn't planning on taking the boat so I think that's probably the window he disappeared in."
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”That’s a relief, though we expected Sophi would have enquired.”
”She did. I told her the same thing.”
”We know he booked passage on a boat out of town, leaving the following day but he never took it…”
The watch commander takes some notes and asks for details like the ship names and dates. He jots down everything and nods at pieces of information the constabulary has already gathered. It seems they haven’t been entirely idle.
“Unless you have any major objections we were going to enter and investigate [in the sewer] further. If you want to pass word to Mayor Trinelli feel free. It might be useful in helping to calm things down.”
He thinks about it for a moment. ”No objection. My boys are a bit busy at the moment. I’ll send a group into the sewers but it’ll be this evening, at the earliest.”
”Maybe better that she doesn’t give away too many specifics though - a “we’re investigating and following up on leads” kind of thing - in case it tips off someone and they go to ground and makes our job even more difficult. You see where I’m coming from?”
The commander snorts, ”Trinelli doesn’t spend much time listening to me. I’ll suggest it, then she’ll do what she wants.”
She describes the appearance of the witchmarks. ”There’s no pattern that we’ve been able to discern so far but if you see any others on your patrols, if you could let us know their location that would be appreciated please.”
He looks both curious and amused. ”Witchmarks, eh? I haven’t seen any of those in a long stretch. We’ll keep our eyes open for’em. Any guesses why they’re cropping up now?”
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Majara is more than happy to let others do what she thinks of as 'conversational fetch' and to employ her own strengths back at her shop in an attempt to shield the group from the worst of the likely sewer smells.
One thing about being an alchemist is that you get very used to terrible smells.
The gnome rummages in her shop for mint, eucalyptus.... Gellion appears with brows drawn.
"Oh no. You're making Stinkbloc," he says, with dread.
"Yes!"
"What... what else are you making?"
"Eh?"
"I mean... why do we need it? Is this preparation for something involving the.... boar urine, or the civet musk, or the..."
"Oh! No. No, no, it's not to help us with a smell here. The Seekers are seeking in the sewers."
The youth heaves a relieved sigh....
There's also the matter of Glory. Once Majara's got the Stinkblock brewing, she studies the pot with its chip...
"Gellion!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Wasn't there some business opening down the street that was selling all manner of crafted garments including some sort of sling for infants? Since apparently people are too good to fold their own blankets around babies now."
"Um... I think so?"
The gnome fishes out a handful of coins from her purse. "See if you can get me one."
The look of dread on Gellion's face surpasses his earlier dread by a good amount. "Oh. Uhm. Yes, ma'am. Um. ..... congrat... ulations?"
Majara gives the boy a confused glare. "What are you on about now?"
"Um... that you're... expecting?"
"Expecting....? Expecting what, bad smells in the sewers? Didn't we already go over this? Less questions! More shopping!"
Gellion leaves and Majara shakes her head at the boy's bizarre questions before she considers the third problem. If the sewers lead to more shae, then that could quickly mean a true disaster. Especially underground with no natural light. A pity she has no formulae in her book for resisting fear... she makes a note to buy one later. For now, at least, she can mix up a quick darkvision.
Some time later, Majara sets out looking for the others, with, hopefully, some new items in hand.
"Understandable," Hannelia says at the commander's mention that the watch is pretty tied up at the moment. "We'll keep you posted. It's no bad thing that someone knows where we've gone too," she adds. The words "in case we don't come out" go unsaid but would be difficult to miss.
Regarding the witchmarks, "No," she says, truthfully. "As I said, we don't have anything to connect them to any of the other recent happenings. But my hunch is that in some way they are, even if I have nothing to hang that theory on right now," she admits. "I hope to Desna our luck changes on that front."
The commander has been forthcoming with information and seems to have a good sense of what's going on, but Hannelia has still been scrutinising him to take the measure of the man.
My boys are a bit busy at the moment.
Nerissia picks up on this, curious as to what all of the guards in a town as small as this would be occupied with. She tries to phrase it like genuine curiosity, and not the suspicion it is. "And, uh, what has them so busy? Something we need to be worried about?"
I hope to Desna our luck changes on that front.
"And I shall add my prayers to yours." Nerissia quips, laughing quietly at the situation. Would Asmodeus give her his blessing for exploring...sewers? Couldn't hurt to ask, honestly.
Hannelia has no reason to doubt the watch commander is being candid.
She tries to phrase it like genuine curiosity, and not the suspicion it is. "And, uh, what has them so busy? Something we need to be worried about?"
The watch commander looks at her curiously, as if gauging the true intent of Nerissia’s question. ”Part of it is stepped up patrols in case any other threats suddenly appear. Part of it is additional clean-up and trying to instill confidence in some very shaken civilians. And part of it is – regrettably – political. The mayor wants to be seen doing something about what’s happened. We’re stretched a bit thin doing all of it across the breadth of the town.”
[N Bluff redacted]
[WC SM redacted]
[WC Bluff redacted]
[N SM redacted]
"That makes sense," Hannelia says, backing up the watch commander. "We're happy to support as best we can. The fight in the square was a bigger deal than it may have seemed to us in the moment," she continues, turning to Nerissia. "Hunting predators in the wilds, such attacks are more common, but something like that in the middle of town? That's not a normal occurrence. And as we've since learned, the mastiff's bark caused a lot of panic. If it was powerful enough to strike fear into seasoned veterans like Roger, Majara and Alocer, imagine what that does to those unaccustomed to such things."
"Is there anything else we need before we go in while we wait for Majara to return?" she asks the group. "We should patch ourselves up properly before we go in. The battle drew on more of my magical energy than I'd have liked but that can't be helped." Hannelia flicks her wrist and the wand she keeps strapped to her forearm falls into her hand. "Who needs some attention?" she asks.
Nerissia has her doubts, and given that her general sense of the man isn't quite figuring things out, dives deep into the abilities granted to her from Hell to discern if the guard captain is lying about anything. Strange things are going on around town and no one is above suspicion, as she has learned from many years doing her job.
And so, just shy of noon, Majara completes her alchemical experiments and the rest of the group finish speaking with the constabulary. The team reunites at the collapsed, brick-lined hole in the ground near Willita’s. The autumn wind off the river is persistent and cold as it wraps between the building. Even so, it can’t overwhelm the fetid stink coming from the hole. Majara fires a sharp spray up the nostrils of each person there (including Alocer). In a moment, they smell absolutely nothing – not stink, trash, salt air, or even the delightful breads of Gunty. Ready as they will ever be, our heroes cautiously find their footing and descend into the sewers below Saringallow.
Like many towns, the dockside area of Saringallow is one of the oldest. It seems the sewer here is also old. The ceiling is rough-hewn and varies in height between 7’ and 8’. The sloping walls and ceiling are a mélange of brick, cobblestones, and uneven chunks of discarded masonry. There is a rough central ‘trough’ in each passage through which filth flows – or doesn’t – depending on how well the floor is sloped and gravity is enabled to do its work.
Behind you is a rough tumble of collapsed brick, leaning against an eroding internal wall. It forms a motley stairway of sorts. In front of you, there are three dark paths, none of them looks particularly promising…
One detour along the way to Quill's spell shop and Majara's purse is starting to feel much the lighter. Maybe they'll find a delightful trove of loot in the sewers! Gnomes are, inherently, optimists...
Glory is back in battle, this time in a crochet sling around Majara's neck so that the alchemist's hands are free-- and panic can't make her drop the pot. As she meets up with the others she gives them a nod and gestures for them to bend down and open their noses, as it were....
"This will only sting a second!"
Spritz, spritz....
She also passes out various bottles. "Roger, this one will let you see in the dark. Should last about four hours, so I'd suggest drinking it now, I'm doing something similar with one of mine. Hannelia, this one will do the same for you, but only drink it if we need it-- that one's not cheap. You should also hold on to this equally expensive scroll."
This as she thrusts her newly purchased scroll into Hannelia's hands. "Right. If we hit magical darkness, that scroll will counter it, but the natural underground conditions will then prevail, which, I assume, will be Dark. And you might have to back out of the darkness in order to read the spell anyway. I wish I hadn't used the hand of glory's light spell earlier today, but it is what it is and that's all that it is. Here, you should each take one of these defensive potions as well..."
Majara nods to herself in satisfaction. If nothing else, they are better prepared than they were for fighting the shae in the square. Possibly overprepared, but only time will tell.
"Let's see.... Emma's already drunk the alacrity potion, oh well, and Roger-- you should still have a shield-in-a-bottle, yes? No? Did I give it to you yet? Well if I didn't-- here you are."
Satisfied that they have as much information as they are likely to from the watch commander, Hannelia takes leave to quickly go and stock up on supplies while they wait for Majara, who is making preparations of her own. Despite Nerissia’s misgivings about the commander, nothing had been triggering any suspicions in Hannelia and the logic of what he said seemed sound to her. Still, she understands it can be wise to trust one’s instincts when something about a person or a situation just feels off. She’s reminded of her brief encounter with Kilcrist. She couldn’t precisely say why, and perhaps it was just a youthful projection of invincibility typical of many young people until they discover otherwise, but something about the young man had just seemed a little off to her. Both of those are potential problems for another day, however.
She picks her way across town, keeping an eye out for further wtichmarks, but more to try and get a feel for things. Things are perhaps a little quieter in the streets and there is indeed a more visible watch presence than normal. Hannelia enters the temple of Erastil, which is notably busier than usual. The acolytes are out in force, providing succour and soothing words to a large number of shell-shocked townsfolk who had sustained wounds in the ruckus at the market or are simply looking for a place of sanctuary and calm in the halls of Old Deadeye in order to shake off the after-effects of the hound’s unearthly barking.
Catching Jhessa’s eye, the girl prettily turned out in peacock blue, she waves her over. Hannelia is able to quickly fill her in on her version of events to either corroborate or contradict the swirl of rumours in the air. Shel is elsewhere today but Jhessa promises she’ll get word to her later that Hannelia is fine and that the group are investigating. She passes the news on to Father Ruvarra too, figuring the priest would also appreciate the update. In return she walks away with her coin purse a little lighter but two finely-worked wooden wands in her possession. With a minor detour to pick up a pair of quick-release leather sheaves, she returns to the group.
With a subtle action she releases the curative wand once more, this time passing it to Majara, who has now joined them. ”If I’m taking the new one, better to have someone else carry this one,” she says, carefully resetting the mechanism of the sheath and inserting the new wand. In return she receives a pair of vials and a scroll from the gnome and stows them safely away. She sneezes at the nasal spray but the effect is both impressive and immediate.
She passes the other wand to Nerissia, along with a second pair of sheaves much like the ones Hannelia is wearing. ”A gift from me. If you set them correctly you can loose whatever small item - wands, knives and the like - you have contained within via a quick movement.” She demonstrates their efficacy once more. ”Useful if you need something in a pinch and saves you having to search through your possessions or fully relinquish your bow.”
"Better than an eyepatch that's for sure." Roger drinks the potion. Roger's not entirely sure why he's in front of the incredibly well armored Emma, but figures maybe she's opened more than her fair share of doors with swarms of vermin behind them.
Majara takes up a spot near the rear, but allowing Nerissia and her bow behind her. She whistles a bit cheerfully to herself. "I trust this is adventure enough to suit you, Glory."
She tucks away the old curative wand for an emergency. "Right, so, in and down we go..."
Our heroes look around the intersection. In short order they find splashes of fresh filth and the wettest prints (canine in appearance). Roger confirms the tracks are heading toward the ersatz ‘stairway’ out. They clearly come from the southern passage.
There are also some odd scuff marks on the rough stones of the floor. Scuffs that have knocked away some of the accumulated grime and mold. They can’t be called tracks, per se, as they are too numerous and overlaid to appear unblemished. The scuff marks appear in all three passages… while being a bit more dense in the passages heading south and east.
Seeing where Roger is pointing to the tracks, Hannelia's eyes try to adjust to the weak light. As she looks further down the tunnel it's not far before she can see nothing but darkness. Reaching into her pack, she lifts out a small black padded cloth bag that has magically moved itself to the top. Pulling open the drawstring, she tips an ellipsoid gem that shines bright like a torch into her hand. As she opens her palm the stone starts to float and slowly circle above her head. "I can catch it again if we need to put the lights out," she says.
As the scuff marks are pointed out, Hannelia takes a closer look, trying to ascertain what they might be.
"Shall we follow the prints then?" she asks.
"Seems as good a plan as any," Emma says, trying her best to see in the gloom. She keeps her sword drawn, using it as a source of light with the benefit of keeping it at the ready should any threats appear.
Our heroes walk down the wide southern corridor following the hound prints. After no more than 25 paces the tracks seem to end what becomes an elbow joint turn in the tunnel. The inflamed elbow could have been where the tunnel was going to be expanded and wasn’t… or perhaps it is simply caused by decades of neglect and erosion. Given the distance traveled and the persistent dripping coming between the brick and stone, you expect you are close to the docks. You see nothing of obvious note in the corridor around the turn.
Majara frowns as they very shortly reach an apparent dead end.
"That was quicker than expected," she says drily. Moving to the front to look around, she studies the wall, the ceiling, the floor... She even taps at the wall to test if illusion magic is in play.
"Hannelia - any enchantments around?" Not for the first time Majara lightly regrets that her desire to focus on alchemical studies means she can't perceive magic's presence.
"It seems unlikely the hound just... manifested on our plane right here of all places. A wizard's lab - a cultist's lair - all reasonable locations. A sewer dead end? Hrmf."
Majara pokes, prods, and inspects all things within reach. She finds no illusory walls, secret doors, or the like.
"Maybe," Hannelia hedges. "Perhaps the shae was already here and summoned the hound somewhere near to the sewer exit. But on balance I agree it doesn't seem particularly likely." Following Majara's suggestion, she too studies the area carefully before working a simple spell to see if there's any trace of magic to the dead end.
A quick perusal of the surroundings reveals nothing of particular note except that there are more scuff marks going down the western branch of the sewer.
Hannelia scans the area with her eldritch vision. Given the hours long delay between the battle and now, there is virtually no chance of residual spell energy remaining. Rather, the bard has to hope there is some remnant of a magic object in the area that may hold clues to the magics involved.
Hannelia’s spell picks up the remnants of an extremely powerful magical force, catching her slightly off guard. Refocusing, she turns her full attention upon the circle to see if she can determine anything about it.
"I'm going to retract my previous statement," Hannelia says quietly. "There's a vestige of magical energy here and anything that leaves a trace this long after the fact must be powerful indeed. I can't determine anything about it, but it's much more powerful than anything I have at my disposal. Quite possibly more powerful than anything I've ever come across," she adds, a serious expression on her face. It doesn't really need saying but she gives voice to the obvious: "This doesn't feel good."
Majara frowns. "That... doesn't bode well, no."
The gnome tugs a lock of her blue hair near to her mouth and absently chews on the end of it. "It seems the mayor ought to be appraised of this. I don't know what she could DO about it - but better she know than not. Even if all she does is ask us to investigate it further."
A little pause, then Majara gestures to where the scuff marks continue down the western branch. "Shall we keep following the trail?"
"Agreed. I don't know that we have a way of doing that right now beyond reporting back to the watch?" Hannelia asks. "So we could do that, but it seems unlikely she would deter us from further exploration. It's not like Saringallow is home to a notable number of mages or other spellweavers who could be called upon to investigate." Apparently the hair chewing is catching as Hannelia brushes aside a stray strand which has found its way to her lips.
"I think we press on. While this is obviously concerning, I don't think that stopping to report on every little thing we find is a particularly sensible way of operating."
"I agree. Moving in and out just gives whoever is left the chance to erase more evidence. We press on." she says, holding her bow tightly in preparation for whatever darkness they may find.
She turns to Alocer and gestures generally down the hallway, indicating that perhaps he should take a whiff and see if he can smell anything interesting beyond the sewer smell before taking a look herself.
"Yes, let's continue for now," Majara agrees. "We may be the closest the city has to a cadre of knowledgable sages on the occult. Ha."
She falls back into the same marching order as before-- at the rear-- and lets Emma and Roger take the lead as they continue to follow the scuff marks.
You press on through the sewer, going the entire length of the east-west corridor. You find nothing specific, save the proliferation of scuff marks similar to the ones you noted before. The scuff marks do appear to increase near the periodic storm drains above you.
The corridor ends at a narrower north-south passageway.
"Let's press on then," Hannelia says, slotting back into the middle of the group. At the end of the passage the group turn right and continue up the next passage.
Having come through the disconcertingly narrow passage, your group finds themselves in something of sewage thoroughfare – a wide central passage that extends in either direction as far as the eye can see and the light lasts. Given the southwest to northeast orientation of it and the sounds filtering down through the intermittent storm drains, you believe the passageway parallels the road running beside the docks. The central sluice here is relatively quick flowing and there are many small culverts carved into the walls. As filth is dripping or running out of them, you imagine they service latrines, out-houses, privvies, fish gutting stations, and the like. You are all very thankful for Majara’s noseblock spray.
Here again, you see a reasonably high volume of scuff marks that have worn away, or at least crushed down, some of the persistent filth. And, again, the most scuffed areas are below the storm drains.
"If anyone was wondering what the inside of a sewer is like, this place doesn't disappoint," Hannelia says drily as the intersection opens up to a full on river of filth. "And judging by the number of these marks, it would appear that someone else really did want to." She nods towards the scuff marks and tries to gauge whether they lead more in one direction or the other. Once more she taps her arcane powers, looking for any sign of magical marks that exist beyond the detection of her normal senses.
"If anyone was wondering what the inside of a sewer is like, this place doesn't disappoint," Hannelia says drily as the intersection opens up to a full on river of filth. "And judging by the number of these marks, it would appear that someone else really did want to."
"Wanted to disappoint?" Majara deadpans.
Even if she accepts foul smells as part of her trade, she is no less unhappy to be spared them right now than anyone else is. She eyes the nearest culvert with wariness, a fair bit of which is aimed at the rest of the group - let's just say it wouldn't be the first time a tallfolk had suggested blithely 'well, you could fit, right?' to her. But so far no one seems to be offering that suggestion. Thankfully.
"Note how the traffic increases beneath the drains. Were our scuffmakers stopping and looking? Listening? Eavesdropping on the streets above? Or perhaps using these as entrance and exit points into the sewer system? Roger-- give me a boost up, would you?"
Assuming the doughty pirate hoists Majara near to a storm drain grate, she tries to examine it for any signs of recently having been moved. The regular flow of water should, hopefully, create a little muddy cover over the places where the grate is inset-- a cover that could theoretically reveal if the grate had been displaced...
Hannelia rolls her eyes at Majara's response. "Yes. Exactly. You raise a good point, they were presumably doing something to leave so many more marks there." She looks up towards the ceiling. "I'd be surprised if you could hear much but at least it ought to be easy enough to test whether it's possible to eavesdrop. And nothing very big is fitting through those side channels."
Emma keeps an eye on the area around them as Majara gets a closer look.
"Never thought I'd find myself preferring a potentially haunted house to explore until now," she mutters.
Hannelia detects no magic in the area and there is no obvious ‘flow’ to the scuff marks. With only a little effort, it’s possible to find spots in the sewer where voices from above are strangely amplified. The heroes can even make out bits of day-to-day conversation from people walking by – mostly outlandish speculation about the Market Square Battle, as it is now being called. Embarrassingly, there are at least a couple people who think a statue to the Saringallow Seekers should be erected in the square to commemorate your victory.
Carried as she is, on Roger’s shoulders, Majara takes a close look at the grates. Finding something odd, she has Roger carry her to two more grates for comparison. The grates are made of stout timbers supported by and nailed to thinner iron plates. The holes they fill are perhaps 3’ by 2’. A strong man could lift one with some effort. Two men could do so with relative ease. In the course of her snooping, Majara notices that some of the grates have areas where the dirt has been worn away, suggesting that the under sides of the grates have been handled. Further, she finds evidence that some of the grates have been skillfully cut in half. Even a person with average strength could move one of the half-grate pieces. Given how the grates are inset in the cobbled streets, the alchemist imagines they might move a bit more when stepped upon but would otherwise still be quite solid and support any passing weight.
* No magic is detected.
* There is no obvious pattern of movement to the scuff marks, so you’d guess they come and go from both directions.
* One could eavesdrop somewhat on the street above – certainly enough to hear close voices and some portion of what they are saying. Sewers have some remarkable acoustics.
* The modified grates can be moved by someone with normal strength and the gaps are large enough to allow a slender human-sized or smaller creature to pass through.
Embarrassingly, there are at least a couple people who think a statue to the Saringallow Seekers should be erected in the square to commemorate your victory.
"Ah, so the people in this town are not all fools." Nerissia whispers under her breath, only one-fourth joking.
Upon hearing the detail about the cut and prepped grates, she is instantly more alert to the situation. "So we know this was planned for some significant time. That leaves the question: why? For what purpose? Yes, yes, I know there's the general 'cause chaos and maybe kill some people', but that doesn't answer the bigger question at the heart of our foes' motivations."
Majara had been hoping for some possible sign of egress-- she gets that and then some. Deliberate sabotage to allow entrance and exit. The gnome can't help a little whistle.
When Roger has set her back down again she brushes her hands off of mud and metal rust flakes.
"I think even stating that her purpose was to cause chaos and kill may be overstating it-- that was the outcome, yes. If - and this is admittedly conjecture, but seems reasonable- if the shae was the one to alter the grates... she had to have spent a decent amount of time beneath our streets. Observing the town. And if all she wanted was to cause chaos? The hound could have howled from beneath the grates and induced mass panic at will, with us having a much harder time figuring out what was causing it. If she wanted to kill: she could have done that by night, to her advantage, rather than face off by daylight when the town's defenses would be at their best. And let's not forget: she did nothing hostile until after being attacked by the guard. According to the witnesses, she was simply.... out for a stroll. With her terrifying otherworldly hound."
Majara plants her hands on her hips and gazes upwards at the grate. "Now, as to why she was doing that? I have no idea. But I wonder if perhaps she is just very... alien, very other, and if was just plain curiosity at first. Not that it would be much comfort to the families of those guardsmen if it were."
The gnome can empathize with curiosity being a powerful driver... and one that often leads a researcher down paths that result in other people saying things like "mad! you're mad!" and "you fool!" and so forth.
With a little shrug, Majara shakes her head. "I'm not sure where all of this information takes us to next. If she did spend a great deal of time down here, maybe she had some sort of central location that she used as a place to rest, sit, eat, and so forth. We could spend time looking for that. Which is time we're not spending looking for our missing rich man."
"There's a lot of conjecture here," Hannelia agrees. "We don't know if it was her and we don't know for what purpose. That might be something we never find out, though obviously some kind of motive makes it easier to piece together a narrative."
She looks over towards Majara. "That is true, though we're not exactly blessed with leads there either. And while there may end up being some link between Verno's disappearance and this, right now I think we're doing a separate job. I don't think in good conscience we can report back to the mayor without conducting a thorough investigation down here and be able to provide assurances as far as we can that there is no further threat."
Hannelia cranes her head back and looks up to the curved ceiling of the tunnel. "For what it's worth, I'm surprised that you can hear things in the streets above. I'd have assumed that would be impossible through earth and metal and brick, and with the noise of running water too." She ponders, the glimmer of an idea forming. "It's probably nothing but I wonder if we could see if the town has a pan of the sewers. I'd be interested to see how it overlays things above. Like, whether these marks map onto anything in particular above, be that landmarks or witchmarks." She lets that last comment hang to let the others follow her thinking. "Suppose somebody was able to speak from down here and guide somebody above? Perhaps exerting some kind of mental control?" She stops. "It sounds far-fetched, doesn't it, now that I've said it out loud?" she says, furrowing her brow. Then, with a shrug, "Though I suppose not much more than a lot of other wild ideas and tenuous theories we've been trying to piece together lately. Either way, I think that's a job for later. I can definitely check in with Fustifer about a sewer plan."
"For now, my feeling is we should continue our exploration down here, for the reasons just given. Perhaps things will become a bit clearer. Or perhaps," Hannelia gestures at the waste all around them, "they will remain as clear as..."
"Aye, her behavior was mighty strange. No rhyme I can find." Roger agrees.
"Quite," Hannelia says. "This way?" she asks, pointing to the east.
The Saringallow Seekers follow the sewer east until they reach a fork in the path. They can continue going east (which likely parallels the shoreline) or take a slightly smaller corridor that turns north and should – theoretically – take them below the market square and destinations beyond.
A quick look at the scuff marks show that both passages have seen quite a bit of travel. It would be difficult to say which path looks more used.