"Can't delay," says Barrister Kaple.
"There is a panel of three judges.
Chief Justice Ambrose Khard. Very serious. He will fine or imprison you even for levity Do not jest in his courtroom. This... works in my favor at least. Less mockery of me.
Judge Kasp Aldaar. Extremely hard on criminals. Maximum punishments.
Judge Embreth Daramid. Smart and fair-minded.
We must convince at least two.
I suggest you head to Morast. Look for evidence."
Morast is a small hamlet in the Dippelmere Swamp about 8 miles east of Lepidstadt. A narrow trail leads from Lepidstadt to the village. It will be about 2 hours each way on horseback.
Are you ready to go?
Tiff puts on a serious face but can't help but smile. She reassures them "Quinn will be quite serious and diligent. Don't you worry!"
She looks to her companions, "Time's wasting! Let's go investigate the scene of the crime! It's shocking that no one has done this already, you'd think the constabulary would have?! And have some form or proof that the Beast did this, rather than speculation."
After rushing her companions out, she sets down to meditate and read her book for a full 15 minutes. But once she was done she whistles in a tone that can be across half the town and from around a corner a beautiful light horse with a light red almost pink fur runs up to Tiff. Tiff smiles offering a small tart, ”How about a pie, Pinkie?”
1st: Shield, Mage Armor, Magic Missile, Reduce person,
2nd: Darkvision, See Invisibility, Cat’s Grace, Eagle’s Splendor
Quinn looks with a pained expression down at his notebook and its long list of questions to which it has very few answers, but snaps the notebook shut and sighs, "Very well. To Morast."
Theodore graciously accepts the repositioning of topics. He rushes out with the others!
When you stopped in Tamrivena, Ismene heard some ghost stories from the locals.
"Oh, I got one! There's a village, not even that, in the Dipplemere Swamp near Lepidstadt. Poorer than dirt, but the people never get sick. There's something in their bloodline that ain't human, some dark thing they mingled with ages back. Their faces is all queer, you can see it. Whatever gave them their health, it has a price. It wants something, you see. It has a plan. And it's almost ready."
This might indeed be the hamlet you are going to. Because Barrister Kaple says, "Be polite to the locals. Many from Lepidstadt see them as strange. Odd rumors about them."
Then he adds, "People here also see them as ignorant. They know and resent that. The village elder Lazne will be here tomorrow for the trial. He should be in Morast now. He is a difficult and distrustful man. But he will have the most information."
============
The trip to Morast is uneventful. The trail is overgrown in places, but easy to follow. The swamp is full of mosquitoes and biting flies, but merely the regular kind (not a Swarm). There are rumors of far worse creatures in the depths of the swamp, such as trolls, marsh giants, and evil fey. Sarkoris is just to the north of the swamp, so there are even rumors of demons.
It is mid-afternoon when you arrive (after having spent the morning visiting Judge Daramid, then the University, then the Courthouse).
Morast is a miserable collection of 20 or so wattle-and-daub hovels built on stilts above the swamp and connected by soggy wooden boardwalks.
Your arrival on horseback is noticed. An old woman sitting on a log looks you up and down.
"Cityfolk. Foreigners. Is this about the Beast?"
Quinn tips his hat to the woman. "Good afternoon, Ma'am. You're well-informed; that is indeed why we are here. My name is Quinn Harwood, my colleagues and I are investigating the crimes and gathering evidence. What's your name, and would you kindly point us toward Elder Lazne? I'd like to begin our investigations with him."
Quinn gives her his most charming smile.
Theodore graciously gifts the woman sitting on a log a smile, before waving at the hamlet.
This would be Elder business if you could point us in the right direction.
The Blue eyes of the Roaming Exorcist seem to be searching her soul...
Receives bonus equal to 1/2 her cleric level (minimum +1) on Perception checks to detect haunts and incorporeal creatures and on Sense Motive checks to determine whether a creature is possessed, under the effects of an enchantment or curse, or otherwise magically controlled
The old woman eyes Theodore as he eyes her.
She chews a wad of something, spitting some sort of juice on the ground. It smells foul.
"What are you looking for, sonny? What do you think Old Mother Corl is hiding? Nay, I be no specter nor fey. Just a hedge witch. I'm older than Lazne! I'm the elder but he's the Elder! Hee, hee, hee...ack, ack, hrrrmpph, ptoo!"
Her cackling descends into a coughing fit that ends with a prodigious wad of spit.
"Now, that was a foul business with the Beast. Our place here ain't that big, yous can see. Naught but three score and two of us now. A full ten of us lost to the Beast was no small thing. A great tragedy.
I was with the posse that night we chased it off. Thought we'd killed it but didn't get the body. So's you can never be sure if you don't have the body, you hear me?
Elder Lazne will tell you more. He's over yonder."
She points to one of the huts.
"You two are well-mannered, and easy on the eyes, too. Don't worry, I ain't gonna enspell yous. Too old for that business. But you tell Lazne that Old Mother Corl said yous was okay and that he can talk."
===========
Elder Lazne is also chewing the swamp-weed. He is perhaps in late middle age, wiry with scraggly grey hair. He spits out some of the weed-juice as you approach his hut; perhaps that is how they greet city-folk here in Morast. He sits in the doorway, his feet hanging out over the ladder that goes down to the ground.
The hamlet is small enough that he heard you talking to Old Mother Corl, and can tell by her body language that she was favorably disposed to you.
"What? I'm in your damned town tomorrow to talk before the judges. Why you coming out here now? Hey, Corl! Mind your own business, crone, it ain't you they are dragging before the court tomorrow."
"Forgive me, Elder, but I'll not lay claim to that town. Most irregular from what I've seen so far. Would that I could save you the trip, sir. But we've come to ask if there have been any inconsistencies with this whole bloody business. You have my condolences for the loss of your people. Please, allow us to hear the story in your own words."
"What? 'Most irregular'? Huh. Where you from, then?"
Whether Ismene tells him or not, he continues (perhaps with some derogatory statement about Rozenport).
"It started about a year ago. At first the Beast only took lone villagers who were outside at night. So after those first two, we all kept inside at night.
But it soon became bolder and began to attack houses. So then we set a trap. I got the posse together, lying in wait with torches that was not lit up yet. We was around Skinny Maggie's house. She's the cousin of Fat Maggie, you see. And Skinny Maggie made sure to be making noise; a bunch had left Morast already and wasn't nobody home. Figured the Beast would go where it knew there was somebody.
So she was the bait and the posse was the trap. When we sees the Beast, Corl lit up our torches with her magic and we charged. Big hulkin' brute like more than a head taller than me. About yea high."
He raises his hand to show the creature's size.
"Well, we burned it good, and it went running into the water. We went and got our boats and chased it. Chased it back to the old boneyard island. Only it found another beast waiting there, a mean one. A gator. One of them Blood Caimans that live 'round here.
So it screamed and cursed like a back-alley trollop as the gator attacked. 'Poxy whoreson' and 'Blight your mother's ****' and so on.
The gator grabbed the Beast by the shoulder and dragged it under the water. The gator nearly tore its whole shoulder off. The Beast was bleeding like a stuck pig, cursing the whole way. Then they went under again and we didn't see it no more.
Now, Old Mother Corl said the burial ground was tainted by the blood of the Beast and so's we had to find a new burial ground."
"Ain't that right, Corl?" he shouts to the witch.
The witch shouts back,
The old woman nods.
Elder Lazne nods to Old Mother Corl and turns back to you.
"There you have it. We thought it was dead. It damn near killed Morast. Used to be we was near a hundred. Ten killed by the Beast, another twennyfive up and left.
When they caught the beast at the University, they come ask me to testify. Which I will. Happy to see it burn."
Tiff seems lost in thought at the story being woven, she almost has an idea but not quite. She reflects on the habits of blood caimans of which she likely hasn't heard of before.
She asks, "Did anyone directly see the Beast take a villager? Did it grab Skinny Maggie before you attacked?"
"I'm noting the height sir, thank you. This is quite detailed. Did you get a good view of the beast, in the light of many torches? Can you describe it?" Quinn takes copious notes. "And could you point us toward this old burial ground? That's where this fight happened?"
Theodore absently begins looking through Quinn's note from the interview with the Beast.
He didn't mention any run in with a...Blood Caiman.... curious.
Tiff might have heard of the creature in passing. Blood Caimans are a local alligator variant, native to the northern regions of Avistan with a red-scaled head. The larger ones can be quite dangerous; the smaller ones are sometimes caught by the locals of Morast for food or trade.
"Them that saw the Beast take someone with their own eyes ain't here any more.
We did see it tryin' to go inna Skinny Maggie's house but that's when we attacked, like I said. It didn't grab her, no."
"Like I said, it was a big brute. Kind of a man but more monstrous. I think I hit something that might'a been scales or a scab or something but memory ain't a painting. 'specially on a night like that. But I'll know it when I see it."
"The old burial ground? Sure. You got gold, looks like. We got boats that can hold two. Coracles. Rent 'em out to you for... 5 gold each boat."
This is an exorbitant amount of money for this locale, but they clearly could use it.
"And I'll show you the way. You can leave your horses with Old Mother Corl."
Do you pay the 10 gold for 2 boats and take him up on his offer?
Ever-alert to potential horse thieves, Quinn tries to get a read on the fella
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Quinn does not detect any particular deception or ill intent from Elder Lazne. Other than that he wants to squeeze you for as much gold as possible.
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Tiff eyes Quinn suspiciously for eyeing them suspiciously but in the end hands over 10 gold. "Allons-y!"
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Ismene takes notes avidly. "Mmm hmm, that's quite impressive work to band together to defend your folk like that. So you feel quite certain that your attacker would have been marked by scars of the combat? Serious burns and bite marks from this caiman that attacked it? Blood, you say? Yes, I think it would be worthwhile to see this burial ground. What about the blood caused you to suspect it taints the ground?" She asks while she considers the information she is absorbing.
Quinn shrugs and raises his voice slightly and calls out to Mother Corl, "You take good care of these beauties, you hear? We'll be back shortly."
He eyes the boat and his new, heavy armor warily, and does a few arm-strokes to test out his range of motion. "Probably be fine..." he mutters.
As they walk to the boats, he asks Tiff, "Are you from Galt? That was a Galtan dialect, right?"
"I'd think it would have scars, but then I thought it'd be dead, so what do I know?"
The Blood Caiman is a gator.
The weed is kind of like chewing tobacco in that it is a mild narcotic, but it smells worse and is cheaper.
It is possible that spirits could be disturbed by the presence of an unnatural evil on a burial ground. There are many possible conditions under which undead can form. Not even the clergy of Pharasma have catalogued all such possibilities.
=================
The old village boneyard lies about a mile north of Morast. It is about an hour and a half to get there, as Elder Lazne must show you the meandering way through the swamp, and none of you are experienced at using such boats. It's now around 5 pm.
A tiny, miserable island rises from the swamp, a tangle of trees covering its dour, reed-choked surface. Hundreds of fetishes hang from the trees—simple, roughly humanoid figures made of sticks and bound with twine. Larger fetishes are planted in the ground on various parts of the island, leaning drunkenly in the soft mud.
The swamp-dweller says "I ain't going ashore."
Elder Lazne will stay in his boat about 50 yards from the island.
How do you proceed?
Map is up
"Can you point out the spot where the battle occurred?" Ismene asks, hoping to go directly to the area and take some samples. Preferably before a Blood Caiman interrupted them.
Theodore sits still and silent during the sure to be a hurricane at any moment trip to the village boneyard. His blue eyes constantly scanning the swampy water for them Blood Caimans....
At the tiny miserable island, the Cleric glances at all the various fetishes.
Who place these?
At the stoppage of propulsion, he frowns.
I ain't swimming with them vicious Blood Caimans about! Get us to dry land then you can park out here.
At Ismene's question, he points to the near (western) shore. "About there."
Ismene sees no signs of gators.
She does see something else, though - a small boat (like the ones you have) barely visible in the underbrush along the southwest shore of the island.
Do you approach and investigate?
@Theodore - sorry, I should have specified, the boats only hold 2 people each. Elder Lazle is in his own boat, and 2 of you are in each of the 2 boats that he rented you. So he can hang out a ways away while you make landfall. Swampfall. Whatever.
"We put them there for the spirits. Big ones when you bury the body, maybe a small one every year, or when you need their blessings, or whatnot."
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As they walk to the boats, he asks Tiff, "Are you from Galt? That was a Galtan dialect, right?"
Tiff chuckles at the accusation, ”Galt? Maybe cousin Mary Ann was but I doubt it. It's just something our childhood doctor always said. Hey, maybe he was from Galt!”
She begins to weave her typical abjurations and divinations but also adds a couple of transmutations into the mix.
She speaks an incantation while placing a dot of something dark on Ismene’s forehead, ”Felinus gratia.” The world slows down for Ismene and the dot is absorbed into her head.
Then she turns to Quinn and winks at him, ”You need a glow up. Aquilae gloriosus.” Then places another dark dot of something from a pouch on his head, that also disappears. While Quinn doesn’t literally glow, it feels like he does.
She finishes by shrinking to half her size.
Tiff chuckles at the accusation, ”Galt? Maybe cousin Mary Ann was but I doubt it. It's just something our childhood doctor always said. Hey, maybe he was from Galt!”
She begins to weave her typical abjurations and divinations but also adds a couple of transmutations into the mix.
She speaks an incantation while placing a dot of something dark on Ismene’s forehead, ”Felinus gratia.” The world slows down for Ismene and the dot is absorbed into her head.
Then she turns to Quinn and winks at him, ”You need a glow up. Aquilae gloriosus.” Then places another dark dot of something from a pouch on his head, that also disappears. While Quinn doesn’t literally glow, it feels like he does.
She finishes by shrinking to half her size.
"Was his name Alonso? Oh, why thank you." Ismene replies while twiddling her fingers, observing the increased agility. Looking on while she does something similar to Quinn, she blinks owlishly at his appearance. "Ooh, very nice." Then she pulls out her glowing blue cognatogen and shoots it back, her eyes brightening and pupils dilating from the effect.
"Alright, time to investigate." She says, stepping out of the boat and brandishing a magnifying glass they retrieved from the spider.
"Very nice indeed." Quinn's smile practically gleams now. He concentrates for a few moments and Luna splashes into the shallows beside the boat. Quinn mounts up, happy to use his companion horse to bypass wading in his sabatons.
Nothing bothers you as you disembark.
The hidden coracle contains an oar, a moldy leather travel bag with a damp artisan’s outfit (a shirt, breeches, shoes, and a cloth apron) inside, and a what appears to be a detached human face.
Ismene spots dried blood in the bottom of the boat. It's been a year, but there must have been a good amount of blood in the first place, time enough for it to dry, and then some protection from rain provided by the brush that it was concealed in.
In addition, a length of moldy rope stretches from the boat into the waters below.
Who (if anyone) will attempt to pull up whatever the rope is attached to?
Ismene uses the magnifying glass to examine the articles, taking a second look at the mask... Or... the...
"What in all the nine hells?!"
She gets out her laboratory supplies to collect the physical evidence.
The skin is leathery. It seems like it is most likely human skin (although it could possibly be elven or some other kind of being), and has been treated to prevent decay.
Theodore graciously accepts the obvious choice of row, row, rowing the boat all the way to shore....
At the identification of the hidden boat with a face and discarded clothing, the Roaming Exorcist seems a bit anxious as his blue eyes begin to roam.
Beware of them boogeyman's temptations...
The Cleric clearly considers catching the rope concerns Quinn...
Quinn looks curiously at the others, then will - [i]gingerly[i] begin to pull the rope, careful not to snap the old and damaged rope with a quick yank, but he'll pull strong and steady if it holds.
The sack is very large and has dried blood soaked into its fabric, which has persisted despite it submersion in the bog.
The sack holds some rope, a gag , a rusted lantern, a trio of heavy knives, and a rusted shovel.
There is more of the island you can search.
There are about 40 graves here.
As well, there seem to be the remains of an old campsite on the southern end of the island.
Quinn notes the contents and location of the sack. "Does the Beast strike you as the type to go at a person with knives? Let's go check out the rest of the island, and especially that camp."
Tiff answers, "He seems like the kind of guy to smash your face in! Also probably he couldn't grip those weapons."
Ismene nods agreement, "The Beast does seem rather more of a blunt instrument. This looks like equipment for kidnapping. You needn't tie up or gag a corpse, after all. This... preserved face is the most distressing thing by far though. Could someone have been grabbing these folk to harvest their faces? Is it a magical item?" She asks, revulsion clear on her features.
Theodore frowns at the soaked sack suggesting support for some sanctuary.
Poser most likely using the beast as patsy.
The Cleric will continue to provide Light, as they continue their investigation.
Ismene does not think the skin-mask is a magic item, although she has heard of suits of armor made from giant skin (or fingernails, even).
By the Campsite
Around a small firepit are a waterskin (still half full of spoiled wine), the aged remnants of some trail rations, and a curious glass vial. The bottom of the vial contains the dried remains of a green substance that smells vaguely of carrots. Ismene (on a Take 10) readily identifies the substance not as a potion, but as an alchemist’s darkvision extract.
She also knows that, as a flesh golem, the Beast almost certainly has innate Darvkision.
For the rest of the island - do you want to Take 10 and get going quickly, or Take 20 and spend about an hour here?
It is now about 5 pm. If you take an hour, you would leave here at 6, get back to Morast by 7 (as you have gotten a bit more skilled at navigating with the coracles), then back to Lepidstadt by 9 pm - assuming no other delays. If you just Take 10, you'd get back an hour earlier.
Ismene puts in the time required to be certain they find and collect all the evidence they can, making sure to seal samples of blood, etc away in vials and jars. She brandishes her magnifying glass like a talisman against missing even the most minute detail. She expresses some thoughts out loud while they work.
"I'll be frank that I have some serious misgivings about all of this. I believe that revealing the Beast's nature is likely key to his defense but it may also seal his fate. Given the suspicious and superstitious tendencies of the townsfolk, I doubt they will look any more kindly on him when they know he is an unnatural construct of previously deceased flesh. Not to mention, that fact may put an end to any rights to due process they are currently affording him. Then there is the minor detail that he flies into destructive rages and has gaps in his memory where he may well have been under the direct control of someone else whom he either can't or won't identify. I daresay what we offer to prove his innocence may decide them on the need for his destruction all the same."
She sighs heavily with a defeated air, "And what's worse, I'm not sure they would be wrong to reach that conclusion."
Ismene finds that six graves in the boneyard that appear to have been tampered with. They sag into the ground, leaving wide depressions in the muddy earth.
If you want to dig up the tampered-with graves, you could ask Elder Lazne for permission (he is hanging out on his boat, fishing).
Or, you can just make a guess as to what is going on and move on.
Theodore looks about for a shovel....for Quinn to use of course.
Quinn sighs, but voices his thoughts in no particular order as well. "We're seeing this through, right? Even if it means getting no sleep? Ismene, I bow to your expertise in this area, but if the Beast is some construct of deceased flesh, are we sure that this was NOT the Beast? Graves were tampered with. This may be where the Beast came from. When was the Beast first seen? The gear points away from the Beast, but could point to a creator. Examining the bodies in those graves may point in one direction or another. I would love to head to court tomorrow fresh-eyed with a full night's rest, but if that's not to be so, it wouldn't be the first time."
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The attacks here in Morast were a year ago. The Beast has been around for approximately 20 years. There still could be some sort of connection, perhaps.
Theodore looks about for a shovel....for Quinn to use of course.
The sack is very large and has dried blood soaked into its fabric, which has persisted despite it submersion in the bog.
The sack holds some rope, a gag , a rusted lantern, a trio of heavy knives, and a rusted shovel.
It would probably take about half an hour to dig up a single grave if there are two of you working hard with the shovel and taking turns. They aren't buried that deep, the ground is soft, and you don't need to excavate as much as you do for internment.
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Ismene nods decisively. "We promised only to provide as unbiased a perspective as we are capable of. I do suspect what we uncover may be just as likely to condemn the Beast. My misgivings come from the fact that we have been tied to his defense, specifically. All we can do is report our findings to Barrister Kaple to give him options, I suppose."
She waves to Elder Lazne to paddle close enough to converse. "Sir, it looks as though the graves have been tampered with. Was that something that was noted around the times of the disappearances as well? May we have permission to have a look at what may have been taken? Theodore here is Pharasman clergy and he will ensure we take measures not to disturb the spirits of the deceased."
Elder Lazne paddles closer. Seeing that you have all not been killed by gators or ghosts, he ventures out of his coracle and onto the island.
"Naw, nobody noticed that. Could be maybe just the land sinkin'. Swampy here.
How many you got to dig up?"
He looks at the six apparently disturbed graves.
"Just one or all six? Well, start with that one over there. Ermund. Nobody liked him. And probably too stupid to haunt us."
After half an hour of digging (the greatest difficulty being various tree roots in the way), you find Ermund's burial shroud. It is empty.
"Somebody taked him, huh? What for? He was damned useless in life, have to be even more so now that he's been dead ten years."
Elder Lazne continues to opine over the merits, or lack thereof, of the late Mister Ermund.
The Elder seems suitably impressed by Theodore's clerical oversight of the process. He will not interfere if you wish to continue. Doing all six will probably push things late enough to leave you being Fatigued the next day (given that you'll have to get up in time for the trial). As the trial is not a trial by combat, this shouldn't be a huge problem... but you'll probably be traveling again, to Hergstag, tomorrow afternoon.
Do all six or go back?
You dig up another of the apparently-disturbed graves. "That one were Jeddiah; he died about two years ago. His kin all left Morast after the Beast came. Well, if they ain't here, they ain't going to complain."
Jeddiah's grave too is empty.
Back to Lepidstadt?
"Two missing bodies feels like enough to establish a pattern. Elder Lazne, are the other four disturbed graves reasonably recent? Past year or two? Teddy, Izzy, would I be off base to put together that maybe this was a copycat fella who dug up fresh graves to put together their own Beast of Morast? Does that seem within the bounds of decay and alchemical sciences?"
He pats his hands and looks to the group, then to Elder Lazne again.
"I suppose we should be heading back. Occurs to me, though, we all need to be at the courthouse tomorrow morning, you included Sir. Might we rent a room or two here tonight, and we can escort you back to Lepistadt in the morning?"
"No, wait, that weren't Ermund. That was Beskin. He only died about a month before the Beast came.
And that other one wasn't Jeddiah. That was his wife Polla. She died about a week before the Beast came.
Yeah, they was fresh graves at the time."
At Quinn's suggestion, he turns cold. "No, we ain't got no rooms for you. Best you be getting back. It's growing dark."