To Whom it May Concern at the Great Library
I was having lunch at Miss Terry’s Fry Basket, a local hangout in Sossanopa with my friends Redsun, Mal, Elisen and Jarok. The Fried Catch of the Day with battered vegetables and the sweet and spicy dipping sauce is to die for by the way. The view from the back deck by the river is beautiful and the drinks were cold. What more could you ask for?
Well we got an answer to that; we were grateful our fish had already been caught when we spotted a body drifting down the river. Elisen ran a grapple out to hook it, and Redsun and Mal reeled it in. Miss Terry pretty quickly let us know that a week old body pulled from the river wasn’t exactly the most appetizing advertisement for the restaurant, and we moved it over onto the docks and away from the patrons.
The t’skrang body was wearing sodden fishing gear, so we asked the local fishermen who had come to gawk who he was. Turns out he was a local fixture, a guy by the name of Tk’swan who ran a solo fishing boat round the river by the name of “Unsinkable II” (We declined to ask what had happened to “Unsinkable I”, in case you were wondering.). He was best described as a cantankerous drinkin fella with a bit of a fishing problem, but had no known enemies. One of the fisherman told me that ol ‘swan dumped his ex-wife and their ramshackle house on the fella foolish enough to have an affair with her, but that they had moved away years ago after the shack collapsed into the river and ‘swan was happier than he’d been in years. They then got into an argument about who had the worst ex that turned into a surprisingly solemn moment when they all took their caps off and wished ‘swan well at the best fishing spot in the afterlife. (A description and sketch of Unsinkable II is in Appendix A. A map showing the fishing spots Tk’Swan had been seen at over the last two weeks is in Appendix B.)
We examined the body and decided that the knife wound where he had been gutted before being dropped in the river was the likely cause of death. We are clever that way.
While we were getting ready to call the guard, Mayor Fields (a dwarf) puffed his self-important way up and told all and sundry how terrible it was that there had been another murder most foul! Um, another murder mayor? <haggle, haggle, yes we would be happy to look into it for you mayor, haggle…>
Turns out the dwarf Droman Miller (who, you guessed it, ran the local granary and mill) had died in a suspicious accident two days back. The town was reeling from the blow and the local farmers didn’t know how they were going to get their products to market without someone who knew how to run a mill. Goodman Miller was survived by his wife, Goodwife Miller and a couple of kids, but they were thought to be too young to take over the mill. Some relatives were being contacted to try to sort things out, but it was a terrible tragedy. A little cross checking revealed that the Miller was thought to be charging too much to the local bakery and other customers, while the local farmers all griped that he paid too little for their grain. The prices for both were very close to each other so it sounded like the miller was caught between a couple of millstones to make his own living. Yay small town economics.
Given that the mill was in town and the last know location for the Unsinkable II was about 20 miles upstream, we decided to start with the Mill.
Nothing quite says we are sorry for your loss like a fish casserole, so we picked up one from Miss Terry and carried it to the house of the grieving widow (the family lives in a structure attached to the mill).
We met with Goody Miller and handed over our casserole. Redsun began his questor of Mynbruje schtick consoling her and asking investigator questions while I mixed with the bored ladies keeping company at the house to decant all the juicy gossip you can ONLY get at a small town funeral. Long n short of it was that I learned a wee bit too much but nothing that seemed directly applicable, so rejoined the gang as they went to look the mill over for clues now that they had the Goodwife’s permission.
In the mill, we quickly figured out that the smooshed bloodstain between the grist and the main wheel was the likely cause of death, yay! We also noted that there was no way for the dwarf to have been smooshed without him actually crawling up the grain shoot. Weird. Redsun then noticed a very strange glint up in the shoot. A gold coin. Looked like Droman had been lured by something into putting himself into a dangerous spot, and then the brake on the wheel “slipped”. Huh.
I gave a quick flyabout outside the mill and noticed a dead cat with its head smashed in. Huh.
With no further clues at the mill, we decided to head to the fishing spot. Elisen made a good suggestion that if the “Unsinkable II” had been scuttled, we might need a boat to check it out. We circled back to the fishermen and found one who was willing to take us upriver, an older human named Skinner. He took us out on a boat named the “Orca”, (named after some type of giant river shark or something?). We volunteered to bail to keep the old gal afloat long enough for us to arrive. Yay!
Sketch of the boat:
Once we got near the fishing spot, we could see the “Unsinkable II” tied off to a tree on the bank. Jarock quickly learned that five days of having fish rot in the hold can lead to stomach troubles when poking around in the pile. We were able to follow t’skrang tracks from the boat to a disturbed area where it looked like a fight or something had happened, but we couldn’t really figure out what was going on. We did find a crow with it’s head bashed in nearby, but huh?
We back-tracked from the disturbed area, and it looked like dwarf footprints headed back along a path by the river. Skinner wanted to salvage the “Unsinkable II” (I think it had less leaks) and tied it off to ride in tandem with the Orca. I took the helm, and with Jarock and Mal for crew we helped Skinner bring the Orca back while Elisen and Redsun walked along the bank checking tracks and for stuff out of place. Big mistake. Splitting the party even by 100 yards is just NEVER a good idea, but we were trying to accommodate the fisherman kind enough to give us a lift even tho Elisen’s dyre wasn’t getting on no boat no how.
Anyway, next thing we know Redsun is screaming about Mynbruje and he and Elisen are fighting on the shore. We fly over as quick as we can, but the fight is over and Elisen is standing over a dead windling. Seems he skewered a horror and it transformed into a younger version of him, or something. Redsun saw the horror as Mynbruje, but now it’s a kid, or something? Wasn’t really clear on how all that worked.
Anyway, we continue to follow the tracks and they lead to…. Da da DUM…. The mayor’s house. We quickly figure out the mayor and his wife have been replaced by horrors. The mayor replacement was the horror Elisen killed, but his wife was grabbing canaries out of a cage, smashing their heads in, and transforming into… …Elisen’s Zoak / mount…. …which Elisen is riding the real one of… …outside the house… …because that will confuse us? Huh? Seems the horrors need a “small life” to fuel their impersonation, but I just wasn’t buying the zoak transformation trick.
Anyway, I keep an eye on the astral and yell about the oncoming ghouls the horror is leading and much mayhem ensues. The horror keeps zinging out spells and I keep dispelling ‘em as fast as they are cast, much to the horror’s annoyance. The guys make paste of the horror and the goons. Go us!
After the dust settles, the mayor’s wife zoak horror thing transforms into a baby orc ala Jarock. We burn it to ash as a precaution, and tell the townsfolk that the mayor and his wife were killed by and then impersonated by the horrors who had committed the murders, but that the bad guys are all dead now.
The testimony of Redsun as questor of Mynbruje seems to help a lot as he explains to the towns people what happened.
I am not sure if other Deceiver nests have been found in the area near Throal, but I would suggest a detailed review of anti-agent protocols in light of the increase in Deceiver activity in the area.
Yours in Service,
Nib