Eberron Adventure: Twenty-Seventh Session

So there they were…

Shadowale the halfling rogue, Turnin the human monk, Rhogar the dragonborn fighter, Kyllar the human wizard, and Kyllar’s kobold manservant Kazgaroth aka “Kaz”, accompanied by a dragonborn paladin and a hired half orc guide, left one of the university’s many library nooks, having learned some things about an ancient order of monks known as the Wizened. After a few turns, the dragonborn and half orc hangers on took their leave, and the party proper wound their way down the halls toward the last major party member, Gnofulk, who had elected to not do research, and instead stay behind and watch Duran Punchitfixit, a dwarf artificer, work on opening a pilfered Daask safe that had been inadvertently jammed by the earlier fumbling lockpick attempts of Shadowale.

As the party approached Duran Punchitfixit’s office and workshop, in the basement levels of the university, they heard a loud sharp *boom* and soon a light haze of smoke began to waft out into the hall. Kyllar wriggled his hands and a soft breeze began to pull the smoke from the room and out into the hall, somewhat disbursing it.

Turnin watched their communal backs as the rest of the party shuffled into the cramped office. Large shelves covered the walls and jutted out into the office, heavily laden with gadgets and gizmos, and somewhat constraining foot traffic here. As the rest of the party entered the workshop, the saw the dwarf, a bit scorched, and with obvious and bloody holes in his tunic, sprawled out face down on the floor with Gnofulk’s concerned hand looking for but not finding a pulse.

As the gnome stood up to speak to his comrades in arms, his body twitched in a few spasms, and blood began to flow from a few new cuts.

The smoke was gone, the barest wisp of a tendril still snaking its way up from the scorched safe, and around the room, the party noticed 5 daggers slowly turning end over end and floating menacingly around the crowded room. The party tried to ready weapons.
Shadowale scampered first into the room, and fired a crossbow bolt at one of the daggers, missing it. The halfling ducked, putting one of the shelves of oddities between himself and the blades while Kyllar conjured a Mage Hand, grasping one of the hilts, but the illusion was unable to control the levitating blade.

In concert, the slowly moving blades dashed, spinning around the room. Again a few found the gnome’s flesh. Those that didn’t continued on and sliced the wizard and the dragonborn behind him as they spun to new positions in the crowded room.

As the wizard concentrated on his struggle, and winced at being made to bleed his own blood, Rhogar stepped up; shield out ready to try to cover the rogue and the wizard, and his weapon ready held over his scaly head, ready to counter strike any dagger that came too close.

The clatter of weapons had by now drawn Turnin into the office too, and seeing the floating daggers, the monk vaulted over his party, grabbing and wrestling with one of the daggers. With a grunt of effort, the monk twisted, and jammed the blade into one of the sturdy pillars of one of the wooden work shelves. The runes on the dagger winked out, and the metal ceased its struggles.

Seeing the success of the monk, Gnofulk too reached out, barely grasping one of the spinning blades, and driving it into one of the larger shelves nearby. Here too, the runes winked out, and the blade went inert.

Leaping out from the safety of being in Rhogar’s shadow, the halfling drew his poisoned blades, and struck out at the nearest levitating blade. The blades rang against one another, and the levitating one soon clattered inertly to the stone tiled floor. Kyllar still struggled via his Mage Hand against the blade, and conjured his own illusionary safe to contain the blade; dismissing his hand and throwing the summoned, faintly glowing safe towards the ground. But the blade pierced the conjuration and struggled free. It and its only remaining companion whirled about, and then made a dashing thrust towards Rhogar.

The daggers proved too quick to track, and the dragonborn’s swing missed as the blades closed however, and while one blade feinted, the other drove deep, stabbing the fighter and drawing blood before wresting itself free. Rhogar decided to go on the offensive, swinging his weapon in wide arcs and knocking the remaining daggers to the ground, where they went inert like their companions.

Believing the danger over, the party again tried and failed to revive the dwarf. Kyllar ran down the halls to try and find Professor Thorntongue, the cleric they had been researching with. The duo soon returned, but there was nothing to be done for Duran Punchitfixit.

Turnin’s flaming Skull Buddy companion, whose fires were merely “fire” colored, entered the room, and whispered to the monk. With comically raised eyebrows, Turnin nods toward the dead dwarf and at the Skull Buddy repeatedly, but the Skully Buddy shakes its head, and whispers again to the monk. The party opted to wait for the authorities to arrive.

While they waited, Shadowale determined that the safe had been compromised with a few traps – all of which took to have been triggered, meanwhile Kyllar divined that the daggers were semi-magical, semi-sentient tools. Typically tools like this would be given a simple command and they would attempt to perform the task. Usually fine to use when you just need an extra hand, but not a good choice for complicated work. As Turnin and Gnofulk pocked the daggers they personally overcame, Kyllar pocketed the rest.

Soon, the clunking of boots is heard down the hallway, and two red-clad City Watchmen put their heads in the room. The party gives them a quick rundown of what happened, but alas, the Watchemen are found to be just footsloggers – they lack the means to take an official statement… and since a dwarf is dead, one will be needed from the party.

Professor Thorntongue is released, and the party is led to the Watch’s precinct nearby, Tower 4. They are funneled in, past the desk workers and into a room, where they sit around a table, armored but unarmed, with the little legs of Gnofulk and Shadowale dangling above the floor. After waiting far too long, a busied person with soft elf-looking features and wearing long robes and a hood walks in. She thanks their party for their cooperation, and apologizes for the delay – she’s a Private Inquisitor, on loan to the Watch, covering for their usual investigator, who is on leave, “vacationing in Xen-Drik.”

She sits at the head of the table, nearest the door, and asks the party’s names and current professions – for the record.

She turns to Rhogar first, and the dragonborns redish and orange scales flex under his dull but bloodless armor as he states that he was a former soldier, and now a mercenary in the Blademarks Guild.

The human Kyllar Riverwind states that he is a “professional wizard,” but he in his adventures he has ditched the telltale robes for a shorter tunic, with his spellbook and bandoleers of reagents and bottles of potions handing about his person.

Continually adjusting the bandana wrapped around his bald head, the human Turnin states that he is a monk, opening his palms towards the Inquisitive to show off his cool handwraps, and then gesture to his robes and calloused bare feet to cement the point. He also adjusts the bandana one more time, to show off the Dragonmark on the back of his shaved head.

The halfling sighs, and adjusts his two cloaks, both of which are black. He flicks sandy blonde hair out of his eyes, and gives his name as Shadowale, a doer of odd jobs who just fell in with the party. His small stature lets him complete many jobs bigger folk could not do, he states matter-of-factly.

Before she can get Gnofulk’s information, the Inquisitive insists that Turnin rein in his childish toy, who is bobbing around the table inquiringly. Turnin is taken aback a bit. A kids toy? Would a kids toy talk? Or spout magical attacks? The Inquisitive says of course not. Some bozo from House Cannith thought it would be a good idea to create floating skulls modeled after the Demi Liches of children’s tales to use as toys for some unknown and presumably stupid reason. Turnin agrees – his certainly does none of those things – he doesn’t know how to control it much yet, but will try.

Swatting the Skull Buddy away halfheartedly, the Inquisitive turns to the gnome. Gnofulk sits up to his full but still diminutive height he scratches as his reddish beard, the only hair on his face, and adjusts the large squirrel-skull paudron. He announces that he is currently unemployed, and brushes away some dust motes from his city slacks – our barbarian left his squirrel pelt clothes at the Inn.

The basics now property recorded, the Inquisitive begins to unravel what has transpired regarding the death of Duran Punchitfixit (the Younger).

The party starts with the safe – they were down in the Cogs, and found it after killing some of the Daask gangsters in self-defense. They couldn’t get it open themselves, so the party brought it to Duran to open it. Gnofulk was watching the dwarf work, and succeed, and then there was a magical explosion that killed the dwarf, followed by flying daggers, and that…. Brought the tale current. The Inquisitive nods, and excuses herself for a moment, calling out to the paper pushers for a Ned, and instructing him to bring the file on the Punchitfixit Clan.

Paging quickly through the file, the Inquisitive covers the basics. Duran the Elder was a soldier without a clan, that fought in the last war, keeping House Cannith’s warforged and war engines working in some early battles. He was wounded, retired, returned to Sharn, bought some levels very near the bottom in a tower, and started a family. The contingent grew, until about 20 years ago, where something dire happened. Some of the family managed to flee, warning of violence and madness within Duran’s Hold. The Watch tried to investigate, but the few Watchmen that were sent in did not come out. After a standoff of a few days, the Watch, at the insistence of the fleeing family, and with the blessings of the City Council, bricked up the entrances and entombed Duran’s Hold.

The party regards each other, and then the Inquisitive, seemingly looking for some kind of punctuation above her head. They try to gently broach the subject, asking if the Inquisitive wants the party to check out the Hold? Or something? She awkwardly asks if they’d be interested in such a task? Maybe?

The Inquisitive transitions into questions about the party. She hears they are adventurers, and have been down in the Cogs.

Cautious at first, the party quickly spouts out guesses as to what she wants to hear. Involvement with the Silver Flame Crusade? Helping a goblin set up a Soup Shop? Giving an axe to an orcish girl as a thank you gift? The Inquisitive looks on with confusion, and states that she really just wants to hear about exploring some… tunnels down there?

The party is guarded, and unsure how much to tell the Inquisitive, or what her game is. The admit that they found some secret tunnels deep in the bedrock of the Cogs beneath Sharn. There were some Daask there, and that the party was attacked, and that the party defended themselves, killing a few of the gangsters – in self-defense! – and narrowly avoiding a fight with a medusa down there.

The Inquisitive presses on the killings of the Daask, and the party admits to some low-blows, which the Inquisitive refers to as “dirty fighting” or “wifesbane” fighting. Shadowale shrugs and pleads self-defense, and that it’s not his fault that his opponents happen to be taller than him on occasion.

Through discussion, the party determines that something was lost in the telling of their tale to the barkeep middleman. They mentioned chasing the Daask out of the secret tunnels, and almost fighting a mesuda, but apparently neglected to mention that they brutally slew some gangsters along the way. When House Orien was sent to confirm that the tunnels are what the party said they were, they found the bodies, got spooked, retreated, and called the Watchmen. The bodies were recovered and an alert put out.

The Inquisitive, having gotten the party to admit to this little acts of butchery, turned her attention to other matters, asking if they had perhaps heard of any other particularly gruesome murders in Sharn recently?

Unprompted, the party launches into their knowledge of a murder of some prostitute named “Comfort” but eventually Rhogar sets the record straight: a contact of his in another precinct, let the dragonborn know about a recent murder, and warned him to be careful out there. The victim was a thuggish tiefling enforcer with the street name of Compassion, as when hits were required to be made, he was quick and professional.

At this point, the Inquisitive excuses herself again, presumably to start a query about the presumably murder prostitute Comfort, and the party takes a panicked moment to try and throw together some kind of alibi for themselves…

The Inquisitive returns, with Ned in tow, who is babbling about a Council member waiting up front and vouching for the party, insisting on their release. Apparently this Councilor Zeke was insisting that the GoFlak, Snowflake? Oh sorry, Gnofulk and his companions had been with the Councilor in the Cogs on official business when the tiefling Compassion was slain. Furthermore the party’s other… activities in question in the Cogs were in self-defense, and easily provable to be against gangsters.

The Inquisitor concedes that the link was tenuous, and that Compassion’s murder is actually in another Watch precinct’s jurisdiction.  She was trying to do good in the city, but not every lead pans out. She finally concedes that while adventuring can be violent and brutal, the crew sitting before her are not savage butchers.

Capitalizing on the turnaround, the party offers to help the Inquisitive. They admit that they have been investigating several matters themselves revolving zombies in particular, necromancy in general, and an old order of orange-clad monks. None of that rings any bells immediately for the Inquisitive, but after further discussion, she wonders if any of the missing persons cases could be tied to these caches of “sleeping” zombies the party has uncovered…

The Inquisitive agrees to discretely try to investigate the party’s claims about the zombies, and see if any of the missing persons can be tied to the sleeping caches found so far. She agrees to let the party discretely investigate Compassion’s murder – and she’ll send word to the coroner to expect them. The Inquisitor can be reached here at Tower 4; word for the party can be left at Ghallanda Hall.

The Inquisitor heads back to work; the party heads toward the doors of the precinct. As they are rearming themselves, the goblin Zeke, now the Councilor from the Cogs and with a formal little cape, greets them warmly. The party tries to thank the goblin for providing such a strong alibi, but the goblin brushes it off as no big deal. Gnofulk and the party have done good by the Cogsfolk, and Zeke wasn’t about to see local heroes caught up in anything they didn’t do. When asked how he knew of the party being brought in, Zeke subtly shoots fingerguns at Ned, and whispers that the Watchman was in on the take when Zeke and the orc Rhaaal were involved in those semi-legal street fights. It’s easier to schedule fights when you know they won’t be interrupted by the Watch.

And with that, Zeke is off to a meeting to try and make friends with some of the other Councilors. It’s hard for goblins to make friends sometimes. The party finishes arming themselves, and sets out, heading towards Ghallanda Hall.

The trip is uneventful, and the party walks swiftly over bridges between Sharn’s many towers.

They arrive, and after being plied with a large early dinner (they had missed out on lunch giving their statement), attempt to hammer their misunderstandings out with the bartender middleman. The party concedes that they didn’t explicitly mention slaying the Daask so brutally, but thought it was implied. The bartender informs them that House Orien is preparing another expedition to explore the secret tunnels more – no reward will be forthcoming until House Orien has a proper map figured out. The party finishes their meal, thanks their bartender middleman, and departs, hoping to visit the coroner before it gets to be too late.

The party winds their way down and around numerous towers, eventually arriving at the place, a little lower in Sharn than they had been at Ghallanda Hall. At this level, the towers are more crowded together, some streets are actually covered, and sunlight is never assumed. The party sees the rays slowly shift, scampering up the tower heights and heralding the coming night. Despite the hour, it is a pleasant day, and the party arrives at the office, greeted by a rather plain, slightly phosphorescent thaumaturgical sign announcing the business.

The party knocks, and then wanders in. They enter unopposed, and finding no one up front, they wander into the back where they see the plump older coroner working on a body. She looks up as the party enters, and they confirm that they are the investigative adventurers she was expecting.

The party places her accent from Karrnath, a nation on the opposite end of the continent, and after some pleasantries, the party discovers that a second mutilated corpse has turned up, but opts to start with what they came for – the tiefling known as Compassion.

As she opens the small cubby in the wall and pulls the slab out, Gertrude informs the party that they are the third group to come in to look at the body. The first was Compassion’s crew – a mixed-group smaller time enforcers, hit men, loan sharks and extortionists operating in this plateau of Sharn. They were both shaken and angry, and left once identifying the corpse by the clothes.

The second group was Compassion’s younger brother and his little “gang” of underage informers and minor cutpurses. They left just shaken.

The party examines the body with discerning eyes as Gertrude walks them through the wounds and what she knows.

She has so far been unable to determine what killed the tiefling. The skull has been smashed from at least one vicious blow, and the cranial horns are now bent out at odd angles. Additionally the throat was slashed to the point of being mostly missing. Both would be fatal wounds, but she’s not sure which one would have happened first. There were no defensive wounds on the body, nor signs of binding or of a real struggle. The guy was killed unawares, then mutilated; face slashed with blades beyond recognition – that’s why the gangs had to ID based on clothes.

The party can’t pick up anything the plump older human hasn’t already uncovered. She’s been thorough.

Gertrude returns Compassion to his spot within the wall, and then gestures the party to another hatch, which the coroner opens and extracts a Jane Doe corpse. She looks to be an elf, though her longer ears have been sliced to ribbons. She was apparently found speared to a wall – a story corroborated by the see-through puncture in her abdomen. Once pinned, she was exsanguinated, Gertrude pointing to the deep cuts near major arteries on her arms and legs, and her face was also slashed by blades. She has what looks to be some kind of... tattoo on her hip, but the party is unable to determine what it is supposed to be a tattoo of.

The unknown victim is pushed back into her slot. The party learns that she was just found this morning, and no one has stepped up to ID her, not has the coroner received anything from the Watch regarding a missing persons filing related to such a person.

The party asks to rifle through her things, looking for clues, and Gertrude produces a box. They find typical utilitarian clothes, boots, leather armor, and some daggers. Shadowale eyes the daggers appraisingly, and recognizes them as being small awards for low-level operatives for House Tarkanan - and the halfling confesses that he knows this because he has done things for the House. Only little things though. With this new information, the party also deduces that the elf's presumed tattoo is actually an Aberrant Dragonmark - a mark of unpredictable genetic power associated with House Tarkanan. It usually manifests in a unique way - which is why the party could not determine what it was.

The party asks Gertrude if there is anything else she has seen that could help track down this killer, and the coroner responds with rumors. Word around town is that these small league gangsters are being offed pretty regularly now. Most of the time, murders like that aren't reported; the gangs just retaliate. However, both these bodies were found by Watch patrols, so were brought into the more beurocratic aspects of Sharn.

The party thanks Gertrude, and asks her to forward anything else she hears to them at Ghallanda Hall.  The party exits to the last vestiges of daylight, and decides to investigate the site of Compassion's murder before they call it a night.

They pick their way through these already dark levels in lower Sharn, and eventually find themselves looking down a dark and wet alley, snaking it's way between the bulging lower sections of the towers. A short way down the alley, the party comes across the telltale white outline of a murder scene, which has been partially washed away. Pipework  criss crosses overhead all the way down the alley, a few dripping occasionally.

Looking up, Shadowale notices a nice perching spot on the pipes, and Kyllar boosts him up for a better view. The party looks closely the outline. Compassion appears to have landed on his back for the elbows and knees to end up in such a position. The tieflings black blood is spread all over the alley still. From the sheer amount of dried blood around, the party is led to believe that the head wound came first, followed by the throat slash. Shadowale looks and the angled, and thinks the attacker struck from his perch, lending credence to the party's idea of their head-than-throat order of violence.

Kyllar casts Detect Magic, and is surprised to find a small ring in the alleyway detris nearby; a gold band and an inlaid green gem. Brazingly placing it on his finger and starts experimenting, and finds that it turns all his conjurations green.

The last traces of daylight long gone, the party retires to more well-traveled levels, and makes their way back to Ghallanda hall without incident.