Rictor was all too happy to be quit of the Whitewater household, and stalked along in front of Qvan as they returned to the bookstore. Perhaps it was the great, imposing form of the transformed wizard, or perhaps it was the thundercloud darkening Rictor's face, but the crowd parted like magic before them.

"Aye." He added to Qvan's query when they were settled. They had seen to Sayid's wounds and walked him through their discoveries.

"And that is the crux of our investigation so far. Did you know that the sword here was an illusion? If you did, why place an illusory copy of the sword here? If not, who could have taken the true blade? Who else knew of its existence? Do you have contact with any other Keepers who may have revealed this secret, even inadvertently? Did your son know of the sword, or even suspect that there was something hidden in this chamber?"

Sayid was about to rush into the building after Qvan had put him down and transformed back, ignoring his the pain lancing through his body with every step, when he suddenly froze at the dire revelation. He remained in this pose, hand on the door to throw it open end enter, for several long seconds, staring into nothingness. Eventually, his head sank onto his chest and Sayid closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

"No, much to my chagrin I was not aware of this fact," he said in a broken voice, slowly opening the door and entering the storefront with labored steps. "My son, Dehlvat, he knew..." Sayid didn't get far, though, needing to support himself on the counter and-making his way around it-sinking down on the lone available chair behind it. There, he sat for a while longer, absentmindedly tugging on his mustache before speaking again.

"My son. He had more of his mother in him—no taste for books or study—and unfortunately I refused to accept that. Aabans have a duty to the world as Sentinels of the Meraz, but the more I pushed him toward greatness, the more eagerly he embraced debauchery it seemed. I never went into enough details about our legacy, though. I never felt like he was ready. Perhaps I should have," he sighed, voice heavy with regret.
"Perhaps he’d still be here if I had trusted him enough. He left after a fight, some three months ago. He’d befriended some filthy con artist, Ibhris something-or-other. I knew he’d taken a few books when he moved on, but now I see it must have been him who stole the Ravenous Blade when he left. Which can only mean one of them—Ibhris or... or Dehlvat—now serves as a vessel for the Jackal Prince of Famine."

Sayid glanced back up at Qvan and the rest of the party who had all gathered around him, the air still tinged with the faint smell of rot and decay from the ghul that was slain right here several hours ago. "You know about whom I'm talking about, I assume? One of the four daemonic harbingers who haunted the Meraz in the distant past?"

Zhira nodded at the man's rambling, apparently unbothered by them.

"They're the source of the plague that is ravaging Dimayen, and which will expand to the rest of Qadira if we don't stop them. You'd be surprised how often irresponsible mages bring about existential threats for our nation... although I'll admit, this is way bigger than even I am used to."

She shook her head in disbelief, then continued:

"We had suspicions that the scoundrel you spoke of, Ibhris, was the one who had brought these events about, at least as some sort of human servant of the Daemons; he did a number of suspicious things during his stay in Dimayen, before kidnapping your son. Could you give us a full account of all that you know of the man, and how he came into contact with your son? Anything we learn would make solving this situation easier, so you shouldn't leave anything out, no matter how inconsequential it might at first appear."

Sayid carefully set aside a ledger and his personal journal, making some room on the counter in front of him, then rested his elbows on the scarred dark wood, clasping both hands together. "While it is undoubtedly true what you are saying, my lady, even the Sentinels do not know what the herald's origins were, or how they got here to our world. Maybe it was some sort of ritual, maybe the daemons discovered a crack in the planar boundaries of our two planes and exploited this weakness to get through...who can say? Fact is, they arrived one day, laying waste to this beautiful, verdant land, spreading their cults in all directions. And they were too powerful to be banished or destroyed, even with the combined might of the entire Sentinels of Meraz organization together. We were only able to bind them, temporarily so it seems. And now one of the four is back..."

He shook his head at the enormity of the threat and his role in all of it, was interrupted by yet another cough, then focused his attention back on Zhira. With a disgusted snort, he replied, "Kidnapped? Hah! I wish that were the case, then I could at least pretend my boy did not know what he was getting into. No, I'm pretty sure Dehlvat went with this fool on his own free will, no coercion required."

Sighing, the bookkeeper wiped some beads of sweat from his forehead with a stained cloth he found under the counter, then continued. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you much. Dehlvat was well aware of how I would judge Ibrhis if I ever had the chance to meet him personally, so he kept the vagabond from ever getting close to me. You see, Dehlvat was working for the town guard, as far away as possible from my shop and all these 'boring books and dusty tomes'. He and Ibhris must have met at some point during his stay here in Dimayen, most likely sharing drinks one night at the House of Nabulsi or during some other ignoble activity."

With a bitter expression and tightly-clasped hands, he finished, "I only heard of my son's dealing with the man after they ran away! So you see, there is not much I can help you with. Just a useless old man, doing more harm than good..."

Zhira chuckled, apparently finding Sayid's words amusing, as she commented:

"Can't say that I don't understand the desire to seek a life of action and the feeling of being unhappy with learning the family trade."

Then she turned more serious as she went on:

"Of course, that understanding vanishes the moment those desires lead one to try and destroy our land."

She leaned forward toward the book-keeper and asked, sounding curious:

"Do you think then that we might learn more about this Ibhris individual if we went asking to your son's friends in the guard? We really do need all the information we can get."

 Qvan listened and tried to offer comfort and sympathy to the bookkeeper. That was not his strong suit –despite his calling as a teacher and headmaster. Eventually he said awkwardly:
  "You give them the best you can, and they still disappoint you. That's why I never had children..."
 Sayid chuckled, as he knew that was not the reason.

 Getting back to his serious professorial self, the old man asked:
  "What exactly do they expect to do with the Ravenous Blade? Do you know what it can and cannot do? You mentioned your son took books with him... did you notice which, and do you know what he might want to do with them? Did you write this note in the journal?"

 He pointed to the one that read “Has he returned!? No! Blade remains safely hidden in the private collection".
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Wed 23 Sept 2020.

Sayid ignored the comments about children in general, focusing more on wracking his brain for a way to deal with the dire situation. Somewhat distracted by this, he only glanced briefly at Zhira and shrugged in response. "Maybe the other guards would know a bit more about this person, though honestly I doubt this is a detail we should concern ourselves with." He started to massage his temples, eyes closed in consternation while continuing to theorize.

"Based on everything I have heard of this man, he doesn't seem to be anything more than a common drunkard, thief and con man. Of course I could be wrong and Ibhris in truth has been a hidden cultist of the daemons all along, but my gut tells me that reports about his behavior in town would have been somewhat...different if this would have been the case."

Sayid opened his eyes again, winced slightly, then squirmed on his seat in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position, eventually giving up with an annoyed sigh and regarded Qvan next. "The Ravenous Blade once was a magical weapon of enormous power, blessed with an enchantment of mercy and forgiveness. I do not know what exactly led to this blade having been selected as the chosen item, but maybe it needed to be something quite opposed to what daemons in general are standing for. Each of the four relics-Oblivion Keys as the Sentinels dubbed them-served as a prison and vessel for one of the harbingers, trapping them within. That was their basic function. But, having such a powerful presence bound within, naturally led to the weapon becoming twisted and corrupted over time. The exact nature of this change remains unknown to me, however. I was only the caretaker of the blade, trying to keep it hidden and safe, never even touching it with my own hands throughout the past 20 years."

The bookkeeper grimaced at his next words, maybe because of the exhaustion he was still feeling, or maybe because of where this train of thought led to. "If we expect the worst outcome, and I reckon we should, then Ibhris or my son Dehlvat broke the seals on the blade-either by choice or by accident-and released the Jackal Prince of Famine back into our world! The missing books contain knowledge of how to reinforce and strengthen such seals, but unfortunately also how to weaken and break them..."

At Qvan's last question, Sayid glanced at the entry in the journal and nodded in affirmation. "Indeed I did. After the jackals came and people started to get sick with this curse, I feared that the Prince might have returned, as the circumstances reminded me strongly of the reports from the first time he and his brethren were active. But knowing that the Ravenous Blade was still 'safely' hidden away, I decided that a different reason must be the cause and did not look deeper into it. What a damned fool I have been. Shortsighted idiot!"

Sayid slowly got up from his chair then and made his way down to the basement, grateful for any offered help of support. In his private collection, he groaned at the sight of all the tossed and torn books, but did not let this delay him for more than a couple of seconds. As he searched through the mess, he said, "The harbinger is free, that much is clear to my by now. He will try to gather strength and influence, so we need to stop him as soon as possible. I know that Master Hamid here is a formidable mage, and companions of his must be of equally great skill. Even so, I have my doubts you could prevail against a fiendish demigod in possession of all of his power. I fear the only way to stop the curse of famine is to slay the Jackal Prince again and force him back into the Ravenous Blade or a different suitable vessel. But those rituals have been lost for millennia. The only witnesses to those rituals are—Oh my."

He stopped in his rummaging and stared at the floor, eyes wide with his sudden idea. "It is possible that the other Heralds of Dust, still locked into their Oblivion Keys, would know how to imprison their brother again! This might be our only chance!"

Zhira looked at him perplexed, then asked:

"Are you suggesting that, to stop a daemon lord that freed itself from imprisonment, we free three more, in order to ask them how one of their ilk could be sealed back, and hope they'll both answer honestly and not attempt to kill us afterwards?"

The warrior seemed very uncertain that this approach could ever possibly work.

Sayid quickly raised his arms and shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no! Of course we won't release them! That would be the epitome of foolishness. But maybe we can talk to them? Establish some sort of a mental connection through the relics? Daemons are petty, hateful creatures, and the heralds especially were backstabbing, scheming, jealous beasts who succeeded in spite of their cooperation rather than because of it. The original Sentinels of Meraz were able to defeat them only because they fought alone and constantly undermined one another. If the other three knew the Jackal Prince is free, and has left them to rot, their petty jealousies might be enough motivation to help us against him. With the knowledge of the rituals gone and time running out, this might be our only way of defeating the Prince again."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:48, Thu 24 Sept 2020.

 Qvan could not help but smile at the idea.
  "There is something beautiful about the concept of playing the strengths and weaknesses of Daemons against each other, especially such powerful ones..."

 He knew very well this line of thinking was why he was not usually very well perceived amongst other Champions of Good. Yet his pragmatism in no way would tarnish his commitment, and he was not one to enjoy taking a risk for the beauty of it. Recklessness was not in his agenda.

  "If we agreed to this, on the hypothesis that such knowledge was indeed out of reach within the timeframe allowed, how would you suggest we proceed? None of us know where the other Oblivion Keys are kept, I suspect they are well hidden and well guarded, and whoever is guarding them will not take lightly to adventurers such as ourselves demanding with urgency an appointment to converse with one of the Harbingers..."

 Obviously he imagined that Sayid already had thought of this, and that at least one of the Keys was not far from here, and that he knew who the Guardian was.
  "Which Key did you have in mind, and linked to which Harbinger? I can only imagine that their level of hatred for each other is not uniform among the four..."

 

---

Knowledge The Planes:
Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 53 using 1d20+33.  knowledge the planes.

Did one of the Harbinger particularly hate the Jackal Prince of Famine?

Much happened quickly.  Luckily they were able to escape the compound (for now) with the librarian and guardian.

"From my own, admittedly scant research, I would be reluctant to trust these things, even to pit them against each other.  As much as they are petty and hateful to each other, I can't imagine that overtaking their own desires for freedom or vengeance.  Then again, the selfish are so often self-destructive, aren't they?" Aryk said outloud, although more of a musing than an addition to the conversation.

He thought for a moment longer, then spoke again.

"So the illusion was set up to fool Master Sayid then into thinking the sword was still under his stewardship.  It may be a rather obvious answer, but have we investigated into exactly it was put into place?  Or for that matter how or by whom?  It would seem to be something beyond a basic incantation or scrolled spell, would it not?"

Vahid had held back in the conversation, Qvan and Sayid knew better than him the intricacies of such bindings. When the talk turned to discussion of relying on the other heralds though, his expression darkened, disapproval plain to see. He took his own time to process this, turning it over in his head, seeking a reason to dismiss . After a few minutes though, he sighed and finally spoke in a resigned tone.

"Daemons are hateful things that corrupt everything they touch without thought, and even if we could communicate with them, we would be more apt to receive lies and manipulations than anything helpful. That said, if you feel there is no other way to rediscover the means of binding the Jackal Prince in a timely manner, then let us begin immediately. May the Dawnflower have mercy on our souls should it be our undoing."

Sayid responded to Qvan's smile with a wink and allowed himself a brief smile of his own. With a sweeping motion that encompassed all the books and tomes scattered around the room, he said with pride in his voice, "This is what these are all for. The Sentinels of Meraz gathered all available knowledge about the Heralds of Dust and the events that have transpired during their time. Most of that knowledge you can find in these works here. Fortunately for us, I have studied everything in my collection, went through each single book, tome, scroll, paper and note, more than once even."

He leaned against one bookshelf and started to raise one finger for every relic he mentioned. "The other three Oblivion Keys were scattered when ancient Shadun was buried in volcanic ash a thousand years ago. We know one—the Handflower of Genocide—remained in the city, but the place is now a gnoll-choked ruin, buried under a hundred feet of ash, and guarded by a being of horrific evil that was invoked as the city burned. The Shroud of Flies, according to my research, came to rest in a concealed stronghold in the plague-choked foothills of the Zho Mountains—a place dubbed Blood Rise Rock by the Lamashtan cultists who frequent it now."

Sayid sighed and regretfully raised a third finger. "But the Calabash of Last Draughts has been lost since that awful day. It’s possible that finding the other two will help point us to the bottle’s final resting place." At the wizard's warning about the various places being guarded, Sayid nodded with a grim expression on his swollen face. "Too true. Such powerful artifacts tend to draw other evil to them, like moths to a flame. And it has been an entire millennium now, more than enough time for vile creatures, cultists and other things to gather around the resting places of the keys. But, I'm sure you people can handle this, should you be willing to do so, of course," he added with some uncertainty, looking questioningly from one member of the party to the next.

At Qvan's last question, he raised one eyebrow in surprise, then said in a serious tone, "All three of them, Master Hamid. The more aid we could wring from those trapped harbingers, the better our chances of succeeding. Especially as we currently do not know where the Prince of Famine has made his lair. For two of the other relics we at least have a fixed location to go after. Also, from what I have read, there was not one daemon who harbored more of a grudge against Famine than another. I guess you will be correct with your assumption of not all of them treating each other in the same way, but the records do not show any of them being particularly against the Prince."

Sayid turned to Vahid and shrugged apologetically, his face showing sympathy. "I completely understand your reluctance, good sir, and your words are wise. We should never let our guard down and question everything we might get as aid from the heralds, or fiends in general. But this is the best idea I have right now. Please, let me know if there is another way you want to approach this. I might be an expert when it comes to the historic aspects of all of this, but you all are much more well-versed in actually handling such dangerous situations."

 The old wizard listened with care, nodding appreciatively as every bit of information and every step of reasoning matched his own understanding of the lower planes, and the strategy he would have devised himself. He summarised thus:
  "The Sentinels have gathered here near everything that has ever been written about the Harbingers. You have spent years studying it. And your conclusion is that asking the Three Harbingers is the only way to destroy the Jackal Prince of Famine..."

 The old man looked to his companion and said slowly, shaking his head:
  "I speak for all of use I believe, when I say that this solution is far from ideal, and not something we would ever considering if time was not an issue. However in the current circumstances, I see no other way to achieve our goal. If the Curse were to spread to more populated areas of Qadira, the consequences would be dire. The death and misery we have seen in Dimayen would seem like a mild inconvenience in comparison."

 Looking to the four again in turn, he said:
  "We need each of us to say that we agree with this plan. We cannot go in half-heartedly."

 "And since our investigation has already turned up a few leads towards the Blood Rise Rock, I would suggest we start there... though maybe in the morrow."

Aryk’s face darkened at the man’s words.

“Blood Rise Rock.  Was that not the presumed location of Priest Arakor, the man who could supposedly lift the disease from the afflicted?  That is a ‘coincidence’ in deed.  I would assume then that he has been gifted, either knowingly or unknowingly, a cure of some sort by a spiteful demon?”

Sayid grimaced in chagrin at Qvan's direct way of delivering his own analysis, ruffling his dirty hair in frustration. "I know, Master Hamid. If we had more time, years, or at least a couple of months, then there might be a way to reconstruct and research the necessary rituals to bind a daemonic demigod once again. Or maybe we could get the assistance of someone powerful enough to actually slay the herald..."

He coughed again, retching and wheezing for air, almost doubling over during this latest fit. Eventually Sayid calmed down again, sinking to the floor in pain. "But the fact is that we do not have time. As you said, we cannot let this curse spread to other places, especially not those with more inhabitants. That Dimayen is such a isolated town with not many people might be the only reason why we have a chance at all. I shudder at the thought of giving the Prince enough time and opportunity to feast on the souls of thousands..."

 Qvan did some calculations and thought experiments in his head, and after a minute or so came back with a proposal:
  "I suggest the following."

 "In the few hours of daylight we have left, we can go our separate ways in town, try and alleviate the curse in whatever way we can. Feeding the ravenously hungry is a good way, also preaching to the citizens that we are doing something to end the curse, maybe talk to the guards so their methods take this into account."

 "At nightfall, we depart for Blood Rise Rock. It will take about two hours to fly there. We set up camp for the night just a league out of sight, so that we can visit at dawn. I will prepare some teleportation spells if we need to make a hasty return."

 The tall wizard looked to his companions in turn, seeking acknowledgement and approval.

Zhira nodded, apparently more than happy with Qvan taking point.

"I'll take the time before our departure to talk with the local soldiers, see if they know anything about this Ibhris that might be of use, unless any of you can think of something better for me to do."

She paused, then turned toward Sayid and asked:

"By the way, what do you think the daemons we found here were looking for? If they already knew the sword was gone, which they'd have to if your theory of the daemon prince who sent them being freed through using it is correct, what else could they have been after, and is there a risk of them showing up again to get it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:26, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Sayid glanced up at Zhira, blinking away tears and leaning heavily against the bookshelf behind him, which groaned in protest under his considerable weight. "Good question, my lady. I agree that at first glance this does not make much sense. The Jackal Prince had been already been freed or those daemons wouldn't have been here, so it couldn't have been the blade."

He slowly looked around the room, still wincing when he saw many of his precious tomes having been ripped to shreds by undead claws, mumbling, "What an unnecessary waste..." before returning his gaze to the desert warrior. "This collection here was all about the gathered knowledge of the Sentinels and almost exclusively pertained to the harbingers and the time of the first arrival. Maybe the Prince hoped to learn about the fate of his brethren? Where the other relics ended up? Or more about the seals that were used to bind him within the Ravenous Blade? I cannot say for sure, but these are my initial guesses."

With a grimace and a pale face, he got back up on his feet and walked towards the exit. "Now, if you would excuse me. I need to lay down for a while and try to get better. This whole ordeal of being imprisoned in the Whitewater Compound has taken quite the toll on me. I wish you the best of luck with your further investigation, keep me up to date with any new developments and please do not hesitate to come to me if you need more assistance."

 Qvan offered Sayid a hand and softly said:
  "I have to apologies, we have put so much on your shoulders when your body and mind still aches from your gruesome experience. Let me walk you to your chambers."
 The old wizard used his magic to heal the bookkeeper (cure serious wounds).

  "Good point Zhira, involving the local authorities is necessary. Even if there may be some level of corruption... It would be great if someone would talk to the Whiskers Mercenaries too. They will play a role in keeping the peace here while we are away," his voice trailed off, maybe out of worry as to what will happen with the town, with Daemons on the loose and no one to stop them.

  "I will visit our Fortune Field Hospital now, and see how things have progressed there," he was sure things would be fine inside the mansion, but he wondered what the situation might be outside, with infected people or their families trying to get in...

 An idea had blossomed in his head.
  "I was wondering if we could organise a jackal hunt to slow down the progression of the Curse. I appreciate jackals are a part of the desert food chains and I'm not preaching for an eradication, but culling the local population may prevent some deaths in the short term."
 "I'm not suggesting we hunt jackals ourselves, but we could ask the mercenaries to do it."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Rictor nodded at Zhira and Hamid.

"I'd wager that the last is most likely. If there are two daemon princes loosed from their prisons then we're in far more danger than we know. We shouldn't discount the possibility, but for now let us assume that these were servants of The Jackal.

This is good news. If they were searching for information on breaking the seals on the blade perhaps the Prince is not yet truly freed, and we feel merely his dark influence on the world."

Rictor tapped his thumb against his chin. If he had his way they would make for Blood Rise Rock that very moment. But Qvan was right, there was much more good that could be done still in Dimayen. He glanced over his shoulder at the studious old wizard, and at wise Vahid. He had journeyed often with doughty warriors who would march for days in pursuit of prey, but the mages typically had the presence of mind to rest when rest was needed.

"Besides," He muttered mostly to himself. "Thunder will return tomorrow to tell me the result of his scouting. Yes, waiting until morning is wise."

He paced around the room, hands behind his back, feeling useless, when he hit upon an idea.

He marched up to the nearest bookshelf and selected a thick tome at random. The Secret Rites. Perhaps not. He returned it and kept searching, eventually selecting a large, leather bound book called One Thousand and One Recipes: The Cuisine of Qadria. A cookbook would do nicely.

"I'm borrowing this." He informed Hamid.

He stalked out of the room but turned before he left.

"I will meet you at Blood Rise Rock on the morrow. Don't worry, I'll find you." He said.

And then he was gone.

His expression took on a worried air, his posture became hunched and furtive, and he began to glance over his shoulder with theatric nervousness. He clutched the large book to his chest but made no effort to hide it. In fact his route took him through the busy market, the second and first rings, and finally out of the city by the far gate.

He marched a mile or two out into the desert and then picked a rocky spot with sparse desert plant life and a large, gnarled tree. There he dug a pit of about three feet, wrapped the cookbook in oilcloth, placed it in the hole, and buried it. He considered for a moment and then grunted as he lifted a large stone, heavy enough to tax three strong men, and placed it deftly over the spot of loose earth. There. Now no jackal or other animal servant would be able to retrieve it. Only deliberate action by an autonomous agent would.

As a finishing touch he produced a charcoal rod and wrote "For the Safety of all Katapesh let No hand disturb the Tome buried here."

He looked over his handiwork and nodded. He meditated for several brief moments and then cast a spell of alarm over the area. He didn't intend to be gone long, but who knew how fast the Jackal's agents could move?

Then he returned to town. His stop was brief.

He took only enough time to find Captain Dagarma. He lurked a bit and waited until she was in a public area with plenty around to see their meeting and then hustled up to her.

"Captain." He greeted her with a bow. He explained to her loudly and hurriedly that he had buried an ancient tome full of dangerous secrets beneath a tree in the desert, and that under no circumstances were her men to allow anyone to seek it.

Then, that seed planted, he circled around through the city and left through another gate. This time he truly did move stealthily, not slowing his speed but slipping unnoticed through the shadows until he had returned to a small rise overlooking the tree.

He dug a shallow trench and spread out his cloak, which he buried under a layer of sand. He crawled into this little defile, the barest slit of his eyes visible, and settled in to wait.

---

Phew! Bit of a read. The idea is to catch anyone snooping around after the "secret book" that Rick buried a ten minute hike from the city under a big tree and then told eveyone about.

I'm meditating and taking alarm in my open third level slot and Animal Messenger in my open fourth level slot. I figure there's a very low chance that Rick spots anyone, but if he spots a herd of demons he'll want to be able to call for backup asap.

I got a 56 on my stealth check to hide and stake out the area and a 21 on my Fort save to stay up all night without being fatigued. The dice roller says 17 but I forgot that Rick has the Endurance feat when I rolled.

After Qvan had helped Sayid upstairs and to bed, alleviating some of his pain with a healing spell before he said goodbye, the party decided to split up and go after separate tasks for the rest of the waning day. It was only a few hours until nightfall and there was still much to be done within the town limits.

Zhira visited the Whitewater Compound and the local inn during this time, talking to various soldiers and guards, trying to discover some more information about Ibhris Akpahl. Most of the people she talked to were either not interested in sharing any information, or did not have any other details for her. But there were a few who had seen or even briefly met the man in question. From what they mentioned to her, Ibhris was around mid thirties, a treasure hunter by trade, usually wearing black robes with ornate golden decoration and was capable of casting several spells that impressed the locals. While frequently having been drunk, Ibhris seemed to be a rather shrewd and cunning man, always quick and eager to exploit an opening or weakness.

Qvan ventured back to the impromptu field hospital were a lot more sick and suffering citizens have sought shelter, extremely glad for a spot to stay in that was absolutely safe and offering a lot of amenities which were not readily available in Dimayen. Captain Dagarma al-Duhl was still around, helping people to find the entrance to the extradimensional space and advise them what to expect within. She looked rather tired, but did not let this stop her from fulfilling her official duties. She also listened closely to what Rictor had to say, though sounding a bit perplexed as she assured him that none of the soldiers or servants under her command would go and look for this mysterious tome.

Sister Khalidras had stopped by a short while ago, leaving the precious thanks of the temple and the clergy as a whole with the captain, to be handed over should anyone of the party return. The 'Eye of Thalachos' was a fist-sized ruby, decorated with gold wire in a flame motif and worth around 10,000 gp, a minor relic of the Sarenite faith. It’s said to be the petrified eye of a Sarenite inquisitor who died saving the people of Gurat from a cult of Rovagug that attempted to summon the Rough Beast’s spawn to Golarion.

A jackal hunt on a grand scale was a bit tricky. If only regular beasts would prowl the village and its outskirts, then the town guard would have already attempted this method. But every now and then packs of jackals were accompanied by one or more shaghals, large and vicious scavengers from the depths of Abaddon. Even a single one of those monsters had been enough to kill a dozen men in a past ill-fated encounter, so the guards were neither ready nor willing to go out and hunt.

Lieutenant Salazeh was also paying the party a brief visit in the evening, informing everyone present in a regretful voice that Captain Khazat Karelem was dead. In the short time that he had been lucid earlier during the day, he requested his life to be ended by her hands before the gnawing hunger would drive him to violence again. He didn't want to live with the potential future outcome of having been responsible for killing anyone under his command. He had apologized to his troops and tearfully said his farewells, promoting Salazeh to captain as his last act. He requested of her to give his thanks to the strangers who intervened and that his dagger shall belong to them from here on out.

---

Karelem's weapon and gift is a Dagger of Repose:

This short, curved dagger shimmers with folded layers of iron and steel. It acts as a +4 undead-bane dagger. Once per day when the dagger of repose is used to perform a coup de grace to slay a living creature, the wielder can bless the victim’s corpse, preventing the victim from rising as an undead because of ongoing diseases or curse effects. This protection also prevents the victim’s corpse from being animated by necromancy magic such as animate dead or create undead for 24 hours.

 Qvan offered his sympathy and, as much as he could, explanations to the afflicted and their families who congregated around their place of healing. He spent some time with Captain al-Duhl to let her know in broad strokes that their investigation was taking them into the Desert, without more details, but they should return within a day or so. The "Mansion" would remain in place until the morning of the day after next, and Qvan explained he would do all that is within his power to be back and conjure an other one at that point.

 The old wizard went to speak with the mercenaries from the Long Whiskers company. He offered Lieutenant Salazeh condolences on behalf of the group, and graciously accepted the dagger from her hands.
  "I can tell he was a brave man, though I knew him not. I wish we had found a cure to save him in time."

  "It will seem like I am putting a lot on you, but I have a favour to ask. It has been established the Jackals are the vectors of spreading of the curse. I would like to enlist the services of your company to cull the local population. I should warn you of the presence of vicious Shaghals among them. I recommend if you do engage them, do so only with great caution and with all the might you have, for they are vicious creatures of Hell who will take ten men to their grave."

 "If you should accept, I can offer this as an advance of payment and expenses," he produced three gems from his pouch, not worth a whole lot but enough to pay for the company's upkeep for a few days (300gp).
  "I will pay you two gold for each jackal that you kill, and two hundred for each shaghal daemon. Only try if the odds are your favour though."
  "To aid you, I can gift you and your two best people with magic weapons. They shall only last for a little over a day, but I trust this may be enough for people of your skill to be of tremendous help to the town."
  Three weapons enchanted with Extended Greater Magic Weapons, ie +4 for 36h

 If the newly promoted Captain Salazeh refused, Qvan would take no umbrage.

 Regardless, he joined the others at Dusk at the marketplace for take off. The flamboyant mage was not going for discretion, quite the contrary. He wanted the people of Dimayen to have hope, and to gain confidence by seeing that formidable champions were at work.

 He assumed the shape of a huge Gold Dragon. His shimmering scales and enormous wings were red in the light of the setting sun. One could still recognise his quirky eyes and signature silvery moustache.

 To Aryk, Vahid and Zhira, he simply said:
  "If you are all ready, we can depart. It is a two-hour flight, so plan your bodily functions accordingly... I'd rather not stop at night in the middle of the desert for a comfort break."

---

 spells used:
  Extended Greater Magic Weapon x3
  Extended Shapechange

Zhira chuckled, shaking her head in amusement at the sight of the old dragon turning into a dragon once again. Then she answered to his question:

"I'm ready to go, master Qvan; I look forward to being able to tell little Darea I got to ride a dragon this time."

Captain Salazeh and her Long Whiskers mercenary company were originally only passing through Dimayen while on their way to a different destination. The plight of the village and the incident with Captain Karelem delayed their departure, but she had planned to leave Dimayen again very soon. There was another job waiting for them further down south in Qadira, but Salazeh told Qvan that they might have a day or two more before moving on, especially if they get some money out of the delay. So, in the end, she agreed to his terms, accepting the gems with a grateful bow and started to organize her men, preparing the company to hunt any jackal that comes to close to the town limits in the hopes to stem the tide of new afflictions.