"There's a chance they are holed up in the interior of the manor, though I consider it a slight one. I don't know why they would have stayed around if they were merely here to cause chaos."
Various garden-variety tubers, berries, and leafy vegetables lie neglected in six large planter boxes. The three planter boxes to the south contain plants appropriate for central Geb’s arid climate (chickpeas, cassava, and sweet potatoes), but the three to the north contain varieties more suitable to wetter regions (sugarcane, rice, and beets). A wheelbarrow lies on its side, damp soil spilling from it onto the path. To the west of the garden, the path turns north, leading to a twelve-foot-tall archway in the side of a sheer, twenty-foot-high rocky outcropping. A wooden fence with an open gate stands beneath the arch.
Finding nothing of value here, you head through the gate in the archway. This rough stone chamber is carved into the hillside. A thick straw mattress with a few wool blankets lies in the southwest corner. An alcove to the south contains a sconce holding a torch flickering with a purple flame. Passages lead north and west, but several heavy crates block access to the north passage.
Two zombie workers and a zombie hound mindlessly and futilely attempt to push through the makeshift barrier blocking the passage north. They don't respond to your approach until it's too late, and you make swift work of them. The heavy crates contain basic materials such as straw, cloth, and leather. They can be moved aside with a few minutes' work.
The formerly barricaded room’s only notable feature is a deep stone well in the center. Two metal buckets and a pair of long chains lie piled haphazardly in the corner. A husk zombie sits beside the well here, but he stands and regards you with dead, milky eyes as you enter. He has several wooden teeth, patches of leather stitched to his skin, and a wig of short, bristly horsehair.
"Thank you for coming to my rescue," he says. "I am Sifegtk, one of the chargehands on this farm."
After a moment of letting her eyes wash over as... Vain?... zombie, Aily gives formal nod of greeting to one of similar station. "Greetings, Changehand Sifrgtk. Please let me introduce my Lady Mithralline Cort." she gestures with bland deference. "And her companions, the brilliant Mr. Stanton, the warrior both strong and fast, Ceceka, and Caraid, whose most notable attributes can be seen for yourself." there is a light amusement in her voice.
"Yes, tell us what happened here!" Mithralline demands from Aily's shoulder.
"It started off just like any other night," Sifegtk says. "That was, until an intruder set off the trap on the farm's western gate. The farm's chargehands rushed over to investigate and found several other people had climbed over the north wall and were lurking around the silos.
"At first, the intruders tried to flee, but then they turned around and attacked the pursuing chargehands. The commotion stirred up the zombie workers and animals, and as chaos broke out, I fled and barricaded myself in here. I didn't see the end of the fight, but I assume the worst occurred.
"I don't think the intruders had originally intended to murder the chargehands. It seemed like they were trying to sneak in and out without being noticed, but I'm not sure why. In any event, they failed to avoid notice, but succeeded in ruining my day."
Ceceka groans in reply to the man's words. While he paints a clear picture of what happened, these answers also raise many new questions. Like how many intruders were there? Perhaps they ought to take the chargehand outside and have him point out who of the dead worked at the farm, and who might be a slain intruder.
"You're the first sane person we've met here. How many intruders attacked the farm?"
”I counted six, at least. It was hard to tell exactly with all the commotion,” Sifegtk replies.
"Did they say anything during the commotion? Even knowing what language they were speaking could be a clue."
Telvir is puzzled, but undaunted. "We may need to return to the city and do some research on this 'Four-Fingered Hand,' or whatever they call themselves. Their insignia is distinctive; surely someone will have noticed if they are active elsewhere in the area."
"We should finish checking the place and report in to the Blood Lord." Caraid says, stifling another yawn. "You're promoted, Sifegtk, at least for now. Try and tidy up as best you can - I'm sure more workers will be provided for you shortly."
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Aily humbly interjected "The Blood Lord requested five tasks. Find out what happened, find her cousin, fix what we can, make sure the zombies can't do any more damage..." she had raised up her hand and counted down for each one, leaving just one up "... and recover any food worth eating. I can do a inventory and secure us a wagon, while you enjoy your rest." which also gets her away from her insufferable Lady for a time.
"Well we know what's happened." Caraid says, nodding his thanks to Aily. He doesn't do well when sleep deprived. "Let's finish searching the farm, and track down the cousin. Then we can divide and conquer repairs and securing the remaining food."
And then sleep.
Aily smiles briefly, then adds "I believe the body impaled on the bull's horn, in the building where my Lady Cort 'watched' the battle, is the cousin. But we could get a second opinion now that we have an expert?" her eyes move toward the new head zombie.
Sifegtk confirms that the dead halfling was Berline's cousin, Brahdek.
You take some time to take stock of the damage to the farm. Zombies had ample time in the past several days to cause problems merely by shambling around: they’ve trampled crops, broken bonds and barriers, and wrecked equipment in their efforts to chase down the farm’s few living workers and any wild animals who strayed too close.
The farm has a few fields beyond the main area. Low stone fences surround them, and a few dozen zombie shamblers stand idly among the crops. Sifegtk helps in guiding them towards simple tasks to repair some of the damage, as well as guides you in corralling some other zombies that have strayed from the farm.
With several hours of work, you are able to fix most of the worst damage and secure the remaining food. You return to Graydirge and report to Berline Haldoli at her villa. She listens with great interest to your report, and is saddened to hear of her cousin’s demise—both because he was family, and because he was skilled and loyal, a rare combination in Graydirge.
Berline doesn't know what to make about the strange hand symbols and alchemical substances. She gives a heavy sigh. "The lack of closure to your investigation is frustrating. I will have to do some more digging. Keep looking into these leads when you can and keep me informed if you learn anything. In the meantime, though, you're going to have your hands full. There are some rumors going around that strange creatures have taken up residence in the manor I’m giving you. I am happy to inform you that those rumors are true! No one ever said Berline Haldoli would be boring to work with. If they did, they lied."
Berline signs the manor’s deed over to you and hands it to you along with a key to the front door. The key shank is made of iron, and the bow is a tiny skeletal hand clutching a red glass marble. Berline tells you the manor is about a mile south of Graydirge. She knows the previous owner was named Qhallaqh the Collector, but she’s not exactly sure who he was, whether he was important, or what he collected. The deed passed to her because of some inheritance that no one ever claimed. The city decided the matter could be most easily resolved by handing the property to the nearest Blood Lord. “Happens all the time,” she says.
Before you leave, Berline offers to let you rest in her villa, suggesting it may be best to be well prepared before you find out what’s living in an abandoned manor outside an ossuary-city in a land teeming with the unliving dead.
Aily perks up as she sees the walking cauldron, punctuated with a slight leaning forward, a parting of her lips, and a soft "I wonder..." but then deflates when it turns out only liquids can be locked in the dark pot, and not annoying winged ladies.
As she bows to Blood Lord Berline, after turning to depart to prepare her own lady's chamber, she allows herself a slight puffing of 'I told you so' about the manor being trouble. Well, it would be 'I told you so' quality if she had actually told someone her thoughts, but servants shouldn't think is one of her mistress's favorite sayings.
The puffing is short-lived, as she starts imagining all the trouble clearing out a manor belonging to the 'Collector' could be. Pausing, she turns to her mistress "I do not have all the proper linins that you require for a night's rest, My Lady. Please, excuse me as I run to our former 'manor' to retrieve them."
In truth, she wants to ask around in the bars and brothels along the way, about a "Qhallaqh the Collector"
Telvir is curious about the manor, "How much must you hoard away before being known as 'The Collector,' I wonder." He tidies himself up after the exertions of the farm and settles in for a well-deserved rest.
"Your wisdom and your generosity are in equal measure my lady!" Caraid says to Berline with a low bow. If Aily hadn't been required by the tiny winged tyrant and if he hadn't been up far too late Caraid might have done something more, but as it is he retreats to his bed and falls asleep into his regular, deep sleep.
Whether Aily features in his dreams, or whether those dreams are of more... are questions best left unanswered.
Mithralline looks furious at the idea someone -- or something -- may be using her manor (and only slightly less so at the Blood Lord's chicanery, though she realizes there's not much she can do about that immediately). She's all set to demand they depart immediately to deal with this interloper, but eventually is calmed down by Aily, and consents to departing the following evening.
Still, she is in fine form when that moment comes, chivvying and complaining for every second before they set out on the path. "This is what comes from you staying out all morning. If you simply planned ahead and made sure you carry my linens with you, we wouldn't have to wait so long!"
Aily is able to learn a little bit about Qhallagh the Collector. He was merely an artist—not a collector of occult magic. Qhallaqh’s sketches were almost entirely of normal people performing mundane tasks, flowers, birds, landscapes—so many landscapes—and everyday objects. Qhallaqh was no secretive aristocrat; he was, apparently, entirely boring.
***
The next night, you head to claim your new manor. The manor is a single-story building of red stone studded with jutting bones. Bone spirals wind up the corners of the building and form a sort of dome that rises about 15 feet above the roof. At the dome’s apex, the bones support a massive, misshapen chunk of red glass. Rivulets of this glass wind through the bones and cracks in the brick, like a massive heart spilling blood over the edifice. The glass hardened long ago, but it emits an eerie, blood-red glow when any light shines on it, including daylight or moonlight. This light is the result of careful glass work and architectural engineering; it’s a mundane effect rather than a magical one. The manor has no windows.
The deed specifies the property is a total of 1 acre, but the low, wrought-iron fence surrounding the yard is rusted and dilapidated. It serves as a clear demarcation of the land but makes a poor barrier, and the gate that should open onto the rough cobblestone path path leading to the front entrance is missing. Overgrown vines and weeds clutter the yard and the path.
The path eads to a pair of heavy wood doors set in a frame of bones. The door knockers are real skulls with gaping jaws, and iron rungs serve as doorhandles. The door seems to be the only entrance. All is quiet outside. Inside the manor, the sounds of a hand banging on a table, and the occasional shattering pottery and clattering cutlery can be heard.
A few tombstones stand at the far end of an artificial pond on the south side of the building. Insects buzz around the algae, weeds, and tall grass. The tombstones are leaning—one has toppled over—and each has a small mound of dirt nearby that seems too small for a buried corpse.
"Something is amusing itself there." Caraid says, pointing towards the gravestones and the small dirt mounds. "A problem for later though. Let us enter, after you My Lady."
He manages not to sound insincere and thus combines courtesy with ensuring that if anything nasty is waiting just inside it will hit Mithralline the Annoying first.
Aily is laden with the majority of their worldy belongings, which happily is rather having had sold most of it to support Her Lady's uttering wasteful lifestyle. With preparations and exertion, the servant forgot to mention her findings until they were at their "Reward? This?" those single words held layers at least twenty-seven feet deep of Sarcasm and Scorn. In truth this is her typical tone of voice, but it is usually covered in at least an attempt at appearing humbly polite.
But this... was going to be a LOT of work, probably Her work.
Sighing, she runs her hand over her face and apologizes by finally telling her mistress (and more importantly the others since they might listen) the information she had learned "My lady, I caught talk from the working class about this Collector. Apparently, he was nothing more than an artist of the mundane. Any oddities inside will be from after his death, not before it."
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"Good. It will depart immediately, in one way or another," Mithralline retorts, before launching herself from Aily's shoulder toward the door.
Flapping up on her tiny wings, she turns the knob and enters, scythe out and shield raised.
she declares loudly.
"My Lady, the master of stealth and diplomacy" Aily sighs again, slipping her pack off, and moving slower and quieter behind her mistress.
You use the key Berline gave you to unlock the front door. The small foyer is lined with low benches. A cracked mirror hangs on the wall opposite the door, and a five-foot-wide bone archway leads north. An intricate armoire stands open on the west wall of the foyer. The armoire doors resemble a massive ribcage. The armoire contains nothing but moldy coats, cobwebs, and dust.
Cushioned benches line the southern and eastern walls of a waiting room past the foyer, forming a comfortable—if dusty—seating nook. Picture frames line the walls above the benches, though dust obscures their contents. Anyone who wipes the dust from the picture frames discovers intricate sketches of landscapes, from craggy foothills and barren deserts to a gloomy, mist-shrouded forest. A closer look reveals each sketch includes a single, well-hidden unnatural element, such as a tree with skeletal roots, a shrub shaped like a demon’s face, a dark cloud blowing in the opposite direction of the other clouds, or a rabbit with a backward head.
The waiting room opens directly into the manor's central courtyard. Stone benches and desiccated potted plants surround a shallow, dried-up pool at the center of this room. Arches of twisted bones follow the curve of the high ceiling to a large chunk of red glass embedded in the apex of the dome, high above. The courtyard and adjoining rooms are bathed in silvery red light while the moon is out. The glass has a filtering effect that is beneficial for vampires and other light-averse creatures: light passing through the glass is artificial light, not natural daylight, moonlight, starlight, or other natural light.
There are exits from the courtyard to the north, east, south, and west. The sounds of destruction you heard earlier seem to be coming from the east, in what appears to be the dining room...
"Well, most of the problems seem like they could be fixed with a thorough cleaning and landscaping." Telvir looks around. "Some of the tasks seem a bit delicate, so we'll want fresh help. Or living help, I suppose." His tone makes it clear that a well-crafted cleaner would be preferable.
"Should we see off whomever is squatting in our dining room?"
"Alizabet will take care of that once we've dealt with whatever creatures are in here," Mithralline responds.
She nods at Telvir's suggestion, casting a glance toward Aily that doesn't really convey her desire for more minions who would offer such useful suggestions.
"Yes, and deal with them immediately!" she replies, turning her attention back to Telvir.
Numerous dusty yet comfortable chairs flank a long oak dining table. A mosaic of bone tiles on the east wall depicts thirteen skeletons gleefully feasting on one another’s bones.
A swarm of rats is currently scurrying around the floor while an animated severed hand tries to chase them off by banging on the table and throwing things. The rats are not fast enough at climbing to catch the hand, which scrambles up the bone-studded walls when they lunge for it, but the hand's attacks are also ineffective against the rats. It occasionally hits one of them with a dinner plate, but there are far too many for it to make a difference.
The rats are quick to turn their attention on you as you approach, though, surging towards you in a squeaking, writhing mass!
The rats begin to climb all over Ceceka and Mithralline, biting at them with their sharp teeth!
"Disgusting creatures, though they serve their purpose."
In an effort to de-vermin the manorhosue, Telvir ererts his mind, pummeling and slicing at the creatures.
and
The elf’s telekinesis effortlessly smashes the swarm of rats flat! The few survivors squeak and scurry out of the room!
”Good show! You showed those pesky vermin what for!” the crawling hand says in a disgusting whistle! The disembodied body part is communicating by squelching air from its gory wrist stump, forming moist, wheezing words. It begins tidying the dining room.
Aily's hand didn't even twitch toward her knife before the rats are crushed puddles of bones, blood, and skin. Her eyes move toward Telvir in appreciation, then her face settles in the realization that she is probably going to have to clean that up.
But that is before the hand starts doing it. "Excuse me, good... hand? Would you mind introducing yourself to these lords and ladies?"
Caraid raises an eyebrow, this is an unliving creation of a sort he hasn't met before. "Well fought Telvir. I am glad the Blood Lord joined you to our little company."
Then he turns back to the hand, curious about what it will 'say'.
Mithralline -- already forgetting about the rats (though not fully -- she's badly hurt, and worse, this is an indignity no vampire fairy could ever forget: She vows that one day she will control such vermin!) -- lights up as she sees the hand doing exactly what Amegan should have been doing without prompting.
Then she suddenly scowls at Akatey. "Didn't you say the previous owner collected mundane trinkets? Are you telling me this hand simply came here on its own and start doing its hand job without any prompting?!" she accuses the dhampir.
Aily opened her mouth at that comment, closed it, and then managed to look chastened. Somehow. "I apologize Mistress, no mention of hands and their jobs were mentioned from the tales I heard." at least not dead ones and cleaning, she mentally adds, since she heard these rumors at a brothel there was plenty of other stories and new techniques learned.
Ceceka falls victim to the rodents' hungry teeth and flails at them with his elbows. The fighter's hands shift from the ends of the polearm to meet closer, still with some distance between them, closer to the middle so that he can deal with the rats that are now way too close to him.
Luckily for Ceceka, the elf deals with the rat menace before they can cause further damage. "Thanks", he says with a hint of sincere gratitude.
At Aily's polite request, the hand pauses its work and turns on its fingers towards you. "Very well. I am Arghun the Annihilator!" the hand squelches. "This manor is my domain. Are you the new owners? You have proven yourselves worthy, so you have earned my respect!"
Thankfully free of rat bites, Telvir speaks to the hand. "Yes, we've been gifted the manor. It seems to be in a state of disrepair. Can you fill us in on what has been happening here?"
"Not a whole lot since the last owner died," says Arguhn the Annihilator. "It's been quiet aside from the disgusting rodents that frequently come up from the basement and try to claim my territory. I trust things will be more lively now that you are taking up residence."
"How dare you!" Mithralline retorts at the suggestion this place would be ... lively. Facing off against the hand -- which is about the same size as she is -- with her own hands balled into fists on her hips, she continues: "This is Geb! We do NOT take such insults lightly!"
She growls.
"Are there more rats in the basement we must deal with?"
"It was merely a joke," Arguhn the Annihilator whistles. "You will find more rats there, and other pests, likely. There's also a secret passage somewhere. Somebody stashed a body there, oh, when was it, a year or two ago? My memory isn't as good as it once was..."
"Somebody stashed a body? Who was it? A visitor, former worker, former resident, itinerant adventurer?" Telvir purses his lips. "Stashing" bodies. Untidy and wasteful.
"I don't remember. I did say my memory isn't great, didn't I?" the hand wheezes.
Ceceka tries not to roll his eyes when the hand casually mentions there's a body stashed away somewhere in the basement. Because of course there is. "How does one remember anything without a brain? Anyway, I say we treat our wounds and then take a look downstairs. If there are more rats about, we should keep torches and fire at the ready."
"Let me take a look." Caraid says, shaking off his fascination with the hand and turning to Ceceka. He washes the scratches with a splash of alcohol, which stings but does little else. "I could sew them if you want..." He offers slowly, "But you'd do better to let it heal naturally I think."
"Does it matter who the body was? They're dead," Mithralline says. "More important is who stashed it? And why? And are they still here lurking about?"
She waits for her wounds to be healed as well.
After receiving some healing efforts, you explore the rest of the manor's ground floor. The west wing has four rooms that each contain a single bed, a side table, a chest of drawers, and a bookshelf. Sketches decorate the walls, but these sketches are of creatures rather than landscapes. Like the other sketches, they contain a hidden, unnatural element: a dog with chicken talons, a possum with a serpent for a tail, a vulture with human hair, and a single black cat hanging in a cave among a cloud of bats. The rooms are dusty, but the furniture is otherwise in good condition.
The south wing features a kitchen and pantry. The kitchen contains a few small brick ovens, butcher counters, stoves and cauldrons, and other cookware. Everything is in disarray and covered in dust. Countless tiny, clawed tracks lead to and from the room. An iron-handled meat cleaver embedded in a butcher’s block is a +1 hatchet. The pommel is a skeletal hand clutching red glass, matching the design of the manor’s key.
The deep, walk-in pantry has numerous sturdy, barren shelves. Refuse and animal droppings litter the floor, along with a few torn sacks and moldy food. Nothing edible remains, except for creatures whose appetites includes rat droppings, shredded canvas sacks, and worm-ridden flour. Tucked at the back of a shelf is an ornate wooden spice box carved with flame-tongued demons. The spices are stale, but the box is worth 4 gp.
The north wing features a landing with stone steps that spiral downward. West of here is a study. Several comfortable chairs face a stone fireplace on the north wall of the room. Countless sketches on dusty parchment lie scattered throughout, many of them torn, crumpled, and trampled. Broken drawing implements and upended ink jars clutter the top of a writing desk against the west wall. The desk drawer lies in pieces on the floor near the opposite wall. A search of the desk reveals a vial of ghost ink and a vial of silversheen.
The northwest corner of the manor contains the master bedroom. This austere bedroom contains a wide bed, a chair, a writing desk, and a tall cabinet in an alcove in the southeast corner. Inside the cabinet is a complete set of full plate.
Arguhn the Annihilator alerts you to a secret door in this room, which opens with the press of a small button concealed in the adjacent doorframe. A stone altar occupies the north side of this room. A lead basin sits atop it, and a metal pail is on the floor nearby.
Inside the pail are several bloodstained teeth. Most are normal humanoid teeth. Two of them are a pair of platinum vampire’s fangs worth 10 gp each. The lead basin contains a folded piece of paper closed with a plain wax seal. Inside is a note in Common that reads, “I leave my home to my most loyal companion, Smoke, whom I buried in the crypt.—Qhallaqh.” A simple iron keyring with four small keys rests on the altar behind the lead basin. Alongside them lies a sketch of some bones protruding from a stone wall, one of them a skull with a tiny skeletal hand coming from it.
Caraid hops onto the large master bed and nods in satisfaction. "Excellent, this will do nicely for me." Possession is nine-tenths of the law after-all and if the sprite thinks she can have a room this big then she's truly deluded.
Once Arguhn the Annihilated shows them the secret room Cariad finds his interest piqued. "So who exactly is Smoke?" He asks the hand. "Some sort of pet? Probably whatever was digging outside." He adds for the benefit of the others who haven't put two and two together yet.
"Overall, the conditions could be worse, I suppose." Telvir says after surveying the ground floor. "The collection of teeth is a bit disturbing. And if Smoke was such a precious companion, why were they buried in the crypt? Curious."
"Unless it was a tooth fairy." Caraid points out. "I wouldn't keep one as a pet myself, horrible little beggers, but this Qhallagh fellow clearly wasn't entirely right in the head."
"Ahhh ... yes, this will do nicely," Mithralline breathes as she spies the large bed.
Her eyes grow wide in outrage as Caraid jumps in it.
"What do you think you're doing?! Get out of there right now. That is clearly my bed!"
She looks around and points to the chair. "You can sleep there with Arcana ... as long as she doesn't mind. I won't have my servants disturbed against their will!"
"Why would a tooth fairy be named Smoke?" Mithralline dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. "They have silly names, like Moley and Maxillar or Incisey or Fang. Stupid tooth puns"
She frowns fiercely.
"Whoever this Smoke is, we shall have to go tell him in no uncertain terms that this manor is ours now. He can perhaps stay if he wishes to remain a most loyal companion. I can always use more of those."
When you are ready, you descend the spiraling stairs down into the basement. As you begin to explore the dark halls of the lower level, a strange, mismatched amalgamation of bone shards staggers forward. Nesteled within the bones is a tiny creature that looks like an insect made of fish bones, with a head full of glowing red eyes. It lets out a high-pitched chitter as it moves to attack!