First a full scale goblin invasion led by one of Sandpoints own, and now a string of murders by somebody with enough foresight to try and frame Kerr Mollin of all people for the crime. It's not as if Kellan had harbored any disillusion about resting on their laurels for rest of his career, but what were the odds of something like this happening so soon after the invasion?

Given the symbology involved, he decided chance probably did not have a lot to do with it.

The Scarnettis had decided to make things personal, and Sandpoint was not the sort of place associated with things of this nature. A place where you ambush a good man after inviting him into your home for dinner. Kellan had almost hoped that they would resist the Sheriffs intrusion with force, but sadly they had been too smart for that.

"We'll take a look...what ever became of the man the other guards found on the road? The filthy madman?" Kellan asked as he helped brush Kerr down and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder..

"So ... madman found at scene of crime.  Check," said the gnome,  following on the heels of Stomper's question.  She paced back and forth as she enumerated each of the facts.  "Three murdered miscreants.  Check.  A mysterious letter.  No, strike that.  Two mysterious letters."

"Oh, and the mysterious seven pointed scars."  This thought gave the gnome pause.  "Nualia had a medallion inscribed with a stylized, seven-pointed star.  And we also saw one like it in the ruins off the tunnels from the Glassworks.  Seven," she said, fishing the card from her pouch and holding it aloft.  "And there were seven Runelords, weren't there, Cato?"  For the gnome, the seven pointed star drew a direct line to the One-Eyed Mask.  But, she said no more about this, leaving it for Stomper, Cato, Lysa and Kerr Mollin to draw their own conclusions.  They all knew of these things too.

"Did you check the wounds on the murdered men, Sheriff?" Pisca asked.  "And match them to the weapons that the madman had on his person?  Doesn't seem likely to me that this man was the murderer.  Or, at least, the only murderer.  It would have been three against one for starters.  Hard to see how this lone madman could have killed all three of them so quickly that at least one would not be able to escape, fleeing for his life."

"And we have two people here.  We have one that calls himself 'Your Lordship' and another who Your Lordship calls 'Master'.  And in an envelope addressed to Kerr Mollin, this Your Lordship declares his fealty to this Master.  Which might be interpreted as Your Lordship referring to Kerr Mollin to whom the envelope seems to be addressed as Master."

Pisca frowned at her analysis in a dissatisfied manner.

"The thing that confuses me the most in all of this," she continued, expressing her dissatisfaction, "is why this letter writer would call himself 'Your Lordship'.  Can you imagine the confusion?"

"What's your name?" squeaked one of Pisca's hands, both of which she now held aloft in the manner of puppets.

"I'm Your Lordship," said the hand that held the black card with the golden seven.  It spoke in a deeper voice.

"You're my lordship?"

"No, you fool!  I'm Your Lordship."

"But that's what I said.  You're my lordship."

"Nonono!  I'm Your Lordship!!!"

"What?"

The gnome sighed.  "You see the problem?"

Liseth had eventually transferred herself from the floor to the bed; laying on her stomach with her face buried in the pillows.  It was difficult to keep track of the passage of time, and in truth the girl didn't really try.

She was brought back to the world by activity outside her room.  Activity followed by everyone bursting in on her in her misery.  A split second saw her undecided whether she should cover her head with a pillow and hide, but the crestfallen acolyte glanced up at the intruders.

Only to see her battered, beaten, bloody, and bruised beau being brought in.  Practically carried by Sheriff Hemlock and Kellan.  The girl sat bolt upright with a horrified scream.  "Kerr!"

Her own misery was forgotten as Liseth bounded off the bed and rushed to Kerr's side, "What happened?!  What did they do to you?!"  She helped the others usher him onto her recently vacated bed and made Kerr lie down.  Before there was a chance for response, the small acolyte began to channel intense positive energy.

"Gods, heal the bruises and mend the flesh of your faithful servant!  Restore the health and vigor to this battered body!"  Her hands were laid atop Kerr and moved slowly up and down his body, healing injuries as they came across them.  There were so many!

Liseth listened closely to the Sheriff's story as she tended to Kerr; the situation had suddenly become very personal to her.  Her hands never left Kerr, gripping his arm as though her boyfriend might vanish otherwise.

"How could they think Kerr is involved in any of this?  He's been training so hard with Ser Klerris that he's barely had time to go to dinner, let alone..." she swallowed and looked Kerr in the face.  "There's no way!  Kerr is a paladin and a hero; if Mr Scarnetti thinks that Kerr could be a part of that, then he doesn't know anything at all!"  Liseth sounded uncharacteristically vehement.

"Thank you Pisca."  Liseth finally responded to her gnome friend's words, "I know everyone is different...but, it's just...well..."  She faltered, then sighed, "I don't want to think about Shayliss...or Katrine, or Elsbet or any of the other girls right now."  The blonde frowned.

The frown became a grimace as Liseth thought about what the Sheriff said concerning the mutilated bodies.  "Has anyone examined them yet?  Who knows a lot about injuries and anatomy?"  She absolutely did not want to get close to a bunch of horrible corpses right now, but if it would help Kerr...

"I could...I could look at them.  To see if I can find anything that might be important."

The way that Pisca spoke with her puppet hands about the letter did give Liseth a final thought, "The letter could have Kerr's name on it for any number of wicked reasons.  The Master that Your Lordship talks about could be someone else entirely, maybe an evil deity or demon..."  Not too far of a stretch considering the events with the goblins before.

"Maybe Kerr's name is on it because the killer wants to taunt him specifically into investigating?  Like in a mystery story, where the killer always leaves clues for the hero to find?  You've heard stories like that, right Pisca?"

OOC: Casting Cure Moderate Wounds and Lesser Restoration
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:47, Fri 21 Aug 2015.

"There are stories ... "  Pisca mulled the question put to her by her very worried human friend.  "But ... most of the time the clues are more clever and less ... obtuse."

"This seems less a clue than a declaration of fealty by a madman.  And it's addressed to Kerr Mollin.  Nailed to a wall.  Specifically placed there to be found ... "  The gnome hmm'ed for a bit before continuing.  "If we discount the idea that Kerr Mollin is not secretly an evil mastermind who controls a cadre of fanatically devoted madmen, then I'd say that the most likely scenario is that someone out there wants us (or everyone, actually) to *think* that Kerr Mollin is secretly an evil mastermind who controls a cadre of fanatically devoted madmen."

"Sort of a clumsy way to go about it, though.  And ... "  Pisca gives The Boyfriend a long and appraising look.  "Not ... very ... likely."

Cato merely watched in surprise as Sheriff Hemlock dashed out of the room, trying to decide the ideal course of action for dealing with everything that was happening.  The return of the sheriff, with the beaten Kerr, put a different spin on everything that had just happened.

Cato rushed forward, but then took a few steps back, trusting Liseth to care for the injured paladin better than he would be able to.  Once she had, Cato began to think about what Hemlock had said.

"Wait, a crazed man butchers three people and leaves a note?  That doesn't even make any sense.  How could an insane person do that?"

Cato considered further, and nodded to Pisca.  "Yes, a seven-pointed star.  We saw several such things.  If it's the same one we saw down in the tunnels below Sandpoint, it's called a Sihedron rune, and was the symbol of the Thassilonian Empire.  If someone is carving runes into murder victims, I suspect the Sheriff was right to see us.  We definitely need to see the bodies."

Cato shook his head.  "It seemed as though there was...something in Thistletop trying to work its will on the goblins that Nualia was trying to aid.  Maybe that...something found a way to influence someone.  Or the tunnels.  Sheriff, you're still guarding them?  Nothing strange has happened there?  And why would some ancient being from Thassilon care about Kerr?  Unless they have a vendetta against the god he represents?"

Cato shook his head again.  "So many strange questions."

---

---

Sheriff Hemlock waited patiently while everyone reacted to his startling news, smiling slightly at Pisca’s short, one-gnome play.  Once things had settled down, he continued.  “The man who attacked our guards was clearly sick and insane, Kellan.”  He shrugged.  “We don’t think he had the wherewithal,” he nodded in agreement with Pisca, “to take down all three men.  He wasn’t armed.”  He said in answer to the gnome’s question.  “Or at least, he wasn’t when the Guardsmen found him.”

“We’ve identified him as Grayst Sevilla.  As far as I know, he’s one of Jubrayl’s low-level thugs.  We don’t know why he was in the area, why he wasn’t killed along with the other three, or even what’s wrong with him.  We couldn’t get anything out of him—he’s a bit off his rocker, if you want my honest opinion.  I sent him down to Erin Habe’s sanitorium south of town to see if the good doctor might be able to help him.  You know the place, Kerr?”  Kerr nodded.  “Good.”

“I don’t think anyone who knows Kerr would believe he was involved in this.  But there are some in town who don’t know him well, and fear can cause people to turn on each other for,” he held up the letter, “lesser reasons than this.”  He looked at Kellan and Kerr.  “You boys remember the Late Unpleasantness?”  The nodded mutely.  “Well, the atmosphere in town was poisonous.  Everyone was looking for the Chopper, and some saw him in the unlikeliest of places.  So I think it’s better for everyone if we keep this as quiet as possible and find whoever did this as soon as possible.”

“You’re free to examine the bodies, Liseth, although I think going in the morning might cause less talk.”  He gave her a meaningful look.  “To tell you the truth, I’m not that surprised to find these three particular men dead.  They weren’t shy about making enemies.  But this seven-pointed star and these notes, especially this one,” he tapped the missive addressed to Kerr, “make this a more-thorny case than I would have originally thought.  It sounds like—from what you’re saying,” he glanced at Cato, “this seven-pointed star might be important, and possibly related to the events of the Swallowtail Festival.  That makes me even more certain that involving you now was the right decision.  If anyone has the experience to delve into this sort of thing,” another look at Cato, “it’s you.  I’m not ashamed to say that this sort of thing is a bit out of my depth.”

“I don’t know why he left this letter.  But I agree, Pisca.  This ‘Your Lordship,’ whoever he is, seems to have killed three men and possibly driven another insane.  That’s not someone I want running free in this area.”

---

---

"Well," mused the gnome, "the theme of madness might suggest that Your Lordship could possibly have picked Kerr Mollin at random.  And even though it's still a distinct possibility, I think we should rule it out.  It's not a road that takes us anywhere."

"That being the case, Your Lordship would have to be someone who knows you."  And Pisca turned then to address Kerr directly.  "Someone who probably has you on their mind.  So, very possibly someone who you've run into in the last week or two.  And, given that we've been pretty busy, that narrows the field of players down a bit."

"I also think that we can safely say that this is a he somebody.  After all, he did refer to himself as a 'Lord' and not a 'Lady'."

"'Lord', so possibly aristocratic.  And has at least as much knowledge of the underbelly of crime as you do, Sheriff Hemlock.  He seemed to know just who to pick to poke the Scarnetti hive and stir up the bees.  He knew that the three were associated.  And, he knew just what to put in that letter to draw them to the Scarnetti warehouse.  In fact, it's likely that he knew that choosing the Scarnetti warehouse would put them off their guard as they would see it as a safe place."

"Hmmph," the gnome hmmphed.  "I like that.  I should write that down.  I'll call it ... I'll call it ... a profile.  What do you think?"  So impressed was the gnome at her new invention, that she forgot the most important part: Matching the profile to a likely person.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:18, Sun 23 Aug 2015.

"You think that it has to do with the ruins?  And that man who was helping Nualia?"  Liseth was still gripping Kerr's arm while she replied to some of the things put forth.  "That man belonged to a group...his allies probably know who we are...the Sandpoint Saviors."  The girl frowned worriedly, "Maybe Kerr's name was put there to attack us; not just him."

"Remember what Mayor Deverin said?  How just seeing us around town made people feel safer?  Someone could be planning something evil again...and they want to discredit us as part of it."  Liseth looked at Kerr, "Look what mean Mr Scarnetti did, just because they put Kerr's name on a letter at their crime scene."

"I'll examine the...the bodies tomorrow, Sheriff Hemlock"  The acolyte nodded to the sheriff.  Even though that sounded like an awful way to start a day.  "But I might need some help."  Liseth looked between Pisca and Cato, "I don't know so much about the Runelords, or seven-pointed stars..."

"And we'll have to talk to the survivor too...the one who went...mad."  The small blonde swallowed; three people murdered brutally and the only one to witness it had been driven mad; who could have done such a thing?  "He might be able to prove that Kerr had nothing to do with it."  She added afterward, "And tell us who did."

"Grayst?" Kellan seemed as surprised as anybody, perhaps more so.Had it not been coming directly from Sheriff Hemlock himself he almost would have doubted it. "That doesn't make any sense"

The guardsman could not help but recall the ocasional run in with Grayst, mostly at fat mans with the reek of sour ale on the the mans breath. He was a thug, certainly, and while he was reported by some of the girls over at the Pixies Kitten to get rough at times, he certainly did not seem the sort who would snap and kill...but then again...who really knew?

"Yeah, if there is anything to be had of him, we'll have it." he agreed with Liseth and turned towards Kerr with a shake of his head "Sorry that you've been caught up in all this, but I suppose if your serious about becoming a Paladin, you would have dealt with something like this sooner or later. Might as well be now."

He turned and considered going after Shayliss, but it was too late...and he would need his sleep for tomorrow. Better to let her cool off for the time being...duty called after all.

Cato nodded to the sheriff.  "I'm glad to help out Sandpoint, especially if this is related to the events of the Swallowtail Festival or anything else we've gone through."  He looked over to Liseth.  "I agree, though, that examining dead bodies for clues is not my idea way of starting the day, we should do that tomorrow.  As for this Grayst at the Sanatorium: do you suspect him of being another victim or the perpetrator?  When I first heard your description of the even, I assumed it was the latter.  That he had snapped and killed three people before being caught by the guard.  But it actually seems to be the former.  Is there any evidence that supports either view?"

Cato was quiet for a moment more before speaking.  When he continued, his voice was pitched low, and a deep edge of concern entered it: "I'm worried by the sign-off of that letter.  If there's an actual 'Lord' involved, Sandpoint doesn't have too many noble families...and even less Lords with the demise of Lonjiku.  Scarnetti himself, maybe trying to throw off suspicion for some reason?  Foxglove?  How about the Deverins?  Is there a lord in that family?  Maybe someone mad that Kendra's a mayor and looking to oust her?"  Cato shook his head.  "Of course, it could be someone calling themselves a lord without actually being a lord.  Someone disturbed enough to carve Sihedron runes in their victims probably isn't even human.  Or at least influenced by something non-human.  Which brings me back again to Thistletop, and whatever's trapped underneath there."

Cato shook his head again.  "But we need to find out what's on as fast as we can."

---

---

“That’s why I want you five on this case,” said the Sheriff.  “Look, I think the Sandpoint Guard is well-trained, and they are one of the most professional forces you’re going to find in a town of this size.  But we’re simply not prepared to deal with ritual murders, much less ones committed by crazed psychopaths who are trying to set up either Kerr, the nobility, or both.”

Sheriff Hemlock turned to Liseth.  “But if you know of a group who you think might be behind these murders, I want you to look into it as closely as you can.  One demented person acting alone is bad enough.  But a whole group, operating in the shadows, dedicated to this kind of evil?”  He shook his head.  “That’s bad news for Sandpoint.”

“Examining the bodies is an excellent idea.  I’ll let Clif know you’re coming.”  He turned to Kellan.  “I was as surprised as anyone.  We’ve crossed swords with Grayst more than once but this doesn’t sound anything like him.”  He glanced at Cato.  “And no, I don’t think Grayst was the one who committed these murders.  He didn’t have any weapons, and he was in no state to be writing up the notes we found at the warehouse.”  He paused.  “I’m not even sure the man’s literate.  But you might want to talk to Jubrayl about it, assuming you can get anything out of him.”  Jubrayl Vhiski was notably tight-lipped with the Guard.

The sheriff looked at his deputies.  “I don’t have to tell you that we need to keep as much of this quiet from the town as possible.”  He studiously did not look at Pisca.  “So please be as discreet as you can with your inquiries.  If there’s nothing else?”

When no more questions were forthcoming, he nodded.  “I need to get back to the Garrison.  If I’m not there in the morning I’ll make sure instructions are left to give you access to the bodies.  And if there’s anything else you need from me, just let me know.  But again,” this time he did look at Pisca, “be discreet about it.”

With that, Sheriff Hemlock left the room, leaving the Sandpoint Saviors to confront the mystery of these murders by themselves.

---

---

"Discreet," parroted the gnome.  Though the implied agreement was belied by the broad grin of extreme delight that stretched nearly from ear to ear across her gnomish face.

"Ritual murders!" said the gnome to her friends.  "Crazed psychopaths!"  She let loose with a chuckle of delight.  "And they called on us!!!  They called on use to solve this.  You!  And Me!!!"

"I'll wander down to the Fatman this evening and find out how much the *general public* already know about this.  Maybe talk to Jubrayl."  Pisca's mien grew pensive at the name.  "I ... "  She paused here and sighed in a deep sigh before continuing, "haven't been to see him since we left for Thistletop.  I should at least make a social call.  Say hello.  Make sure he's been well."

"He's not a bad person, you know?"  This she said to her friends.

"No, I'm pretty sure he is" Kellan disagreed with Pisca, punctuated by a shake of his head "He may be polite, intelligent, and even loyal to his own...but, that still doesn't excuse the choices he's made in my eyes"

Kellan scratched his head as he considered his next course of action. "If he gives you any trouble...well...just let me know I suppose." Kellan really wanted to just march down there with a file of guards and kick Jubrayls door down, then to haul him away in shackles until he spilled whatever he knew about Grayst...and any other details of the criminal enterprises the man was sure to be involved in. That was not exactly "discreet" however.

"I think we should all head to bed, then hit this like a nine pound hammer at first light" he suggested.

"Goodbye Sheriff Hemlock, thank you for rescuing Kerr!"  Liseth called as the Sheriff left, leaving the five of them alone with the murderous mystery.

Pisca's reaction drew a frown from the worn acolyte.  "This isn't a good thing Pisca.  This is a bad mystery; I just hope that we can solve it before anyone else is hurt or killed."

"It probably wasn't done by anyone who lives in Sandpoint," the girl speculated afterwards.  "Mr Scarnetti is reacting without thinking; he only thinks this as an attack against him."  She thought a moment; Liseth hadn't lived in Sandpoint for long, but she had picked up a few things.  "There are people who don't like him, and think bad things of him and his family..."  Even Ser Klerris had said so much, and this situation with Kerr had the young acolyte ready to believe anything bad about the Scarnetti family.  "But I don't think anyone in Sandpoint would go as far as murder, and then frame Kerr too of all people."  The little blonde kissed Kerr's cheek reassuringly.

Liseth merely nodded when Pisca mentioned Jubrayl.  Her experience with the Fatman was one best left in the past; she wasn't about to go back!

"Oh!"  Liseth bounced to her feet.  "With everything happening, I almost forgot!"  She looked at all of her friends, already gathered together.  It wasn't exactly the way She pictured it, but this would do.  "Everyone wait here!"  The small acolyte commanded before exiting the room.

Minutes later, she reappeared carrying a platter upon which rested a round, pink cake with sliced strawberries in the frosting.  And a wedge already missing.

"I made a strawberry cake, with strawberry frosting!"  She glanced at Kerr, "For everyone." The girl giggled.

"I wanted to serve this in the dining room but this will have to do."  A frown crossed her face as she cut into the cake, "And it might be best to share it before we get into this...murder investigation."

"Oh, Kellan...I'm sorry about Shayliss.  I'll save an extra slice so that you can bring it to her later; to say I'm sorry for making such a scene downstairs."

---

---

Everyone greatly enjoyed the strawberry cake, although Kerr struck a particularly-miserable pose in a quixotic effort to ensure that Liseth saved at least a portion of the delectable dessert for his own personal consumption.  Even so, the party’s attitude was more subdued than normal, given the circumstances.  The same thoughts were on everyone’s mind.  Who could have committed these murders?  And why?

Before long each person had finished the last crumbs of their strawberry cake.  The group bid each other good night, promising to reunite in the morning in the Rusty Dragon’s taproom for breakfast.  Pisca left the inn on her way to the Fatman, only to find the establishment closed for what the two burly doormen described as a “private function.”  Despite her best efforts the gnome could not obtain entrance, and she left disappointed.

The next morning broke on a pleasant late-spring day in Sandpoint, the beautiful weather marred only by the knowledge of the dark deeds done by the mysterious criminal they were to investigate.  As promised, the group met for breakfast, each thinking about what they might do to help solve the crime as quickly and quietly as possible.

Surprisingly, the already-somber meal was interrupted by a sullen and grim-faced Sheriff Hemlock, who entered the inn’s public room as if he was going to a loved one’s wake.  Without speaking, he caught the eyes of the group and motioned them back into the room where they had conferenced just hours before.  Once everyone was settled, the town’s senior lawman checked the corridor, then closed the door and faced his deputies, demeanor grave and serious.

“Let me get right down to it.  I have bad news.  We have another murder.  Or murders.”  He corrected himself.  “Last night, at the sawmill.  There are two victims and they’re . . . they’re in pretty gruesome shape.  Ibor Thorn, you know him,” he nodded at Kellan and Kerr, “one of the partners running the mill, found the bodies.  Unfortunately, by the time the Guard arrived on the scene we already had a crowd of curious gawkers.  I’ve got men there now, keeping the place locked down.”

“The thing that bothers me isn’t just the fact that we have two dead bodies inside the mill.  It’s that we’ve had two sets of multiple murders in the last few days, and all of the victims save one had that seven-pointed star carved into them.  And both murder scenes had one of these.”  Sheriff Hemlock pulled another envelope out of his vest pocket.  Across the front was again scrawled the name KERR MOLLIN.

Sheriff Hemlock handed the envelope to Kerr, who gingerly removed the letter with no small amount of trepidation.  Inside was another message from the mysterious murderer.

We have spoken of this before, my Master.  Your will is my command!

-Your Lordship

“We found this pinned to the sleeve of Banny Harker’s corpse,” Sheriff Hemlock informed them.  He paused, seeing the incomprehension on Liseth and Cato’s face, “Ibor’s partner at the mill.  Of course, I still don’t believe Kerr had anything to do with this, especially given the beating Titus gave him.  I am almost certain whoever this is wants to throw suspicion upon the group of you and discredit you in the eyes of the townsfolk.”

“I’m going to have my hands full keeping this from becoming a full-on panic like the one we had during the Late Unpleasantness.  Like I said last night, you have experience with this sort of thing and have proven both your discretion and your loyalty to Sandpoint.  I would like you to take your own look at what happened at the mill and see if you can you figure out who might be behind these murders.  And Ibor is down at the Garrison, so you can talk to him yourselves to see if he can shed any more light on what happened.  Again, we want to keep this as quiet as possible.  Right now this is just a single tragedy.  If Sandpoint finds out we have a serial ritual murderer on our hands . . . you can imagine the panic.”

Sheriff Hemlock sighed.  “The one thing I haven’t told you yet is the identity of the other victim.”  He studiously did not look at Kellan.  “It’s Katrine Vinder.  I don’t know for sure why she was visiting Banny in the middle of the night but,” he shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, “it’s not hard to make an educated guess.”

“That means Ven is currently our number-one suspect.  I don’t think the man had anything to do with it but Tiller was first on the scene and he’s pretty convinced Ven is guilty.  Everyone knows Ven has a temper, and the easy story is that he finally found out who Katrine was seeing and lost it, then added the ritualistic touches to cover up his crime.”  The sheriff grimaced.  “Torv hauled him down to the Garrison this morning.”

“So you might want to question Ven and maybe talk to Torv about his suspicions.”  This time he did glance at Kellan.  “You know how he can be when he gets the bit between his teeth.  He thinks Ven somehow found about about the warehouse murders and is trying to deflect suspicion by making these seem to be the work of the same person.”

Sheriff Hemlock looked down at the floor, as if trying to determine if he’s shared everything with the group, then looked back up.  “I think that’s everything.  You all have a lot on your plate, so I won’t take up any more of your time.  If anyone gives you any problems let them know you have my full support and authorization for your investigation.  You still have your badges, don’t you?”  Everyone nodded.  “Good.  Use them.  But again, try not to make a commotion.  Widespread fear and panic won’t help anything.  Any questions?”

---

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:48, Fri 28 Aug 2015.

Cato silently shook his head, too shocked to formulate any thoughts for the moment, although it seemed as though a score of half formed ideas were flying around the inside of his head. Cato closed his eyes, saying s silent prayer to Desna, something he hadn't done recently...which, considering the sorts of things that led to him saying prayers, was probably a positive thing.

It was the death of Katrine that drove everything home for him. The other victims had no doubt been just as deserving as life (despite any connections to an unsavory character) but Cato didn't feel as though he knew anything about them. Katrine, though, he had met. Seen Pisca and Ven come to blows over. And now she was gone, wiped out by a sadistic murderer who carved runes into his victims' chests and tried to frame them.

In trying to come up with a possible suspect, Cato immediately went to his ever-present worry of his own past. But nothing about this indicated Hellknights. Although his old commander certainly enjoyed the kind of psychic torment such actions would have caused Cato by framing his friend Kerr, this fell too far outside the legalistic framework they set up for themselves. Hellknights might, with good enough reason, bend the law fairly far to accomplish their objectives, but murdering people like this was probably beyond them, especially when they could just drag them in for a show trial and then imprison or execute them, after getting them to publicly admit to any number of crimes after...Cato involuntarily shivered, not wanting to remember the details of everything he had seen in service to the Hellknights.

But then, who?  Cato looked up, suddenly aware he had been lost in his thoughts for far too long. He remembered hearing about some of the details of 'the late unpleasantness' in Sandpoint not long after he had first arrived, and wondering, in a detached way, what the people of Ssndpoint had felt at the time. Now, going through something similar, he suspected he didn't need to feel that anymore, just put a stop as quickly as possible.

He cleared his throat. "We need to start. Let's see the first ones. Maybe something we see will help us. I'm sure there's something significant about carving the runes. I just can't out my finger on it. Seeing them in person might just help. And then we need to question the witnesses. We need to do something, and stop this from happening."

 Cato shook his head and looked to his friends, especially Kerr, who must be doing worst of all. Cato just hoped word didn't get out to more people to whom the letters on the victims had been addressed. The last thing they needed was an angry lynch mob on their hands. Cato looked to Kellan, wondering if the guardsman would know, or at least guess, how the town might react if more people found out, but afraid to ask the question and actually learn.

The gnome became very still at the news of Katrine Vinder's death.  All of the enthusiasm with which she had awoken this morning was suddenly gone - vanished in a snap, cloaked and gone.  What replaced it was a very stubborn and determined look.  It was the kind of look with which a gnome might strongly disagree, pushing back against any who might come against her.

"They're wrong," Pisca said.  "They are so very wrong."  Her words were obstinate and insistent in their truth.  "Ven Vinder would never do a thing like that."

Despite the brief and, some would say, rocky nature of her relationship with the owner of the General Store, the gnome seemed quite sure of herself.  "I know he wouldn't," she adds.

Then, "I'd like to go to the Saw Mill first, Cato," said the gnome.  "I'd like to see things while they're still fresh.  Before things are all trampled and moved about."

"But, I think we need to do something first.  Kerr Mollin, give me that letter."  The gnome held out her hand for the letter that the Sheriff had given to the young acolyte of the church.  When it came to her, she put it to close scrutiny before carefully tearing a page from her journal.  "How many people have seen this letter, Sheriff?  Many might have seen the envelope with Kerr Mollin's name on it.  But how many the letter itself?  Even then, how many remember the contents exactly?"

"I think I can take some suspicion off of us for a while."  From her magic bag the gnome fished a pen and ink, and on the new pristine page from her journal, she began to rewrite the message, copying the handwriting from the original as closely as possible.  When she finished, the new message read:

We have spoken of this before, Kerr Mollin.  Catch me if you can!

-Your Lordship

"That will make our Kerr Mollin out more the victim than the perpetrator, don't you think?"  She folded it in the manner of the first, stuck her copy back into the envelope and handed both to the Sheriff.  You can hand that about and we'll see what happens.  If we're lucky, Your Lordship may even hear about it, and it may bring him to us."

Linguistics for Forgery.  Checks made, I believe, in secret at the time of reading.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:32, Mon 31 Aug 2015.

As terrible as the news that there had been another murder was, Liseth was prepared for it when the Sheriff met them in the morning.  Or so she thought, right up until the identity of the second victim was revealed.

It was a good thing that Liseth was already sitting; she would have fallen for sure otherwise.  She was too shocked to say anything.  Katrine Vinder, murdered!  The same girl whose life she had saved during the Swallowtail Festival.  Who she had tried so hard to be friends with, tried to get to trust her enough to share about her secret boyfriend...

Everyone knew that secret now.  Liseth had even told Katrine that keeping her boyfriend a secret would end badly.  But this is not what she had expected at all!  The young acolyte couldn't stop thinking that had she been more persistent, had she tried harder with Katrine, then the Vinder girl would not have been at the mill last night for a secret meeting with her beau.

Only to end up the latest victim of a maddened murderer...

She found that her hand was firmly gripped in Kerr's.  And there was another letter, placed to implicate Kerr into this terrible affair.  Why Kerr?

"No!"  Liseth finally shouted, "Ven Vinder did not do this!"  It was a thing too horrible to even suggest.  The little blonde had seen how much he loved his daughters, he cared for them so much.  His anger made him too protective of them, but Katrine had said that he had never struck either of his daughters, no matter how angry he had been.

At some point she had begun crying again, tears of frustration and sadness over what had happened.  "I can't even imagine how Mr Vinder must feel right now...told his daughter is dead and then arrested as the prime suspect.  And Shayliss!"  She just thought about the younger Vinder girl, "They're telling her that her father killed her sister!  That's awful!"

"Yes..."  Liseth reluctantly agreed with Cato while Pisca was making a modified letter.  "We should...we should go to the mill to investigate."  She frowned; Liseth had seen mutilated bodies before and she could never get used to it.  Memories of retching in the glassworks came back to her; and she hadn't even known any of those victims!

"Then after we learn what we can at the mill...we have to go to the Garrison.  I'm sure we'll find something that will make Sergeant Tiller realize that Mr Vinder could not be responsible..."

Kellan tried to maintain his composure, he really did. He wanted to be the stoic guardsman, inured to death and suffering, able to take such things in stride. But this was Katherine Vinder, a girl he had practically grown up with, Venns daughter, Shays sister...Kat.

Part of it was that he had, ironically, been caught off guard. The Sheriff was so professional in his delivery that Kellan had not detected any notes of sorrow, nothing to soften the impact. All the energy seemed to leech from him, like he was deflating before their very eyes, almost seeming to shrink within his clothes to become a younger, more vulnerable version of the young man that they all knew.

"What?"

It was the kind of response one might expect, disbelief, the inability to comprehend. She had just been right there. Right. There. He could still see her in his minds eye, still hear her voice if he tried, and yet already she was becoming somewhat intangible, her vitality replaced with ghoulish images drug up by the guardsmans prior encounters with the deceased.

Did Shay know? Venn certainly did, so Shay must. First this incident at the Dragon and then finding out about her own sisters death? It must be the worst night of her life, and the girl herself must be a ruin over it. Yet here he was, unable to go to her, to comfort her, to somehow try and make amends.

Part of him, the younger more impulsive part wanted to just storm out of the Dragon and find her, and yet he stayed, with his gut in a knot and the blood draining from his face. He looked around to the others, looking for something, he didn't even know what, anything. Some direction, something to do, someplace to be that was not filled with onlookers and inquisitive locals.

"I...uh..." his voice quavered a bit "I'm gonna need a minute" he took a step right into a chair and caught it before it toppled over with a jerking motion, then bumped into a table causing the glasses and silverware to shift noisily as he moved towards the door and caught hold of the frame as he stepped out into the night.

---

---

Kerr was just as shocked by Sherriff Hemlock’s news as anyone—he had probably known Banny better than any of the others, though they’d drifted apart once he had became an acolyte and Banny took his apprenticeship at the mill.  Banny had always been a dreamer, with aspirations for so much more than what he’d been born into at Sandpoint.  Always telling the younger boys stories of what he’d be and where he’d end up, stars in his eyes.  And Katrine . . . well, Katrine was Katrine.  Or had been.  Now the vivacious brunette with the ready smile was gone, never to return.  It was so easy to forget how fragile life could be.

As others in the party protested Ven Vinder’s innocence, Kerr felt himself begin to shake.  He was not sure if it was from rage, sorrow, or some other reason—he felt curiously, clinically detached from the whole process, as if his body was physically reacting to the news and his consciousness was just along for the ride.  It was almost like he saw rather than felt his breath begin to come in heaves, or how he clutched Liseth as if she was his only salvation from this quicksand of misery.

And misery it was.  The news about Banny and Kat had temporarily driven from his mind the fact that he was being framed for murders, but that knowledge suddenly flooded back as he calmed himself from whatever-that-had-been, nearly knocking him to the floor with its force as Pisca picked the new letter from his unresponsive fingers.  Why would someone do something like this to him?  What could they hope to gain?  It wasn’t like he was some prominent member of the community whose ruination would change the course of Sandpoint, much less anywhere else.  He was just Kerr.

Then, for just a split-second, Kerr saw Belor Hemlock’s stoic façade crack, revealing the man’s inner turmoil as he watched Kellan respond to his news.  For a brief moment, Kerr could see the doubt, the anger, and the misery of a man coming to terms with the murder of people for whom he felt responsibility; he had been tasked to protect them, and he had failed.  Kerr didn’t think the sheriff was being fair with himself, but he thought he understood.  And it reminded him that there were others out there affected by these crimes far more than he was.

He had to pull himself together.

The conversation around Kerr seemed to float to him in waves, muted by the tidebreak of his own thoughts and emotions.  But he did catch the proposition that the group move to the mill.  He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than start moving and doing rather than just sitting here wallowing in the awfulness of what was happening.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice husky with emotion.  “The mill.”

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This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Mon 31 Aug 2015.

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Before long, the group gathered itself and departed for the scene of this latest crime.  They took a left after a short walk down Market Street, heading up River Street towards the mill, skirting the shores of the Turandurok.  Shortly they saw their destination; a well-built wooden structure with very thick walls.  Thick wooden shingles adorned the roof, and the doors were of simple but well-hewn pine.

As the mill came into sight, they saw a small crowd of people standing around it, watching its exterior with varying degrees of interest.  They managed to shoulder their way past the onloookers to the front door, where Santo Flitworth and Quint Plinsman stood guard.

For the first time anyone could remember, neither of the normally-jovial guardsman cracked a joke, or even a smile.  They silently nodded, as if they had expected the party’s arrival, and opened the door.  The crowd murmured as the five slipped inside accompanied by one hushed, solitary word from Guardsman Flitworth.

“Upstairs.”

The mill’s normally-noisy machinery sat quiet as the group walked past, standing silent watch over the death of the man who had thought to use it to make his fortune in the world.  The group found a narrow staircase leading upwards.  They took it, and entered a nightmare.

The mill's upstairs room was coated in sawdust strewn with footprints and blood.  So much blood.  A lingering scent of decay permeated the air, and splashes of blood were everywhere.  The body of Banny Harker, horribly desecrated, hung affixed to the wall by several hooks that in more-normal times would be used for the hanging of machinery.  Gruesomely, his face had been carved away and his lower jaw was missing entirely; his bare chest was carved with seven-pointed star.

Katrine’s mangled remains had fallen to the mill’s lower floor.  Someone had shoved her through the log splitter, which was powered by the waterwheel and consisted of a chute in the floor with rotating saw blades that cut logs—or in this case a body—as they are fed in.  The thought of Katrine being fed alive into the splitter was nausea-inducing; her death must have been as horrible as it was cruelly efficient.

A handaxe lay embedded in the floor near the splitter as if it had been dropped there, its handle covered with bloody fingerprints.  An uncomfortable-looking Jamis Needlehome stood guard in the corner of the room, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.  “Are you . . . are you guys relieving me?”  He asked hopefully.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 23:58, Mon 31 Aug 2015.

"Relieve you?" the gnome asked with a quizzical look on her face.  "How long have you been here?" she asked, holding up her shiny golden deputy's badge as a sign that she had the authority to be asking questions of guards.  "You should have gone before you came on duty here," she added, and then moved on before the young human guardsman had the time to form an answer.

The gnome made her way to the handaxe, studiously avoiding the sawdust prints.  "Who's been up here besides you, Guardsman?" she fired back over her shoulder, obviously not yet done with the man.  "And tell us where they've been walking."

"Lysa, we need to know how many men Your Lordship had with him.  These footprints might help us do just that.  Katrine's will be smaller, so we can rule those out.  Can you do that?"

"Blood."  Squatting next to the weapon, Pisca eyed the bloody prints, comparing the size to her own hand.

"Bostisch," she rose as she spoke the magic word and stabbed a finger at each of the Sandpoint Saviors before squatting again and returning to the handaxe.

"I didn't tell you before, about that letter addressed to Kerr?"  This time, the gnome's words came through the privacy of her Whisper Magic.  "It was written in blood.  I asked the Sheriff whether he had noticed this and how many other people knew.  Wasn't many.  When he asked me whether this was important or not, I said not really.  I used ink.  He used blood.  I don't think many people will be in a situation to know the difference.  The idea is to keep people from thinking that Kerr Mollin is working *with* this mad human.  Better that they think Your Lordship is taunting him.  We'll be able to work more freely without a mob screaming for Kerr Mollin's blood."

"Sheriff Balor agreed to go along with it.  Wasn't too happy about the deception, though.  He won't say anything against it.  But he won't go showing the letter around either.  Who do you think would be the best person in town that we could *accidentally* have read it?  Maybe we should get the original letter from the Sheriff and hold it ourselves for safe keeping?"

Perception Check, Please.  This time only for the hatchet.  Trying to find out anything about the person who was using it through the size of the hand that was holding it.  Also, looking at the head to see whether the axe had actually struck a person.

More perception checks will come later for the rest of the room.

Arriving at the sawmill to see the crowd of people, along with the very grim guards, filled Liseth with an intense level of apprehension.  She knew that no matter what she did or thought, she could never prepare herself for what they were about to walk into.  But it had to be done.

Slowly and reluctantly, the acolyte followed her friends up into the mill; holding fast to Kerr's arm all the while.  Once at the scene, all of the blood drained from her to leave the young blonde pale white.  Eyes fixed first on Banny Harker, prominently displayed as though the killer were proud of his work.  How could anyone mistake Kerr as being responsible for this!?  Even with a letter!

The she saw what remained of Katrine and Liseth's hands shot to her mouth as she gasped.  She knew what she was going to find here, but actually seeing just how terrible it was proved too much.  The way Katrine had been killed was awful...the older girl's last, terrified minutes kept running though Liseth's head.

Turning from the bloody and mangled scene, the petite girl walked a few steps to brace herself against a wall before vomiting.

"Okay...okay Pisca."  Catching her breath, Liseth turned from the wall.  Keeping her eyes fixed to the ground in order to search for clues sounded a lot better than staring at the grisly bodies.  Especially of the girl who she had saved just months ago; with whom she had tried so hard to be friends...

"Pisca, about the letter..."  Liseth asked while in an attempt to think about anything else, "'Your Lordship' keeps referring to  a 'Master,' even though the letter is addressed to Kerr.  But he doesn't say that Kerr is supposed to be this 'Master' anywhere, right?"  Something wasn't making sense to her about the letter itself.

"Why would he address the letter to Kerr if Kerr was supposed to be his 'Master?'  He would just address it to 'The Master' if that's who was supposed to read it, because only the 'Master' would know who he was talking about anyway.  Right?"  She sounded like she was talking in circles, but hopefully Pisca and the others would pick up on what she was trying to say.  "If Kerr really was 'Master', then he wouldn't need his name on the letter at all!"

It made sense to her.  The situation was tragic enough already, Liseth thought, without people turning against Kerr too, just because of the ramblings of a madman!

OOC: Survival to check the footprints on the floor.  Trying to determine if there was more than one attacker, and if possible recreate some of the events that transpired based on the footprint patterns.

I'll also be doing a Heal Check to examine the bodies later, depending on how far ahead we move in the next update.

On the walk over to the mill Kellan looked absolutely crushed, but at the sight of the other guardsman his expression hardened into a mask of professionalism, only offset by the glossy sheen of his eyes. He nodded curtly to Santo And Quint then plodded up the stairs with the others. He smelled it long before he saw it, and nothing he had seen could prepare him for what awaited them there.

At first it was, mercifully, too much to really comprehend. There was blood, flesh, bodies, nothing he had not encountered before. But the longer the young man stood on the landing the sharper and more gruesome the details became, and the more dread flooded the mind of Kellan Storval.

This person could be anywhere, and they were more likely then not planning to strike again with the day. Entire lifetimes worth of relationships, generations, neighbors, friends, smiling faces and playing children...all potential targets. They needed to act fast, and he needed to just...put all of this away for now. He would deal with it, in time, in his own time.

"Banny was no slouch" he began, his voice a little loud for the interior of the mill "Strong guy...mill worker...and Kat, well...she had spirit...they would not have just lied down for this...they had to have fought back, unless there was something like magic involved" he glanced to Cato, remembering all too well how helpless he had found himself while under the powers of the Quasit.

"Mmm ... "  It was an mmm of contemplation, a soothing sort of massage for the mind.  "So ... you noticed that, did you, Lys?"  The gnome poked one of her pale white fingers at the blood on the handle of the axe and lifted it into the air as if to examine the color, the texture, the bloodness of the blood.

"There are two possible reasons for that, Lysa.  First, the person who wrote the envelope was not the same person who wrote the letter.  Two separate writers with two separate motives.  Second, there is only one person, and that person is deliberately trying to paint Kerr Mollin as the prime mover behind these killings.  He is The Master for whom his mad minions kill and slay.  This reason shows some imagination on the part of the letter writer, and it's the reason that I tend to favor."

"The third possible reason ...  Sorry, there are three possible reasons.  Three.  The third possible reason is that the letter writer is mad, and that there is no motivate behind the letters and envelopes.  None comprehensible reason at all.  All we can truly say is that the letter writer is, in some mad fashion, very very very attracted to Kerr Mollin."

"Mmm ... " the gnome mmm'ed again, and briefly contemplated poking out her tongue to find out whether a taste of the blood might not yield greater insight.  Caution, however, at least in this case, won out over curiosity.  Though she did reach out her nose and take a sniff.

BTW, all applicable Knowledge Checks, please.  Pisca the Forensic Detective will Take 10 in them all.