Jazier made his way to the watch post where he had been told to find Omast Frum. Upon arriving, he found the guard staring at some graffiti upon a nearby wall. The samsarran, Qumeel, remained at the watch post, keeping his gaze upon the fields outside in dedicated vigil, his hand upon the hilt of the bastard sword on his belt.
Omast was desperately scraping at the white paint, trying to remove what appeared to be the crude depiction of a sword. He was so focused, in fact, that he didn’t even notice Jazier’s arrival, nor did he make any indication of hearing when the wizard cleared his throat. Slightly annoyed, Jazier cast a spell, cleaning away the paint in an instant.
Omast turned. “Oh! It’s Ruby’s magician!” He clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Kurst told me how the rope caught fire during the contest. That’s a neat trick.” He belched. “Say, you wizard folk are a learned lot, right? So maybe you’d know the answer to something that’s been puzzling me.”
“It is possible,” Jazier said.
“That Kermit. Say, do you think he’s a frog that turns into a man? Or is he a man that turns into a frog?”
“He is clearly a grippli,” Jazier said, annoyed. “Though I must admit that I am unsure how changes his form so. But that is not the topic I’ve come to speak with you about. The brother of the deceased man asked me to find out if you have any insight into what happened.”
“Oh, right,” Omast said, his face sullen. “I really don’t know much. Rodrik spent most of his time lately with Katrezra down at the Sanctuary. You might speak with him. I can point you in the direction if you need.”
“That is unnecessary. Your town’s chief told me how to find him when I mentioned that my brother might be in the area, possibly to hire orcish mercenaries. She seems to think he could help me.”
“Yeah, old Katrezra’s alright. I mean, I don’t like most half-orcs, seeing as how they’re always getting into trouble, but Katrezra’s one of the good ones. He doesn’t seem to have the bad blood that the others do.”
Jazier raised an eyebrow. “Believe me. I know a thing or two about bad blood. If my brother didn’t have bad blood, he wouldn’t have blood at all.”
“Is your brother an orc?” Omast asked.
Jazier frowned in annoyance. Why did people keep asking him that? “No. He’s a human.”
Omast didn’t seem to notice the irritation in the wizard’s voice. “Hey, since you can magic away these marks, maybe you could help me with one that’s a particular pain, over in the Hopespring?”
Jazier sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to help out the townsfolk a bit, if he was needing their help. “Show me to where it is located.”
“You’re alright. Now if we could just figure out who is painting them. I thought it was kids at first, but then there was the one way up on that building, and there ain’t no kids gonna be climbing that high for a prank.”
“Are they all like that one?” Jazier asked.
“Yep. White swords, every one. No idea why.”
“Perhaps someone in Iomedae’s faith is trying to advertise their religion?” Jazier asked, though he dismissed the notion as soon as he thought of it. After all, what faith of a god of law would allow for their faithful to vandalize the property of others?
“Maybe. Hey, Qumeel, we’re gonna go deal with the graffiti at the Hopespring. Do you want to come?”
“Someone should remain at the watch post,” the samsarran responded.
“Oh, right. Good call. Be back in a bit,” Omast said, leading the magician off towards the town’s water supply.
Back at the lodging house, Brinya sniffed, trying to get her crying under control. “Gwen, what was your uncle’s reaction to the death? Do you think I could go see the body?”
Gwen felt bad for the poor girl. “I’m… not sure. He was pretty upset,” she said apologetically. “It might be difficult. But I’ll talk to Kurst.”
“Thanks,” Brinya said.
Karna put her arm around the crying woman. “Come on, let’s get you inside and get you something to eat.”
“What now?” Valbrand asked, once the two women had gone inside.
“The Sanctuary is closer,” Gwen said quietly. “We’ll go there first.”
The group walked through town in somber silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Several minutes into the journey, the sound of growling could be heard through the quiet. “What’s that?” Valbrand asked.
“Should I get ready?” Kermit asked.
When she heard the sound of wood splintering, Lucky Days grasped Sakura-chan tighter and ran forward towards the sound. “Do it,” Valbrand told the Grippli, drawing his axe as he followed the girl, who was much faster than she looked.
Gwen chambered a round and followed as well, the sound of Kermit shouting his transformation mantra just behind her. She rounded the corner to find a trio of wolves desperately clawing at the door of a home. Lucky Days had crossed the distance and engaged one of the wolves, while Valbrand was only about halfway there, due to being slowed by his mail armor.
“Stop that!” Lucky Days shouted as her spinning attack only struck a glancing blow against her foe.
Gwen fired at the second wolf that had turned its attention to Lucky Days, but only grazed it. She was over correcting, trying to avoid hitting her allies. It was apparent to her that her training had lacked practice firing into melee combat. Usually, she focused on thinning out the ranks of orcish raiders before they could get close enough for it to matter, and the rare times she’d had to do so, the targets had been less than thirty feet away, and thus easy targets.
Valbrand reached the pair of wolves next to Lucky Days at the same time Kermit reached the third wolf, which had moved from the door to trying to break into a barricaded window. The magic-enveloped Grippli slashed with one of his claws, tearing a mortal wound into the foe and causing it to let out a yelp of pain as Valbrand began belting out a battle song. “Give me a bit of room!” Valbrand told Lucky Days before the singing began.
Two more wolves appeared from behind the home, drawn by the sound of battle. One, pitch black in contrast to its pack mates’ varied grays, charged Valbrand and the other Kermit. Valbrand’s armor and shield afforded him great protection and he held the attention of the wolves as Lucky Days slashed then dodged away.
So empowered with rage by Valbrand’s song that his eyes were glowing red, Kermit clawed and bit into the newly arrived wolf, savagely spraying blood everywhere like a humanoid wood chipper. Even the wolf’s pack mate, which appeared rabid as well as dying, seemed horrified.
With Lucky Days out of the way, Valbrand tapped his armband, weaving the word of power into his song, Icicles shot up from the ground around him, cutting into the feet of the trio of wolves before him, though not doing much damage.
Lucky Days, seeing an opening, danced in behind one of the wolves focused on Valbrand and slashed with Sakura-chan as Coach had taught her. The hit was brutal, carving a personal rune through the wolf’s body and causing blood to spray in all directions. For a moment, the flying blood seemed to hang in the air, slowly wafting in the breeze like cherry blossoms before splattering to the ground all around her, yet seemingly missing Lucky Days entirely, though covering Valbrand. Almost entranced by what she was seeing, Gwen missed her next shot.
Lucky Days’ avoidance of getting covered in blood was short-lived, as Kermit charged in and tore another wolf into jagged halves and spraying more blood than Gwen thought a wolf could have all over himself and the two others.
The final wolf, the midnight black one, ducked below Valbrand’s shield and bit into the man’s calf, dragging the large man to the ground. Gwen fired, once more grazing the target. It wasn’t a good hit, but it was enough to distract it for a second.
Long enough that it didn’t notice Valbrand’s swinging axe as it lunged forward, its jaws open wide. The axe’s sharp blade tore into the beast’s mouth and cleaved straight through the skull, sending blood and brains spattering all over the wall behind it. The force was so great that the creature’s upper jaw slammed into the door, embedding the teeth into the hard wood.
“You people…” Gwen said, not finishing the statement as a wave of nausea washed over her. It was all she could do to not throw up.
“What?” Valbrand asked as Kermit helped him to his feet. He winced as he put weight on his leg, and quickly cast a spell to heal the wound.
“Coach was right about Sakura-chan!” Lucky Days said enthusiastically. “She’s awesome!”
As the girl put her naginata carefully into the harness on her back, Valbrand frowned disapprovingly. “You have to clean your weapon before you put it away,” he said.
“Oh,” Lucky Days said. “How?”
The large warrior reached into his pack and produced a cloth. He wiped the blood, brains and viscera from the axe. “Like that,” he said, tossing the now dirty cloth to the girl.
“Oh. Okay!” she said happily, giving Sakura-chan the attention the blade deserved.
“We have a problem,” Kermit said. He had resumed his normal form and begun inspecting the wolves.
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, tearing her eyes away from the spectacle of the two others.
“I don’t think these creatures were rabid. It appears that they were poisoned.”
“Why would someone do that?” Gwen asked.
Before Kermit could answer, the door cracked open. “Is it safe now?”
“As safe as usual,” Gwen answered. “Come on out.”
Several kids, accompanied by the women Gwen recognized as the town’s midwife and her assistant, warily came out of the door. They stopped in shock at the bloody scene before them. It was several moments before the bravest of the children ventured out and walked over to Gwen. “They came from under the bridge.”
“Very interesting,” Kermit said, taking a swig from his flask of tea and making his way over to investigate. Valbrand and Lucky Days followed behind.
After several minutes, the trio returned. “There was a cart,” Kermit said. “It looks like someone brought the wolves in drugged. They woke up hungry and went after the closest prey they could find. It’s one of the rules of nature, the dance of life. The hunter and the agile prey. Quite beautiful, normally.”
“Any clue as to where they came from?”
“The tracks lead to the bridge we crossed coming here, but it’s impossible to tell after that. Too much other traffic. I suspect that the cart’s probably been there for a day at least.”
Gwen wracked her brain, looking for a pattern. And the conclusion she came to was not a good one. “I think it might be a distraction. But for what? Nothing else is happening. So did they get out early? And if so, does that mean something is coming? And does this tie into Rodrik’s death?”
“Any answers?” Lucky Days asked.
“No,” Gwen said. “Just more questions. But my uncle must be informed of the latest development.” She turned to the midwife’s assistant. “Clancy’s watch post is near here. Go tell him about the wolves and my suspicions immediately. He’ll make sure that it gets passed to my uncle.” Her tone was authoritative, and the woman immediately nodded and left to inform the town’s militia.
“And what do we do?” Valbrand asked.
“We continue our investigation,” Gwen said. “If this is somehow related to Rodrik’s death, then we can’t afford to hesitate. We have to find out what happened, and why, if we’re to have any chance at stopping whatever is going on.”
Across town, Omast was talking Jazier’s ear off. “You know, you don’t say much. People are talking about you.”
“Oh? And what are they saying?”
“You don’t sleep much, and you never visit people to make friends.”
“That is not my purpose here, and people only bring conflict.”
“You know, if you’re looking to avoid conflict, you’ve come to the wrong place. So, you’re looking for your brother, right? What’s so important about finding him?”
“When we were younger, he made a pact with a demon, offering something of mine. I will find him and make him pay for it. He is dangerous to others and will stop at nothing for power, so stopping him will satisfy not only vengeance, but will make the world safer.”
“What did he take from you?”
“I do not know. I am certain that the pact was made with the demon, but I was in a haze for the ritual. From his gloating, however, I have gathered that he gave the demon a piece of my soul as trade for a boon he received.”
“Ouch. That’s rough. Does it hurt?”
“I have felt no pain, but I do feel diminished, somehow. It as though I am living with a curse.”
“It’s not catching, is it?” Omast asked, shrinking away a bit.
“I do not believe so. It only affects me.”
“Oh, that’s good. Why does your brother seek power?”
“I believe that Hashkhan seeks to overthrow the dragon god, Dahak, and usurp his position.”
Omast let out a whistle. “Your brother doesn’t aim low, does he?”
“His thirst for power knows no limits. That is why I must find him and put an end to his machinations.”
“I wish you luck, truly, for all our sakes. Though I must admit I hope that he’s as incompetent as he is power-hungry.”
“I fear he will not prove as incompetent as you hope.”
“All the same… oh, we’re here.”
Water trickled from the rock of the Hopespring, forming a waterfall that ran over a white marking, once more depicting a sword. “What kind of paint does not succumb to this constant flow?” Jazier asked. “How did they even paint it while it was still running?”
Omast shrugged. “I dunno. But that’s why I’ve been removing the marks with a knife.”
“Give me a moment, then,” Jazier said with a nod. He approached the waterfall and began chanting his cantrip. Slowly, the image faded as the paint came off.
“I’ve got to learn how to do that,” Omast said.
“It is also handy for cleaning my clothing,” Jazier answered with a rare smile. Perhaps it was that the guard had shown more interest in his past than any in a long time or perhaps it was something else, but the wizard found he did not entirely dislike the man. The stench of alcohol that came from the man’s breath notwithstanding, of course.
“You’re alright, magician,” Omast said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Jazier turned, and standing a ways past the guard was an elderly elven man with long white hair. “Who is that?” he asked Omast.
Omast turned. “Oh, that’s Silvermane. He tends to the spring.”
“Perhaps he saw the vandals, then?” Jazier asked.
“Maybe. You can try asking him, if you want. But he doesn’t speak much. If ever. I mean, Kurst once swore he heard the old druid speak, but he was seven at the time, and I think he may have just been teasing his cousin.”
“I believe I will try. Excuse me, honored Elder,” he said, approaching the elf. “We’re trying to figure out who painted all those swords around town. Have you seen who did it?”
The elf held out his hand, palm up, inviting the wizard to reach out. Not sure what to do, Jazier did so. The elf grasped Jazier’s hand with both of his. His eyes locked on the wizard’s. Jazier could see an intense sympathy in the elf’s eyes. Could the old sage see that the wizard was missing a piece of his soul?
But in the end, the elf released his hand without speaking a word, walking away and taking a seat on a nearby rock. “Told you he wouldn’t say anything,” Omast said. “Come on. We can get almost all of these markings cleaned before the end of the day if we get going.”
The party of investigators reached the Sanctuary, a temple of Iomedae that had been constructed by clerics from Lastwall decades after Trunau’s old temple had been destroyed in a fire. There were many who distrusted the motives of the clerics, Gwen herself among them, but none could begrudge their willingness to work hard and aid the town. Gwen opened the door to the temple and led the others inside, where they were greeted by Tyari Varvatos, the raven-haired cleric of Iomedae who served as the temple’s high priestess.
“Good morrow, Gwethlantithwen,” the woman said.
“Bless you,” Lucky Days said reflexively.
Gwen rolled her eyes, but said nothing. “Not much good about it,” she answered.
The priestess nodded sympathetically. “Have you come to see the body?”
Gwen looked at the ground. “I… maybe I should. But that is not why I came here today.”
“Oh? You seek solace in the Inheritor’s teachings, follower of Erastil?”
“No. I need to speak with Katrezra. We believe there may be more to my cousin’s death than it appears, and we believe he may have information that could aid our investigation.”
Tyari frowned. “That may be a problem.” She turned to an acolyte. “Please fetch Brantos.”
“Right away, priestess,” the young man said.
“While we wait, perhaps I could interest one of your companions in a blessing? While I follow Iomedae, we understand that not all are of the same path. Tell me, who do each of you worship?”
“Kurgess is awesome,” Lucky Days said, beaming.
“Ah, the god of strength and contests. May he grant you his favor in all his endeavors.” She turned next to Kermit.
“Ng,” he said.
“One of the Fey. They are an interesting choice, and capricious. But may they grant you their favor in any trials you may face.”
She turned to Valbrand. “Save your blessings,” he said. “For I have already been granted strength through the blood of my ancestors.”
“I understand.”
“Also,” Valbrand said under his breath, “my god can beat up your god.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” the big man lied.
“No matter, here is Brantos now,” Tyari said, indicating the blond-haired paladin standing before them. He wore a suit of banded armor and his teeth seemed to white to be natural. Gwen was almost certain she saw them sparkle in the light once.
“You summoned me, priestess?” Valbrand was pretty sure from the man’s tone that he lusted after the voluptuous young cleric and half-smirked at the thought of the man’s ineffectual attempts at wooing the likely oblivious woman. He made a note of it, knowing that it would make a great tale for later.
“Yes, Brantos. It seems that our guests have come to speak to Katrezra. Please, tell them what you discovered this morning.”
The paladin turned. “He’s gone.”
“Gone how?” Gwen asked.
“He left, early in the morning. His things are gone, as is he.”
Valbrand didn’t like the man’s tone. “And no one saw him leave?”
“He’s free to come and go as he pleases. He just rarely did so, considering his infirmity.”
“Well, then he can’t be that fast,” Lucky Days said. “If you tell us where he was going, I bet we could catch him.”
“We do not know where he went,” Tyari answered. “He told no one. Perhaps his visions told him that he needed to leave, or perhaps there was another reason.”
“Then perhaps we should examine the body,” Kermit suggested. “If we cannot find Katrezra, it’s best not to waste whatever leads we have.”
“Of course,” Tyari answered. “You may return to your work, Brantos.”
“Understood, priestess,” the paladin answered before leaving.
“This way,” the priestess said. “Now, before you ask, I will not be casting any spells to wake the corpse so we can speak with him.”
Gwen hadn’t even considered the option. “But that would prove that he didn’t kill himself,” she protested.
“It was your uncle’s wish.”
Why would he do that? Did he really believe that Rodrik might have killed himself. “I… see,” Gwen acceded.
Valbrand saw his opportunity to impress the girl – which his experience told him was a good first step to bedding a girl – and motioned for Kermit to hang back. “Yes?” the grippli asked once the others were out of earshot.
“You should convince the priestess how bad it could be if we don’t speak with the dead.”
“You want me to threaten the priestess?”
“No. Nothing like that. You know, just make her think that really bad things could happen if we’re unable to stop them, and talking with the corpse might help us.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kermit said dubiously. He ran to catch up with the others. “Excuse me, priestess, but I wonder if that is the right choice.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“With everything going on, if the young man’s death has something to do with it, we must know anything he can tell us. The consequences could be dire.”
“As I said, his father – and more importantly, the town’s patrol leader – forbid it. I cannot.”
Lucky Days considered what Kermit had said. “We should honor the father’s wishes, but what about what Mister Rodrik would have wanted? Wouldn’t he have wanted to do what he could to help the town, if there was something he could do? I mean, I didn’t know him, but he seemed like that kind of guy.”
Gwen shook her head, but put her hand on Lucky Days’ shoulder appreciatively. “No, my uncle forbade it. His son is dead. Let’s honor his wishes and make do with what we can tell from the body itself.” She wasn’t sure she could handle it if it did turn out that Rodrik had killed himself, and even if not, she was certain she would break down in tears if she heard his voice right now.
They continued on, reaching the room where the body was being prepared. The wounds, in every single place where he’d seen Ruby shown the previous night, had been stitched, and Valbrand took immediate note of them. “We’re to believe one man cut himself in so many places before dying? Any one of those wounds would have been enough.”
Gwen steeled herself and began examining her cousin’s body. Something immediately stuck out to her. “The color around his lips is wrong,” she said.
“People’s color changes when they die,” Tyari answered.
Gwen shook her head. “I’ve seen my share of bodies. The lips turn blue.”
“Correct.”
“That’s why this is weird. That doesn’t look blue. It looks green.”
Tyari humored the girl, getting a closer look. “Heavens! You’re right. That’s definitely not normal.”
“What could it mean?”
Kermit cleared his throat. “Green, you say? Let me have a better look.” Valbrand grabbed a stool so Kermit could get a better look. The grippli hopped up and examined the lips. “No doubt about it. It looks like he’s taken oil of taggit.”
“What’s oil of taggit?” Lucky Days asked.
“It can be used to knock someone unconscious,” Kermit said. He turned to Valbrand. “Remember, that time in Korvosa?”
“OH!” the large man bellowed in realization. “That guy who was drugging all those wenches!”
“Then someone drugged Rodrik?” Gwen asked.
“It is possible,” Tyari said. “However, I’ve heard of it being used in lower doses to treat insomnia. The difference in medicine and poison often lies in the dosage.”
“He never told me anything about insomnia,” Gwen said. “But if he was having such a problem, there’s someone he would have told for sure.” She turned to the others, her face deadly serious. “We need to go talk to Kurst.”
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