Vildran gesticulates the ring of glyphs expands to cover more of the dock he stands on.
He then forms a bubble of frost around the flyer near him.
Seeing Morga taking more hits, San rushes to leap to her aid. Getting up the raised area, he swings the hammer with ferocity.
With San rushing to Morga’s aid, Autumn switches her attention to the small flying demon, hoping to end it before it can turn invisible again. This time she tries something new: channeling the memory of Theiltemar’s blasts of necromantic energy—and how effective they were—she reaches out and conjures a draining pocket of nothingness to envelop the imp.
"RRRRGH!" There is a mad gleam in Morga's eyes: a deep well of glittering hatred. Perhaps it's a good thing that she has this opportunity to vent it before getting on a small-ish boat with a bunch of people for multiple days. Her cold iron hammer whips through the air as she throws all her weight into each strike.
Her swings are too wild, which infuriates her further. Growling in frustration, she raises her shield again.
-
Morga and San join forces to strike back against the abrikandilu, but it proves surprisingly sturdy and they aren't able to connect a solid blow. It bites Morga once more, scoring another brutal bite
With both its little allies defeated, the abrikandilu's courage seems to lapse. It takes a step away, then shambles toward the center of the town.
|||| INIT ||||
Morga (36? dmg, "mutilated" 2)
Autumn
San (6 dmg)
Vildran (8 dmg)
Abrikandilu (46 dmg)
Not intending to let the thing escape that easily, San dashes after the beast.
The circle of runes widens. It's now very difficult to see the entire circle from one place.
With the pests disposed of, it becomes time for Vildran to lend his extra defense to San and Morga.
He arrives just next to Morga.
“Not so fast,” Autumn mutters as the abrikandilu runs away. Half-closing her eyes to visualize her illusion correctly, she conjures a giant mirror, a huge reflective wall that cuts across the entire pathway, preventing the demon’s escape. And of course, staring back at the monster is its own hideous face.
Brimming with confidence, the sorceress strolls down the pier to the shore.
Dropping her useless shield (she hadn't even realized it was busted, so intense is her rage), Morga slaps a bandage on the gaping, disturbing wound.
With a contemptuous curl to her lip, she casts Divine Lance at the fleeing Abrikandilu's back.
A mirror-like surface springs up in front of the abrikandilu, causing it to stumble to a stop. While the "reflection" within is not entirely convincing, in the heat of the moment its more than enough. San swiftly catches up and lands two powerful strikes on it back, the second of which sends it tumbling.
It rolls to a stop, dead. Unlike its kin, its body doesn't vanish. It seems it was anchored more significantly to the material plane.
Combat Over! You each gain 70 XP.
----
A few curious and worried people start to emerge from their homes, investigating the source of the sudden hubbub.
Advancing, Morga toes the demon's corpse with her boot. Once assured that it's truly dead, she announces: "The body should be burned." With that, she stalks away from everyone to bind her wounds in private.
As the fog of battle fades from her mind, it dawns on her how deep her rage must be. I can't let it break me, rot me...destroy the good in me. ... I need to talk to someone about all this. Her thoughts turn to Abstalar Zantus, the priest of Desna back in Sandpoint, as she checks her hastily applied bandage. The horrific mutilation of the wound shocks her out of her self-pity. Oh my stars! She's never seen such a nasty wound. This time, she takes more care in binding it, applying a poultice to soothe the raw, torn flesh.
Once San and Vildran draw near enough, she casts a Healing spell, hoping its vital magic will have extra power over this wound.
Vildran un-tenses and lets the protective wards expire, but his expression still holds the very familiar anxiety.
If that wasn't the last one... they won't be able to get out the word for help very quickly.
He looks around at the rest of the group to see what they think.
San waits for the summoned demon to dissipate. When the fiend doesn't disappear though, he isn't sure what to do. Looking to the more learned of the group he tries to brainstorm the next step for the corpse.
"You think there's more demons we missed on our clean-up? We were down there a while."
"The body should be burned."
“Vildran?” Autumn gives the wizard a meaningful look, remembering how he had repeatedly burnt the dead cythnigot to an unrecognizable crisp with his fire magic. She wrinkles her nose at the sight of Morga’s wound. “So gross.”
At San’s question, she shakes her head dismissively. “You really think Vildran didn’t spend enough time being thorough? I’m sure that’s the last one, other than those weird cat things in the basement of Stonehome. The townspeople’ll be fine.” She turns to address the slowly gathering crowd. “And you’re welcome.”
San thinks that there's nothing inherently hazardous about the corpses of demons, at least not in a general sense. You should be able to burn or dispose of them in another way without too much risk. Morga on the other hand recognizes that it's somewhat strange - though not unknown - for fiends to not be returned to their plane of origin upon death. Typically this is because of being brought to the material plane through some odd means that anchors them here. While returning it back to its home plane is an appealing idea, it probably won't have much consequence for its body to remain here. And at this point only powerful magic could easily transfer something back to the Outer Rifts.
A few townsfolk approach to ask questions, wondering what the abrikandilu is, worrying if there are more. Others duck back in their homes.
Yes... we were down there for some time. Though, we don't really know where they came from to begin with.
Vildran frowns and points his staff at the demon's body, beginning to burn it.
In an effort to indicate the threat is over, San stows his hammer. Before Vildran can start burning though, he holds out a hand. "I'm assuming the Thasallonian renegade called it here somehow. Or it was left over from the first group that tried the ritual below... Lets get this thing out of town at least. I don't think they will want this spot to be charred demon forevermore." Getting some materials together to make a makeshift litter, San leaves whomever whishes to stay behind to mollify the crowd and drags the thing away to be burned away from 'civilized' areas. As much one can call Iron Harbor civilization at least. He even pitches in to try to set the fire with his own innate magic.
“Though, we don't really know where they came from to begin with.“
Autumn arches an eyebrow at Vildran’s ignorance, or rather, inattentiveness. “So, I don’t think it was lying when it said that Meitremar summoned it here in some kind of pact.”
When San starts trying to drag the corpse away, she steps to the side, clearly wanting nothing whatsoever to do with such distasteful—and unnecessary—manual labor. “I’ll be on the boat with Bastiano if you need me,” she says in a voice that is simultaneously polite, gracious, and insincere, “waiting to set sail for home.” She starts walking back to the ship, pausing only to briefly address the curious townies.
“That’s one of the demons that was living underneath your town. But don’t worry—I’m sure it’s the last one. Morga will explain if you have any questions.” Autumn leaves this PR problem to the cleric, given that she has earned the most goodwill by giving away her great-aunt’s possessions.
Fair... we don't know where they all came from. I don't recall an announcement from each and every denizen of that place. But... for now I think I can be convinced that we visited enough of that place that it's essentially emptied.
He suddenly looks around at all gathered.
Probably better to not alarm them anyway.
He joins San to help.
A quick peek under the bandages reveals the hideous scar left after her wound is healed. A coldness forms in her gut. This will remind me of the dangers of losing myself to wrath, Morga vows to herself.
She ensures that the bandages thoroughly cover her awful-looking scar before turning to reassure the townsfolk.
San and Vildran drag the remains of the abrikandilu off to the west while Morga stays back to speak with the townsfolk. The appearance of the dwarf to explain things manages to calm people down in fair short order and distracts them from the pungent smoke rising from the distance. Once everyone seems satisfied that a fiendish attack is unlikely, the few townsfolk with Morga a good trip and head back into their homes for the night.
You gather up at the sloop half an hour later with your respective tasks complete. Art eases himself to his feet, setting aside the wooden crow he had been whittling. "Well you young'uns took yer time. But from Bastiano's stories, it was for a good reason. There were some odd things around 'ere. Odd sounds in the night. That there were demons and some ne'er do wells tryin' to unearth something best left forgotten, well, it don't surprise me." He and Bastiano hoist the anchor and he starts issuing the young investigator a bunch of commands.
Art looks out into the darkening sky "Madam Ordwi isn't coming, I take it?"
---
Autumn shakes her head at Art’s question about Ordwi. “No, I asked her, but she decided to stay here, to help Iron Harbor recover.” She flashes a tight smile, then glances over at the dwarf. “But we did bring someone else in her place. Art, please meet Morga Blackhammer. Morga helped us against the demons and cultists and everything else, and frankly, I don’t know what we would have done without her.” She gives the cleric a look of genuine respect and gratitude. “She’s from Sandpoint too—from the Cathedral—so I assume you’re okay with her sailing back with us?”
Art looks a little concerned "She'll be alright, I hope." he looks in to the dark town as if he'll spot her. After a brief search he turns to the boat's new passenger and extends a weathered hand. "I think I seen you 'round town. It'll be no trouble to bring you back home. Past time to be getting back, I'd say."
"Well you young'uns took yer time. But from Bastiano's stories, it was for a good reason. There were some odd things around 'ere. Odd sounds in the night. That there were demons and some ne'er do wells tryin' to unearth something best left forgotten, well, it don't surprise me."
Vildran nods vigorously at the sentiment of "best left forgotten," but follows up with It was honestly nothing but surprising, as far as experiences go.
He clutches his staff and thinks of time he'll get with his books soon.
"Yeah, I think Ordwi has found a new calling helping these people. There's certainly a need with Vanda being the only Gorumite left that wasn't corrupted. And Gorum doesn't seem to be the caring type anyway and these people could use some nurturing after that demon showed up in town. I'm sure she'll be fine." San is telling Art as much as he's telling himself. Ordwi being in trouble sparked this whole adventure in the first place. It feels kind of wrong to be leaving without her but if that's what she wants to do.
On the way back to Sandpoint, San goes back to scholar mode now that fighting isn't imminent. He sits with Vildran going over notes and writings trying to edit things into a consumable format. All this to try to improve their standing with the Runewatchers. And I guess Vildran has the Arcanamirium he needs to answer to as well.
Always in the back of his mind though is the horn of Xar Amak. What can they do with it? Can they use it or should they just destroy it. That rust cloud Meitrimar summoned was pretty effective when they fought. If he could learn to use the horn...
Morga rouses herself from her thoughts to clasp Art's offered hand. "Good to meet you, Art. Bastiano." She nods at the other sailor. "Thank you for bringing me home. I have some medical skill, in case it's needed. Otherwise I'll try to stay out from underfoot."
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With a few words of welcome, you settle in to the deck of the sloop and your thoughts turn to your adventures thus far and the impact they've had. Art rushes about with Bastiano's assistance, unmooring from the pier and pushing the sloop off into the bay before unfurling the sails. A stiff wind catches the fabric soon after and you glide your way out and into the open ocean.
The sky ahead is dark, mottled with clouds, and the sun has fallen below the horizon. The wind that propels you onward feels unpleasantly cold for the season. And yet the most unpleasant feeling sits somehow lodged in the back of your minds. The Horn of Rust now travels with you, its resolution your responsibility. You can't help but sense it when you sit too close to the backpack you've stored it in. A prickly, unwelcome presence. A reminder of how close Meitremar came to calling this great evil into the world.
You may be returning to Sandpoint after only a few weeks, but you are returning far more wise to the dangers of the world, your skills honed by experience and flush with treasures found along the way. You recall the tales of Sandpoint's heroes in years prior. The adventures that they underwent. And now... you have your own stories to tell.
----
----
The ocean voyage is rough this time around, the waves carrying the small boat and testing Art's skills to keep the course correct. It is with relief that you see the first of the long chain of islands that parallel the coast of Varisia down toward Sandpoint. On the second day Art points out the island where you first stopped and saved Ordwi from her dero attackers. Luckily no such ocean-faring deep dwellers appear this time around to attack your own ship.
A day and a half later and with seas finally beginning to calm, you spot the town in the distance. Sandpoint, the Light of the Lost Coast... or so some visitors call it. The ruins of the Old Light greet you, and soon enough you find yourselves approaching the bustling harbor. In comparison to Iron Harbor, Sandpoint is a metropolis, with several ships in a variety of sizes and dozens of people hauling in the catch of the day to be sold in the market.
Art moors the sloop in a spare corner of the docks and with surprising spryness gets everything in order for you all to disembark. He offers "I may not have been swingin' swords out there, but I'm glad to have been 'a service in this little adventure. I think we all earned a little rest too. And Bastiano, if ye don't have somewhere else, I'd be glad to have an extra pair of hands on my next trip." He grins crookedly to your team "Don't be strangers now."
As for yourselves, you disembark unsteadily after days at sea. The entirety of Sandpoint hums with activity, familiar, comforting, and yet somehow different after your long absence.
As much as he longs to go let his parents know he's made it back and is ok, better even, responsibilities come first. "Lets take the horn... to the temple or the guard? Combination of both? I can go get Sheriff Hemlock if you want to head to the temple? We'll meet back up and discuss options with the heads of physical and spiritual security." Assuming the others agree, San dashes off toward the guard house to hopefully find the sheriff and explain the situation.
"Hm. The temple. They'll have more knowledge about how to contain its powers than the sheriff would. But Hemlock should know about it, in case it draws threats." Morga's brow furrows darkly. It had better not.
Still wobbly from the voyage, Autumn moves gingerly despite her eagerness to finally be back in civilization. “A wizard like Gandethus or Parooh might know more about its magic too,” she suggests. As someone who uses her spells for less than scrupulous ends, she’d made a point of learning the identities of Sandpoint’s most gifted mages, if only to avoid running a con in their presence.
“But the temple is a good start,” she ultimately agrees with Morga. “They should know more about devils and demons and those sorts of things.” She nods at San’s suggestion to notify the sheriff. “Go ahead and meet us at the temple afterward.” With slightly steadier steps, she makes her way to the cathedral.
Vildran nods.
Yes, a knowledgeable wizard is an advisable choice. The Runewatchers as well.
They'll have to let me in....
Deciding to briefly split up, San heads first for the Sandpoint Garrison. The rest of you head instead for the Cathedral.
---
From the harbor, a short walk up the town's main street brings you to the Sandpoint Garrison (#10 on map). This squat but secure stone building serves double duty as both Sandpoint's guard barracks as well as its jail. Several years ago, various unfortunate events led it to sustaining serious damage. Now old stone mixes with new and gives the building an unusual patchy appearance. You know the Garrison is open to anyone in town, so you head on in.
The interior is not exceptionally busy, and it doesn't take more than a few questions to get a moment of Sheriff Belor Hemlock's time. The older man breaks off from a conversation with several young guards and greets you San "Ah, my. I can't say I like the rush or the expression on your face San. I assume you're not here for more training with the guard."
---
The walk from the harbor to the Cathedral is a little longer, weaving between the streets and bustling crowds going to and from the market. You pass the Garrison on the way and walk up the rise to the structure that sits prominently overlooking much of town. This multi-denominational cathedral houses shrines devoted to Abadar, Desna, Erastil, Gozreh, Sarenrae and Shelyn, but welcomes worshippers from many faiths.
Heading through the grand front doors, you can see a number of the town's elderly have gathered for some kind of social event, and a few other faithful have arrived for prayers. The space however remains quiet, isolated from the hubbub of Sandpoint's everyday. Father Abstalar Zantus, the town's high priest, is easy to find, currently tucked into a nook where he's enjoying a light lunch of fish and bread. He sets the meal aside when he sees you all, and soon approaches "My last week has been one of growing concern for you all! I had been expecting perhaps a week's search for survivors, not for you to be gone for the better part of three weeks. But it seems like you're all in good shape, and crossed paths with young Morga on the way I see." He looks across your group "Come, take a seat. I'm sure you have quite the story to tell."
It might be a surprise to see the 'young' elf come marching in with not only a serious face but also an arsenal of magic weapons. "Not today sheriff. I'm afraid training is over. We... that is, Vildran and some others and I made a decision that may affect the town. It seemed prudent to make sure you were informed of the situation. We should head to the temple to meet up with the rest of my group. Long story short, our rescue mission turned into a cult stomping demon slaying adventure! As part of that we recovered a relic that was being used to try to summon a demon called Xar Amak. After the fact, we discovered this thing either attracts demons or is desirable to them if they can sense it. Not sure which one. We couldn't leave it in the tiny town of Iron Harbor so we brough it with us... back here." San is slowly realizing what he signed the town up for without any kind of guidance. I was trying to do the right thing! Quickly continuing, "We thought it best to gather the authorities in town to try to come up with a solution."
After spending the boat ride tussling with her inner metaphorical demons, Morga's heart feels less weighed down by emotional baggage as she steps onto the pier. Of course, "less" is a relative term. Being home brings up memories, and old habits of thought vie for control of her mind. It will be too easy to fall back into the rut, she muses darkly as the group walks toward the temple.
Perhaps due to her pessimistic ruminating, she is surprised at how glad she is to see Father Zantus again. In a flash of understanding, she realizes that he has been more of a caring father figure to her than her own dad. Can't blame him though. He always had to work so hard to make ends meet.
"Come, take a seat. I'm sure you have quite the story to tell."
Morga's brow creases darkly. "Yes... Quite a story." She glances at Autumn, hoping the silver-tongued sorceress will tell the tale so she doesn't have to. I only came in halfway through it, after all.
Autumn looks back at Morga, expecting the acolyte to do the talking given her close relationship to Zantus and the cathedral. But when it becomes clear that, at least in this instance, dwarf lips tell no tales, she intervenes. “Yes …” she slowly nods in agreement, “but first—how is the guard who washed ashore? Were you able to cure him? I didn’t see him myself, but I heard he was in pretty bad shape.” Having learned from Morga’s altruism towards the villagers of Iron Harbor, she knows the best way to earn the priest’s trust is to affect concern for others.
“Anyway,” she begins after Zantus updates them about the guard, “we did find the priestess—Ordwi—and rescued her from the dero that attacked her ship. But Ordwi pretty much insisted on continuing her mission, so we sailed to a village called Iron Harbor instead of returning to Sandpoint—that’s why we’ve been gone so long.” She takes a deep breath. “And this is where things get weird.”
Glancing around to ensure that their conversation is private, she lowers her voice nonetheless. “It’s a long story, so I’ll be brief—I’m sure Morga would love to fill you in on the details later.” She flashes a mischievous smile at the dwarf. “We found a cult trying to resurrect a demon—have you heard of Xar-Azmak? Anyway, we were lucky enough to stop the ritual. I know this is hard to believe, but we have proof.” She looks at Vildran.
“The key to the ritual is a magical horn—supposedly from Xar-Azmak himself. It seems pretty powerful and evil, but we’re not sure how to safely destroy it, so we were hoping you might know something?” Autumn gestures towards the wizard. “Vildran, show him the horn.”
"Made a decision..." "Demon slaying..." "Attracts demons?" As Sheriff Hemlock listens in he goes from muttering and amused to incredulous to holding his forehead with one hand. Once the story is done he just says "You are serious, aren't you? What in the world possessed you to bring something like that all the way here from whatever outlying island you found it? A relic that attracts demons! I had thought you had more sense than-" He cuts himself off and makes a visible effort to calm himself down.
"I will assume it was desperate times. The gods know we've all had to make our fair share of bad decisions under duress. But I think you and I both know something like that can't stay here in Sandpoint. Not long term. I presume you've tried destroying it already?"
---
Zantus insists on hearing the story of the priestess' rescue first and listen in with interest as the relatively simple mission evolves into a fight to stop a cult from their dire plan. He frowns as the details paint a grim picture for Iron Harbor, but as the story evolves and it becomes clear that you managed to put the cult in their place, he shakes his head in disbelief "I see you were up to far more than I could have imagined. The name Xar-Azmak is familiar, but not so familiar that I could tell you any specifics. Perhaps I saw mention of it in some tract. Certainly not one of the major demons, for better or worse."
While Vildran looks for the horn, Zantus continues "As for the guard that washed up, it was the strangest thing. He had been slowly getting better a couple of days after you left. He was well enough that we simply had him getting some bedrest. And then rather abruptly he simply vanished. One evening he was in a bed just over to one side of the Cathedral, and then later that night there was no sign of him. No one saw him leave. We asked around town as well." He shakes his head.
When he sees the Horn his face turns grim. He casts a basic spell and inspects the relic before saying "There is no doubt in my mind that you hold the horn of a greater demon. Powerful and evil, for certain. Assuming you've already tried the mundane means of destroying it, we can experiment on more thorough methods. But if your story is accurate and this was a key object in the resurrection of Xar-Azmak... we cannot rule out that this is a part of that very demon." He grimaces "The most important task will be to learn as much as we can of Xar-Azmak and any stories connected to him. Only then will we have any chance of safely destroying it."
"There is a small collection of reference materials here in the Cathedral. I will study what I can of the old texts and ask some of my contacts in Magnimar if they can assist with referencing their own libraries. We will puzzle this out, don't you worry."
Vildran takes off his pack and sets it down, so that he can carefully remove the horn. He reaches back into the bag for a cloth he can hold it with. He assumes direct touch will bring bad effects.
He holds it up and presents it to Father Zantus.
Autumn’s brow furrows when she hears about the guard’s disappearance. “So strange …” she murmurs, puzzled and curious. “Should someone have seen him leave? Was there supposed to be someone watching him, or the doors at all times? I don’t suppose he left anything behind?”
She gives Morga a questioning look when Zantus asks about trying mundane means to destroy the horn—that would’ve been a task for a dwarf who happily smashed the ritual room’s altar into rubble. After the priest provides his assessment of the dangerous relic, she asks “Should we take any precautions in storing the horn while you conduct your research? Is it okay for Vildran to just keep it in his pack?”
"Well... we haven't actually. We weren't sure if that would release even worse things. And it was desperate times! We had just slain the cult leader and were recovering in town when another demon we thought we had run off showed up to try to take the horn. We couldn't leave it there. They had no chance to defend themselves from that kind of threat. We should probably gather some of the mages as well... either way, we can discuss my lack of forethought at the temple. Perhaps Father Zantus can think of what we can do." San starts taking steps toward the door to try to encourage their departure.
"Aye. We tried to destroy it. Nothing worked," Morga replies darkly. As Vildran produces the horn, she warns Zantus: "Be careful--don't touch it. Just having it in a pack feels...awful. Like it's proximity weakens you. It'll probably be worse if you touch it with your skin."
“Is it okay for Vildran to just keep it in his pack?”
Vildran's arms straighten with elbows locked, urging the horn ever forward towards Father Zantus as he presents it.
"You haven't? Demons are chasing after this thing and you didn't even try to destroy or discard-" Sheriff Hemlock rubs his face with a callused hand. "Nevermind, let's see what Father Zantus has to say." He excuses himself from his immediate work and joins San in heading across town to the Cathedral.
Zantus doesn't touch the horn after Morga's warning "I can feel it already from here. It is well known that particularly evil relics are the bane of those blessed by the holy gods and goddesses of the world. This is very clearly one of them." Meanwhile Vildran can tell that even with the cloth between it and his hands, the Horn's presence is billowing forth .
Father Zantus considers Morga's other statement and adds "If no mundane means could damage it, then we may very well be dealing with a demonic artifact. If that is so, then there is no truly safe place for it. It is good you brought it back with you, for I fear what may have happened had it remained in that small village or somewhere in the wilderness. But its presence will undoubtedly bring ill attention wherever it goes." He shakes his head "If it remains within the Cathedral, we could keep an eye on it and hope that whatever powers it has are suppressed by this holy place. But not knowing its nature, it may be just as unsafe as keeping it on your person."
Zantus continues "As for the missing guard, we weren't watching him or the doors, not after he'd largely recovered and was no longer in grave danger. But none of the Guard on the walls saw him leave, nor did anyone in town who was out in the night. He hasn't been seen since and he left nothing behind. Not that he had much on him to begin with. All his remaining accoutrements had rotted away with the progression of that strange disease."
San and the Sheriff arrive as Zantus is finishing his concerned description of the missing guard.
While Zantus discusses the possibility of housing the unholy relic in the cathedral, Autumn’s gaze flits back and forth between the priest and Vildran. She doesn’t much care who holds onto the evil horn, so long as it’s not her. And though she’s puzzled by the sick guard disappearing so abruptly, and apparently without a trace, it’s secondary to another, more pressing urge—one that results in plenty of coin. She wonders how to excuse herself so that she can convert their loot into gold.
The guard's disappearance nags at Morga's mind. Ill omen. He'll be back, and we'll regret it, she muses pessimistically.
As for the horn: "It would be best if no one handles it, and that it remain guarded at all times. It would be easier to manage both of those here than in any one person's possession. We'd appreciate it if you could find a place in the cathedral to secure it. I'm sure Sheriff Hemlock would prefer to know where it is at all times, as well." Morga nods at the newcomers to the conversation.
Father Zantus answers "No place will be safe for that Horn, but the Cathedral will be safer than most. I will keep it secure here and ensure we don't have any curious souls come across it. A lead-lined box may help, but knowledge will be our best weapon against it."
As the Sheriff looks to protest, Zantus fills him in on the conversation you just had regarding the danger the Horn poses and difficulty of its destruction. After a lengthy back and forth, Hemlock is finally satisfied that there is no better solution for now. He offers "I will find an excuse to make sure the guards are extra watchful for anything around the Cathedral, but it seems our best approach is to limit how many people know of this horn. Many would be worried by something like this remaining in our town, and, well, I know of a few others that might start plotting how to profit from its presence."
Father Zantus turns to you all "Thank you for bringing this right to me. We'll work this out, but I hope I'll be able to rely on your assistance to do so. It will certainly not be easy."
In just a few moments, the dark presence of the horn causes Vildran's hands to tingle and begin to feel numb. Where ever it is going next, he is happy to hand it over to Father Zantus for holding in the Cathedral.
So... should I just set it down here? I agree, knowledge will be more powerful against it. I aim to get started on that immediately!
Thinking some more on the disappeared guard, he asks
What was the guard's name again?
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Autumn nods in agreement. “Thank you Father Zantus and Sheriff Hemlock. We really appreciate your help. And we’ll be sure to not say a word about any of this.” She stands, relieved at their relief of responsibility. “We’ll leave this matter in your capable hands then.” With a friendly wave she departs to visit a variety of merchants to liquidate some of their wares.
As Autumn hurries off, Morga has the passing thought that the sorceress is hoping to sell all their collected wares along so she can claim a larger share of the pot without anyone being the wiser. She shrugs. She doesn't need much, and Autumn will make sure she has enough to afford the necessary items to protect her own skin. I'll get my share one way or another.
To Father Zantus, she vows: "I'll do whatever it takes to help. ... Perhaps telling a partial truth will satisfy curiosity. We could say that our group had a run-in with some cultists who intended to harm the people of Iron Harbor, and they promised to seek vengeance for defeating them. (All true, in bits and pieces.) They nearly killed us, on more than one occasion. If I remain at the temple most of the time, that could justify added patrols in the area."
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Father Zantus beckons to Hemlock to temporarily take the Horn "If you would Belor. It shouldn't do too much to you. And it will take a little time to prepare a suitable resting place for it for now." Sheriff Hemlock blanches and then steps forward resolutely to take the Horn. Within a few minutes Zantus finds the lead-lined box he mentioned earlier and finds a concealed place for it to rest behind the altar that is nevertheless hard to reach without drawing a lot of eyes.
The two of them return with Hemlock shivering and wiping his shaking hands on his pants. Father Zantus says "Thank you all again. I'll be relying on you to hold this in confidence, and to aid in any research when you have time. Morga, that story could hold, but we want to be sure not to create any panic. And I can already imagine how stories of cultists wanting revenge could quickly pick up momentum." Hemlock nods "I'll do what I can to increase patrols nearby without any official statement."
While Hemlock heads out to return to his duties, Zantus returns to Vildran's earlier question. "I believe it was Martin. Martin Cardenal." He smiles to Vildran "And of course you're welcome back to pore over my records and help the research. Twice as many eyes will make the work that much quicker. Otherwise, I will get in contact with you all if I learn anything interesting."
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With Zantus taking the Horn off your hands, you have some time to get reacquainted with Sandpoint after your long absence and meet up with friends, family and people who might buy your various magic items. From your new perspective, it feels almost like a whole new town.