Cato surveyed the scene in front of him, trying to divorce the memory of the Katrine from the carnage in front of him.  The wizard closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and reopened them, seeing not the remains of an acquaintance any more, but simply clues to a murderer he'd have to stop, lest anyone else he knew end up slaughtered in a similar fashion.

Cato turned first to Banny, examining the terribly desecrated body with a clinical eye, still marveling at the Sihedron carved into his chest.  His hands reached out, though stopped short of actually touching the star, and he shook his head.

"I have no idea why someone would carve this into a murder victim.  It has to be the result of a madman.  It's the symbol of Thassilonian magic, but there's no reason to carve it into a murder victim.  Or no reason to murder someone at all.  We've tangled with leftovers from that ancient empire.  My best guess is that another of those survivors is still out there.  Maybe some mortals have met them, and been driven insane?  And this is how they're reacting?"

Cato pondered Pisca's question for a bit.  "Read the doctored letter to spread false information?  The only one who really suspects him right now is Jubrayl, right?  Anything false would have to start with his thugs.  Maybe one of them?  But maybe spreading false rumors and engaging in this kind of counter-planning isn't what we want to be doing right now.  We should concentrate on finding and ending this threat as quickly as possible, I think.  Nothing will exonerate Kerr faster than finding who's truly to blame and seeing them face justice."

Cato closed his eyes, whispered a word, performed a brief gesture with his fingers, and opened them, along with his arcane sight.  He studied the body of Banny and the Sihedron, looking carefully for signs of arcane influence.  When that observation was finished, he turned to the other victim, trying to ignore the identity of Katrine as he looked for clues.

"You might be right, Kellan.  Unless the killer was someone they both knew, who took them by surprise.  Or just took them by surprise?  If there's magic here, I'll see it.  The problem is how long they've been here, though.  Unless there's very powerful magic at work, or still at work, I can only detect traces of it for maybe an hour, at the very most.  And by powerful, I mean stronger than almost anything I'd ever heard of.  Like direct intervention by a deity.  The most powerful mortal spells could have done anything at midnight, and I wouldn't be able to detect any trace of it."

Cato shook his head, his survey complete.

Cast Detect Magic

"I disagree, Cato," Pisca said, now wishing that she had sampled the blood with a handy stick rather than her finger.  "The star is more than a symbol of Thassilonian magic.  When it comes down to things, it's a star with seven points.  Remember Mister Maskie and his ... your know ... his thing?"

The gnome gave the lone guard a look over her shoulder before casting about for something with which to wipe off her finger.

"I still think that there's a connection there.  There's always a connection.  There are connections everywhere," said the gnome.  "Even if you can't see them."

---

---

Jamis looked to be mired in the confusion that seemed to accompany Sandpoint’s most-inscrutable gnome like a cloud.  “Um,” he ventured, seizing on to a question he understood, “Ibor Thorn found the body, ma’am.  So he was up here.  He went and got Sheriff Hemlock, who was up here along with Sergeant Tiller.  I think Quint came up here as well, but I’m not sure about that.”  He paused, then flushed.  “And of course me.  I don’t think any of the mill workers made it up here, the sheriff closed the building before they arrived.”
He waved a hand around the room.  “I’m pretty sure they inspected everything you all are inspecting, so I don’t know if there’s any particular place they hadn’t gone.”  He shrugged, somewhat shamefacedly.  “I wasn’t here the whole time.”

As the Guardsman went on, Pisca leaned in to inspect the hatchet.  After only a few seconds she staggered back, retching for no discernible reason.  For her part, Liseth closely examined the ground, trying to determine exactly what might have happened during that fateful fight in the wee hours of the previous night.

The cry of gulls outside the mill provided a discordant counterpoint to the disturbing scene inside the mill.  The hunting birds went about their daily business, blissfully unaware of the horror only yards from their hunting grounds.  A low murmur from the crowd outside could just barely be heard inside the room.  Only the gods knew what the crowds might be thinking, or how this latest murder might play out in Sandpoint . . . .

---

---

"Khak!"

"Kha!"

Painful retching!  And the sounds that came with it too.  Tears welled from those violet eyes as the gnome struggled to drag herself away from the source of that awful smell.

"Smell that," rasped the gnome after the final dry heave.  "It's awful."

Pisca sat in the sawdust, wane and whacked.  Slump shouldered and not at all herself.  "On second thought, don't smell that.  It's awful."

"But ... but I think I found something."

Whatever it was, the gnome was not yet ready to reveal it.  She sat, panting on the floor, gathering the gnomish strength or the gnomish wherewithal.  Finally, when her breaths became less heave-ish and her eyes somewhat, a bit more clear-ish, Pisca struggled first to her knees and then to her feet, where she stood wobbling, but, at least up.

"Bad news, I think someone here was dead," she said through her Whisper Magic.  Pisca smiled weakly at the guard, as though in apology for speaking in such a way that the human wouldn't overhear and spread panicky rumors throughout Sandpoint.  "I mean walking dead.  Particularly stinky, rotting flesh sort of walking dead.  I ... I think Katrine might have gotten a chop at it with the axe.  Those are her finger prints on it.  Undead flesh is on the blade."

"Either Your Lordship can raise the dead ... or ... he is one.  Have you sorted the tracks yet ... Lysa?"

"Anyone have a hammock I can lie in?" groaned the gnome.

Cato nodded, replying through the whisper magic: "Hmm...an undead.  Well, that certainly would direct suspicion off Kerr.  As I thought, I didn't detect any signs of magical auras.  Which just means that there's nothing active right now.  And no undead are currently here, I suppose.  But like I said, anything could have happened here a few hours ago, and I wouldn't be able to tell as long as none of the spells were still active."

The mage goes quiet, turning his thoughts inward again to ignore the horrible scene around him.  "I was so sure about the Sihedron and the connection to whatever was in Thistletop.  This still could be linked.  Whatever's down there could be undead itself.  Or have a ritual for making undead.  So perhaps this Lordship is controlling them."

He looked over at the gnome.  "I wonder, perhaps, if we'd be able to tell if something similar was responsible for the other murders.  At least it would give us a definite link.  But then we have to find this undead thing.  And there's the survivor, too?  The man in the sanatorium?  Maybe he could provide some more clues, if we could break through whatever ails his mind."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:11, Tue 08 Sept 2015.

Liseth looked up from her examination of the footprints crisscrossing the room when Pisca started retching.  Having just finished a bout of retching and vomiting herself, this caused the feeling to come back all over again.  She closed her eyes and paused for a few moments, processing the news about undead.

"I think you're right."  The acolyte answered, "There's more than just death here.  Even these...bloody prints."  Liseth opened her eyes and gestured at the floor, "They reek of decay and rot.  No living thing...or even something recently killed, would smell like that..."

Getting back to her examination of the floor, Liseth called out what she could read in the details.  "It's obvious that there was a desperate struggle here last night..."  She tried her best to not think about Katrine and her boyfriend in an attempt to keep her examination clinical.  It was a less than successful attempt, "I don't know for certain how many attackers there were; but I think it was only one."

She pointed out some bloody prints, "These prints are bare-foot; the only ones here which are bare-foot."  Her nose wrinkled, "And they smell like rot and decay.  Like the undead."  She frowned.

"An undead wouldn't care about shoes...but this must be an intelligent undead if it left a note, and cares about keeping itself hidden."  Her frown deepened, "And if it would take time to desecrate the bodies..."

"But intelligent undead don't usually follow a 'Master.'  Unless they are stronger undead or especially powerful evil wizards or priests."  The acolyte nodded at Cato's mention of Thistletop.  "Or demons."

"Maybe..."   The little blonde thought a moment, "Sarenrae, grant me your power of sight, that I might sense the presence of the foul undead."  Saying a prayer and gripping Sarenrae's symbol, Liseth slowly examined the area once again.

"I might be able to see the marks left behind by the undead.  It's blood or anything else left behind during the struggle."  She swallowed, "Or see it if it's still hiding here someplace..."

OOC: Casting Detect Undead

"Yeah, they sure didn't go quietly" Kellan agreed with a morose tinge to his voice as Liseth pointed out signs of the struggle. He stepped forward and rested his forearms on his weapon belt and it's various pouches as he surveyed the room. The smell alone was nearly unbearable, and the knowledge that this would all come back to haunt him was some how even worse then actually being there, but he carried on.

"So we have..." he paused, not wanting to say the names aloud "this young couple, in the mill, after hours. Some how whoever did this had to have known that they would be here...that they would be alone, vulnerable, and the killer comes in and finds them..."

He plays out the scenario in his mind, the surprise, the awkwardness, the fear of being caught by Venn, of Venn being told...then the realization that the truth was far worse than they had ever feared. Worse, in truth, than their wildest nightmares.

---

---

Kerr didn’t know what to make of the scene in the mill’s upstairs room.  He had never seen anything like it before, and was very thankful he hadn’t.  And how could anyone possibly think that he could be responsible for something like this?  He almost chuckled at the absurdity of it, before realizing that doing so would be extremely inappropriate in this situation.

“Undead?  Are you sure?”  Both Pisca and Liseth seemed to confirm it.  First goblins, now the living dead.  It seemed hard to credit.  What had Sandpoint done to deserve plagues of this nature?  Kerr glanced over at Banny’s desecrated body.  “This is awful,” he agreed.   Actually, awful seemed to be woefully inadequate to describe what they were seeing.  “But why would an undead do . . . do that?”  He’d studied undead with Father Zantus as part of his clerical training, of course, but this didn’t seem to be normal behavior for them.  “What could cause one to do something like that?”

“Do you guys think the killer targeted Banny and Katrine?”  He wondered aloud.  “Or were they just targets of opportunity?”  Kerr felt bad, treating the situation so clinically.  They had to, didn’t they?  They’d been tasked with finding this killer, so it didn’t benefit anyone for them to be overcome with emotion.  But it seemed as if he should still be having an emotional reaction to the murders, and he wasn’t.  It was like he didn’t feel anything now but a calm determination to find and punish the person or people responsible for this crime.

He wondered what that meant—what it said about him as a person.  He had been wracked with emotion earlier but now, when confronted with this horror, nothing.  He glanced around at the others.  Were they feeling something similar?

The new-minted paladin waited while Liseth cast about for signs that the undead might still be present.  It seemed like they might have learned everything there was to learn from this murder scene.  “Is there anything else we need to do here at the mill,” he asked, thinking one of the others might still have some investigative ideas.  “Or should we head somewhere else to continue looking into this?”

---

---

This message was last edited by the player at 21:45, Tue 08 Sept 2015.

"Nothing...."  Liseth sounded one part relieved and one part disappointed.  "Nothing shows an undead aura; I guess blood removed from an undead doesn't stay...well..undead.  But at least that means there is no undead in here with us."

"I don't think that Katrine and Banny were targetted specifically."  She answered Kellan and Kerr.  "There isn't any reason to...to do this to them over anyone else.  It probably saw them at night...coming here."  The girl frowned, "And decided that they would be easy targets...all alone in here..."

It was supposed to have been a night of clandestine fun...

"I should examine the...the victims."  There was nothing about the situation that Liseth enjoyed.  "To see if I can tell what kind of weapon was used on them.  It might help us find the killer."  She thought a moment, "Or if there was no weapon, that would tell us a lot too.  Since many undead don't bother with human weapons."  The frown deepened on the acolyte's face.

"Then..." The small girl was examining Banny's body, "maybe I can follow the trail of the killer.  If it was barefoot...and with how it smells so strongly...I might be able to see where it went after it left the scene."

OOC: Heal (or whatever is applicable) to examine the bodies, looking specifically for what weapons might have been used on them.  Or whether it was undead claws.

Also Survival in an attempt to follow the trail left behind by the killer as it left the scene of the murders.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:31, Wed 09 Sept 2015.

"Ook."  The gnome groaned again, her tummy still feeling tender and unwell.  "I ... I think I know now ... how one lone attacker can kill three not completely brave or committed henchmen before one escapes."

"Erg."

"That smell is enough to bring anyone to their knees."

Pisca walked as carefully as a sick and wobbly gnome can, through the landscape of tracks and other evidence to a place where the wall might be press-ganged into holding her up.  "That's a good idea, Lys.  Not many people walk through a sawmill in bare feet.  Not many people walk around town in bare feet.  Shouldn't be difficult to pick Your Lordship's tracks out from all of the rest."

And then through her Whisper Magic, the gnome added, "There is one thread that connects these murders with the one's before.  This mill, I believe, is run by the Scarnetti's.  Sounds like Your Lordship may have something against the Scarnetti's.  Something you have in common with them, Kerr Mollin."

"And I think we should see to the bodies ourselves," she added, but this time aloud.  "Especially seeing as Katrine Vinder is involved."  Pisca braced her back against the wall and slid down to a squat.  "Other investigations have waited till now.  I think they can wait a few more hours.  As strong as Vin Vender is," she said in an uncharacteristically sympathetic and hum-passionate way, "I think he could use support from people who care right now.  Especially those who might someday be family."

"Don't you think?"  And the gnome turned a weak and weary, but still gnomishly optimistic look up at Kellan.

"Uh, Guardsman.  What's your name?  You," she said, addressing the young guard who had been stationed to watch the floor.  "Could you fetch us some tasteful shrouds for the bodies, please?  Thank you ever so much."

---

---

Pisca’s request caused the guardsman to turn from where he’d been looking out the window, trying hard not to pay too close attention to the gory details of the murder scene before him.  “Jamis, ma’am,” he said, looking unsure as to the proper honorific for a deputized gnome, “Jamis Needlehome is my name.”  He looked abashed.  “I can’t leave the room, ma’am, Sherriff Hemlock’s orders.”

“But,” a flash of inspiration lit up his face as he walked over to the staircase.  “QUINT!!”  He yelled.  “QUINT, WE NEED YOU!!”

In seconds there was a pounding of booted feet on the stairs as Quint Plinsman burst into the room, polearm at the ready.  He looked around in confusion, his gaze settling on his fellow guardsman.  “What is it, Jay?”

“The deputies need shrouds.  For the bodies.”  Jamis gestured at the corpses as if Quint might have been confused about which bodies he meant.  “I can’t leave, so I figured you could get some?”

“Desna, Jay,” Quint swore, exhaling.  “Fine, I’ll take care of it.  But next time just send someone down, all right?”  He departed down the staircase, muttering something quietly to himself about a heart attack.

Quiet reigned as everyone tried to stay out of Liseth’s way while she examined the murder scene and the tracks on the floor.  Before long, the pounding of Quint’s boots signaled his return.  “Here you go,” he said, holding up two very large black sacks, “this is all I could find on short notice.”  He very obviously was not looking at either of the bodies.  “Who should I . . .?”  Jamis pointed to Pisca, and Quint tossed her the sacks.  “I need to get back down there.  Crowd’s getting restless.”  And with that, he departed.

---

---

Her investigation took a momentary pause as Liseth jumped in response to the sudden shout from the guard stationed at the scene.  She looked around quickly, reassuring herself that there wasn't an undead rampaging at them; before taking a deep breath and setting back into her examination.

"It looks as though..." the girl caught herself as the stench of rot and death assailed her as she came too close to the wounds on Banny.  "Some of these wounds on Banny look like they were made by...made by being gouged by a hand."  She pointed out one particular gash, with five marks in a line, "This is the same kinds of injury you would see from...from the bony fingers of an undead.  Slashing into its victim."

"But there are other wounds on him too...deeper ones that might have been caused by a weapon."  She stood back from the body of Katrine's boyfriend, "Katrine doesn't seem to have any small injuries on her...she was...just forced into the machinery..."

That wasn't a topic worth dwelling on.  Katrine was bigger and stronger than Liseth herself was.  And this undead killer murdered her in such a brutal manner.

Instead Liseth moved from an examination of the bodies to the trail of the killer.  But after several minutes she shook her head for the others, looking bewildered.  "I can't find any trail...anything at all that shows where the killer might have gone.  Or even how it entered the building.  I don't know...it's as though the monster just appeared inside here, did all this..." the acolyte gestured at the scene, "and then vanished.  I don't know how there could be nothing to follow."

"Should we go and find the Sheriff?"  Being quit of the grisly mill was something to look forward to.  "If we tell him that the killer must have been an undead, they'll have to release Mr Vinder."

The queasy gnome reached out to catch the flying shrouds and wound up wearing them instead.  She took one look at the very plain and very black sacks and shouted down the stairs, "I said TASTEFUL!"

"Well, these will have to do."

"No, Lys.  I think we should go where we're needed most.  Sheriff Balor won't move against Vin Vendor without more evidence.  And, even if he does, we'll be there to stop him.  I think they're the ones who need us most right now.  Everything else can wait until later."

"Stomper?"  The gnome trudged through the sawdust with the bulky material of a sack over each shoulder.  "Could you get this man down off his hooks for me, please?"  Pisca undid the fastenings on the bag and prepared it for the body.

"We'll have to go downstairs for Katrine."  The gnome sighed.  Bad news.  Bad news all around.  "In the meantime, look around," she said, and proceeded to do just that.  "I don't think Your Lordship came up the stairs or left that way either.  We didn't smell his smell until we entered this room.  So ... where else might a basically hummie sized, dead and moldering royal enter a room in a mill?  Climb?  Fly?  Jump?  Crawl?"

Looking for all possible entrances to this room.  Windows.  Skylights.  Even vents.  No matter how unconventional.  Pisca is all about unconventional.

Kellan felt that there was little he could contribute here, the girls were picking up on things faster than he could follow, and was easy to see that the young man excelled at the more athletic aspects of his trade rather than the investigative. Still, in his time with the guard there had been little call for this sort of work. The fatmans and their ilk required a strong arm and a steady gaze, not knowledge of the undead.

"Yeah, one moment" Kellan walked up and rolled his shoulder before he attempted to dislodge Banny from his tragic resting place.

While holding the bag (so to speak) and aiding Stomper to guide the body of Katrine Vinder's Ex-Secret Boyfriend, Pisca's gaze kept drifting back to the log-splitter.

"You know ... " the gnome offered, "it might be possible to scramble up the log-splitter mechanism and into this room.  And ... now that I think of it ... the mill sits on the Turandurok.  Logs float here down the river.  And it's the Turandurok that powers the waterwheel, right?  So, if this gnome were a shoeless and therefore very possibly naked and very smelly undead Ex-Lord, I would want to enter from the side of the building where there would be the least chance of being seen.  Or smelled.  And that means the river side."

Pisca face takes on a grim cast as her eyes fall upon the intentionally mutilated body of the mill operator.  No such attention to the body of Katrine Vinder.  "When we go down for Katrine, I think we need to take a look at the floor below too.  I remember seeing a pier out back.  If I'm not wrong, I think, Lysa, you may find the tracks that you're looking for out there."

As Stomper and Pisca attended to their gruesome business, Cato prowled the room, taking Pisca's advice to heart as he scanned for any clues to the undead assailant's entry.  In a way, the knowledge that these crimes were being committed by an actual monster instead of a deranged human was reassuring to the young wizard.  It meant that none of Sandpoint's residents could have done it - unless they were the undead in questions, of course.  But then, they'd have become monsters anyway.

Cato cleared his throat.  "Liseth, undead are not one of my strongpoints.  I've heard that vampires or such things can create more of themselves; is that something we have to worry about in this case as well?"

Perception check to see if Cato can add any more insights/spot an ingress point

---

---

With some struggle and an assist from Kerr, Kellan was able to gently remove Banny Harker’s body from the hooks on which it hung, and the two placed it as reverently as possible into the makeshift shroud Quint had provided.

The group then headed downstairs to perform the same service for Katrine.  No struggle was necessary for Kat’s body; the log-splitter had gruesomely hacked it into pieces small enough that even Pisca and Liseth would have no trouble placing them into a sack.  The close-up sight of the bloody, torn pieces of Katrine’s remains made the transient, fragile nature of life all too clear.  Only yesterday she had been a young lady in love, with all the problems, passions, and pleasures that entailed.

She’d been a friend.

And now she was dead.

Things became even worse when Kerr discovered Kat’s decapitated head.  Her face was frozen in a heartbreaking rictus of anguish, anger, and agony.  It was painfully obvious that she had died consumed by terror and pain.  Kerr soberly placed the head into the sack, then immediately went to hold Liseth—they were both struggling with Katrine’s death.

Once they were finished with Kat’s body, the group headed out to the pier to see if they could find any clues to how Banny and Katrine’s mysterious assailant had entered the mill.  The pier was laid out in a “C” shape, with top part of the C running in front of the mill while the middle and bottom parts jutted out into the Turandarok, where they functioned as a sort of wooden net for logs floating down the river from upsteam lumber sites.  A good number of logs floated within that net, moving gently back-and-forth as they caught the river’s current, waiting patiently for the mill’s workers to return.

It was immediately apparent that the murderer had used the pier to approach the mill.  Muddy, bare footprints indicated that whomever—or whatever—it was had clambered out of the Turandarok onto the pier, then walked towards the mill.  The muddy tracks became progressively fainter as they approached the mill, finally disappearing just as they reached the portion of the pier fronting the building.

“Good call, Pisca,” said Kerr, kneeling down to look at the footprints even though he knew nothing about tracking except what Liseth had showed him that afternoon when she had merrily tried to teach him how to track a deer.  That experience left him hesitant to venture guesses about such matters.  “Is this important somehow?  I mean, knowing how he got to the building?”

---

---

To the Storvals, late fall had been a time to bask in the glow of the harvest, to sleep in, to prepare the last of the firewood and to use some of the newly available free time to supplement the crops with some fresh game. While Kellan had always enjoyed hunting, he had not been able to really indulge in it for a few years due to the demands of his post. Some skills however, you never really forget.

"Got something here" he called to the others as he followed the obvious tracks to where they petered off into no more than faint indentations, little disturbances in the grass that he followed over to the base of the mill. From there he looked up, then brushed at what appeared to be a little scuff mark. "Well that aint natural" he stated decisively as he scratched his head and followed the marks up.

"See where'he climbed up there to the window...just shimmied right on up the side" he pointed to the regular intervals where the wall had been faintly marred. "No more than...twelve hours maybe, at the most, given as how that woods still dry next to the river here." he glanced over his shoulder as the body of water then over to the others.

"Not so much, Kerr Mollin."  A grim gnome stood on the peer looking out over the waters of the Turandurok.  "Not so much for what it says Your Lordship did than for what it says that he didn't do," she added.  "He *didn't* fly into the mill through one of the two large windows up there.  He *didn't* pop into thin air by magic.  He *did* cross the river and clamber up onto this pier, whereupon he ascended to the second floor by climbing the wall."  She waved a small white hand in the direction of the wall by which Stomper now stood.

"As horrible as this is, I don't think we need to imagine flying, popping, grossly smelly undead lordships ... "

"Wait ... "  An I'm-Having-An-Idea look dropped down over Pisca's face and she ran to the edge of the pier at the place where the muddy prints of Your Lordship emerged from the river.  She looked upstream and then downstream, but mostly for effect.  "If this gnome was a horrendously odorous undead thing that didn't want to be detected by casually passing humans, she might hide her scent by swimming underwater.  The dead don't need to breath, do they, Lys?  Or, better yet, by walking along the bottom of the river!  Weighted down with stones.  Yes!"  A gnomish fist smacked into a gnomish palm.  That's it.  I can't wait to find out where that Scarnetti warehouse is.  I bet it's near water."

"Maybe later we can search the river banks to see where he came back out."  Pisca let out a sigh that signaled a segue.  "Let's go rescue Vin Vender."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:49, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

Cato watched as Pisca, Kerr and Kellan uncovered the path the undead murder had taken toward the mill and nodded.  "Well, it certainly helps to know that we're facing something with mostly mundane traveling abilities.  Do you suppose it got out the same way it came in?  Or via the river, in any case?"

Cato examined the trail, but not having much skill or experience in tracking game in the wild, shrugged his shoulders.  "I'll have to take your word for it."

He looked at the Turandurok, his gaze slowly scanning along the expanse, and sighed.  "I suppose that's a big of a dead end, then.  Whatever it was could have been in the river for...well, miles, I guess, if it didn't need to breathe."

The wizard looked back towards town, shaking his head again.  "I don't think Ven will take this well.  If his temper is any indication, I certainly don't want to be the one giving him the bad news."  Cato chuckled once, but it quickly trailed off as the wizard realized the inappropriateness of laughing.

Liseth did not have the stomach to help with Katrine.  She had been dismembered...shredded into bloody pieces.  When Katrine's head was found she had to turn away.  There was no way she could look into that frozen face; a image of horror and pain.  The small blonde began to shiver, leaning into Kerr when he came to hold her.

She recovered in leaving the mill for the fresh air out by the river.  But the investigation was far from finished.  "No, undead don't breathe."  She answered Pisca, looking at the muddy prints on the pier.  "It could easily walk along the bottom of the river and climb out.  It would have had to, if that mud is from the bottom of the riverbed."

"It could be anywhere now...it could even stay under the water right next to Sandpoint all day, just waiting until night to attack someone else."  She looked up and down the river, "It could attack almost anywhere in Sandpoint and retreat to the river...or the ocean.  And no one would be able to follow after it."

The river was just behind the Cathedral graveyard too; the undead didn't seem to have any trouble climbing up things...

"We need to go to the garrison.  I don't think that there is anything else here for us to find."  Liseth glanced at the river, as though it were just waiting to strike.  "And this is enough evidence to say that Ven Vinder is innocent.  We have to get them to let him out so that he can grieve..."

---

---

The group didn’t even need to carry the bodies out themselves—Sherriff Hemlock had dispatched Nyk Duggan, the Sandpoint Guard’s newest recruit, with a horse and cart to pick up the remains and transport them to the Cathedral and Father Zantus.  Kerr, Cato, Kellan helped Nyk move Banny and Kat’s bodies into the cart as respectfully as possible.  A loud murmur ran through the gathered crowd; they had expected something terrible, but the two corpses confirmed their worst suspicions.

“Who is it?”  Yelled one anonymous person in the crowd.

“Who did it?”  Called another.

“Are we safe?”  A chorus of echoes followed this sentiment.  Nyk looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Quint Plinsman stepped forward.  “Sherriff Hemlock will be answering questions at sixth bell in front of the Garrison.  Right now we’re still investigating what happened.  But yes, you are safe.  And right now I need you to return to your homes and workplaces.  There’s nothing to see here.”

Murmured disagreement accompanied Quint’s pronouncement.  As he and Santo continued to try and disperse the crowd, the group made its way out behind Nyk’s impromptu hearse.  A couple of people followed, hoping to determine the identities of those killed, but most of them stayed to question Quint.

The group left Nyk to his task a little before Northchurch Square, heading down Tower Street to the Garrison.  Its strong stone edifice stood undisturbed, a bulwark against any evil that might seek to strike at the town.

The group entered and—after they flashed their deputy’s badges, and with Torv Tiller apparently out—Caul Thatcher directed them downstairs, past the armory to Sandpoint’s subterranean jail.  The cells were not often put to use for anything more than a place for drunks to sleep off their intoxication, but today the nearest cell held Ven Vinder.

The most dramatic thing about the man was the notable absence of his presence.  Ven normally filled whatever room he was in, his bulk and personality calling attention from even those in the smallest corners.  But this morning that presence was gone; he sat alone in his cell, face slack, staring at the wall.  Diminished.

Ven didn’t even turn to greet them as they stopped outside his cell; he just kept staring at the wall, feet drawn up onto the cot that served as the cell’s bed, arms wrapped around his knees.  He looked like the world’s largest child, completely bereft.

“Is it true?”  The normally booming voice came out in a raspy whisper.  It seemed drained of all emotion.  “Is it true about Kat?”

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This message was last edited by the GM at 20:59, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

Pisca had been particularly quiet on the short trip from the mill to the garrison.  Even her stride was subdued, pensive, weighted by the gravity of events.  She had been very much not her usual self.

Now, standing outside the cells, the grim faced gnome simply said, "Open this door, please."  And she pointed a finger at the door that kept a blameless man incarcerated.

Faced with Ven, the man's emotions evident for all to see, Cato felt his own emotions surge through him.  Fright, for one.  If such a thing could happen to Scarnetti thugs and sneak upon lovers off for a tryst, was anyone in this town safe?  Sudden understanding.  What did family think, when Cato had fled from the Hellknights?  Even his father, Cato had come to realize, probably felt something about that.  However stern the old man had been - though never as open about it public as Cato had seen Ven - the wizard knew that his entire family cared in some way for him.  His father's emotions were tied up with complex bonds of family and noble obligation, which is why Cato knew he disappointed him so much, but he still cared.

Yet the mage fought to keep his face clean, not wanting to be the one to confirm the news to Ven that he already obviously knew.

Listening to the shattered voice of Ven from the prison cell gave Cato another surge of emotion, and he brought his face up once more.  Determination.  Goblins, an evil priestess and some foul presence from Thassilon couldn't destroy Sandpoint, and neither would this threat.  They'd chase it down, somehow, and ensure this senseless slaughter stop.

But still, Cato couldn't face Ven.  He looked to Kellan, figuring if anyone should break the news, it should be the guardsman.

It was a quiet and solemn walk from the mill.  All of the people were so concerned, and rightly so.  Liseth wished she could say something to reassure them but she couldn't find the words.  She didn't even feel assured of her own safety; not with an undead killer ambushing people right inside town!

But if it was really an undead, it couldn't get into the Cathedral.  Right?

Knowing what they had to do once they reached the garrison was completely different than actually being there to do it.  Liseth had not had much interaction with Mr Vinder, and most of it had involved a lot of passion on part of the very large man.  Seeing him now, it was almost as though it couldn't be the same man.

As horrible as it felt to be carrying the information they had to tell him, it must be infinitely worse for him waiting to be told.

"Mister Vinder..."  Liseth began then stopped as her voice caught.  She looked at her friends when Pisca asked for the cell to be opened; it seemed to her as though nobody wanted to be the one to voice what had happened to Katrine.  Especially to her despondent father.

The girl was reminded of having to tell Ms Kaijitsu what had happened to her father.  This though; this was worse.  Having to tell a father the fate of his daughter.  "You know that we were asked to...to investigate what had happened at the sawmill last night.  By Sheriff Hemlock."  The small acolyte had to work her way around to telling him somehow.

"It's because what happened is so far from what the militia normally has to deal with.  And we already have experience with this sort of thing; after what happened with the goblins."  After the cell door was finally opened, Liseth carefully stepped inside to approach Katrine's father.

"We found..."  Liseth laid a small hand on Ven Vinder's large arm, looking up into his depressed face.  "We found evidence that they fought back very hard after being taken by surprise.  Katrine and...and..." Liseth wasn't sure exactly how to put this, "and the...boy she was with.  But..."  She couldn't keep herself from frowning.  Everything about this was miserable.

"I'm so sorry, Mister Vinder."  Tears began to well up from the young blonde, "I should have tried harder to be Katrine's friend.  I told her it would be better for her if she didn't work so hard to keep her secret from everybody.  So she wouldn't have to sneak around at night.  But she just got angry with me and I was too scared to keep trying..."

"They...she's already been transported to the Cathedral, where Father Zantus will be taking care of...of everything."  A weight had sunk down into Liseth's stomach.  She took hold of Sarenrae's Symbol, "If you want...I could...ask Sarenrae to make it hurt less.  It won't fix anything...but you won't feel as terrible."