Rise of the Runelords

1

A week later, the Heroes were summoned in the morning to the garrison, where they squeezed themselves into Sheriff Hemlock's office. It was a spartan affair, with a simple desk, chair, and shelves of ledgers. All business, much like the Sheriff himself.
Seating himself at his desk, the bulky Shoanti regarded them with a mien even more grim than usual. "First, let me thank you again for all you've done for Sandpoint. It's fortunate you've proven yourselves so capable, because we've got a problem I think you can help us with - a problem I wish I didn't have to involve anyone with, but one that needs dealing with now, before the situation grows worse."
"Put simply, we have a murderer in our midst - one who, I fear, has only begun his work. Maybe none of you know about the Late Unpleasantness, but the town nearly tore itself apart in fear as the murderer known as the Chopper's slayings went on unanswered. I'm afraid we might have something similar brewing now."
"Last night, the murderer struck at the sawmill. There are two victims, and they're... they're in pretty gruesome shape." Hemlock paused to wipe his face with a hand, looking a bit grey; it must have been bad, to shake the stoic Sheriff so much. "The bodies were discovered by one of the mill workers, a man named Ibor Thorn, and by the time my men and I arrived on the scene, a crowd of curious gawkers had already sprung up. I've got my people stationed there now, keeping the mill locked down, but the thing that bothers me isn't the fact that we have two dead bodies inside. It's the fact that this is actually the second set of murders we've had in the last few days."
Devin frowned and exhaled, leaning back heavily against the wall. Seeing Hemlock's concern for the bodies' condition lit Devin's imagination, and he associated such efforts at defacing corpses as messages from the constant wars of the guilds; transgressions or punishments or warnings or challenges. Surely that was not the case here, not in Sandpoint.
The odd thought crossed his mind that if there were dark guilds, here, he'd been blissfully -- ignorantly? -- unaware of their presence to date. Sandpoint had had its own unique flavors of ill attention and machinations over the last months.
"I come to you for help in this matter - my people are good, but they're also green. They were barely able to handle themselves against the goblins, and what we're facing now is an evil far worse than goblins. I need the help. But I'm afraid you'll need the help, too. You see, I'm afraid that this particular murderer knows one of you as well." With that, Hemlock passed a folded, bloodstained piece of parchment to I'Daiin. The reason why was apparent - his name was written on the outside in what might have been rust-colored ink... maybe.
No one really thought it was.
Opening the letter, I'Daiin found a missive:
'We have spoken of this before, my master. Now it begins. Join the Pack and it will end.'
The letter was signed, 'Your Lordship.'

Hemlock regarded them as they passed the note around. "That note was pinned to the sleeve of one of the latest victims by a splinter of wood." He held up a calming hand. "Now, I believe it was left at the murder scene to throw suspicion on you, but while I don't believe you had anything to do with the murders, if word of this note gets out, I'm afraid the town's reaction might not be as understanding. Because of that, and because I don't want to start a general panic... again, I ask that you keep as quiet as possible about the murders. Will you look into this?"
Durriken was surprised by the call to the Sheriff's office so soon after the goblin incident but as he explained the problem the cleric's face turned grim. "Could we perhaps get a look at the scene? It might help us get a better sense of what is going on or lead to some insights if we could see the victims. I'Daiin, do you have any ideas who might be targetting you with this letter?"
"None," said I'Daiin curtly, passing the note to the cleric. "Shoanti do not write such nonsensical notes, unless they have been corrupted by some cult."
The Sheriff took Durriken's questions, and I'Daiin's answer, as the party's agreement. "Good. Consider yourselves deputized. You'll have all the support you want, but again, please keep the investigations quiet, for the town's sake."
Fortunately, Devin had enough social grace to not have the amused irony of his surprise at the Sheriff's deputizing them all; Devin included; as a bark of the inward laugh that had threatened for a moment to escape to the room. He couldn't imagine crossing the goodwill of the people of Sandpoint... but deputized? Not a mantle Devin had ever considered wearing. In his mind's eye, Devin could see a parade of former associates; some good, some ill; who would be struck dumb by the event.
Devin summed it all up with a solemn nod of response, affirming that the investigations could and would be subtle.
"I was just going to suggest that you take a look at the scene at the lumber mill, Durriken. I'd like to clean the mill up right away and get the bodies buried - they're still there. One of the victims has a strange rune carved into his chest. It must be significant to the killer, but I don't have a clue what it means. Maybe you can talk to Brodert Quink about it - he claims to be an expert on runes. I've interrogated Ibor Thorn, and I don't think he knows much more. Poor man's scared out of his gourd. My only suspect at the moment is Venn Vinder... but I don't think he did it, either."
"Then there's the first murders. We've identified the bodies as three con men from Galduria. They were found murdered in an abandoned barn south of town a few days ago. They had a bodyguard who survived, but whatever happened appears to have driven him insane. We packed him off to Habe's Sanatorium, not far from Sandpoint. We brought the dead back here, if you want to examine them."
"That's all I know. Good luck, Heroes."
“Fresh bodies first,” Amrynn agreed. “But we’ll want to speak with the man in the sanatorium eventually.” Her words were business like, but the tone did not contain a great deal of hope for any results from someone so scarred.
Devin nodded again, in agreement with Amrynn's set of priorities -- the mill first, then review the bodies (three days' old) held in town by Hemlock, then the bodyguard. His intellectual interest had jumped at mention of a rune, and at learning the town may have a local authority on such things. Brodert Quink wasn't a name Devin had personally encountered thus far.
"Let's go."

2

The Sandpoint Lumber Mill stood on the shore of the Turandarok River, a well-built wooden structure with thick walls and wooden shingles. A sizeable crowd had gathered outside by the time the party arrived, and groups of nervous-looking town guards stood at the mill's entrances. When they saw the party, however, the guards nodded to them and stepped aside, allowing them into the mill.
The mill machinery had been disengaged, and with the thick walls, it left the mill in eerie silence, but for the buzzing of flies. Sunlight poured through the opening onto the river and the marsh beyond; a small pier extended onto the Turandarok from the mill. Still, the rest of the mill was dim compared to the light outside - and the smell... the smell was stomach-turning. It smelled like ground beef gone over, badly. Or, perhaps, as though an animal had died in the room, and its remains had been left to ripen. The unseasonal heat didn't help at all.
The interior was coated with sawdust, strewn with footprints and splashes of blood. The blood pooled deeper below a man affixed to the wall by several hooks normally used to hang machinery. He was mutilated, his face carved away and the lower jaw missing entirely. The man's bare chest was defaced as well, bearing a familiar rune: a seven-pointed star. A faded tattoo of a raven crossed his lower abdomen.
A handaxe was embedded in the floor near the log splitter, as if it had been dropped there. The handle was covered with bloody finger-marks. The log splitter itself was covered with gore, the rotating sawblades still now, but dripping red. The reason for that became clear when the party approached and looked down to the lower floor of the mill: the mangled, ruined remains of a woman lay on the floor amid heaps of bloodstained firewood. A pale-faced, obviously upset guard stood at attention nearby, studiously not looking at the body... parts.
Amrynn turned her head archly away from the doorway threshold of the mill-turned-charnel house. Long slender fingers danced in the air and captured the whispered incantation she sent forth. Weaving the power around her, chill gusts began circling her with refreshing bursts. With the worst of the smell and flies deflected, she stalked inside and around the grisly scene.
"This was torture," said the Shoanti flatly. He had spent the weeks quietly, drinking alone, pondering a place in the world without his 'cousin' and Bergi, whose wit had kept the darkness at bay in grimmer hours. Now he felt their absence acutely, although his face didn't show it. "Durriken. Can you tell how long it took for these two to die? I suspect it was not quick." He turned to the guard. "Do you know who they were?"
The guard below swallowed audibly, still not looking at the remains of the woman. "Banny Harker," he called back weakly. "And... and Katrine Vinder."
He made the mistake of glancing up at I'Daiin; then his eyes were drawn to the carnage below the log splitter. He vomited noisily.
I'Daiin traced the sun symbol in the air before his face and chest, superstitiously. "Lightbringer protect us. Pah. I don't think we need that rune expert to tell us this is somehow connected with Thassilon."
At mention of the names of the deceased, Amrynn drew up and leaned over to look down at the female remains.
“Vinder?” she asked. “Is Venn aware of his daughter’s fate yet?”
"Ven knows. He went nuts. Came after Ibor," the guard answered weakly, still recovering. "We had to arrest him."
Amrynn then summoned her magic once more, her eyes glowing mutely white as she made a second circuit around of the mill, searching for any remnants of the weave that may have been employed.
Durriken looked over the body destroyed by the wood splitter. The cause of death of obvious but he forced himself to look closer for more clues. Climbing down to the level where Katrine's remains lay, Durriken couldn't help but look up at the log splitter. Powered by the waterwheel when it was started, logs were sent down the chute and through the blades to end up... well, just like Katrine. She had never stood a chance against those spinning blades, now still and slowly dripping red. The chute itself was testimony to her fate - first nothing, then gore drenching the wood all the way down to where the limbs and torso lay mangled. She must have known, before she reached it, what would be her horrible fate.
He was reasonably sure, having looked at what bits of the woman that he could stomach, that the wounds she bore were borne of the log splitter. The guard retched again, clearly not used to such carnage. Probably the worst thing he'd had to deal with was a tavern brawl... or, perhaps, the goblin raid on Sandpoint.
Then Durriken climbed back up, and went to examine Banny's remains.
"The symbol was carved in post-mortem," he said, staying matter-of-fact to keep himself from following the guard's example of losing his breakfast.
Looking closer, he continued his analysis, "There are defensive wounds but these smaller wounds are the ones that are most curious," he said pointing to the wounds. "These scratches were caused by claws, probably from something about 5 feet tall." He sniffed the air closer to the wounds and said, "the smell of rot is stronger than it should be around these wounds as well."
"Fresh blood on the sawmill. They haven't been dead long, then. Rot...can that mean unlife, Durriken? Or some kind of scavenger? Do you think this was two beings--a humanoid serving this star--" the Shoanti pointed to the seven pointed gash--"and some clawed servant?"
I'Daiin began to inspect the ground closely for signs of spoor, dropped items, drips of blood, even going so far as to climb up the walls of the sawmill [if he is able], locking down into the mindset of a hunter tracking prey. "'ware where you walk, friends. Those of the cities usually leave a trail, unless we're dealing with flying ghosts." His tone indicated that levitating undead with claws was not outside of the realm of possibility.
It was hard to get a clearer picture of what had caused all this - there were tracks everywhere, probably from when the guards had found the victims Thorn had reported - and the party had been making their own as well... but I'Daiin was no mere huntsman. He was a Shoanti tracker.
A little more than ten minutes after beginning his search, I'Daiin was certain. One set of feet in the room had been barefoot, an adult male or a large female - and those prints... they reeked of rotten meat.
Once he had inspected the sawmill, the Shoanti wordlessly went outside to see if anything could be found on the banks of the river by the waterwheel--any slip of foot or limb that left a mark indicating entry into the water. "If it's not magicked, Amrynn, and we still have mysterious floating things here, then we're truly up backed up against a burn storm," he shouted as he padded outside toward the water.
At first, he found nothing - only the regular detritus and wood chips one might expect when one took a leap into the mud under a pier. But Amrynn, who had followed him outside to lend her sharp eyes to the mundane search, made a small noise, and I'Daiin climbed back up onto the pier to see what she'd found - and all became clear. He had accidentally squashed the very spot where the tracks originated, but the barefoot tracks must have emerged from the river, skipped over a few stones to avoid the deeper mud of the bank, and then actually climbed up onto the pier itself. They didn't enter through the opening for the pier, however - they did cross to the building, but then muddy prints showed that what I'Daiin was now convinced was a man had scaled the wall to an upper-floor window.
From there, the muddy prints more or less petered out, replaced by the bloody prints in the sawdust on the floor below... but the prints outside, too, stank of rotten meat.
Amrynn had followed I’Daiin more out of understanding for what the Shoanti was about, then any particular interest for the crime itself. The giant man tended to slip into an almost feral countenance when he was on the hunt, and the mystery of it drew Amrynn with primal intrigue. She walked up next to I’Daiin when he paused for a moment.
“With no trace of the weave to aid our killer,” she said. “He is a creature of particular talent indeed. Still, with that stench, he cannot walk the light of day normally. He must be reclusive, on the fringe of these civilized lands.”
The Shoanti barbarian narrowed his eyes at Amrynn, in solidarity, not as a threat, although with those of the Storval Plateau it was sometimes hard to read their expressions as anything but threatening. "A man or man-like creature. It can swim, or walk underwater, and leap to a pier, then climb a wall while still wet, and possibly muddy. And then---" He gestured at the sawmill. "We need hounds. Perhaps Belor Viskalai--ah, Sheriff Hemlock--can help us to borrow one. Whatever this is may be man-shaped, but it sounds like something twisted indeed." He scanned the skies. "If this thing is stationary for long aboveground, I would think it would attract vultures. But that assumes it doesn't just drive animals off out of fear. I mean no offense, Amrynn, but I find it hard to believe there isn't dark magic at work somehow."
“No offense taken,” Amrynn replied. “But like regular tracks, traces of the weave can be masked or dispersed as well. Or perhaps any magicks employed were made manifest elsewhere.”
She glanced around and nodded to herself that the possibility was more than likely. “Abominations, constructs, and other supernatural creatures do not leave any magical trace normally,” she added, taking a few steps toward the water. “From the water, likely back to the water, to mask its trail. Dogs might not be enough,” she said, glancing back at I’Daiin. “Cunning and vicious. It would appear you finally have a decent hunt on your hands.”
Amrynn walked back toward the mill and let out a long breath. “If undeath is involved,” she said quietly as she passed the barbarian. “We should be vigilant with any remains. I’ll warn the others.”
Amrynn’s gaze trailed over the crowd gathered, and a disgruntled air washed over her. If Bergi were here, she would have comforted and disbanded this group of gawkers with ease. Amrynn’s methods were more direct.
“Go home,” she said to the crowd, taking a few strides in their direction. “Go home and embrace those you love. Let the heroes of Sandpoint handle these unfortunate tidings.”

3

As soon as the crime scene had been investigated, Durriken blessed the remains of both the victims. It never hurt to have the kiss of Pharasma upon them in the event that someone or something wished them to turn to undead. He took mental notes of how the bodies were arranged and anything else he might think was of use for their investigation. He awaited the others to finish their investigations before conferring further.
"Whomever or whatever did this, certainly wanted to send a message. The desecration of the body with the symbol is proof enough of that. Still, what exactly is the message?"
There were no purebred hounds in town that the Sheriff knew of, but they did manage to borrow a couple of the ill-tempered smith's huge mastiffs - for all the good it did them. The dogs whined and balked, refusing to go into the mill. Perhaps they weren't fans of the smell, either.
"What did you learn?" Sheriff Hemlock asked quietly as his town guards tried to simultaneously get the dogs back to Das Korvut, keep the crowd out of the mill, and answer a barrage of questions about what was going on without giving anything away. They were surprisingly proficient at giving answers that told the townsfolk nothing, as if they had dealt with such problems before.
"Not enough," growled I'Daiin to the 'civilized' Shoanti. "Whatever it was, it's man-shaped, somewhat, but it stinks of rot, can climb like a squirrel, and has claws. I would suggest that people bar their doors and any tall buildings should be watched for second-story entry. We can't track it--animals shy away from the stink. We can do some tracking down the river, but there's no telling how long it swam or walked on the river bottom."
"I would like to have the bodies moved to the chapel if possible but please don't release the body for burial until I say so, if you please." Durriken said. Talking with the others he said quietly. "If we can, we should try to speak with the dead to ascertain what they saw. It might be of help."
The barbarian looked at his companions. "There's no point in us huddling by the fire like old men. We should go out and hunt it."
“With no active trail to follow,” Amrynn said. “I would find out as much as we are able first. Perhaps if we learn something of its motivation, we can get ahead of it instead of following in its wake.”
She cast a look of disgust at the mill and glanced around for general concurrence before suggesting something else.
“To Habe’s Sanitorium to speak to the survivor next?” she asked. “I’d like to know if he saw anything resembling runes before we talk with Quink about the symbols.”
She caught the eye of one of the local authority figures and asked, “Where precisely is the sanitorium?”

4

The unseasonable heat made it feel as though it was still summer as the party walked along the footpath to the sanitorium. Fields and farms spread out around them, wheat and corn growing high and ripe in the strong sun, until around noon they passed into the relatively chill lee of Ashen Rise, where neither wind nor sun touched long. Cougar Creek burbled between the escarpment and the squat, three-storey stone building they found at its foot. Narrow windows belied the friendliness of the white-painted walls, all but glowing in the noonday shade - this was a place that did not invite those within to leave. They walked on a raked crushed-gravel path through an immaculate, goat-cropped lawn, past a sign that read, 'The Saintly Haven of Respite;' the path led to the porch of the building, where ivy climbed the posts and railing.
I'Daiin hummed in his dark baritone as they made their way up the path. "Bergi's out, so someone has to do it," he said with his usual grim humor. He sang low notes in Shoanti, crisply telling some sort of tale that was indecipherable to those who only spoke Taldane and Varisian. " 'I must ride my horse fast, for Death is behind me. The sun is setting and the fires are not lit. Onward, onward, ancestors, to my doom; the horse will stumble in the dark,' that is basically the song. Very cheerful, no?" He split into a huge grin. "Let's talk to the person who saw this thing."
“If that was a cheery song, I’Daiin,” Amrynn said. “Please do us the favor of never dipping into a dirge.” She cracked a half-smile none the less. The big Shoanti was something of a marvel. Resilient, unforgiving, and steadfast, he was more like a force of nature, and that was at least something they could depend upon.
She, on the other hand, had fled twice in the company’s presence, magically induced fear yes, but her flightiness did not sit well with her. A smoldering pool burned in her gut as a constant reminder.
Amrynn drew a deep breath before they entered the ‘haven’. She suspected the air would be considerably less palatable inside than out, but that was something of a theme with the day’s events.
The wooden veranda creaked and groaned loudly as they set foot on it, opening the nearest door to find a small reception area within. There was a desk, with two chairs arrayed before it, and one behind. Apparently, it wasn't common for so many people to visit the sanatorium together. Durriken and I'Daiin were forced to wait outside while Amrynn and Devin took the lead.
There were two doors - one to the left, and one to the right. Beside the one to the right, a cord hung from a hole in the wall above a sign that read, 'Ring for service.' Amrynn tugged the cord, and could hear a bell ring behind the door to the right.
After a short wait, the door lock clicked open, and a man emerged. Clad in purplish robes, he had greying hair and an impatient mien. Locking the door behind him, he strode behind the desk and gestured for Devin and Amrynn to sit. "Yes, what is it?" he asked curtly.
“Hello, we’re here at the request of Sherriff Hemlock,” Amrynn addressed the attendant that approached them. “We’d like to speak with the man that was brought to your care a few days ago. The one who survived the demise of his comrades?”
“How is his condition?” she asked, wondering what they were walking into.
"Perhaps you don't know who I am. My name is Erin Habe, and I'm a very busy man," Habe sighed, looking annoyed. "I'm in the midst of some frightfully important work, and I really cannot be disturbed at this time. Please come back another day." He rose, indicating that the audience was at an end.
Devin felt Amrynn bristle. He expected heated anger, but he actually thought he felt the temperature near her drop a few degrees.
“Perhaps you don’t know who we are, Sir Habe,” Amrynn said. She hadn’t moved, and her tone was laced with ice. “We’re the ones who have kept the Thistletop goblins from eating you and burning your retreat here to the ground.”
“We’re also the ones who are operating with the authority of the law,” she continued. “But still offering you the courtesy of participating at your convenience. If you would rather convey what you know from a jail cell in town, we’d be happy to oblige. But we’re going to speak with your patient, whether you show us the way, or I take the keys from you by whatever means necessary.”
Throughout the exchange, Amrynn sat easily with one leg crossed over the other and her hands crossed at the wrist in her lap. Devin couldn’t be sure out of his periphery, but the fingers and nails of Amrynn’s one hand that he could see seemed ostensibly longer than he remembered.
Doctor Habe's annoyed look deepened. "Do you take me for a fool? Anyone can come here claiming this and that, but my patience was exhausted when you threatened to rob me of my keys. So much for operating with the authority of the law." Rising, he gave the cord on the wall two short pulls, jangling the bell in the building once more.
"I've rung for my orderlies to escort you... off the..." Doctor Habe trailed off as a huge shadow blocked out the light from the door.
At the sound of Sir Habe's brusque reply, I'Daiin rose smoothly, winked at Durriken, and entered the room, slipping in sideways and ducking slightly to accommodate his fearsome frame. The bulky, bronzed Shoanti cleared his throat. "Ah, good morrow, Sir Habe. No, don't worry about a chair--we'll be headed directly in. If there still isn't room, I am happy to escort you outside in order to clear some space." He tapped the wall as if to see if an exit point could be made merely by hurling a person through it. Then I'Daiin spread his hands, so honed in the art of killing things, wide, as if to supplicate, and gave the man his most disarming grin.
The lock to the right-hand door clicked again, and two burly men squeezed into the already crowded room. One was horribly disfigured, while the other was both excessively hairy and had unsettling eyes. They were clad in pale grey working clothes. Nightsticks hung from their belts.
"Whatchu need, boss?" the hairy one croaked, his basso voice reverberating in his chest. Both of them regarded the three in the office flatly.
"...Er? Oh... yes." Doctor Habe regarded I'Daiin with considerably less equanimity than he had Amrynn. A fine sweat had sprung up at his brow, and he dabbed at it absentmindedly with the tail of his purple doctor's turban. "This... large fellow and his companions were just saying that they're with the town guard. That they're the Heroes of Sandpoint. Do you recall mention of these people, Gortus, Gurnak?"
The orderlies' flat gazes didn't change. "I heard there was a looker with 'em, but she wasn't no elf," the one with the smashed face grunted. His bare arms and hands were equally ruined.
"The Heroes got one a th' Kauflebaums with 'em," the hairy one growled, craning his neck to see if he'd missed spotting a halfling behind the desk. "A big Shoanti, too," he admitted after a moment. "But they's everywhere."
"Yeh, but they ain't with th' guards. They's a adventurin' party," the smashed one snorted. He poked a thick finger at Devin. "You Quickfoot? Wasn't youse supposed t' be dead?"
"Well, there's... there's no need to do anything drastic," Doctor Habe stammered, never having taken his eyes off I'Daiin. "Perhaps you have some proof of your claims? And what was it you wanted, again?"
"We're not being drastic, but this cannot wait," rumbled the Shoanti, sizing up the two guards. "Bergi Kafflebaum has departed Sandpoint, and Quickfoot died at Thistletop. Trust me, we avenged his death many times over." One meaty finger tapped the desk, causing it to move in a startling fahion.
"Now. There is a survivor of the attack at the sawmill. They are here. We were asked by Sheriff Hemlock to investigate, and we did, but now we must see this person. Time is of the essence to catch this killer. So, we can either trot back down to the Sheriff's office now, and he will wonder why you have delayed us, or you may let us pass and we shall commend your actions to the Sheriff. Which shall it be?"
"Well, when you put it that way... but... what attack at the sawmill? What has happened?" Doctor Habe asked, looking confused.
Amrynn spoke to Devin in simple tones at the same time that I’Daiin attempted to reason with Habe. “Devin, please zip back to town and inform the sheriff he’ll be needed here,” she said. “Ask him to bring enough irons for all these men. I think a few days hanging from a wall will convey the proof of our authority.”
Then she added as an afterthought, “Oh, and tell him that Habe is bleeding pretty badly and will need to be treated.”
Durriken watched the battle of wills between Ammryn and Habe with great interest. He chose to remain quiet since there were already enough voices vying for attention. Instead, he took know of Habe's expression after he called the orderlies. Turning around, Durriken attempted to find what had obviously rattled Habe's resolve.
"There is no need for your barbaric threats!" Doctor Habe snapped - but he did it while squeezing behind his two burly orderlies. From the safety of the wall of muscle, he spat, "If you're one of the Heroes, it's quite clear your reputation is overrated. Of course I will cooperate fully with anyone sent by the Sheriff... assuming they aren't bloodthirsty thugs. However, I do not know of any attack on the sawmill, and I certainly don't have any patients from there. My last patient came in several days ago."
Devin couldn't hold back any more, and his placid face cracked to a snarky grin and a snort of a chuckle. As discomfited and beside himself as he'd been at the sawmill; struck dumb by the horror of events, there; perhaps some bottled-up emotion was relishing a moment's release at witnessing Amrynn well and truly pissed off and bristling, and I'Daiin's force-for-force intimidation opposite Habe's bouncers.
Devin sighed wistfully and waved a short hand of apology for his outburst to all in the room.
He moved to stand, unhurried; he disliked being seated -- and at a disadvantage -- when the situation might call for some quick movement, or the utility of a blade quickly retrieved. Not that he expected it to come to that.
"That last patient; from several days ago; is the one we've come to speak with. He was a bodyguard, formerly in the employ of three men, and presumably witnessed an attack on them. It didn't sit well with his mind, hence, here."
Devin put a hand on his chest, as if in apology, "The sawmill also saw some recent events, which are too fresh in our minds. I'Daiin mis-spoke; very understandable." The hand fell. "All said, my love has the truth of it, and we /are/ deputies of Sandpoint, though I gather you no longer doubt that point. So much the better; that'll save me a trip."
"Surely you have a common room large enough for us all to gather more comfortably, and speak with that former bodyguard? You can be present, of course."
“Or parts of you can,” Amrynn chimed in from her seat. She still hadn’t risen, hadn’t thought herself capable of enough restraint were she well and truly mobile. She still seethed, her eyes locked on Habe, though the mention of love seemed to have stoked her fires. She waited, allowing the men to handle matters for now. They seemed to have the steadier hands at the moment.
"Considering her continued threats, I very much doubt that she is a representative of the Sheriff," Doctor Habe said angrily from behind his strange orderlies, his eyes darting between the party members. "He, like the rest of you, is a reasonable man, and wouldn't threaten harm to an innocent citizen. Assault is, I find it necessary to remind you, illegal. And someone of such volatile temperament is a threat to my patients, and to myself. As I said, I'm quite busy with the treatment of my patients, but if it will bring this farce to an end quickly, I'm willing to let you speak with him - briefly, mind you. That is, you three. She can remain outside, unless you can restrain her. Mr. Sevilla is in no condition to listen to threats of violence."
“That’s the second time you’ve intimated that I am a liar,” Amrynn said, standing and smoothing her garments a bit. “But know that it’s only because of my civility, good sir, that you still have your tongue.”
Amrynn moved toward the door but paused on the threshold, looking back over one shoulder.
“But even I have my limits. Remember that the next time you open that drivel hole above your chin,” she said. “Honor always supersedes the law. Don’t ever presume that the latter will keep me from upholding the former.”
Amrynn then stepped out into the fresh air and said to Durriken, “They’ll be wanting you inside, no doubt.” Then she wandered off to a nearby half-wall and hoisted herself atop it, drawing forth one of the tomes she was carrying to peruse idly.
"Thank you for the correction, Devin. Yes, I meant the prior attack. I apologize. We Shoanti are a simple lot, as you've said; I'm sure Sheriff Hemlock would enjoy hearing you say that to him as well." He waggled an eyebrow at Habe.
"Now, as to the questioning. It will be with all of us, or we return with the Sheriff and question all of you, and in shackles." He squinted at the bodyguards' odd shapes. "I don't suppose you fellows have been drinking anything out of buckets, in underground lairs dedicated to--well. That's a question for another time, and certainly one of questionable legality. Now, if you would bring forth Mr. Sevilla, we can get on with this post haste." I'Daiin smiled benevolently and crossed his massive arms in a relaxed fashion, as if awaiting for Mr. Sevilla to be produced instantly.
Devin shrugged what-can-you-do to Habe, and gestured for Habe and his brutes to lead the way to the interior room where this audience with Mr. Sevilla could take place.
Devin turned and offered Amrynn a hand to rise, mouthing archly as he did so, "Don't make me restrain you," and the shared grin that followed -- intended for and clear to Amrynn, and I'Daiin, and perhaps Durriken past the Shoanti -- made it a private jab at Habe's king-of-his-own-domain complex without being overtly rude. Petty criminals with a small territory, a posturing gang, or even a derelict holding -- these Devin was all too familiar in dealing with when necessary, skirting when possible. Habe felt entitled to respect, or even supplication, by merit of both his scholarship and the imbued benevolence of his work. And maybe Habe actually did some good, here. They would see.
"I've still seen no proof that you're actually acting with the authority of the law," Doctor Habe blustered. "Quite the contrary. I offered you a reasonable compromise. I must think of the safety of my patients, my staff, and myself." He leveled a finger at Amrynn. "If I hear one more threat to my person out of her, the interview is over. Is that understood?"
He allowed the party into the room beyond the bell-pull, which was a large workroom with several tables and benches. The somewhat sour smell of incense was heavy in the air, and the floors were scrubbed clean, the walls freshly painted white. Doctor Habe stiffly indicated they should sit while he sent Gortus and Gurnak to fetch Mr. Sevilla.
As Amrynn rose and curtly indicated she’d wait outside, Devin paused - perhaps he’d gone too far and she’d taken his mood to be at her expense. He held her hand one moment longer and his expression spoke both tentative apology and coaxing invitation; they could use her insight.
Once it was clear she was resigned to depart the building for the good health of all concerned, herself included, Devin nodded. He touched a raised fingertip to his lips, then held the same fingertip to her ear, and moved to follow the group to the interior.

5

The two orderlies returned half-carrying, half-dragging a limp man in a straitjacket. Sevilla's skin was pale, looking almost gangrenous, and his eyes milky white under a curtain of wild hair. The orderlies deposited him on the bench opposite the party. Head bowed, Sevilla slumped in his seat, staring at the floor.
"At least he ain't raving," the hairy orderly grunted.
"Gurnak, please," Doctor Habe admonished. He turned back to the party, flipping his hands at them. "Go on, ask what you want to ask. As you can see, he is very ill, and not particularly responsive. It is imperative that he quickly return to his room for treatment." He seemed eager to get the party out the door again.
Seeing the condition of Sevilla, Durriken turned to Dr. Habe and inquired, "I am versed in the healing arts. Might I offer him some magical healing to ease his suffering? I am sure you are doing all you can for his mental state but perhaps this will help with his physical condition."
"He ain't hurt, he's just crazy," Gortus grunted.
Doctor Habe nodded, but after eyeing the four for a moment, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Go on, then. Just do it quickly." The Doctor fidgeted as he waited for them to finish their interrogation.
Sevilla moaned as Pharasma's wind touched him, ruffling his shock of hair in a breeze no one else felt. For a moment, his skin flushed; then it paled again, leaving him breathing shallowly, staring at nothing between his feet.
Durriken frowned as the power of Pharasma's magic was fleeting, "It must be a disease or a curse then," he said to no one in particular. He then stepped back and allowed someone else to take the lead on the questioning as he puzzled this new information.
Devin paled, himself; he believed he'd seen a reaction something like that, once before. Pallid malease that magical healing could barely brush. The last man he'd seen in those conditions had died painfully, from the poison he'd been made to ingest, that the acolyte couldn't dispel. Or he could be seeing things and jumping to inaccurate conclusions.
"We need him lucid, Doctor. What have you given him, and how long until it works itself out of him?" Devin asked of Doctor Habe. Outside, Amrynn heard the words whispered in her ear as if Devin were adjacent to him.
"This reaction is due to nothing I have administered," Doctor Habe sniffed, eyes flicking between Sevilla and the party. "My patient is mentally ill. His humours have become unbalanced, and it has affected his mind. That is why it is imperative that I continue his treatment right away."
"What is Sevilla's profession? Does he have a family? A favorite food?" said I'Daiin, thinking like a hunter. Something could lure the man out of his mental cave and into lucidity. "Shoanti burn kasili and other plants to clear the mind, and smudge away evil spirits." He knelt beside the man so as to not frighten him with his size. "We are here to help you, Sevilla," he said in a soothing baritone.
With I'Daiin's bulk, he was more looking straight at Sevilla than up at him, even kneeling. "He was a bodyguard, or somesuch, from what I gathered from the Sheriff," Doctor Habe frowned. Then he sighed. "Really, he isn't going to say anything. Family and foods, what does this all-"
Then Sevilla caught sight of I'Daiin's face, and there was an immediate response. His milky eyes bulged, and he burst out, spittle flying from his lips, "He said. He said you would visit me. His Lordship. The one that unmade me said so." He laughed, a high-pitched, tittering sound that had no place coming from a brawny man such as himself. It was horribly unnerving. "He has a place for you. A precious place. I'm so jealous. He has a message for you. He made me remember it. I hope I haven't forgotten. The master wouldn't approve if I forgot. Let me see... let... me... see..." Sevilla took in a long, shuddering breath. The Doctor and his orderlies gawped at the man, clearly not having expected this outburst.
"He said you should come to the Misgivings soon, to meet the Pack, for they have something... something wonderful... to show you!..."
Sevilla slid off the bench, collapsing to the floor, and issued a low moan. The sound was as horrible as his laughter had been, raising the small hairs at the back of their necks.
"Another leading message," Devin mused. Magical suggestions? Hypnotism? A powerful charm? He didn't know, and his fledging arcane studies didn't give him much in the way of insight or tools to delve further. "And a mocking summons to that old manor."
Devin looked to Durriken, silently asking if there was anything further he could do for Sevilla, in his experience.
"What treatments are you trying for the man, Doctor?" Devin inquired of Habe. He noted the restraining jacket anew. "Has he tried to harm himself?"
Before the Doctor could answer, Sevilla's moan rose to a shriek, and he suddenly sprang up at I'Daiin, ripping his arms free of his old straitjacket. "No! He loves you more!" the madman howled. He brought both knotted fists around in a powerful roundhouse punch that cracked even the Shoanti's head to the side. Doctor Habe screamed in surprised fright.
"Look out!" Gortus yelled, and he and Gurnak hustled the Doctor out of harm's way.
"Damn it," Devin cursed aloud -- he had to hold himself back from defaulting to lethal force to defend I'Daiin, though he knew he would use it if it came to that. Whatever Sevilla's mental state, the man wasn't an enemy unless he couldn't be stopped any other way. Devin risk one attempt at a subdual gambit, barking, "Sevilla!" and twining it within words of magic to blur what remained of the man's mind. He had been a mercenary bodyguard; Devin had to chance Sevilla was not extraordinarily experienced or disciplined in his trade.
Whether he had been disciplined or not, Sevilla's current rage manifested as powerful swings at I'Daiin mixed with sobs about razors and too many teeth - he didn't appear to notice Devin's magic. Having deposited the Doctor out of harm's way, the odd orderlies turned back towards the scene, reaching for their nightsticks.
"Knock him to the floor!" shouted the Shoanti, rolling towards Savilla in a half-crouch, half-pounce, his burly arms opening wide to encompass the maddened attacker.
For a raving and sick madman, Sevilla was surprisingly cunning. He feinted to one side, then leapt to the other, trying to hammer I'Daiin again as the Shoanti grabbed for him - but I'Daiin was expecting it this time, and let the blow smack into his armor, leaving him with a mere shove and Sevilla with smarting hands.
"He'll never! No, never!" Sevilla shouted, all but foaming at the mouth.
Durriken had been about to answer Devin's question when Sevilla erupted into violence. Not having anything that wouldn't possibly outright kill the man, the cleric opted to move back and allow the orderlies and the others do the work of subduing Sevilla. He waited to see if the poor tormented soul or any of the others might require healing and stood ready with a spiritual weapon spell in case it was needed.
Devin sighed and noted the arrival of the nightsticks. "Got a spare one of those?" Devin asked with an extended hand. Saps and bludgeons that could subdue without killing weren't in his normal everyday carry.
"We're gonna use 'em," Gurnak growled, pulling his nightstick free.
“It sounds as if matters have degenerated in there,” Amrynn whispered to Devin via his message incantation. “Please tell me that shrieking I hear is someone strangling Habe.”
"Habe has been squirreled away; Sevilla is on I'Daiin, going for blood; may need to put him down," Devin replied back to Amrynn, some small hesitation and regret in his voice for the course of action he was resigning himself to. Whatever Sevilla had been through, though, didn't merit holding back at risk of I'Daiin's life.
Even as the orderlies approached, I'Daiin grabbed for Sevilla again, and this time the madman was not so lucky. He scrabbled at I'Daiin's meaty arms, trying to get free, but the Shoanti's muscles were like rocks.
Devin waded into the fray to assist I'Daiin in maintaining his hold on Sevilla. As long as Sevilla was under control, they had a chance to subdue him without killing him. The daggers and sword on Devin's hips earned a fragment of his attention, ready to be drawn and employed if as a group they all failed to bring Sevilla down still breathing.
With not just I'Daiin, but Devin as well holding his arms, it seemed impossible for Sevilla to escape - but with a scream and a mighty wrench of his body, he tore free! The orderlies hesitated, glancing at the party.
"Easy now, Grayst," Gortus said soothingly, the nightstick in his misshapen fist belying his friendly tone. "We're just gonna take you back to yer room to rest. Sounds nice, right?"
Gurnak said nothing, but edged closer to the frothing madman, a small grin on his face.
Sevilla ignored them both, and Devin as well. Rather than run off, he confronted I'Daiin. "You're wrong, so wrong for him!" he moaned at the hulking Shoanti, dragging his fingernails down his face. "He'll see it, he'll see!" A desperate, despairing giggle escaped him, and he clamped his fingers over his mouth, shaking with... laughter? Tears? General insanity?
Looking on the scene with sadness, Durriken stands ready to defend himself but will allow the orderlies to do their rather distasteful task if necessary. He will be prepared to heal anyone who is damaged as a result of this confrontation. He listens to Sevilla rave trying to make sense of his words but finding no rational connection to any of his own knowledge.
"This man needs restraints," growled a bleeding I'Daiin. "Don't kill him."

6

Amrynn looked down at the pages, but she wasn’t reading. She was listening. Devin would call for her if her abilities were needed, but that didn’t sate the worry which gnawed at the fringes.
Her abilities. She looked at her slender hands with the delicate fingers. So much of what she embodied was destructive. Could she even subdue a man if she had to?
“Only by killing him,” she murmured, her visage darkening in response. She wasn’t disappointed that she couldn’t. She was disappointed in the fact that part of her liked the ferocity of her power. The blue flame was always there, smoldering with an ache just beneath the surface.
She raised her chin a bit. She was what she was, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. She only wished she could harness that heat with a little more certainty. Perhaps with more time. For now though, she would just have to continue wrestling with the ancient blood in her veins.

7

"Gods, he's strong," Devin muttered ruefully, collecting himself from Sevilla's escape after both Devin and I'Daiin together tried and failed to hold him under control. "It's going to take the five of us to pin him down; let's get to it. I'Daiin, you should hold back -- he might keep his eyes on you and not get aggressive with us."
With a nod to Durriken, and the orderlies, Devin waded into again with the intent to capture a limb or otherwise assist in Sevilla's capture.
Gortus and Gurnak had something else in mind. The two strange orderlies stepped in and began to thump Sevilla with their nightsticks, and whether they were aiming to knock the wind out of him or just beat him into submission wasn't entirely clear. They did seem to take a certain satisfaction from laying into him, though he twisted and turned like an experienced mercenary, softening blows that might have been harder. Still, the orderlies appeared to be almost as strong as I'Daiin, and weren't afraid of showing it.
I'Daiin reached out his heavy hands and grabbed Sevilla through the falling nightsticks. Accidental thumps on his tough hands and arms were flatly ignored as he brought Sevilla back under control, despite the man's raving. This time, with Devin latched onto his arms, the madman was unable to pull free.
"TOO MANY TEETH," he screamed, as though that made perfect sense. The Doctor peered from around the corner, looking terrified.
With Sevilla now under better restraint, the Shoanti gave the madman a fierce glare...outside of biting range, of course. "Who do you speak of! Where do we find him! TELL US!" bellowed the barbarian, lifting an enormous fist as if to knock the man's head right off of his neck.
"The Skinsaw Man! The Skinsaw Man!" Sevilla shrieked deleriously, eyes rolling about in his head. "Don't go there! He loves you!"
“How about we get him fully restrained, first?” Devin griped, working to control and immobilize the quarter of so of Sevilla’s body that was most tasked to Devin.
Seeing Sevilla somewhat under control, Durriken tried to lend his assistance to getting the man restrained once more.
With the three men holding him down, and the two orderlies beating him soundly with their nightsticks, Sevilla finally fell limp, his breathing shallow as the orderlies picked him up and began to haul him away.

8

The Doctor rushed forward once Sevilla was neutralized, wringing his hands. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea that he would-! Please, forgive me this unfortunate event!" He mopped his brow with his scarf, hands shaking. "I beg you, don't spread word of this. My funding could dry up, and my poor patients! Where would they go?" He sat on one of the benches, entreating the party weakly. "I didn't know he was violent, honestly! He never attacked any of my staff!"
"I don't expect that was your fault," Devin dismissed the incident. "Nothing to forgive; nothing to relay. Someone's setting an elaborate game about I'Daiin; someone able to crack minds." Devin shook his head, not at all certain what that meant. He'd never seen magic that could cut so deeply and so thoroughly into a personality, and implant such persistent psychosis, suggestion, and impression.
"Very decent of you, I must say, very kind," Doctor Habe said, mopping his brow once again as he slumped slightly in relief.
Devin straightened his shirt and vest absently, and checked that all his weapons were accounted for. "Doctor, in your experience, what could cause Sevilla's condition? As importantly, what could ward against it?"
I'Daiin rose up, bleeding from scratches. "We have no intention of spreading frightening rumors throughout Sandpoint, Doctor, whether founded or not. I would keep Sevilla under heavier guard." He turned to Devin and Durriken. "Is he charmed? He did not make very much sense. Apparently whoever commands him or broke him was this 'Skinsaw Man'. And he said I was very wrong for this Man, but seemed to want to offer me up as the next victim anyhow. Not to mention teeth. I assume this Skinsaw Man was the murderer, or was the one who commanded some monster to attack the sawmill. It doesn't seem like much of a trail, but perhaps some lore can offer up something." He was unmoved at the idea of being the next victim. "I'd present myself as bait, but I have a feeling this Skinsaw thing will strike again." He crossed his beefy arms for emphasis.
"Well, of course I can't say if magic had a hand in his madness, though his illness might," Doctor Habe mused, the chance to be self-important restoring him somewhat. He straightened, thinking. "I am a doctor of the psyche, not a wizard, commanding the stuff of the occult. But the Sheriff told me that he'd seen three other fellows cut to bits in some macabre fashion, right before his eyes. They found him tied to a post, or some such thing. Such a thing could certainly bring the humours of a healthy mind out of balance. This 'Skinsaw Man' could simply be the product of a broken mind, one unable to bear the thought of what evil man does to man. There is little any man of sound mind can do to prevent being tipped off kilter, with such horror before him, I'm afraid."
He spread his hands. "However, if you believe there may be a grain of truth in his ravings, and there have been murders right in town - why, that hasn't happened since the Late Unpleasantness! - I cannot refute that. However, Master Grayst Sevilla could hardly have performed them. He has been here, under lock and key, for days. Varisians may be known for their tricks, but to trick all of us here in such a fashion? I doubt he is in the state of mind to do so, were it even possible."
"Thus, perhaps your business here is concluded?" the Doctor prompted, rising to his feet hopefully. "I have only Gortus and Gurnak working for me here - I am not a wealthy man - but I shall see to it that the straightjackets are given a good hard look, of course. Master Sevilla won't surprise us again."
"I don't think there is more we can learn from here. I wish I had more powerful magic to cure this man's mind but unfortunately, they are beyond me. For now, I think we should explore more about Misgivings and the Pack. Those two terms seem to hold some importance to Sevilla. Perhaps they will grant us some further direction in this case." Durriken said.
"Thank you, Doctor. Please send word to Sheriff Hemlock if Sevilla says anything further. We'll be on our way. Sorry about the blood," said the hulking Shoanti, his own blood having just recently finished dripping.
The Doctor's relief at the party's departure was almost palpable - or rather, it was audible, as he locked the office door behind them.
Once outside, I'Daiin spoke in low tones to his compatriots. "I wonder if the Sheriff would recognize any of the terms Sevilla spouted, when he wasn't trying to bite my nose off," said I'Daiin. He grimaced. "I hope that fellow didn't have distemper. Durriken, you can cure that, can't you?"
With all regathered, Devin suggested, "We should report to the Sheriff, first. What we saw and heard may tie into other events Hemlock may be aware of."
"Niceties aside, if only from his choice of orderlies, I don't trust Habe. Someone bent on the welfare of his charges wouldn't employ men with those dispositions."
"Sheriff first; then we follow the trail to Foxglove Manor.'
Amrynn glared at the sanitarium. She had no doubt they were being watched, likely overheard as well. “Historically speaking, the arrogant rarely consider the welfare of others.”
She stopped once more as they departed and gazed back at the receding structure. She did not believe their time with Dr. Habe was concluded, not while this Skinsaw Man yet stalked Sandpoint.

The Second Cycle