Alergast had once imparted upon Kellan the importance of a guardsmans role as a keeper of secrets. Here they were walking into houses, into businesses, down alleyways and into the lives of the people they had sworn to protect. They saw people at their worst, sloppy drunk and asleep in their own filth, fighting their loved ones tooth and nail over some perceived slight or the way dinner had been prepared. Births, deaths and tragedy.

Kellan did not want to see Ven like this, he wanted to remember him as strong, indomitable, bold as brass. A staunch protector of his family and reputation. But the man who sat before him was broken, lost, scared, and it reflected Kellans own insecurities and weaknesses. If Ven Vinder could be reduced to this...what did it say about the rest of them?

"Yes" Kellan was no orator, he did not have Liseths skill with words or her delicate, innocent touch. He did have the truth, as plain as he could tell it. "Her and Banny both"

He took a deep breath and steeled himself before he continued. "They were ambushed in the mill...and, well, they didn't go quietly."

Kellan shifted his weight, feeling very young again. "Something about it's not natural, but were gonna find out what did it, and then were gonna make it pay. Or die trying" he added, unsure if that last bit had helped or hurt to make Ven feel more at ease, vindicated or assured.

---

---

Pisca’s order regarding the door echoed down an empty hallway—apparently the Sandpoint Guard felt the Garrison’s security was already sufficient, that Ven was not a threat to flee, or simply that it had more important things to do with its manpower.  Whatever the reason, no one answered.  They were alone with Ven.

The big man shifted his dull gaze to Liseth as she began to explain what had happened over the last few hours.  When the small blonde acolyte said Katrine’s name--that she was dead--a noise began in the back of Ven’s throat, building and finally erupting as a wailing keen.  When Kellan confirmed Liseth's account, Ven rolled off the bed, still making that awful sound, and, bent over at his knees, began methodically pounding his fists into the floor.  There was no anger behind the action.  Just slow, heavy blows that quickly began to bloody his fists.

Ven did not seem to care.

“I.”  After a minute, Ven’s voice broke through his rhythmic assault on the stone tiles.  “Just wanted.”  The pounding picked up in intensity.  “To keep her SAFE!!”  This last came out in a rush, the final word as a yell.  He sat back on his haunches, staring at the ceiling.  “Our last words were angry, because I wanted to keep her SAFE!!”  He looked around wildly, as if unsure what to do or where to let out the tide of emotion that was consuming him.  “Everything I did was to keep her SAFE!!  And she’s dead!!  My Kat is DEAD!!!”  He wailed the last word as he grabbed the bars of the prison, staring at them wildly, tears streaming down his bearded face.  He began shaking the bars.  “How could this happen?  How could this happen?  Desna, HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!?!?!”

The group heard a pounding down the sharp, narrow stairs, heralding the arrival of Torv Tiller and Alergast Barett.  Ven took no notice of their arrival.  “SHE’S GONE!!!”  He howled, unending pain and anger and emptiness somehow communicated through that one word.  “MY KAT IS GONE!!!!!!”  He gave the bars one final, mighty shake, dislodging dust from the ceiling, then collapsed in the corner, curled up and moaning.  “Gone.”  He repeated the one word like a mantra.  “Gone.”

Alergast looked shocked.  Torv turned to him.  “It’s like I said, Barett.”  He gestured to the shaking, moaning behemoth of a man.  “He stumbled on them, and he cracked.  Went crazy.  That’s the simplest explanation.”  He turned back to the cell, a stern sort of pity on his face.  "Maybe Habe will know what to do with him."

---

---

This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Tue 15 Sept 2015.

The gnome's shoulders were tight, and they took on a tremor.  On her face, a deep welling misery began to break through what might have been a veneer of stoic thought, possibly stony indifference, or more likely, shocked paralysis.  And when Pisca spoke, the tremor entered her voice as well.  "You know nothing, Torv Tiller," she said.  And, as though the quaver in her own voice had been enough to break the gnome open, the rest came out in a sob.

"He's innocent!" she cried.  "And we can prove it."

"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  Pisca threw herself at the bars, clutching them as though she might wring forgiveness from the cold steel.  "I'm sorry.  We tried!" she wailed.  But there was no forgiveness to be had.  She slid down the unyielding bars, her voice growing fainter the lower she sank.  Tears fell to spot the floor below.

"We did.  But if only we'd tried harder.  We could've done it.  We could've found the boyfriend.  And she wouldn't've been there.  And she'd be alive.  She'd be alive now."

Her hands clasped at her chest and Liseth couldn't stop from stepping back from the bars during Mr Vinder's intensely emotional display.  It was terrifying; but the acolyte felt only sympathy.  Sympathy mixed with grief, and regret.

There was nothing that anybody could say to him, not while Mr Vinder was in this state.  Nothing which might help him at all.  The man was beyond devastated.

"Pisca is right."  The small blonde said to Sergeant Tiller and Lieutenant Barret.  She looked accusingly at Sergeant Tiller, tears in her own eyes, "How could you say that?  We just came from the mill, we saw what had happened.  Katrine was..." Liseth didn't want to say the details, not here.  "And you think that her father did that to her?!"

"We know that it could not have been Mr Vinder.  Everything we found points to...to something else."  She looked back towards the behemoth of a man, now curled up in the corner like a child.  "You can't keep him in there at a time like this...he needs to be with his other daughter."  Liseth frowned suddenly, "Does...does Shayliss know what has happened yet?"

"I...I think I can help.  A little."  Her eyes were still on Mr Vinder as she moved her hands to clutch the divine focus at her neck.  She had to try to do something for him; there was no way she could leave him in such a mess.  "Sarenrae," The young acolyte beseeched, "soothe the grief and calm the raging emotions that consume this poor man.  Grant a moment's respite from his terrible loss."

OOC: Casting Calm Emotions to target Ven Vinder.

Cato stared in mute shock at Ven's display. Obviously, the man was in a great deal of pain. And though Cato didn't know him as well as he presumed Alergast, Torv or Kellan knew him, the wizard couldn't believe for a second that Ven would have done that to Kat.  Especially not with the evidence we found at the mill, Cato thought to himself. But how could anyone believe that of Ven?  Not that Cato didn't believe that some people in Sandpoint were capable of those sorts of things. He had to look no further than the Lonjiku clan, or Nualia to see that. But Ven wasn't one of those people. And even if he came upon Kat in an illicit tryst and lost his temper, how could they think he'd stoop to desecrating the body, much less feeding Kat into the...Cato shook his head and tried to stop the grim direction his thoughts had taken.

He watched Liseth's spell and clenched his own fists in helplessness. It wasn't often that the Mage felt stymied like this, but now was such a time. Obviously the gods had granted Liseth much greater abilities to help her fellows in times of need. Cato resolved to do what he could, saving up his anger for whatever monstrous evil they eventually found and forced to justice for this act. Because Cato knew he could help with that and eagerly looked forward to it, more than he had to taking on Nualia. That woman had tried to do terrible things to Sandpoint in the name of her terrible God, but this wanton slaughter felt entirely more personal to Cato, the way Kerr had been caught up as well.

Finally, Cato broke the silence. "Ven needs to grieve, Sheriff. Maybe isolation until he calms down, but what he does need is family. And we need to find out who's behind this. It's obviously not Ven, or Kerr. We need to find out who, and quickly. Habe's, though. Maybe we need to question the other survivor. It's the only lead we have right now.  I don't think I know where it is, though Kellan might."  Cato looked to the guardsman.

What could he say? that he understood? No...no, even with the loss of his fellow guardsman and the other towns folk, he knew that he could not come close to knowing this kind of grief. Hopefully he never would.

Nothing Kellan could do or say could fix this, and truth be told with what they had seen at the mill, he was not even sure if they would be able to bring this thing to justice even if they found it. Why in all the world, with all the sick, twisted, broken souls out there, had Kat and Banny been the ones to fall? Wasn't there enough to worry about? With the harvest? With the thugs and degenerates? with the goblins? and now this? A wave of emotion came over him, he wanted to cry, but he managed to hold back.

As much as he wanted to try and do what he could for Ven, in the back of his mind he knew that this thing was still out there. Did the dead even sleep? were they ever idle? what did they exist for? What could it have gotten out of this situation? They would need to move quick before other were killed, and in a small town like this every death sent a shockwave through the community.

"They're right" Kellan agreed somberly "From what we've seen there is no way Ven is the one who did this. There is something else at work here, something unnatural" Kellan felt tired, it would be a long, long night, and it was just getting started.

"I think your right" the guardsman agreed with Cato "It's our best, and probably our only chance at the moment"

Remorse.  Guilt.  True and heart-rending.  These ... were new things.  And, even as the gnome lay, half-prone against the bars, there was an aspect of herself that stood apart.  That gnome, that Pisca Neep the Not-So-Freemish, squatted nearby, observing herself, consumed by feelings entirely different.  This Pisca watched herself with great interest and great curiosity and tremendous wonderment.

There was a passionate sadness here that she'd never seen in herself before.  And this Other-Pisca, this detached Pisca, she reached out with experimenting fingers to pluck and play at the regret, to poke this particular recrimination, and to jiggle certain poignant memories.  She cataloged which would bring deeper sobs and which would trigger a fresh bout of sobbing.

This was a new thing.  And it was very very interesting.

---

---

Alergast’s face softened as he watched Pisca on the floor next to the bars, trying to comfort Ven.  And maybe trying to comfort herself as well.  He gave Liseth a brief nod as she tried to explain Ven’s innocence.

“That’s how it seems to me too, Torv.”  The big guard officer crossed his arms and looked uncomfortably at Ven wailing in the corner of his cell.  “I just can’t see Ven doing . . . that.  And you really don’t have any cause to believe that he did it, do you?”  He raised an eyebrow at the sergeant.  “Other than your suspicions?”

Torv opened his mouth to speak, but Kerr cut in first.  “Like everyone’s saying, we found evidence at the mill that he didn’t do it, Lieutenant Barett,” he interjected.  “Liseth’s right!  From what we can tell, there was some sort of creature involved.  It couldn’t have been Mister Vinder.”

Everyone watched as the blonde-haired acolyte reached towards the sobbing merchant and prayed to Sarenrae.  Immediately a sense of calm flooded the room—everyone felt noticeably less tense, as if Liseth’s prayer simply washed away their anxiety, anger, or sorrow.  Ven, no longer weeping, simply crumpled into the corner, as if he had no energy left to power his enormous frame.

Strangely, Sergeant Tiller also experienced a noticeable change.  He seemed to look at Ven with new eyes, rather than the gimlet gaze he’d been using to this point.  “That,” said Sandpoint’s most-feared sergeant, “that changes things.”  His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, slightly marring his ramrod-straight posture.

“A creature, you say?”  Alergast asked, giving Kerr a measured look that promised further conversation on this topic before turning to Torv.  “I think it does,” he agreed.  The edge of his mouth quirked slightly upward as Cato spoke.  “Thank you for the promotion, Cato, but I’m still just a lieutenant.”  He gave the group a curt nod.  “Based on your testimony, and the lack of evidence against him, I think we can release Ven.”  He glanced at Tiller.  “Don’t you think, Torv?”  The bald-headed sergeant nodded his assent.  “Then it’s agreed.”

The lieutenant reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a key ring.  He quickly ran through the keys with his fingers before settling on one of the larger ones.  He inserted it into the door of Ven’s cell, quickly unlocking, then opening it.

“You’re free to go, Ven.”  Alergast said, not unkindly.  “And I know this doesn’t do anything right now, but I’m very sorry for your loss.”  Ven continued to huddle in the corner, giving no sign that he’d heard anything.  Alergast looked at the group.  “I can make sure he gets home, unless you’d prefer to take him?”

---

---

She thought she could make it now, the pain had gone.
All of the bad feelings had disappeared.
She rose from the floor and walked into the cell ...

"It's gonna be a bright, bright, bright sunshiny day," the gnome whispered to herself.  "Thanks, Lys.  I feel much better."

She put her small gnomish hand into the infinitely larger human one.  "Come on," she tugged, "You need to go home.  You've got a daughter left who still needs you."

"No, no...as much as I want to, we should get going." Kellan responded to Alergast with a slight shake of his head. "Whatever did this is still out there, and gods willing I hope to find it before any more harm is done"

The newly promoted sergeant turned to his friends. "Habes is just a few miles south of here, down on the Ashen Rise. If we saddle up the horses we should be able to make it down there pretty quick. With a little luck... Grayst still might have enough sense in his head to tell us something useful"

Cato blushed.  "Of course, Sergeant, of course.  Caught up in all the excitement."

Cato nodded to Kellan.  "Sounds good.  We should get there quick.  I'd hate to see anyone else hurt by that...thing."

The moment her prayer finished everything felt better.  At the least, Ven Vinder stopped sobbing.  And Liseth's own feelings guilt and sorrow disappeared.  Sarenrae's blessing had removed the sadness from an awful situation and everyone could think more clearly.  It was just too bad that the young acolyte knew the effects would last only a short time.

"You're welcome Pisca."  Liseth answered.  The blonde girl watched Pisca go and take Ven Vinder's hand.  Then she turned to Kellan, "We should examine the other bodies, here at the garrison.  Before going all that way to speak with the survivor."  It was a lot easier to speak of their investigation while under Sarenrae's calming influence, "We need to make sure that the bodies have matching wounds to what we saw in the mill.  And we could learn something else useful before speaking to the survivor."

"Kellan..."  Liseth looked about at everyone, "I think that Cato, Kerr and I can handle the examination.  If you think that you and Pisca could escort Mr Vinder home?"  She tried not to be obvious about it, but the suggestion was there.  That Kellan should be there when Shayliss heard the news, and saw her father in his state.

"Our examination shouldn't take too long.  You and Pisca can meet us at the Stables when you're done."

"And..."  The girl stepped closer to Alergast Barret, "We should tell you what we found at the mill."  After a glance back at Mr Vinder, she finished, "But I don't think here is a good place."

---

---

Alergast looked from Liseth, to Ven, to Pisca, then back to Liseth.  “No.”  He said, studiously not looking at Sergeant Tiller.  “Probably not.”  He paused for a second, thinking.  “Why don’t you all take Ven back to the General Store?  I’ll be in my office for the rest of the morning, so you can come find me there if we need to talk.”  He favored Liseth with a sober expression.  “And it sounds like we do.”

He turned to his companion.  “Come on, Torv, we need to get the guard schedule straightened out.”  Alergast put his arm around the sergeant, turning him back toward the stairway.  “The current one’s gone straight to the Abyss,” he said, walking down the hallway, voice fading as the pair went up the stairs.  “I’m pretty sure Quint and Santo have been on duty for 16 hours now, and I don’t think anyone’s relieved poor Jamis since the bodies were found . . . .”

Once the more-senior guards had departed, there was the matter of actually getting Ven back to his home—the enormous man would certainly be no picnic to carry.  But with some help from Kellan he managed to make it to his feet, and seemed willing enough to let Pisca take him by the hand and guide him out of the cell, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the Garrison’s entrance.

Ven wasn’t riven by grief as he had been, but neither had he recovered the gruff brand of personal interaction everyone was used to.  He simply stared at the stone floor, face slack, putting one foot in front of the other as he allowed a gnome who had previously punched him to direct him back to what remained of his family.

The group had no problems leaving the garrison—apparently Alergast had already given the all-clear.  The entourage received some strange looks from passersby as they helped Ven back to the general store; the news regarding the murders clearly hadn’t made its way into the public consciousness just quite yet.  After only a few minutes, Kellan and Kerr were assisting Ven up on to the porch of the General Store and helping him inside, leading him toward the rooms in the rear where he lived with his daughters.

“DADDY!!”  A crimson-maned flash ran through the General Store’s well-kept aisles.  Shayliss crashed into her father like a wave against a tidebreak, throwing both arms around him as she buried her head in his chest.  “What happened?!?  What’s going on?”  Her voice held more than a tremor of fear and trepidation.

“She’s gone, Shay.”  Ven broke his silence, his voice catching and scraping as if it had not been used for years.  He sounded as if he was on the verge of another breakdown.  “Kat’s gone.  Oh Shay.”  He mourned, sinking to the floor with his remaining daughter, stroking her hair, holding her in his arms as if she were the greatest treasure in the world.  “She’s gone.”

Shay began keening, as if her greatest fears had been confirmed, collapsing against her father as she did so.  “I’m sorry,” Ven choked, his sobs bursting through again as Shayliss wept uncontrollably in his arms.  “Shay, I’m so sorry.”  His tears fell freely.  “So sorry.”

---

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 09:02, Wed 23 Sept 2015.

Tears.  And hugs.  And sadness.  Terrible sadness.  Tremendous grief.  It tugged at the gnome.  Ven and Shayliss Vinder.  On the floor.  Sobbing.  Holding each other.  They drew Pisca in.  Just as surely as a stray astral body succumbs to gravity.  She wanted to join.  To hug and to cry.

But none of the others did.

And the puzzlement at just why this might be broke the moment.  Then the moment was gone.  The pull was gone.  She was no longer one with the humans and their grief.  Quietly, unobtrusively, she scrutinized the faces of her friends.  What had held them back?  Were they not humans too?  In this room full of tragedy, she could see from their faces that they were not unaffected.  So, what was it?  Why?

Sometimes, humans were a puzzlement.

She put a commiserating hand upon Stomper's hip, looking up at him with great sympathetic eyes.  Then she went to Lysa.  "Do you think they'll be alright alone?" she asked.  And then, "We should stop by the Rusty Dragon and see that someone sends food.  They should eat, and I don't think they'll be in much of a state to cook for themselves."

It was terribly awkward.  Being an outside party to the Vinders' grief.  Not that Liseth wasn't still feeling the effects of the tragedy herself, but nothing could match exactly what they were going through.

She couldn't be with them, nothing she could do to console them.  The girl was an outsider; she wasn't even sure Katrine had liked her, and Shayliss had been less than excited about her just last night.  So Liseth watched them shed their tears of grief together while she more quietly shed her own.

The blonde girl hugged Pisca tightly when the gnome asked whether the two would be alright.  She sniffed, "They will, they have each other.  They'll be better in time.  Father Garrick says that these are the sorts of wounds that only time and love can heal."

Liseth released Pisca then and turned to Kellan.  Of all of them, he knew the Vinders best.  And he was Shayliss' boyfriend too.  "Kellan," she looked towards Shayliss, "say something to her."  The slender acolyte all but shoved the towering guardsmen towards his grief-stricken girlfriend, "go on."

"Maybe you're right, Pisca."  Liseth answered once again to the gnome.  "But I'm sure they won't at all feel like eating, whether food is there or not."  She frowned and then went to find Kerr, taking a hold of his arm while watching the father cry with his daughter.  "And we have so much more that still needs to be done..."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:38, Thu 24 Sept 2015.

Kellan hated this whole bloody mess. He hated having their little village life invaded by things like this, he hated whatever hat killed Kat, he hated having to see Ven like this, he hated being at the center of it all. He wanted to solve it, to solve all of this and some how, some way, get things back to the way they had been. They way he felt that they were supposed to be.

But there was no solving this, not for Ven, and as the guardsman helped the huge man to his feet he felt his anger turn into sorrow and frustration. He was supposed to protect people from things like this, and yet here they were running around half blind while some...thing killed their friends and neighbors at will.

The trip down to the general store was silent for Kellan, there was nothing he could say, and as he entered the familiar structure himself and was confronted by Shay, he felt the emotions from earlier in the night rush back to the fore. He could not imagine what the girl must be feeling, between their earlier fight and finding her father like this. He had been a bright spot in her life and now was the bearer of the worst sort of news.

"I'm sorry Shay" he managed "We're gonna find who did it, just...give us a little time" he sighed and glanced to Liseth. Had that been sufficient? What was he supposed to do here exactly? Her sister had just been horrifically murdered. Nothing he could do could salve that kind of wound.

"I'm sorry for your loss."  She'd given Lysa's hands a little squeeze just before the human girl had returned to her boyfriend.  The hug had been good.  The hug had helped.  Now that she'd had time to feel and watch and learn from her friends, she could almost feel the human separateness - the way that they divided themselves by who had the strongest bonds to Katrine Vinder by virtue of human family groupings.  She herself could now feel it, and it stood as a ghost image, imposed over her own feeling to be a part of the grief - a grief which she shared some responsibility for.

"I wish I could have ... I should have pushed harder ... "

Wisdom would suggest that you leave things as they are ...   The words rung in Pisca's head, spoken in the voice of Jubrayl Vishki.  Words that she now knew that she should have ignored.

"I'm sorry ... "  This human feeling, it even provided for a respectful distance from which she should stand.  It was a very helpful feeling in this, and other, respects.  "I can't turn back time that far.  I wish I could.  But Stomper's right.  We'll find who did this."  The eyes of the gnome visited the face of each of her friends, finding common bond in a shared look.  "There will be a reckoning."

"In the meantime, we'll have someone from the Rusty Dragon send food.  You just care for yourselves.  We'll leave you be now.  Once again, I'm sorry."

Cato stood quietly, watching mostly, as Pisca escorted Ven back to his store.  And the appearance of Shayliss and the awkward reveal of the events did little to settle the wizard.  He knew that Ven and his daughter needed comforting, for their suffering was just beginning as the loss of Kat was driving home.  But Cato's feelings of awkwardness and impotence only served to impress in his mind a need for great urgency, which fought the need to comfort Ven and Shayliss.  So, the wizard stood mute and still, trying to bring his scattered thoughts to order.  Sheriff?  Sergeant?  I can't even get Alergast's rank right.  What use am I going to be if Sandpoint depends on me right now?

Deep in thought, trying to control his emotions, Cato stood quiet, watching the pain unfold in front of him and unable to think of anything to help.

---

---

Kerr looked away from the pair of huddled Vinders—their grief was too raw, too immediate to bear.  It was as if he was looking at someone’s painful, open wound but helpless to heal it.  The erstwhile acolyte looked toward the General Store’s doors, feeling suddenly infused with energy.  He couldn’t do anything to help Katrine or her grieving family now, but he sure as Erastil could go out and work on bringing them justice.  It would be cold comfort, but hopefully the closure would help the healing.

Kerr caught the others’ eyes and jerked his head toward the door.  There seemed to be nothing more to do here; Ven and Shayliss were caught up in their private grief, and it seemed somehow intrusive to stay.  The group stumbled out of the general store feeling like they’d just left a sepulcher.  The light and sunny breeze of a Sandpoint noon contrasted harshly with the General Store’s stark, cool stillness.

It took only moments for the group to gather itself and head back up the street to the Garrison.  Caul Thatcher looked like he knew exactly why they had returned.

“The bodies are downstairs, in the storage room just past the armory,” he informed them.  “Alergast’s in his office if you want to talk to him after.”  Caul’s thumb helpfully indicated the hallway down which the office could be found.

“Great, thanks Caul,” Kerr responded, only to find that the others had already begun descending the staircase.  Everyone seemed to have their own reasons for wanting to bring Katrine’s murderer to justice as quickly as possible.

Or maybe everyone had the same reason.

Once downstairs, the five of them crowded their way into the makeshift morgue, the three dead men interred there already pressed it for space.  Their bodies lay motionless on three wooden tables, but the most-notable thing about them was the look of stark, raving terror etched indelibly on their stiffened faces.

---

---

This message was last edited by the player at 03:47, Fri 25 Sept 2015.

Cato stared at the dead bodies, at the victims of this undead menace plaguing Sandpoint that he had so far proven useless in stopping.  With a sigh of resignation, Cato whispered a few words, moved his fingers in familiar patterns, and studied the bodies for traces of any arcane magic, knowing that such a thing was probably doomed, but not knowing anything else to try.

Cast Detect Magic

"These bodies all have the same sort of marks that we found on Banny."  Liseth didn't want to waste any time and went straight into examining the bodies.  She went straight to them once they had arrived in the morgue and began her examination.  "Each one of them was slashed by claws from a...humanoid hand."

The acolyte pointed at the claw marks on the skin of the deceased, "marks from five fingers, about the size of a human hand.  But no person would be able to have their fingers leave marks like that; they dig in to the flesh too far."

"They look like many of the wounds were inflicted in a fight."  Liseth sighed, "These men didn't do any better than the...what happened in the mill.  And they each have the same symbol carved into them as was on Banny.  They must have all been killed by the same...creature.  But why?"

A few more moments were spent pointedly not looking at the faces frozen in terror, even though it was obvious Liseth was thinking of exactly that.  "I don't know whether there's more to find here; these men obviously died in horror."  And the three of them together were helpless against their attacker too.  "Although maybe I can still learn something..."

Liseth finally looked into the face of one of the bodies.  Examining the eyes first, then the mouth and finally the claw marked injuries.  Looking for any evidence that the men had been afflicted by poison or disease.  Or other debilitations that might provide clues towards the monster they were seeking.

OOC: Heal maybe?  Or Knowledge (Nature) to determine that the men were afflicted by some kind of poison or disease.  Not sure whether Knowledge (religion) would cover anything, except maybe undead special attacks.

"Claws?" Kellan asked aloud as Liseth looked over the bodies, prodding a portion of the rent flesh with one finger. "Like a big predator...but, not" he leaned back against the wall in thought. "I think the Quasit thing had claws? didnt she?" he looked about "Could it be something like her? Something that was down in the ruins and got disturbed?"

"Up, please."  The gnome held her arms out to Kerr Mollin to be lifted onto one of the outer tables.  Whereupon, after having been deposited there, she went about a detailed search of the bodies.

"I don't ... think ... that's likely, Stomper."  Pisca's voice came filtered through the attention paid to her search, with a word or two to spare between the scrutiny of the cold fingers on a dead hand or a few sentences delivered while hopping from one table to the next.  "That doesn't fit the things that we know so far.  First, the killer knows Sandpoint.  He ... and I'm thinking this is a 'he' now ... knew to lure these men to the Scarnetti's warehouse.  He knew about the warehouse.  And he must also have known about their connection to the Scarnettis."

"No.  I think our best clue lies in the things that Your Lordship has already said about himself through his own words and actions."

"Lordship ... Knows Sandpoint ... Knows Kerr Mollin ... "  The gnome paused in her search to contemplate the facts.  "That must be a pretty narrow circle of people."

Perception: 36 (Taking 20) to search the bodies for any details that the guard might have missed.
Also, Knowledge Local: 29 (Also Taking 20 per Lore Master/A Standard Action) to recall any persons of royalty or who might claim lordship, and who might have a familiarity with Sandpoint, especially those who know Kerr.

Lore Master Used

"They aren't claws like on an animal."  Liseth explained to Kellan while Pisca postulated about the identity of 'Your Lordship.'  "Undead have hands like normal people, but their fingers are rotten."  The girl pointed at Kellan's hand, then formed her own small hand into a 'claw' shape

"They slash you because their bones stick through, and they can't feel pain.  Some smarter undead will even sharpen the bones of their fingers so that they can really cut deep when they attack a victim."  The acolyte looked closer at the wound on the body, as though noticing something for the first time.

"And look here,"  she pointed at the injury, "see this discoloration on the wound?  It looks almost like bruising, but I don't think that it is.  Lots of undead carry diseases, or have evil abilities that can paralyze their victims.  The diseases are usually because they are slashing at you with rotten fingers and flesh."

"I think this undead might have a disease that it's carrying, or something else."  Liseth frowned, "if it is something else, it' probably really bad.  But..."  The young blonde looked around at the bodies again, "these men didn't survive long enough to feel the effects, whatever they might be."

"I think we're done here."  She sighed.  "We might find more from the survivor.  Maybe if he was wounded by the creature, it can tell us more about the undead."  Her eyes opened up suddenly, "Or maybe...maybe his madness is the effect of being attacked by the creature."

Cato shook his head as he observed the magic in the room. "As before, there is no active magic at work here."  He nodded at Liseth's suggestion. "I don't think we can find anything new here."  His face paled at her ruminations.  "You think the survivors's insanity might be as a result of fighting off a disease contracted from the attacker?"  The wizard shivered.