"First order of business is to debrief the others," she says conversationally to the plant as she spears a kipper with a small fork. "I suppose if I take some of Gunty's butter rolls with me it might soften the news, eh?"
If silence equals assent, then Glory clearly thinks Majara’s plan is wise… and she’d like to try a bit of a Gunty’s roll, and possibly a bit of kipper. She can’t taste them, of course, but the nutrients breaking down in her soil might be interesting. And it would make her feel a bit more like part of the group to ‘share’ their meal.
As her call to Roger is relayed, Hannelia scans the dining room. She is a little surprised and a lot relieved to see Majara and Glory seated at a corner table in the common room. She hurries over. ”Starsong’s luck!” she exclaims, ”Are you ok? I heard about the fire - most of the town has, in fact - but word on the street was that your whereabouts were unknown. I was just in the process of waking Roger to look for you.”
Majara waves a hand, her mouth full of a kipper just now. After chewing and swallowing, she says, "Yes, I didn't think it wise to tell half the town where I was headed, in case the arsonists made another stab. Though for all I know they could have trailed me here. At any rate, I didn't fancy the thought of walking in the dark, alone, out to the manor; this seemed the next best spot."
She cuts a little bit of kipper up and sets it into the pot for Glory's sake, then takes a larger bite for herself. "Wakeem Mogger polly a goob ibea. I figerrm eeb neeb hib rebt--"
(swallow) "--but since you're here, the time for doing rather than sleeping is at hand. And then I can tell what happened last night once, rather than twice."
Majara is currently oblivious to the fact that Hannelia had her own 'excitement' of course.
Glory rustles her leaves at the kipper in her planter.
<3
Roger eventually is found by someone and pulled into the meeting, where he sits down with some onion and pepper'd eggs. "I'll be honest, I didn't expect them to be so brazen. They're definitely picking a fight with us. Say, what magical things do we think we can pull as a group to track down the folks? I've two spells that might be helpful. One just makes me a bit better at tracking, tho I don't know if a bit better'll be enough. They're right sneaky on their home turf. The other'll give me the image of someone's footprint. Not sure that'll help what with us already knowing who's behind it. But I figure I'd lay 'em both on the table."
Nerissia first goes (with Emma, presumably) to Majara's shop and discovers the scene there. Reassured by whoever is left there to investigate that they have found everything to be found and that Majara is safe, she departs for the impromptu party meeting.
Entering the Witch's End and seeing her companions joined in breakfast, she orders a trio of eggs and some toast, plus some strips of bacon for Alocer.
"So, Majara, care to catch me up on what's been going on with you this wonderful morning?"
"Good morning," Majara says as Emma and Nerissia enter the Witch's End, raising a fork with a kipper in greeting. "Though the goodness is debatable. Then again, I'm breathing, so yes, perhaps it is good."
She waits until everyone is seated and has had the chance to order before saying more. "I woke last night - early this morning - to flames. Someone, or someones, had broken into the ground floor and set my shop ablaze. I'm inclined to return the favor, if I find them."
The gnome grabs a glass of apple juice made from apples in the town's central orchard and takes a swig of it as if were something harder. "Not many clues as to the who, though they left a charming message: Bye Bye Majara, scrawled on a window under the image of a smirking imp or something of that sort. It is.... probably... the skulks. I say probably because-- well, I'm confused."
Majara scowls at the apple juice and taps her small fingers against the glass as if in accusation. "We know how stealthy these creatures are. I was asleep. If they'd aimed to kill me, I think they would have good odds of success. This feels more like a scare tactic than a true assassination attempt - but those skulks don't strike me as the sort to play games like that. They were... efficient, when we fought. Ruthless, but direct and disciplined. The one that threatened me personally wanted revenge for her fallen companion. Why should she settle for theatrics and a singed shop? Why bother leaving the message, unless I was meant to find it, which would have been unlikely had I died? It wasn't terribly obvious to a casual eye, and if the shop had fully burned down I think it would have been destroyed."
The gnome takes a breath after this rapid-fire statement of theories. "So the skulks were incompetent - unlikely - or they had a reason to limit themselves to scaring. Perhaps orders. From someone other than a skulk. Which I mislike. The skulks alone were dangerous; skulks with someone above coordinating them? More so."
Majara scowls some more into her apple juice. "In any case, I don't think any of us ought to go anywhere alone. We were assuming safety, here in town, and we obviously cannot. Group rest and group watches, as if we were out on the trail, are, I think, in order.
"A bit of good news: the city guard took the fight to the skulks, yesterday, as a result of our report. The sergeant who saw me safely here said they managed to take out a good number of them- though they had casualties of their own. Still, hard to know how many survived."
Having spoken for what feels like several minutes, Majara shrugs and looks to Roger. "The image-of-the-footprint thing sounds actually useful - if we could find any such footprints. I doubt there'll be many at my shop that would be able to be discerned from the horde of firefighters, guards, and so forth. But a good thing to keep in mind, going forward.
"And how did everyone else sleep?" the gnome asks deadpan - still unaware she wasn't the only one to deal with 'scare tactics' last night.
Although she is keen to hear Majara’s story, she understands the gnome’s hesitance to repeat herself multiple times so Hannelia waits until Roger appears, followed later on by Emma and Nerissia. She slowly takes a few bites out of a rasher of bacon and forces it down, having not been in the mood for eating so far this morning but knowing that she needs to keep her mind and body sharp.
”Starless night!” she exclaims as Majara describes the scribbled warning. When she’s finished, Hannelia says, ”I agree with your assessment of the situation. It wasn’t exactly a subtle message and from what we saw of the skulks I’m with you that they would have had no compunction about killing people in their sleep.”
”As for how I slept, pretty well actually. Too well, in fact - we also had some nighttime visitors,” she adds after a beat, unable to resist a little dramatic timing. “I didn’t discover that until this morning, however. Somebody - I had also been assuming skulks - broke in last night and painted a red line across dad’s throat to look like blood. I thought it was when I first saw it. Again, it’s obviously a warning rather than a vengeance mission as the opportunity to murder was there given none of us awoke.” She gives a shake of her head, a pensive expression on her face.
"I'll be honest, I didn't expect them to be so brazen. They're definitely picking a fight with us."
”Neither did I,” she replies to Roger. ”And I’d be lying if I wasn’t a bit shaken by it. The safety protocols seem necessary and I’ve said the same to dad and Shel. In fact I’d probably feel a lot happier if we could keep an eye on them overnight too. They may be less keen on the idea if we’re sleeping at the manor, though I suppose we could book rooms here. Not that Alcie’s likely to thank us for that,” she adds in a low voice. ”Paying guests yes, uninvited ones not so much.”
”I couldn’t find any trace of them either,” Hannelia continues, "but if either you or Nerissia wants to take a look as well you’re more than welcome.”
"A bit of good news: the city guard took the fight to the skulks, yesterday, as a result of our report. The sergeant who saw me safely here said they managed to take out a good number of them- though they had casualties of their own. Still, hard to know how many survived."
Hannelia’s eyes widen a little at the mention of the underground street skirmishes. ”That is something. I hope Father Ruvarra is feeling well-rested too as I have no doubt there will be many in need of aid given how viciously the skulks fought against us. I’m inclined to agree that something else is ultimately pulling the strings too. From what I know of skulks they make excellent spies, scouts, killers - we’ve seen that first-hand. But my understanding is that while they can work effectively together, they would also have no hesitation in turning on each other to protect their own skins. Therefore I think it’s more likely than not that something else is in charge.” She smiles ruefully. ”Needless to say, I don’t like that thought either.”
When they head into town, Emma notices the smell of wood smoke. At first, it's nothing out of the ordinary, a not uncommon smell.
But when it begins to grow stronger and more prevalent the closer they get, the more Emma realizes it's not usual at all. It's thick and cloying - likely due to a fire rather than anything planned.
As they continue to head into town, Emma eventually picks up on some of the chatter from passing townsfolk that it was Pricknettle's Potions that burned.
Emma looks briefly at Nerissia, then breaks out into a run, heading for the location without waiting for further information. Majara's shop, burned? Why had no one informed her? When had it happened?
Was Majara okay?
If she wasn't--
No, Emma wasn't going to think like that. The gnome was a crafty one.
Eventually, she stumbles upon the scene, jaw dropping slightly at the sight of the shop.
She starts to head towards it until she's waylaid by a couple of the guard.
"Hold there - not exactly safe to go traipsing about at the moment, you understand."
"Please - I just - is Majara alright?" Emma asks one. "Majara Pricknettle?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. She's fine. Not particularly happy about this, I should say, but she's alive. I think she's..."
But the rest of what the guard says is lost as Emma slumps in relief. Alive. Majara was alive.
Thank Iomedae.
***
"Good morning," Majara says as Emma and Nerissia enter the Witch's End, raising a fork with a kipper in greeting. "Though the goodness is debatable. Then again, I'm breathing, so yes, perhaps it is good."
Emma's mouth thins, and she marches over to the gnome, putting a hand on her shoulder. She lets out a shaky breath, then gives them a light squeeze. "Majara, first of all, I'm very sorry about your shop, but mostly very happy you're alive. When I heard mention from passerby that your shop had burned, I ran straight there to see for myself. What happened...?"
"I woke last night - early this morning - to flames. Someone, or someones, had broken into the ground floor and set my shop ablaze. I'm inclined to return the favor, if I find them."
Emma snorts. "I'm sure you are, and I'm sure you will." She tilts her head. "Do you suppose this relates to our, ah, friends that we encountered in the sewer? Or is this related to our larger investigation?" Then she glances around at the rest of them, before settling again on Majara. "Now, when this all went down, why in Iomedae's name did you not send for me?" She glances at Nerissia, then back at the others. "Or, rather, for us?"
***
Emma listens to the rest of the explanation of what Majara had witnessed, and her thoughts on those potentially at fault for it all.
"In any case, I don't think any of us ought to go anywhere alone. We were assuming safety, here in town, and we obviously cannot. Group rest and group watches, as if we were out on the trail, are, I think, in order.
"A bit of good news: the city guard took the fight to the skulks, yesterday, as a result of our report. The sergeant who saw me safely here said they managed to take out a good number of them- though they had casualties of their own. Still, hard to know how many survived."
"That is good news," Emma agrees, once Majara has finished. "Though I'm sorry to hear about the casualties. And I agree with your assessment on not being alone for the time being. Until we're sure the root cause is dealt with, better to be safe than sorry. Perhaps we could attempt to set some kind of trap? Though I suppose that might not work so well, given their otherwise professional approach so far. They'd probably be expecting that from us." She sighs. "I'll admit, subterfuge is not my strong suit. And I fear we're not much closer to figuring this all out."
”Starless night!” Hannelia says, ”I agree with your assessment of the situation. It wasn’t exactly a subtle message and from what we saw of the skulks I’m with you that they would have had no compunction about killing people in their sleep.
”As for how I slept, pretty well actually. Too well, in fact - we also had some nighttime visitors,” she adds after a beat, unable to resist a little dramatic timing. “I didn’t discover that until this morning, however. Somebody - I had also been assuming skulks - broke in last night and painted a red line across dad’s throat to look like blood. I thought it was when I first saw it. Again, it’s obviously a warning rather than a vengeance mission as the opportunity to murder was there given none of us awoke.”
Emma's face pales a bit at the revelation from Hannelia. "I'm glad that you're okay. And your father of course. That is... unsettling." She chews on her lip for a moment. "And Hannelia, like you mentioned, it makes me wonder about how we ought to approach this moving forward. Though I agree that group rests and watches are a good idea to keep ourselves safe, if they start targeting those around us, that might make it unfortunately easy for them to pick them off, as it were. They showed restraint when sending a message, but what's to say they might not escalate as a result? And it would be a hard request to ask all of those in our orbit to occupy a safe house, particularly if we can't guarantee the safety of it."
Emma pauses, then snaps her fingers. "Oh, by Iomedae - I almost forgot! Hannelia, your story...! Half the reason I was coming into town this morning was to let you know that I received word from Father Ruvarra. Constantine - apparently one of the novitiates was startled quite strongly by the sight of a red line painted across his throat. Apparently, they thought he had attempted to kill himself. Now, though..." She looks at the others. "I think we ought to head there ourselves. Speak to Constantine. There's a chance he may know more about all of this, given his unexpected insight before."
"Ough, I don't like the idea of there being yet another party joining the fray, but you make some sense there, Majara." Roger is worried once Majara points out how much worse it could've been.
"Now, when this all went down, why in Iomedae's name did you not send for me?" She glances at Nerissia, then back at the others. "Or, rather, for us?"
Majara looks a bit blankly at Emma. She shrugs, and spears another kipper. "Because it would have been impractical and pointless?
"One: they'd already struck and left. There was nothing more you could have done at the moment that couldn't have waited a few more hours.
"Two: how ought I have 'sent' for you? It was three in the morning and the manor is a good hour's walk from town, uphill, in the dark, in terrain that until very recently the townsfolk considered haunted. Who should I have enlisted to carry such a message? A random half-awake townsperson? A member of the guard? I can't give them orders, and they have, and had, their own duties and watches. And it's entirely possible that would have put that person in danger. The skulks might have followed them and killed them. I'm not sending some townie, or a rookie guard, out on a journey I'd be cautious about making myself.
Anyway, even if I'd found a person I thought could handle the trip and was willing - an hour to you, an hour for the two of you to return.... again, to do what? To just sit around and look at the embers with me? You'd have gotten back here around five in the morning - I would rather you both have had a full night's rest and be sharp and ready as we are now."
Her dispassionate response given with another shrug, Majara frowns a little. "Thank you for your concern, I suppose. As for the shop: eh. I'll rebuild."
She does look sharply at Hannelia, and then again at Emma, when the news of the 'bloody throats' tactic comes out. "Tcch!!" she says darkly. "They certainly are doing their best to scare us off, aren't they! We'll see about that."
The last of her kippers finished, Majara cracks her neck. "Let's try talking to Constantine, I suppose. Perhaps it will be useful as the other options haven't. Or we ... pay some money to the priesthood for a spell...? Aren't there spells of location? I doubt it'd be cheap..."
"Oh, by Iomedae - I almost forgot! Hannelia, your story...! Half the reason I was coming into town this morning was to let you know that I received word from Father Ruvarra. Constantine - apparently one of the novitiates was startled quite strongly by the sight of a red line painted across his throat. Apparently, they thought he had attempted to kill himself.”
It’s only concern for Constantine that prevents Hannelia from rolling her eyes as Emma belatedly drops this into the conversation. ”We definitely should check on him, though I wouldn’t get your hopes up that he’ll know anything. Dad was completely oblivious and I imagine that had they awoken things would have taken a significant turn for the worse. I will caveat it with the fact that I don’t truly understand Constantine’s powers so I suppose it’s possible he could on some level have had an awareness of the situation.” She frowns, even to her own ears, this feels like a stretch, though she feels disloyal for doubting her friend.
”On a completely different note, we should work on your storytelling technique,” she says, smiling at Emma. ”That might be as clear a case of burying the lede as I’ve seen in a while. Dramatic tension and build-ups towards a climax can be very effective, though less so if you just throw the information in as an after-thought.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. ”Should we ever actually solve this, I’ll probably use that kind of narrative structure in my write-up - try and put the reader in our shoes and bring them on the journey with us. Ideally with something a bit tighter than the meandering and going round in circles that it feels like we’ve been doing.” She sighs heavily. ”As things stand, I don’t know if we’ll get to that point. I remember explaining to Shel that stories often don’t convey the full reality of what happened. This just feels like one of those messy situations that doesn’t fit a neat structure, at least not without some pretty judicious editing. And it needs a denouement too, otherwise all we have is a bunch of theories and a disappointed client.” An image of Sophi trying to put a brave face on things swims into her mind.
”Or we ... pay some money to the priesthood for a spell...? Aren't there spells of location? I doubt it'd be cheap..."
”We’ve little to lose but the money,” Hannelia says, receptive to the idea. ”I understand if you need to prioritise rebuilding your livelihood though,” she looks at Majara. ”It’s not tracking magic but I’ve got a spell we could try as well. I’ve never used it but the principle is information gathering but done with a net cast wide and at high speed. The mage who sold me the scroll described it as like spending a morning at a busy market, lunchtime at a noisy taproom and an evening at a noble’s gathering all rolled into one, and in a highly condensed period of time,” she explains. ”It might not help - it can’t tell me things people don’t know, nor will it tell me the accuracy of the information - sincerely held beliefs and suspicions can be wrong. But targeted conversations have only got us so far, so again there’s not much to lose in trying it. Well, he did say there might be some unpleasant side effects - headaches, nausea, dizziness, that sort of thing - due to absorbing so much information so quickly. Which does make sense when you think about it. But if you think it’s worth trying then I’m up for giving it a go.”
”Perhaps before we explore magical means we should ask the guards if they can tell us where they fought the skulks last night? That might help us to locate where they lair. I assume they must have some kind of hideout to sleep in at least. And it might help with any magic too. The general principle with it is, like many other things, the better the quality of the information you put in, the better chance you have of getting the outcome you want.” Hannelia looks up at the ceiling. ”And just maybe today might bring us better fortune.”
The Seekers finish breaking their fast and head to the temple of Erastil. No assassins’ daggers, arrows, or anything else threaten our heroes. And if there are efforts to follow or watch them, they go unnoticed. Really, aside from the vague disquiet and watchful looks of many locals, matters seem adjacent to normal in the Isgerian town.
At the temple, the team is delayed only briefly by a novitiate before Father Ruvarra comes rushing over from the rectory. His look is sheepish. ”I’m sorry about all this. We’ve been keeping a vigilant eye on Constantine, I swear. I can’t explain how someone got into his room to play this cruel trick but I assure you I’m looking into the matter. It may have been novitiate against novitiate hijinks. Periodically there are jealousies, rivalries, and such.”
Emma listens to the numerous reasons given by Majara, taking a seat at the table in the process. Once the gnome is done, she sighs and puts her hands on the table, holding them up.
"Yes, yes, your logic is impeccable," she says with a sigh. "I understand the impracticality of reaching out. Forgive me. I get grumpy and irrational when I wake up and find out that one of my friends places was burnt down in the middle of the night." She tilts her head to the side. "Though, perhaps we ought to look into having an easier way to reach out to one another, for cases like this."
***
”On a completely different note, we should work on your storytelling technique,” she says, smiling at Emma. ”That might be as clear a case of burying the lede as I’ve seen in a while. Dramatic tension and build-ups towards a climax can be very effective, though less so if you just throw the information in as an after-thought.”
"I mean..." Emma says. "I don't know if it's so much story telling as it is just how my mind works," she admits with a wry smile. "Think of my memory like a rock skipping across a lake. Sometimes it takes a few hops to get to the point."
***
”I’m sorry about all this. We’ve been keeping a vigilant eye on Constantine, I swear. I can’t explain how someone got into his room to play this cruel trick but I assure you I’m looking into the matter. It may have been novitiate against novitiate hijinks. Periodically there are jealousies, rivalries, and such.”
"Ah... we have reason to believe that it probably wasn't a prank being pulled by a novitiate," Emma tells the man before glancing briefly at Hannelia. "Though I think we ought to have this conversation in private, just in case."
Emma's statement earns a raised eyebrow. The priest nods and leads you all to a small gathering room with mismatched chairs and a table that has seen better days. "What's all this about?"
”Thank you, Father,” Hannelia says, settling into a worn but comfortable chair. ”What Emma says is true. Our house was broken into last night and my father was also subject to the same treatment as Constantine. And, as you may have heard, somebody set fire to Majara’s shop.” She pauses to let him digest the information. ”Fortunately nobody was seriously hurt but we strongly believe these attacks are connected and designed to send us a warning.”
”As I’m sure you’re aware, there have been a lot of strange things afoot in town recently. Following the incident at the market square yesterday, our investigations took us into the sewers and into conflict with a group of skulks - vicious humanoids who can blend into the background and enjoy preying on people,” she explains. ”The watch also fought a number of skirmishes with them last night and we presume that these incidents were reprisals against us in order to ward us off. It’s more than a little unsettling and I’m sorry that our involvement has brought trouble to the temple.”
"Likewise," Emma says, with a nod to Hannelia. "What started as something simple has blossomed into something a bit more complex than we originally thought. We're doing the best we can to resolve the matter before things worsen, but we've admittedly been at a disadvantage so far in trying to keep ahead of it all."
She gestures in the direction of Constantine's chambers. "There was also the incident in which Constantine was causing a scene, but I think his abilities may have let him sense that the skulks were down in the sewers. I didn't make the connection until I was down there, near the same area where he had been earlier."
Ruvarra thinks for a moment both concerned and angered. "The temple is supposed to be a refuge from such matters - idealistic as that may sound. I didn't like it when I thought novitiates were involved. I like this less... So, how should we proceed? I haven't had people staying in Constantine's chamber all night but perhaps I should. Maybe in pairs to keep each other awake and discourage any visitors."
Nerissia has remained mostly silent during their trip to the temple, not really having anything to add and definitely not feeling super welcome in a place that she'd guess isn't super fond of her patron. "Nor the things I do in our pursuit of the truth." she mused to herself.
"Ideally having someone set up outside his room or some other system to ensure he is not leaving during the night is a good start, yeah. Might be a strain on those 'volunteered', but such is the burden of care." she says somewhat melancholy. "We have to make sure he doesn't cause real harm to anyone else, or himself."
Hannelia sighs inwardly, struggling to dispute Father Ruvarra's words. "Completely understandable. There's not a lot I like about this either. I don't think Constantine will be keen on the idea," she says, thinking of her friend's dislike of the idea of chains, both physical and metaphorical, "but given the need to protect him from outside threats and to keep him from starlit wanderings and doing himself harm that way, it seems the most practical option."
"The other obvious alternative is for us to temporarily take him into our care until we have this issue fully sorted, but you're right to say that we probably can't do that for everyone we know, Emma," she muses, referring back to her comment at the Witch's End. "Plus we ourselves have been taken by surprise so we don't have a great track record so far," she adds drily. "I'd hope we will take sufficient precautions going forward, however."
She thinks, weighing the two options up in her mind. "With your blessing, Father, I think my inclination would be for Constantine to remain in your care for the time being. Although mine is but one voice, so I'm happy to be persuaded otherwise" she says to the group.
"I don't want to bring further trouble to the temple and nor do I wish to put you or your acolytes in harm's way." Hannelia winces as she says the next words, trying to put the emotion she feels to one side. "Constantine is a strong man with unpredictable powers so if it became necessary to subdue him, I don't think is a job for novices. Similarly, with the external threat, we know the skulks are skilled warriors. For both reasons I think we should hire guards. Perhaps for the temple entrance too," she says, looking at Father Ruvarra. "I'm sure you have your own safety measures in place, and I don't doubt that Erastil keeps a watchful eye over things too, but for now it might be a wise precaution."
Ruvarra nods, considering. "We have some capable parishioners. Deadeye favors those with hunting skills. I'll also speak with the Watch. They may have men ready to support the church on their off-duty days... for coin, if not for love of Erastil." The priest smiles, knowing that food and cash are far stronger motivations for most people.
"Ideally having someone set up outside his room or some other system to ensure he is not leaving during the night is a good start... We have to make sure he doesn't cause real harm to anyone else, or himself."
If Ruvarra is ruffled by the Asmodean's presence, it doesn't show. "At night, we have one or two people keeping an eye on the corridor outside Constantine's chamber. They also periodically peek in on him to make sure he hasn't gone wandering. That's why I thought the prankster had to be someone here who picked a moment when the corridor was unwatched to go in. And he's shown no signs of harming anyone or himself. But we can certainly keep a closer eye on him."
"That's good," Hannelia says, pleased that the townsfolk are rising to the occasion, whatever their motivation. "I'm happy to make a donation to the temple to help cover costs."
"That makes sense," she continues, with regards to the temple security. "It just doesn't account for the skulk's uncanny ability to blend in with their surroundings. When we encountered them in the sewers it's no exaggeration to say we were staring straight at them but still couldn't pick them out if they didn't want to be seen."
"I assume you have spoken to Constantine and whether he remembers anything from last night?" she asks the priest. "I'm guessing he doesn't, else you would have mentioned it."
"I assume you have spoken to Constantine and whether he remembers anything from last night?" she asks the priest. "I'm guessing he doesn't, else you would have mentioned it."
Ruvarra shakes off the generous offer of money for guards. ”When it looked like a prank, I didn’t see a point in possibly upsetting him. I gave him no details, just asked if he recalled anyone coming into his room last night. He didn’t but…” Concern crosses his face, ”Constantine has lucid periods but more and more often he’s almost in a trance-like state. When he's in that state, past and present, dreams and reality, seem jumbled together. We haven’t divined a way to treat him effectively yet. Also, we're worried because the frequency and duration of these 'spells' are growing.”
"Yes," Hannelia says, finding herself in resigned agreement with Father Ruvarra's assessment. "There are times when he's his old self and it feels like he's getting better and others when his mind seems to be elsewhere and he's going backwards. I don't know what exactly it was he saw that triggered this in the first place, which doesn't help with treating it, and I think it pays to be careful so as not to put anybody else at risk from exposure to the same power."
"Thank you, Father," she says. "I'd like to speak with him and see what he has to say, even if that turns out to be nothing. Obviously we don't want to disturb him or put him out of kilter," she adds by way of reassurance.
"I'd happily add some coins to the temple funds as well, if it's needed," Majara chimes in, but Ruvarra is already declining. The gnome shrugs. Fine then, she keeps her money!
"But yes, I think we'd regret not at least trying to talk to him before we carry on with attempting to put a stop to all this," Majara chimes in. "And a question for you - does the temple have any sort of divination scrolls on hand?"
"I'd like to speak with him and see what he has to say, even if that turns out to be nothing. Obviously we don't want to disturb him or put him out of kilter,"
"But yes, I think we'd regret not at least trying to talk to him before we carry on with attempting to put a stop to all this,"
Ruvarra doesn’t really have to think about this. ”We aren’t having much luck. Perhaps your familiar faces to him will - I don’t know – pull him out of it. It’s certainly worth trying. However, I would like to attend. I might see something in your interactions that gives us some clue as to what may be happening with him.”
"And a question for you - does the temple have any sort of divination scrolls on hand?"
The priest cocks an eyebrow at the question. ”Yes, we have a few. Do you have a specific need?”
Their conference done, Ruvarra escorts the group to Constantine’s chamber. The occultist is sitting up in his bed, watching a sunbeam slowly move across his blanket.
"Halloa, Constantine," Majara says brusquely as they enter the room. "You missed all the fun last night. And the sight of me in a nightgown. Did you have anything 'fun' happen?"
Constantine watches the sunbeam for another minute before he slowly looks in Majara’s direction. ”Sorry, I was thinking. Did you say ‘nightgown’? That’s funny, I always thought you slept in the nude… I wear pajamas. I mean, I am wearing pajamas. Are these mine?” He looks at the temple-issued night-clothes with a critical eye, ”Who put these on me? Is this the ‘fun’ happening from last night?”
From his response to Majara it becomes rapidly apparent that right now is not one of Constantine's period of lucidity. Hannelia usually likes sitting companionably with her friend and listening to him talk but after last night's near miss and his probable obliviousness to it, she suddenly finds that she would rather be anywhere else.
Hannelia swallows, pushing her personal feelings to one side. "No," she says quietly, "I suppose you could say we are the aftermath. Do you remember anything that happened last night, Constantine? Even if it's only a sense or a feeling."
"No," she says quietly, "I suppose you could say we are the aftermath. Do you remember anything that happened last night, Constantine? Even if it's only a sense or a feeling."
Constantine is surprised by Hannelia’s voice, as if he wasn’t aware anyone else is in the room. He offers her a grin. ”This is turning into a reunion! I like your hair; were you feeling nostalgic?” He says happily.
The occultist gives the bard’s question a proper think. ”Last night? I slept alright. A priestess accidentally kicked the door, which woke me up as she popped her head in. She was sheepish about it. Otherwise, I think I slept straight through. Why do you ask?”
Majara offers Constantine a crooked smile, glad he seems in good spirits even if not altogether lucid. "Well, there were unpleasant visitations to a few of us. We wanted to make sure you hadn't been disturbed."
A technical truth.
"Constantine, have you seen any skulks about? Or grey-skinned people, being very sneaky?"
Hannelia returns the smile. Nothing to learn about last night, which on one level is a relief, even if not telling them anything of use. She waits to see if Constantine has anything to say regarding Majara's direct questioning.
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"Well, there were unpleasant visitations to a few of us. We wanted to make sure you hadn't been disturbed." A technical truth. "Constantine, have you seen any skulks about? Or grey-skinned people, being very sneaky?"
Constantine looks a shade puzzled, more at the question than anything else. ”We’ve talked about this, Majara, more than once. Honestly, you are a dog with a bone," he chuckles jovially. "I don’t remember any skulks back then. I do recall their mismatched eyes, or rather the psychic impression of them… near Gunty’s and elsewhere in town. But those were dark days for me and I wasn’t clear-headed.”
Constantine's sudden lurch into cogent speech throws Hannelia for a second, at least until she has time to process it. "Ohhh," she breathes as a small piece of the puzzle falls into place. "Your dream, Nerissia - with the mismatched eyes," she adds for clarification. "They were skulks."
Then, a little more tentatively as she voices a thought. "Constantine, are you saying that you made the witchmarks where you had seen the skulks? Or at least where you could tell they had been?" she asks. "Because if so, I'd say that's remarkably clear-headed."
Then, a little more tentatively as she voices a thought. "Constantine, are you saying that you made the witchmarks where you had seen the skulks? Or at least where you could tell they had been?"
”Yes, but all of it was beneath my conscious mind. After doing some research on skulks, I think I was also trying to make them easier to spot. Their skin can only imitate a broad pattern – not every detail. If a skulk stood in front of a brick wall with a witchmark on it, only the brick would be mimicked. If the skulk’s body blocked it, the witchmark would seem to ‘disappear’. But, again, I think that’s what I was doing subconsciously.”
"That's... quite clever really. We'll try to make use of it," Majara says with a little nod and a pat to Constantine's knee.
"In the meantime, try to stay here in the temple. I know easier said than done when your mind is... on other things, but it should be safe here."
The gnome leans her head back, stretching her spine and fighting a yawn from the less-than-full-night's-sleep that she got. "Well, we have skulks to try and track down, so without further ado-- unless anyone else has any questions?-- we'll let you rest."
****
Once outside the temple Majara hides another yawn behind her hand. "Right. Well. The pattern thing is useful, potentially. I'm going to mull on it anyway. But for now: where to? The guard, to ask where they had their encounter with the skulks?
"We ... still don't know Verno's fate. It seems... increasingly possible the skulks might have just taken him as a target of opportunity. Which is--" Majara grimaces, "....not going to be much solace to his lady. Sigh. Sometimes the job gives poor answers. But we can at least try to find some sort of proof. And a leader, if the skulks have one."
”Very clever,” Hannelia echoes, smiling at her friend. ”Majara’s right,” she says, ”you should take care and hopefully we will be able to put this to rest.” The stifled yawn is catching and Hannelia fights down one of her own. ”Given what is on the horizon, It would be remiss of us not to ask if you had any other useful information from your research on skulks that would be useful?” she asks Constantine.
* * * * *
"Right. Well. The pattern thing is useful, potentially. I'm going to mull on it anyway. But for now: where to? The guard, to ask where they had their encounter with the skulks?
”Yes, I think so. Hopefully that will point us in the right direction at least. Then once we have as much information as we’re likely to get, we should ensure we’re fully armed and prepared. Taking inspiration from Constantine, I wonder if there's a way of marking them - magically or otherwise - that would prevent them from being able to hide so easily or allow us to follow them,” she suggests.
Hannelia dolefully looks at her feet at Majara’s words. Much as she’d like to prove them false, nothing they have found so far points to Verno Aculla being alive and well and the presence and nature of the skulks certainly makes for a compelling argument to the contrary. ”Let’s just do what we can,” she says quietly. ”Proof would be good. Even in the worst-case scenario, a definitive answer is one that ends the mystery and gives a chance to move on. Never knowing and living with the uncertainty - that could easily swallow up your life if you weren’t careful.” She shifts her neck from side to side and stretches her arms out fully to prepare herself for the day ahead. ”Ok, let’s do this.”
"In the meantime, try to stay here in the temple. I know easier said than done when your mind is... on other things, but it should be safe here."
The gnome leans her head back, stretching her spine and fighting a yawn from the less-than-full-night's-sleep that she got. "Well, we have skulks to try and track down, so without further ado-- unless anyone else has any questions?-- we'll let you rest."
”Safe?” He says with disbelief. ”What are you talking about? What skulks?”
”you should take care and hopefully we will be able to put this to rest.” The stifled yawn is catching and Hannelia fights down one of her own. ”Given what is on the horizon, It would be remiss of us not to ask if you had any other useful information from your research on skulks that would be useful?” she asks Constantine.
”Put what to rest? You are starting to worry me. I don’t recall anything else unusual about skulks, but it’s been some time since I investigated their race.”
"It's nothing you need to--" Emma starts to say, before cutting herself off. That seems too patronizing. "It's a job we're involved in, I suppose is the easiest thing to say. We encountered some skulks along the way. We're dealing with it though, with help from the guard."
"Essentially yes," Hannelia agrees. While Constantine was seemingly oblivious to last night's events, on balance Hannelia can't see any reason to keep him in the dark about their general activities. "The brief version is we're looking for a missing man, Verno Aculla of Elidir, on behalf of his fiancée. Our investigations took us into the sewers and what we presume is the skulks' territory. Based on this - and a lack of any other evidence to suggest he left Saringallow or had any reason to disappear - our working theory is that he was probably a victim of the skulks, albeit we have no proof of this. The skulks, or whoever might be controlling them, didn't take kindly to our incursion onto their turf and enacted retribution against us and those near to us last night as a warning to back off." She shoots Majara a look as she says this. "Hence why we wanted to check in on you," she adds gently.
"And as Emma said, the guard also had some skirmishes with skulks last night. We intend to put down the threat. If there's anything we can do to help you feel secure, as far as that is possible, please let us know."
”We encountered some skulks along the way.”
”More skulks? History repeats itself.”
"…we're looking for a missing man, Verno Aculla of Elidir, on behalf of his fiancée. Our investigations took us into the sewers and what we presume is the skulks' territory. Based on this - and a lack of any other evidence to suggest he left Saringallow or had any reason to disappear - our working theory is that he was probably a victim of the skulks, albeit we have no proof of this. The skulks, or whoever might be controlling them, didn't take kindly to our incursion onto their turf and enacted retribution against us and those near to us last night as a warning to back off."
Constantine’s face changes from curiosity… to confusion… to blood-draining-from-his-features fear. He looks at the others for confirmation of Hannelia’s words. Their assuring looks scare him further. ”No, no, no, no, no… This is somewhere in the beginning. Has the coin sounded? Do you even have the coin yet?” He grabs Hannelia wrist, ”What about the sand?”
Emma, who had been lurking near the door, straightens at Constantine's reaction.
"Constantine, please, calm down. Journey before destination, remember?" She hopes the words will help ground him a bit.
She takes a few steps closer, holding up a hand, trying to calm the man. "What do you mean by the coin? Or the sand?" She looks at the others, unable to parse the meaning.
Emma’s tries her best to console, but Constantine’s mind is a blur – stacking horrible facts. ”Hannelia’s sand. She brought a vial back from Osirion… or will. And the coin… Oh, Gods, you don’t even know about it?! That makes this the starting point… my blackest days… and the skulks are the skulks. It’s all happening again.” He shakes his head sadly, tears and depthless grief welling up in his eyes, like he’s at the funeral of someone he failed to save.
Majara blinks blankly at Constantine, hardly having expected the response that is quickly unfolding.
"...."
Frowning, she comes back to the bedside. "Constantine. It sounds like you're-- somewhere else in time, or seeing things from a different time than we are. If this IS 'the beginning', the start - can you give us any warnings beyond to be wary of a coin, or sand? What happens?"
Emma exchanges a glance with Majara, and shrugs slightly, before returning her attention to Constantine.
"Try to focus if you can, Constantine. Focus on us, here, now. You're safe at the church, and we've only just recently learned about the skulks. Explain to us what you know, from the beginning, and perhaps we can figure this out together."
Nerissia sits quietly in one corner, listening to the group speak to their friend. She didn't know him or his story, so she feels a bit awkward in any attempt she can think of to jump in. Instead, she makes some quiet excuse to get her out of the room and specific memories of 'friends recovering from battle of some sort' that she spent so many years running from.
"Alocer, come. We're gonna go take a look around the rest of the place and maybe do a couple laps outside. See if we can't make ourselves useful." Alocer nuzzles her hand and follows her out.
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"Alocer, come. We're gonna go take a look around the rest of the place and maybe do a couple laps outside. See if we can't make ourselves useful." Alocer nuzzles her hand and follows her out.
Nerissia and Alocer head out. The duo can’t track the elusive skulk by prints or scuffs. They circle the temple and find evidence of a side-window that shows some pry damage to the wooden frame which they suspect is where the skulk entered. Alocer can’t track an individual he has never sniffed… but there are telltale hints of a remnant sewage smell that his keen nose detects and can follow. It seems as if the skulk stepped in something pungent on leaving the sewers that didn’t entirely wipe away until it was close to the church. Backtracking the stink leads the duo to a sewer grate halfway between the temple and town hall.
Following up by examining the grate, Nerissia can quickly tell this one has been expertly sawed in half to allow easy access to the sewer system.
"It sounds like you're-- somewhere else in time, or seeing things from a different time than we are. If this IS 'the beginning', the start - can you give us any warnings beyond to be wary of a coin, or sand?"
”No, no, no… you value the coin, or at least you will. It gets you to the Crossroads. And you’ll need the sand, it’s the… uh… canary-in-the-coal-mine. Do you get it? It can warn you, we think. Bring the sand back from Osirion.”
"What happens?"
Constantine shakes his head, ”I didn’t know when it happened at the time; so, I shouldn’t tell you now. Without any advice from me… you won: killing the skulks and that hag-in-charge. If I change that past, what happens? Will the coin never come into your hands? There is a worse future than the one you’re creating, I’ve seen it. We can’t risk that.”
"Try to focus if you can, Constantine. Focus on us, here, now. You're safe at the church, and we've only just recently learned about the skulks. Explain to us what you know, from the beginning, and perhaps we can figure this out together."
”You’re here-and-now is my past-and-before. That can’t be reconciled. I’m NOT safe here… and you’re not safe with me here. I need to go.”
Constantine looks at each of you for a moment and struggles to convey a warning. ”Once, I looked into the Darkness - and it looked back. It’s asleep but it sees me, in its dreams. Its dreaming intellect brought me to this now. Every warning I speak makes it twitch, threatening to wake it. No matter the cost, its eyes must never open. Do you understand? It must stay asleep.”
He looks off into the distance, unbridled horror crossing his face. ”It’s rolling over! An eyelid is flicking…” He whispers quietly, almost prayerfully, to the dreaming Darkness. ”No, no, go back to sleep. Please, go back to sleep. Dream of the ruins you will make of this world… Just a little more sleep, please….” The occultist shivers in silence for a long moment, drenched in sweat from fear. ”I have to go. This can’t happen again. I hope to see you after the black days.”
Through sheer force of will, the light of awareness and presence in Constantine’s eyes is snuffed out, replaced with a glassy-eyed, empty-vessel, stare of catatonia. He slumps back against the pillows, a thin thread of spittle threatening to drip from the corner of his mouth.
"Constantine!" Hannelia rushes over to him and reaches out to hold his hand. It feels sweaty as he had been working himself up into quite a state facing foes from... the future? other worlds? She doesn't know but there is enough there that she could follow to suggest that what her friend was saying was important and that he was also in danger. "Father Ruvarra?" she asks, turning to the young head of the priesthood. "Can we do anything for him? Other than make him comfortable?" From Constantine's words, Hannelia is pretty sure she knows the answer, but she asks nonetheless.
She remains quietly by the bedside, running through all that Constantine said and trying to collect her thoughts. "I think," she says after a minute, "we need to pay attention to what he said. There is a threat stalking him and it sounds like he believes it is dangerous to far more than just himself. He said we're at the beginning, though, and while I dislike the idea of dangers in our futures, we have only those words to go on. I will start some research on what I can - obviously," she adds, smiling a little as it is indeed obvious to everyone there that of course she will.
"But we have more pressing issues for now. A 'hag in charge' - that could be a literal hag or somebody of a particular appearance or just somebody he doesn't like much." She thinks of some of the more choice epithets she's heard Constantine and Sirio use regarding certain of the Devil Nuns who oversaw them growing up. "We should probably plan as if it's the former though, to be on the safe side. Anything else is too vague to be particularly useful, though we can probably safely assume it's a woman." She frowns. None of this sits comfortably with her, including the idea that what will happen is already foretold. "I do not think we should assume that we will win. I pray that we do though, and we should prepare ourselves to give us the best opportunity."
”Can we do anything for him? Other than make him comfortable?”
Ruvarra stands poleaxed for a moment. ”I don’t… know.” He comes forward to examine the occultist. ”This looks like normal catatonia. We can take care of his body. I can’t say about his mind, yet. We’ll do our best…. As for some of the other things he said, I’ll have to send a note to the head of my order. If it’s true…”
"Thank you, as ever," Hannelia says. "I know he's in good hands. I'll make some enquiries too. If you learn anything interesting then I'd appreciate it if you could keep us informed and we can do the same." She shoots Constanstine a final long look. "I think we should leave him in peace," she says to the rest of the Seekers and makes her way out of the room.