She's still sceptical of the play but Hannelia is willing to run with it given it's what Bitborium wants and time is about to run out. "We do," she says.
Majara too thinks that the guards and city officials might be rightly suspicious of the idea that Bit has hired them to prove his guilt, but the footsteps mean that a proper gnomish debate isn't happening now. "Agreed," she says, echoing Hannelia.
The next several minutes are filled with mostly disgruntled guardsmen (though a couple seem amused) barking orders and being generally disagreeable. Bitiborium has made no new friends among his jailors, but he does blunt some of their embarrassed anger aimed at the team by insisting (quite convincingly) that the whole ruse was entirely his own doing. When cooler heads prevail, he quotes real laws and precedents to convince the guardsmen that the Saringallow Seekers are allowed to consult with him and receive – at least – notice of the evidence related to his impending trial because they have a financial stake in the dispensation of his property due to an existing contract.
The lieutenant on the scene, realizing the legalities are well beyond his purview, determines that the Seekers shall be politely removed from the building until the legalities are determined by a judge or magistrate.
And so it is that our heroes find themselves out on the streets yet again. The lieutenant goes to report matters to the watch commander. Then, likely, the legal niceties will be set before a magistrate for arbitration.
"Ok," Hannelia says, gathering her thoughts after the meeting with Bitborium. "We learned some useful things there and it's nice to have corroboration that he was honest with us, even if he didn't have any obvious reason to lie to us." She smiles appreciateively at Nerissia. "It seems pretty clear that he's being set up and I lean towards it being reasons of convenience rather than some kind of ulterior motive."
She rubs the side of her face and sighs a little. "I still think it's going to be a tall order to overturn the evidence as it will be presented though. I suggest we start with the locket as that's our biggest issue - provided we ignore the band of vengeful skulks on the loose." She says the last bit lightly, but there's no mirth in it; the seriousness of the situation speaks for itself. "Let's ask Commander Dourstone, or maybe even go straight to Mayor Trinelli, if we can borrow the locket and ask Father Ruvarra to cast the spell you suggested, Majara. Then I'd like to check in on Sophi and if we're lucky we might have something useful to tell her, as well as some kind of new lead. Right now I think going into the sewers again or trying to track the skulks in the woods is a last resort. I think the trail will be cold and we'd be relying on finding something that the watch overlooked."
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The Watch steadfastly refuses to hand over a piece of criminal evidence. However, they are willing to let Ruvarra handle the item and cast the spell under the eyes of the watch, within the confines of the station. And so it is that within an hour, Ruvarra, the Saringallow Seekers, and several members of the watch are in a conference room. The priest places the bloodstained locket on a clean sheet of vellum, weaves his spell and asks the questions of the blood. ”Who are you? What are you? How was your blood shed? When was your blood shed?”
Slowly, text begins to appear on the sheet…
My name is Verno Aculla. I’m a human merchant. Some creatures hit me over the head then cut my throat after dragging me into a sewer about 7 weeks ago.
Before you can react, more text, in a different hand begins to appear…
I’m Vera Wile, human lady gadabout. Something crushed the back of my skull 6 months ago.
Still more text rises on the sheet of paper in yet another hand…
I go by Erlam Fatfingers, halfling troubadour. Someone half-strangled me then stabbed me in the eye in some stinking place. It happened 4 months ago.
Horribly, two sets of text come into being next… one in a mature style, the other in a child’s uneven, blocky printing…
I’m Mirial Vansent. I’m a half-elf wayfarer and wizard. I was clubbed unconscious then stabbed in the neck a little later. That was a year ago.
I’m Emmy Vansent! My mum says I’m a joy, not a quarter-elven. I didn’t see them good but they drownded me in like a dirty river and stuck something sharp in my back. That was last year, I think.
Thankfully, no further testimonies appear on the sheet of vellum. Ruvarra is openly appalled.
Hannelia's jaw drops open and she muffles a gasp as first Verno and then multiple authors take their turn replying to the questions. "I... I wasn't expecting that," she says quietly. They now have confirmation that Verno is indeed dead, something that she had accepted as increasingly likely as the possibilities dried up and things took a turn for the darker. Still, it's something else to acknowledge that they are now dealing with the firmly closed door, the finality of the dead end.
And quite another for there to be blood belonging to several other victims also being on the locket. Even in her scrambled state this doesn't make much sense on the face of it. "It's Verno's locket," she says, "and he was the most recent victim. Yet blood from others has somehow been kept for a year," Hannelia looks over to Majara, figuring the gnome to have the best idea how this may have been done, "and then applied recently. Whatever for?"
Putting that rather important question to one side, she looks round the room at the party and Father Ruvarra and Watch Commander Dourstone, two of Saringallow's authority figures. "Does anybody recognise the names of the other victims?" she asks, before adding, "'Some stinking place' and 'a dirty river' sound like they could well be sewers, but that doesn't necessarily mean in Saringallow." The idea that the skulks have been planning and operating beneath their feet for over a year is an appalling one.
Majara listens with wide eyes that quickly narrow as the scope of the probable skulk-murders. But these names... she turns to Dourstone.
"Commander, are any of those local missing persons cases? I don't recall a single name of those being citizens here, and Saringallow isn't as big as all that..."
The gnome strokes her small, sharp chin, with her blue brows furrowed in thought. "It might not have been intentional transfer," she answers Hannelia slowly. "Some killers... they enjoy keeping mementos of their prey, deranged as that sounds. If there were other bloodied items being kept, perhaps some blood transferred by mere contact? Even if it was dried, a few flakes might have been sufficient for the purposes of the spell. Interesting. Disconcerting, but interesting.
"If these aren't missing locals, then perhaps the band of killers roves town to town, taking targets of opportunity. I wonder if they knew that Verno wasn't local, and less likely to be immediately missed, and therefore a more tempting target. The Conerica Straits would make for a fine road between the settlements of Isger..."
"That's a grim thought," Hannelia replies, "and not one that had occurred to me. But I suppose it's the same sort of thing as goblins making necklaces from the ears of their victims and we're probably all more familiar with that than we'd like. Plus it could be that the items taken from the victims are just valuable, hence why they would be kept."
"That's eminently plausible. We know that they're smart and organised so they may be more judicious with their targets than skulks generally are. It might also support the idea that they were chosen for something they possessed."
Putting that rather important question to one side, she looks round the room at the party and Father Ruvarra and Watch Commander Dourstone, two of Saringallow's authority figures. "Does anybody recognise the names of the other victims?"
"Commander, are any of those local missing persons cases? I don't recall a single name of those being citizens here, and Saringallow isn't as big as all that..."
"If these aren't missing locals, then perhaps the band of killers roves town to town, taking targets of opportunity. I wonder if they knew that Verno wasn't local, and less likely to be immediately missed, and therefore a more tempting target. The Conerica Straits would make for a fine road between the settlements of Isger..."
Dourstone (among other guardsmen) shakes his head. ”No locals are unaccounted for. And it’s been at least a couple of years since anyone vanished mysteriously…” He frowns (more than his resting frown face) and re-reads the vellum. ”’Gadabout’ and ‘wayfarer’ are just fancy ways of saying wanderer. And troubadours tend to travel.” He looks to some of the guards. ”Go to the docks and gates; collect every passenger manifest and visitor report from the past year and a half. We’re looking for any of these names in the timeframes they’ve gone missing. If any of the ferrymen whine, tell them to see me… and to bring all their permits and proof their taxes are up-to-date. Call in the second shift as well. Until we know otherwise, we assume everyone on this list was killed here and we've failed them.” Several of the guard hustle out of the room to carry out their orders.
"Looks like you were right," Hannelia says to Majara. "They were careful in choosing victims who would be harder to track or less likely to be noticed. In turn that allows them to stay undetected for longer, but it still doesn't get us any closer to their overall goal. Unless there's a twin aim here and that travellers as victims somehow also plays into the plan?" she finishes, thinking aloud.
A sudden, horrible thought strikes her. Constantine has already been dragged into this mess and Sirio is absent, no doubt up to his eyeballs in church machinations, but one of the Seekers fits the profile of victims rather too well: their itinerant magically-gifted tattoo artist. "I don't suppose anybody has heard from Hawk recently?" she asks, not concealing the concern in her voice. "I'm sure he's safe and well and hopefully miles away from this but he does rather match the exact type of person they have gone for." While Hannelia has no doubt that he wouldn't go down without a fight, probably immolating a skulk or two into the bargain, having seen the vicious way they fought, she doubts if even Roger or Emma would live to see another day if outnumbered in a coordinated attack.
I’m Emmy Vansent! My mum says I’m a joy, not a quarter-elven. I didn’t see them good but they drownded me in like a dirty river and stuck something sharp in my back. That was last year, I think.
Emma's stomach has been churning ever since Emmy's message had appeared.
"Hawk can take care of themselves," Emma manages to say. "More so than the average person, at least."
More so than a child.
She has, perhaps, never desired so much to cut anyone down. The anger that roils beneath her skin is hot and demanding, crying out to be unleashed on the ones responsible.
"I think, at this point, I care only as much about their goals in that it will get us closer to the ones responsible for this so that we may put them down," Emma grounds out. She deflates a bit. "I've no mind for mysteries and puzzles, I'm afraid. Not like you or Majara," she says, nodding to Hannelia. "I just..." She shakes her head and trails off.
"Well, that makes two of us, Emma. As vile as it was for oozey evil demons to to lurch at us from closets, it was a bit more easy to handle. Excepting for the nearly dying."
While the watch gathers information, the Saringallow Seekers head over to the Witch’s End. After their initial knocks go unanswered, Sophi lets them in to her room. Judging by her puffy red eyes, it’s clear she’s been crying but seems to have herself together for the moment.
Hannelia bows her head respectfully as Sophi opens the door after a little persistence. "Sorry to intrude on your grief, Miss Menzor, but we wanted to check in on you. Is there anything we can get for you? Of course if you would just prefer to be alone now that's completely understandable."
Sophi looks pained, and shakes her head. ”Unless you can tell me the Mayor is horribly mistaken, there’s nothing any of us can do.” Having a thought, she pulls out a bag from her travel trunk. You can see the trunk is mostly packed. In fact, a quick look around the room suggests Sophi has been packing. She hands the bag to the team. ”Thank you for your help. I appreciate it.”
"I'm afraid we can't," Majara says in more subdued tones than her usual. She takes the bag of coin, after a moment's pause-- they didn't get the result they had wanted... but they did solve the question of what happened to the young man.
"It appears you're readying for your return. Please don't go to the docks in anything other than full daylight and crowded streets - or ask an escort from the guards, they are dutiful in that regard."
Majara pauses, eyes downcast; comfort is not her strong suit, as she's thought more than once. "It's not what you want to hear just now, but... life goes on. You will go on, from this. ...On a more pragmatic note- we will do all that we can to see those responsible for Verno's death can never harm another again."
Emma watches as Majara takes the bag of gold, and says nothing. Personally, though, she isn't sure she feels as though she can take any of it. Not given their streak of luck so far, and though they had technically found out the fate of Verno, it hadn't been something worthy of a reward.
"I'm so sorry, Sophi. I was truly hoping for a better result than this. I... I'm just sorry. Ill-fitting words for the situation, but..." Emma shrugs. "Before you leave, could you give us an address to write or a means to contact you, should we learn anything or confront the people responsible?"
Seeing Sophi, her very being a picture of pain and grief, Hannelia's heart goes out to her. She also can't help but feel the burden of failure once more. Even though he was dead before they had ever heard the name Verno Aculla, she's still grappling with the frustration that comes from not being able to control or influence events as much as she would like. It's a bitter medicine and repeated doses have not done much to inure her to its taste.
There's not a lot else to be said for the moment, likely only time can begin to dull the edges of what Sophi must currently be feeling. And while they can confirm that he fiancé is indeed dead, they don't have enough information to paint a clearer picture of what happened and why even if she wanted to hear it. "Majara's right," she echoes. "Things here remain tense and less safe than anyone would like. We'll be in touch soon. I know there's nothing that can be said that will make things better but hopefully we'll be able to provide some closure. Please," she ads, "don't hesitate to get in touch if there's anything we can help with."
Emma scans the room and finds no hint of evil… aside from Nerissia and Alocer.
"It appears you're readying for your return. Please don't go to the docks in anything other than full daylight and crowded streets - or ask an escort from the guards, they are dutiful in that regard."
"… we will do all that we can to see those responsible for Verno's death can never harm another again."
"Before you leave, could you give us an address to write or a means to contact you, should we learn anything or confront the people responsible?"
"Things here remain tense and less safe than anyone would like. We'll be in touch soon. I know there's nothing that can be said that will make things better but hopefully we'll be able to provide some closure. Please," she adds, "don't hesitate to get in touch if there's anything we can help with."
Sophi nods at the sentiments. ”The Mayor has offered the Watch as my escort to the ferry when I leave… but I’m staying until after the trial. I just couldn’t sit here any longer with my thoughts – so I started packing. I guess it got away from me.” She proffers a sad smile before continuing, seemingly a tad confused. ”Is it still that dangerous? Mayor Trinelli said that many of the skulks are dead, the rest are on the run, and their ringleader is caught and slated for immediate trial.”
Emma blinks in surprise. "Uh..." she manages to say, before glancing at Majara and Hannelia. The fact that Sophi wasn't privy to their belief that the accusation of Bit wasn't likely true had fully slipped her mind.
Hannelia nods. "I'm glad she's done that." She catches Emma's look. "I would definitely err on the side of caution for now. The skulks have certainly had a setback and been scattered but unfortunately I don't have the same confidence that things are as fully settled as that. Wounded creatures lash out and that makes them dangerous."
"Yes," Emma agrees once Hannelia is done talking. "Hannelia speaks wisely, as per usual."
Majara also doesn't immediately gainsay the accusation against Bit, though she's aware Glory likely has Feelings on the matter. She rests a comforting hand on the pot.
"The matter is not as concluded as I'd like, anyway. And you're a well-to-do young lady- just be cautious. Take the guard up on their offer."
Sophi inclines her head, "I don't feel safe, so you needn't worry about my arrangements. I'll be accepting the mayor's gracious help until I am safely away from here. I don't plan to leave the inn except to go home or attend the trial - if I can muster the courage for that."
Hannelia nods approvingly. "That sounds sensible. And please send word if there's anything we can help with. We'll leave you in peace now." So saying she takes a step back and allows Sophi to close the door.
Once they are out of earshot and back down into the taproom of the Witch's End, she says, "Poor girl. At least she's listening and not trying to do anything stupid." She looks at the group. "I'm not confident we'll find anything but we do have some good trackers among us so it's probably worth a shot seeing if we can pick up the skulks' trail in the woods? I'd rather we were doing something, anyway," she finishes, though she would much rather that the something was actually of use.
Having set their minds on chasing down the skulks that fled, our heroes head to Saringallow’s north gate. On the way, they question a few passing guardsmen and quickly learn the location of the skulk’s hidden exit. Outside the wall, they have no problem spotting the exit as there is a crew of local engineers (with guards) that are systematically collapsing the tunnel.
A quick conversation with the guardsmen on duty reveal that their watch on the tunnel has led to no skulk sightings or captures, so the decision was made to prevent the tunnel from being used again.
With very little work by Roger, Nerissia, and Alocer, the three fleeing skulk trails are found as they diverge from a muddy culvert. The skulks scattered in three different directions.
It is now 2 PM.
As they pick up the trail of the skulks, Hannelia is happy to leave it to the trackers to take the lead. As they point out the three-way split she says, "I'll leave it to you to decide which we follow but I definitely think we should stick together. They may have regrouped and we know they are dangerous. I'm sure they would prefer to pick us off one by one so let's not give them the opportunity."
"Well, I figure this is a way to follow a track they can't predict." Roger throws a die.
Roger shrugs, picks it up, and points towards A path, "Everyone good with that way?"
"Yes, as logical as any," Majara says with a little smile for Roger's decision method. "Before we go further, though--"
She fishes out two bottles, one for Emma and one for Roger.
"Each will last about four minutes, so no point drinking them now. Right. Let's see what we can find."
Hannelia can't help but grin at Roger's decision making process. "Yes, agreed."
Roger’s tracking is faultless, leading the group through the fields, west down the hard-packed road, and even when the minimal footprints double back along rocky scree and hard stone toward the edge of the woods, roughly a quarter-mile north of the town.
Roger's trailfinding is good for the moment but Hannelia knows from experience that skulks are difficult to follow and as they enter the woods she keep her wits about her and her bow ready.
Roger leads the group deep into the woods. The skulk’s trail winds like a labyrinth through the forest – doubling back, moving across rock escarpments, splashing through pitiful streams, even going up trees and across limbs before dropping back to ground level… all in an obvious attempt to elude pursuers. Even Roger’s impressive skills are not quite enough on their own to stay on the skulk’s trail. But, where Roger’s tracking faltered, Alocer’s keen nose was able to find some whiff of sewer or skulk that put the team on the trail again.
And so it is that two hours and three serpentine miles later, our heroes notice the trail has gotten easier to follow as it seems the skulk felt sure he or she had lost any pursuers. The trees thin, yielding ground to scrubby bramble and bushes. You follow the suggestion of a rocky path toward the bottom of a significant hill. Along a culvert, likely worn into the hillside by rainfall and (it seems) the remains of a decades old mudslide, judging by the healthy bushes growing through the washout. You also see the battered remains of a rusted-almost-beyond-recognition iron fence crumpled on the hillside. Free of the trees, and expecting trouble, you warily look up the culvert. Some 20’ above your position you see a narrow entrance, possibly to a cave. It is vaguely triangular, broadest at its 10’ wide base, then narrowing to a rough point about 8’ above that.
Your eyes stray further up the hill and stop at some familiar trees, fencing, and the hints of a roofline you know rather well. You are standing at the north-side base of the hill upon which Sarini Manor perches. Welcome home.
As the trail winds and snakes its way through the woods, Hannelia admires the skulk's efforts to throw off any pursuit, matched only by Roger's admirable dedication to prove equal to the task. She had long since accepted that she had lost sense of where they were heading but there's a moment of recognition as the group emerges from the trees. North, then, she realises as the familiar shape of the Sarini Manor looms into view.
"Somehow this doesn't feel like a coincidence," she says quietly with regards to their location, indicating the large house upon the hill before gesturing to the entranceway above the group. "But I think we may just have found something more interesting, something that in fact we were looking for. Excellent work, Roger. And you, Alocer."
"I think it goes without saying that we should prepare for trouble. Roger, is there any sign of another trail here or some kind of indication that either of the other skulks made their way here?" Hannelia asks.
"Mmm... I'll check." Roger nods along with the idea, his eyes focused on the treeline.