Scattering before they could be noticed, the collective got to hear of very peculiar tales indeed. The curate was missing, the Monsignor attacked viciously had remained in a coma, and chunks of torn flesh in the church grounds signified some very dark work. But the one thing, mistaken as it may be, that the villagers assumed as they spread their ever growing rumors, was that Marianne had been killed by some beast, the same thing that must have attacked the Monsignor. Nothing else could explain the remains they found in the grounds and her general absence.
Throughout the day you have heard of this beast as a boar, an escaped mountain cat, a bear, escalating still further until most villagers could swear they had seen the devil himself fly out of the spire of St. Etienne. This wasn’t true of course, but it served the villagers as well as any other reason.
As dusk fell, your gathering on the edge of village near the allotted field had gone unnoticed. Scouting the docile sheep, one lamb stood out. It was as black as the night and had a strange growth spawning from the middle of its head, a crude imitation of a horn. Coaxing over the unsuspecting creature was simple enough, but plunging a dagger took some resolve. Finally, its carcass torn and disembowelled, the soft clank of a leather fold containing the promised money from Sehk presented itself. This was no fortune by any means, but more than a profitable farmer could expect to see in months. Perhaps it could provide some comforts that would ease the burden of slaughtering the innocent. With the money now in your possession, it was now just a matter of how to proceed.
