"The murders..."  Straight to the point.  Liseth frowned thinking about the murders here in Sandpoint.  "There won't be any more murders here in Sandpoint."  It sounds better to begin with the good news first.

"There's a cult, an evil cult has been behind these murders all the time.  The star that the victims had carved on them were part of the cult's ritual, it's supposed to...to harvest the greed those people carried in their souls."  Liseth frowned again, "Katrine was killed just because she was nearby when...the murderer came for his real target."

Liseth stopped and looked to the others.  There was a lot she was leaving out, but she was hoping she didn't have to be the one to say the most of it.

Kellan raised one hand in salute to Belor as they filed in, and set his pole-axe against the wall near the door before he joined the others in facing the assembled council of Sandpoint. He nodded here and there as Liseth laid out her findings, then hopped in when it seemed she wanted a break.

"There are these...things, Ghouls" he glanced to Liseth and Cato before looking back to the Mayor and the Sheriff "The others could probably explain it better than I can, but they are the dead...brought back by some sort of sickness. They are clever, clever enough to hunt and kill people...and we ran into several out in the countryside...The Foxgloves, Aldern included, had some sort of connection with them."

He took a breath and licked his lips. "We tracked them to the Foxglove Manor, and there we found Aldern, or what was left of him...he was very ill" he swallowed hard. "We were forced to kill him...there...there's magic involved, witchcraft, dark sorcery, whatever you call it...it's evil, and it's been going on in that place for some time...probably thanks in part to that Cult that Liseth mentioned"

"And ... "  Grim-faced, the gnome picked up where her human friend left off.  " ... it seems that Your Lordship was none other than Aldern Foxglove."  Her hand dipped beneath her silvery armor even as she continued, fishing out a blood spattered letter.  "He fell victim to these people and it cost him dearly."

She placed the letter on the table at which both Mayor and Sheriff were seated.  "This letter tells it all.  Though I don't think Aldern was responsible for all of his tragedy.  Foxglove Manor, from what we've seen seems to have been a place of evil from long before.  But Cato can probably tell you more about that."

"Before we move on to that, though, Father Zantus, you mentioned that you knew that Aldern was involved with some less-than-upright people.  How exactly did you know that?  And ... " continued the gnome, opening up to the everyone present with her next question, "has anyone here ever heard the name Xanesha, Mistress of the Seven?"

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“No more?”  The relief on Mayor Deverin’s face was plain, but her serious mien remained, and she clearly had questions.  “That’s good news.   But if this cult you’re talking about is behind the killings, how can we be sure that they won’t start up again?  Did you root out the cult and apprehend its ringleaders?  And you’re saying that Aldern Foxglove was involved?  And you killed him for it?”  The mayor looked both horrified and skeptical.  “That’s difficult to believe.  He’s always been such a friend of Sandpoint, in many different ways.”  She looked over at Father Zantus.  “What do you know of this, Abstalar?”

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This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Thu 18 May 2017.

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“Not much.”  Father Zantus averred, still ineffably sorrowful.  “But I did see Aldern and Iesha’s bodies.  They were both . . . unnaturally changed.”  His forlorn look said more than his words.

“Last I saw him, we talked about his plans.  Aldern seemed very confident.  He apparently discovered—or at least believed—that some shadowy group was behind the tragedy that befell his family when he was a child.  Last we spoke, he thought he was almost in a position to bring those involved to justice.”  The prelate shook his head.  “Something apparently went very wrong.”

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Sherriff Hemlock looked up from Aldern’s letter, which he had picked up and started reading once Pisca put it on the table.  “A bad business,” he asserted, “and these seem like very bad people he was caught up with.  Who uses the undead to perform their dirty work?”  He passed the letter to Mayor Deverin.  “I’ve never heard the name Xanesha, or Mistress of the Seven.  Have you, Father?”  The priest shook his head.

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This message was last edited by the player at 14:40, Thu 18 May 2017.

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“I’ve not heard the name either,” the mayor admitted as she skimmed the letter.   “Do we know what this ‘delivery’ is that this Xanesha mentions?  Are these ‘Brothers’ the cult you spoke of?”

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Cato had been silent, knowing that his information would likely change the very conception the townsfolk had about the entire Foxglove family.  But finally, as the council ruminated, Cato realized he had to speak, to make into fact for everyone the terrible truths they had learned deep beneath Foxglove Manor.

"This goes back far beyond just Aldern.  His grandfather, Vorel, was given the money to build Foxglove Manor by the Brotherhood of the Seven, probably the same group linked to this Xanesha.  That, unfortunately, is not all.  Vorel was also a necromancer, and must have spent years trying to unlock the secrets to one of the most vile necromantic rites imaginable - trying to turn himself into a lich.  You've seen, I trust, the strange stained glass windows he chose to decorate the house?  That was his way, I think, of bragging what he was about to accomplish before he finished the final ritual.  Unfortunately for him - fortunately for us, I suppose, that ritual failed, and killed Vorel, but not before infusing the very house with his vile, evil spirit."

Cato sighed, glad to be telling, but even more glad to be telling it to Father Zantus, who might help with the next bit of information.

"Aldern was the first to change.  I think these shadowy people he referenced, Father, are the Brotherhood.  Aldern was trying to unmask them, to clear his family name.  Unfortunately, that plan backfired.  They forced him to eat some fungus from the basement, which changed him into the creature you saw.  We need your help in finishing the cleansing of Foxglove Manor - it should be mostly safe, but we need to eradicate every trace of that ritual, including that fungus, before we can be sure.  And then we can do what Aldern was trying to do in the first place - end the control of the Brotherhood of the Seven over this town."

"Sandpoint was never their primary target.  At least, I don't think it was."  Liseth answered Mayor Deverin.  "They're based in Magnimar; that's where we'll have to go next if we want to stop them."

"They made Aldern into a monster; changed him and replaced his will.  They punished him for trying to reveal them by murdering his wife and then making him murder his friends in Sandpoint.  But they were harvesting greed out of people with their evil ritual...there aren't many people here in Sandpoint who are so consumed by greed."

With arms folded before her, the gnome tapped the point of one finger against her chin as she contemplated something quiet but interesting that moved in the middle distance.  "I'm not sure that's right, Lysa," she said, breaking from her ruminations.  "Read the letter again.  Mistress Xansha said that the harvest was from the caverns.  She also says that the delivery that was harvested exceeded her expectations, and this was *before* she spoke of a second task for Aldern: the Sihedron ritual in which the victims must be marked before they die else the greed in their souls goes to waste."

"The harvest and the greed are two different things."  Pisca began pacing the length of the table.  This time, however, she was, at least, not on top of it.  "I've been wondering what the Sevenies might have been harvesting too.  That fungusy mold that we found?"  She shook her head.  "I don't know."

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“A lich?!?”  Father Zantus’s eyes widened.  He pondered for a bit.  “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.  If someone interrupted his process it’s possible that his spirit could have been re-directed into the house rather than his phylactery.  Which would make the house,” he concluded apprehensively, “very dangerous.”  He raised his eyebrows at the party.  “You are all very fortunate to have escaped.  I can only imagine the power of Vorel’s enchantments there, if he has truly been resident for these many decades now.”

“It seems strange to me that he would help this Brotherhood corrupt and enslave one of his own descendants, but if he truly chose the path of the lich his conscience and moral compass were already so warped as to be unrecognizable.  Nothing he did or does should surprise us.”

“I would be happy to help in cleansing the manor of this foulness, and I will enlist my acolytes in this effort as well.  This sort of evil cannot be allowed to fester just a day’s ride from Sandpoint, or Aldern won’t be the last good person to fall prey to its evil.”

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Sheriff Hemlock was obviously uncomfortable with the talk of liches, and turned the conversation back to something he understood more readily.  “Sounds as if this brotherhood was taking something from the manor.  I’ll send a detachment with you, Father, if you feel like you need the backup.  I’ll put Alergast in charge.”

“So that will take care of whatever they’re getting from the Foxglove estate.  But we still have them turning people into ghouls and having those ghouls kill the greedy.  Aldern’s death won’t stop them; they’ll just find someone else to do their dirty work.”  He looked at Kellan.  “Sounds like they’re operating out of Magnimar.  What do you say, Sergeant Storval?  Up for another special assignment?”

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This message was last edited by the player at 00:48, Fri 19 May 2017.

Kellan was obviously exhausted, with bags under his eyes and his guardsman tabard spattered in blood and soiled by cobwebs. The ragged holes in his clothing and armor were plain to see, despite the flesh beneath them having been magically mended.

He head perked up just slightly as the Sheriff looked to him, and he did not hesitate one moment when he was asked if he was ready to go out again. He was obviously expecting this, and did not seem surprised in the least.

"Yes sir, just say the word"

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"Good."  Sheriff Hemlock grunted his approval.  "Okay, Storval, your assignment is to go to Magnimar and find out what you can about the 'Brotherhood' and whoever this Xanesha woman is.  They're clearly a threat to Sandpoint and Varisia, and I want to root them out at the source rather than wait around to clean up after their next attack.  If they're willing and able to do what they did to Lord Foxglove, I'm pretty sure they don't have many limits on what they're willing to do."  He paused, shooting a look at Father Zantus and Mayor Deverin.  "You'll need help, of course."

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"Yes they will," agreed Father Zantus.  The prelate stood and turned a paternal if slightly-apologetic gaze upon his two erstwhile acolytes.  "Liseth and Kerr, I of all people know how much you've done for Sandpoint over the past year, and I hate to ask you to do any more.  But I also know that there are divine forces moving through you both to combat evil forces in Varisia."

"So if you're willing to accompany Kellan to Magnimar, I would be grateful.  And I know this is what Ser Klerris would want you to do as well, Kerr."

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"That wraps it up then," concluded Mayor Deverin, looking relieved.  "You shall go to Magnimar and investigate the organization behind the attacks on Sandpoint.  You shall of course have the full support of the Council, much as you did for your adventure to Thistletop, so if you need additional resources to prepare for your journey you may use your chits with the shopkeepers here.  I also have a limited amount of gold for your use to acquire other items you might need in Magnimar itself; you may see Ser Jasper for disbursement of those funds."

"Sandpoint owes the five of you a debt it cannot hope to repay, and I am sorry that--rather than repaying it--we ask you to do even more for us.  I speak for the town when I tell you I am grateful for your willingness to serve.  Please, if there is anything else you need for your journey do not hestitate to ask."

With that, the meeting was adjourned and the group moved down to the entrance hall, thinking about what they might need to do to prepare for their new mission . . .

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Kellan lingered in the entrance hall and hand one hand across the accumulation of stubble that had formed over the last few days. He looked exhausted, and filthy, but for all that there seemed to be something that kept him around those that he had been through so much with.

"You ever get the feeling that if you sit down, you're not going to be able to get up for awhile?" He asked the three of them with a grin as he rolled his shoulders and smelled a waft of sweat and body odor drifting up from his gambeson.

"Think I better start with a bath...and a change of clothes" then he shifted his weight and signed. "I should probably go find Shayliss...before we leave at least. Did you want to try for tomorrow morning or do you think that's too soon?"

"No," replied the gnome, and her questioning look lingered upon his face as though expecting more from this Sitting Down And Not Again Rising thing - an explanation, or even a punch line perhaps.  But it quickly became clear that neither was to be forthcoming, and Pisca wandered to the great doors to the Sandpoint City Hall where she looked out into the square.  "I ... I suppose it would be better if I not tell you," she said in the distracted sort of way that some people have when they're conducting a conversation with themselves.

"Why don't we meet tomorrow," she countered.  "For breakfast.  At the Rusty Dragon.  We can talk about leaving then.  Leaving is always best discussed over strawberries and cream."  Her feet fidgeted as feet are wont to do when they have things to do that involve going places.  "I'll see you then.  Alright?  I'll be fine," she added, and then raised one small hand in parting as she backed out the doorway.

"Really."  And then she left, turning south down Main Street.  Toward the Rusty Dragon.  Maybe.

"Of course we'll go, Father Zantus.  We've already come so far; I don't know if anyone else could stop this evil cult."

"Tomorrow morning..."  Liseth nodded as she walked with her friends from the meeting.  "Nothing is too soon.  The longer they stay in Magnimar, the more people will be killed.  We have to stop them as soon as possible."

The girl yawned, "So there should be enough time to clean up...and do a lot of sleeping.  At least when we've reached Magnimar we won't have to sleep on the ground."

"Alright, we'll meet tomorrow at the Rusty Dragon.  I'll be at the Cathedral if you need me for anything."  The acolyte waved as the group split off.  She wondered if she would be able to take her mind off of the constant crises long enough to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing.

But first thing first, she had some things to replace in her room.  A little white horse that, through no fault of it's own, had become charged with mixed emotions and mixed memories, both joyful and painful.

Biding goodbye to the others as they went their own separate ways to prepare for the upcoming trip to Magnimar, Cato was likewise busy with mental preparations and creating a list of needed supplies, but there was a much more important stop first. Brodert, of course. The old sage might not have the same command of the arcane that Cato did, but he more than made up for it with his mastery of history and lore.

So Cato made his way to the deceivingly stable house, again forcing his eyes to ignore the apparent tilt of the roof as he knocked the door in favor of what his mind had told him from studying the plans Broderrt had drawn up.

"Brodert!" Cato happily exclaimed as the sage answered, and the old man's surly expression dropped and a look of warmth spread on his face. Cato accepted the usual offer of tea, using a few quiet minutes to recast the narrative in his head to better refit Brodert's interests.

When the tea was served, he launched into a recap, focusing on the mysteries uncovered under the Foxglove Estate and the dark secrets held therein  Finally, he came to the end. "So it appears this goes deeper than Sandpoint, and some sinister organization operating out of Magnimar is at the heart of it. But so many questions. Did anyone ever suspect those tunnels might be under the house?  Or that Vorel was a practiced necromancer?  And this 'Seven' and Xanesha in Magnimar. I feel like we're heading into the situation completely blind as to what might be there, but uncovering a decades-old evil conspiracy that's already ensnared generations of the Foxgloves isn't easy."

Cato sat back, sipping his tea and waited for Brodert's thoughts.

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“Suspect the tunnels?”  Brodert had been quietly contemplative during Cato’s recounting of his recent adventures, but his erstwhile apprentice’s questions goaded him into a more effervescent, lecturing mode.  “Of course there would be tunnels under Foxglove Manor, my boy!  Remember your geography!  Those sea cliffs will have any number of tunnel systems in them, made through natural processes.”

“But Vorel a necromancer—and a powerful enough one to go through the lich-making process!—well, that’s a new one.”  The older scholar went on.  “It is known that Vorel was not a nice man, but many nobles, as I am sure you know, are not.  So that’s hardly surprising.  He had some travels to Osirion in his youth, but he hid his interest in occult arts very well.  I don’t think anyone suspected that he planned to become a lich.  Maybe not even this Brotherhood you spoke of.”

“I wonder what the relationship is between this Xanesha and the Brotherhood.  Is she their leader?  Or could it be wider than that.  Who knows?”  He thought for a second, then slapped his palm on the table.  “You know who might know?  Aradessa Minabow!”  When he saw Cato’s questioning look, he caught himself.  “A former colleague at the Founder’s Archive.  I think she’s still there.  She specializes in cults and other sects, with a focus on Varisia.  If there’s anyone who might know something about this Brotherhood, it would be her.”  He coughed.  "I mean, outside the Brotherhood's members themselves.  I suppose they would know too."

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Cato nodded as Brodert went through the first part of his answer, ignoring the mental image that immediately sprung to mind: that of Sandpoint as a rotten apple: apparently intact, beautiful and delicious on the exterior, but riddled through with rot and corruption just under the surface.  "So, I suppose nothing unusual about finding tunnels beneath any given structure in Sandpoint."  The scholar shrugged.  "But as to your suggestion, that's a wonderful idea, Brodert!  The Founder's Archive is in...Magnimar, right?  I could make a stop there while we follow up on these clues that Aldern provided in his last moments of lucidity before his demise.  Could you provide a letter of introduction, perhaps?  It might be easier than showing up cold to interrupt a researcher."

Cato spent a few more minutes conversing with Brodert, and then excused himself to finish preparations before the group departed to Magnimar.

OOC: Next stops: shopping in Sandpoint (no need to roleplay), dropping by Barett household to check in on Aeren.

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After finishing up the conversation with his mentor, Cato headed out to do some shopping in town.  Once he'd found what he was looking for--or discovered it was not in stock--he went on to the Baretts' house.

"Cato!"  Amele Barett answered the wizard's knock with a surprised smile.  "It is so good to see you.  Alergast isn't here," her face fell slightly, "he's out on a patrol.  But I think I know someone who'd be very interested to know that you're here."

"Aeren!"  Her voice echoed through the house.  "It's Cato!"

The pounding of unshod feet answered her call.

"Uncle Cato!"  Aeren said with joy, crashing into the scholar's leg with abandon and giving it a fierce hug.  He looked up, smiling.  "When did you get back?"

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Cato smiled at Amele as she opened the door.  He had just begun to respond, about to agree with her sense of tension regarding Alergast's absence given the recent events, when the bundle of energy that was Aeren collided with his legs and required his full attention.  Grinning, the scholar gave a "what can you do?" look to Amele, and allowed himself to be led by Aeren, peppering exclamations of what had transpired as best he could while Aeren did his best to bring Cato up on events (as witnessed by a child.)

"I only just returned, Aeren.  Had to see the mayor, and Father Zantus, and Sheriff Hemlock first of course.  Serious business."  Cato pantomimed a hearty yawn.  "But that was business.  I'm excited to hear how you're doing."

As Aeren launched into an explanation, Cato couldn't help but picture himself as Aeren, clinging to Alkabades' leg when his older brother was heading out for the myriad of lessons that his father had deemed necessary for Alkabades' education and eventual role of patriarch of the family.  Looking back on it, Cato was sure his brother had found the whole thing exceptionally dull, but in the eyes of a seven-year old boy, everything his older brother had done seemed to be of the greatest importance, and the fact that his own father regarded Cato (Petronicus) as unworthy of much attention unless some grim fate befell his older brother, while Alkabades seemed to genuinely appreciate Cato's attention, led to a fairly deep bond that was one of the things Cato regretted most when he fled Korvosa and the Hellknights.

Aeren finished his story about how Petal and him had been patrolling the house for more goblins, but had so far turned up nothing but two mice, a frog, and a small bird.

Cato smiled again.  "Well, maybe you should be getting instructions from Shalelu, not from me!  It sounds as though you're getting proficient at tracking!"

Aeren puffed out his lips, deep in concentration, then shook his head.  "No!  That's just for helping Mom!  Nothing I want to do more than learn how to be just like you!"

Cato bent down, pulling out some materials for a scroll, along with a quill and ink.  "Well, no time better than now to get started.  I think most important is that you can see magical auras."  Cato began to work, laying down the groundwork for the Detect Magic spell he had learned so long ago.

"You see, this is most of the work of the spell - you have to set it up beforehand, studying this in the morning, and it primes the magical energies, gets you ready to harness it at a moment's need."

Cato whispered another word, and traced a glowing symbol onto Aeren's floorboard.  "That's an arcane mark.  It will fade to normal sight..."

And indeed, the mark faded from view and the boy gasped.  "But if you can master this spell, you'll be able to see it.  I know it doesn't seem that useful, but it is!  If you find yourself faced with magic you don't understand, it's a wizard's first recourse - you can see the arcane energies and try to understand what, exactly, is going on.  I'd like you to practice everyday, and you'll know it works if you can see that mark again."

Cato worked with Aeren, going over the spell again and again, explaining as much as he could to the young, eager pupil the workings behind the simple sorcery.  Finally, after a great deal of effort, Aeren shouted out in excitement.  "I can see it!  What does it say?"

Cato chuckled.  "Well, I can teach you how to read magical writing, too.  But it just says 'Cato Crispin'.  It's my personal arcane mark."

Just then, the duo was interrupted by Amele, who had brought tea, milk and biscuits for the busy pair.  After thanking her and enjoying their brief repast, Cato got to work on the second scroll.

"Now, this spell is a little more difficult, but it can be useful as well.  It produces magical light!"

Cato whispered a word, and his staff flared to light.

He handed it over to Aeren, and the the youth peered at it with interest.  "Now, try using the Detect Magic spell again, and look at the light."

Cato coached the youth through the spell again, and after a shorter interval, Aeren again gasped in amazement.  "Wow!  What is that?"

"You're seeing the energy that powers that spell.  In this case, magical energy is being transformed into pure light.  We can talk about schools of magic in more detail later, but this is called Evocation..."

Cato ran through a brief description of the effects Aeren was seeing, pleased at the boy's progress.  Finally, he stood up.  "What do you think?  Can you study that?  Pisca, Kellan, Liseth, Kerr and I have to leave town to attend to some matters."  He gave a conspiratorial wink to Aeren.  "Don't tell anyone," he said in a whisper.  "When I get back, we'll talk about the next steps.  But keep practicing!  Detect Magic is especially helpful for learning new spells, because you can see the patterns of energy they use."

Consume scrolls worth of crafting supplies for Aeren.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:31, Tue 13 June 2017.

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"I'll practice every day!"  Aeren's excitement was palpable.  "Wait here!"  He dashed out of the room.

"Thank you, Cato."  Amele Barett smiled from the doorway, having just dodged her enthusiastic son.  "I think this is really good for him."  She looked fondly down the hallway.  "And who knows, maybe he'll be good at it."

"Look, Uncle Cato!"  Aeren reappeared almost as quickly as he'd vanished, holding a long, relatively smooth stick.  "It's my wizard's staff!"  He announced proudly.  "I'm going to use it to practice!  I'm going to practice right now!"

After a few minutes of further pleasantries with Amele, Cato left the house, and found himself wandering towards the Rusty Dragon in search of his friends . . . .

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