Against the Cult: Suspicion in the Starlight 1.8b

"I would also ask why this group, armed and armored, were together at this spot," adds Aanbo, hoping a quiet voice might dissuade others from anger.

"They came with crossbows and spears," one of the elves agree. "That doesn't seem innocent."

One of the other villagers, carrying a staff, squints at the elves. "You seem awful keen on defending these strangers, for someone who arrived in town so recently yourselves."

"They're in cahoots!" Donavan the dwarf interjects, pointing and waving with Chase's bow for emphasis. "They're probably adventurers, too!"

The man who'd brought the stick of firewood and was now helping to gather the bodies stands up. "Is there something wrong with adventurers?" Heavily armored Donavan lowers the bow and steps back. The man addresses the crowd. "You all know me. I used to be an adventurer, and I've lived here for years. Will you listen to what I have to say?" The man carrying the staff says, "Go ahead, Alan. We're listening."

Alan the former adventurer nods and thinks for a moment. Then he begins, "All of us heard the yelling about kidnapping, destroying the town, and all that. We came running to see what the fuss was about. Some of us came in our bedclothes, some of us grabbed what was at hand," he gestures at old Ollwin, who is carrying a rolling pin, and then waves his own stick of firewood wryly. There's a couple of chuckles in the mob. "Some of us had arms and armor to hand, as it's part of their job," he gestures to Grover, Donavan, and Hulbar. "My point is - and what I think this dwarf is saying - that we didn't have time to dig out weapons and armor and get kitted up to come here. But these men here," he gestures at the row of dead neighbors, "They did. They came here looking for a fight."

Aanbo takes this cue, using his torch to try and find the trail taken by the dead, hoping it might lend credibility to what he was about to say. "They were prepared to fight, and approached this barn in a coordinated attack. As my friend indicated, we had to defend ourselves." Aanbo continues looking, but the mob has trampled the weeds where the original attackers entered the farmyard. The monk moves to look for the path of the others, the ones who must've carried the dead body from another direction. Hulbar follows him suspiciously, Alan follows him to see what he's pointing out.

One of the farmers - identified by the fact he's carrying a pitchfork - speaks up. "But doesn't that make sense, if they'd found out that these adventurers were behind all the troubles? I'd want to take care of it right away."

One of the elves responds. "But what would you do if you thought you had found the villains, Marco? Wouldn't you have gone to the Constable or the Mayor with your suspicions?"

Marco the farmer, a little surprised to be addressed by name by one of these newcomer elves, nevertheless has to nod. "That's true."

"They didn't come to me." the Mayor says, "The first I heard of this was the yelling about evil plans, which I heard all the way across the river. Did they talk to you, Grover?"

The Constable considers for a moment, perhaps searching his memory. Then he shakes his head. "No, they didn't come to me. Donavan?" Donavan shakes his head. "Hulbar?" Hulbar hears his name, looks up from where Aanbo and Alan are looking at weeds that have been flattened by the passage of several people carrying a heavy load, and says "Uh...no. Nobody talked to me."

One of the middle-aged men, who arrived with a long rod (not quite a staff) in his hand, has been arranging the dead villagers' bodies with some reverence. He holds up a pendant that he's taken from one of the dead villagers who had been wearing chain armor; it's a green spiral that glitters in the lantern light. "Any of you recognize this? You know with so many women in my house, I see a lot of jewelry," the crowd chuckles at this casual sexism, "But I've never seen one like this before. What do you think it means? More than one are wearing them, under their clothes." A number of the others shake their heads; they don't know.

There's a few men near the green monster's body, poking it with whatever improvised weapons they brought, trying to figure out how to move it without getting its stink on them. One of them, a man with a distaff, says "Wait a moment - look at that!" The men near him gather around, and one of the elves moves to see what he's pointing at on the corpse. He reports, "It appears to be the same symbol, a green spiral, tattooed on the chest of this troglodyte."

"That seems unlikely to be a coincidence," the Mayor observes.

Aanbo is able to distract Alan with his mention of the troglodyte; the man follows him back toward the monster's corpse. "Well, they do smell bad, but we can't just leave it here."

Ollwin shakes his head. "I don't intend to take that thing into my Inn. Can't we bury it?"

The man with the pitchfork laughs. "Where would we do that? Nobody's gonna want that thing on their land. Who's gonna do it, too? I don't want to give that monster any kind of honors. Seems like disposing of a monster's carcass might be the Constable's job."

Constable Grover crosses his arms. "Nope." Everyone stares at him for a few moments, but his hostile stare is unwavering.

Ollwin runs a hand through his thinning hair. "We can't just leave it here to rot! It'll draw all kinds of scavengers, and that smell's not going to get better..."

Alan replies. "Well, what we used to do with dead monsters was burn them. Building a fire's a lot less work than digging a pit, and in the end, you've got a bunch of ash and bone that will help crops grow."

Everyone looks a little shocked and queasy at the casual way Alan speaks of disposing of bodies, but they can't fault his argument. The Mayor says "Well, who's going to carry the bodies back to the Inn, and who's going to gather some firewood?"

Aanbo doesn't recognize the green spiral, but the tattoo and the pendants make him positive that it does have religious significance.

"It seems like it might be," the Mayor replies, then resumes getting volunteers. As the group discusses divvying up these tasks (the Constable and his two dwarf flunkies stay where they are, making no offer to help), Alan looks more closely at the dead trog. "Mayor, Grover, everyone: I'd also like to point out what I'm seeing here. If this troglodyte was allied with these two, how did it die? I'm seeing no spear wounds, nor has it been pierced by crossbow bolts."

The man with the rod, who has been comparing the green spiral pendant to the tattoo, agrees. "He's right - our friends didn't attack this creature! It looks like it was beaten to death; something broke its neck!"

Alan points to Aanbo: "And this one's hands and feet are bloodied!" He looks at the monk with respect. "I knew you'd fought it!"

"Well, that doesn't mean he's a good guy!" Gorge, slightly hysterical, gibbers. "Maybe Fest was working with a good troglodyte!"

This meets with general scorn; the only reason people don't contemptuously throw something at Gorge is out of sympathy for his loss. Constable Grover face-palms. The Mayor says "Gorge, you're upset and not thinking clearly. If there was a good troglodyte, don't you think any of us would've heard about it? I'd tell everyone about it, if I found a monster who was an ally. That hope for peace would not be something I'd hide. What about the rest of you? Any of you ever work with a monster?" The residents shine their lanterns on one another; Chase and Aanbo notice that the elves and Ramne alike watch each person's reactions very carefully. No one admits to knowing any monsters. After a few moments of everyone looking at each other with suspicion, the Mayor sighs. "I'd like to believe that no one in our village was working with the monster, but whether anyone here was or not, it's clear that these two weren't."

"So we're just gonna let them go?" Gorge's voice rises in a shriek.

"No, we're not just going to let them go," the Mayor replies sternly, "We're going to do what I suggested earlier. There will be consequences for these deaths. But right now, we're going to treat the bodies of our friends and neighbors with respect, and in the morning we'll decide what those consequences will be with clear heads. I'll further note that these two surrendered and have shown no hostility to any of us, which I figure should count for something. Constable, you'll take these two back with you and watch over them tonight. The rest of you, you have your jobs to do. Let's get them done!"

The Constable nods and takes the Dungeon Busters' weapons from the dwarves. As the other residents begin to carry the bodies or head off to the woods to get kindling, Donavan takes Chase's arm and Hulbar takes Aanbo's, and they begin to lead them back through the dark toward the road, the Constable lagging a bit behind with a lantern. "I'll tag along," Alan says, following the Constable, "To make sure there's no trouble."

As they walk though the weeds, Ollwin hurries in front of them. Pairs of Orlane residents plod along next to them, carrying the bodies of their dead toward the north-south road. A couple of men walk alongside them, casting light with their lanterns so corpse-bearers don't trip on unseen obstacles. Ollwin steps out onto the road and hurries south, his lantern's light receding quickly toward the intersection and the warm light of the Inn of the Slumbering Serpent beyond it. Hulbar and Donovan step out onto the north-south road leading Aanbo and Chase. The tidy farmhouse that the party had passed earlier stands on this side of the intersection; Alan says "Just a moment; I've got to tell Marieke what's happening." He jogs over to the farmhouse and vaults the picket fence surround the yard. The door opens as he trots up and an armored woman with shield and sword greets him. They speak for about a minute as Chase and Aanbo are led to the intersection, the grisly procession of dead bodies accompanying them. As they continue south from the intersection, the corpse-bearing villagers queue up to carry the bodies through the door of the Inn, and Alan trots back to the group, carrying a shield and buckling a sword at his hip. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting!"

The trees of the Dim Forest are a looming, forbidding presence in the dark on the right. As they move away from the Inn, Alan speaks up to Constable Grover. "They seem well-behaved so far," The Constable grunts. Alan shivers and blows on his hands; the nights are beginning to get cold and he's still wearing just a nightshirt, padding along in his bare feet. After a moment, he continues, "What I'm trying to understand is: where could the troglodyte have been hiding?"
"What do you mean?" Donovan snaps irritably. "He was in the barn."
"Come now; we already know it wasn't in the barn. These two were in the barn, and the dwarf - this dwarf beat it to death." Alan trots forward and stops in front of them. "I'm sorry, excuse me I just realized I haven't introduced myself. My name is Alan Clayborn. Who are you? I don't want to keep calling you 'this dwarf' and 'this man.' "

Alan nods, repeating the heroes' names in an attempt to commit them to memory. "Chase...Brandstone. Pleasure. Aanbo...I'm not familiar with Earthshaker Abbey - what is the title you attained in your order? Novitiate? Elder? Brother?" Once Aanbo responds (if he does), Alan nods again and smiles. He points to the Constable. "That's Grover Ruskadal, Orlane's constable. This is his friend, Donovan...uh, Alert, is that right?"
Donovan growls "Allard."
"Allard! Of course; my apologies. And this is...uh...forgive me, sir, I don't remember your name."
"Hulbar." The blond dwarf snarls. "Hulbar Onfre."
"Ah, Hulbar! That's right!" Alan grins and nods. "I'm so sorry; you both came to town so recently, I feel like I hardly know you." Alan turns back to Grover. "Now that we've all been introduced, I want to get back to my question, Constable: where do you think the troglodyte was hiding in town?" In an apparent overflow of camaraderie, Alan puts his arm around the Constable's shoulders as the group resumes walking south toward the bridge. "It wasn't in the barn - Chase and Brother Aanbo were there, and the barn didn't reek of troglodytes. So it must've been someplace else. Someplace secluded, where people wouldn't be able to smell its stench, or possibly someplace with a bad enough smell that it would cover its stink. I just can't figure it out; we don't have a tannery here. What do you all think?"

The dwarves exchange a look with the Constable. As the group reaches the stone bridge and begins to cross, Constable Grover ignores Chase's offer and addresses Alan instead, "Listen, Alan, it's late. We've got these two murderers in hand." Hulbar nods, and gives Aanbo a little shake. It occurs to Chase and Aanbo both how easy it would be for someone to "slip" and go over the edge of the railing into the Realstream River. Grover continues, "We appreciate your help but we don't need it. You don't want to leave your wife and kids unguarded tonight. You should probably get back to them."

Alan barks a laugh, and then stifles it when he realizes how loud he's been - his laugh echoes back to him off of the barns on the other side of the River. A dog barks in the distance. "Sorry, sorry," he says softly with a low chuckle, "But Marieke doesn't need my help protecting the girls. I forget sometimes that you haven't seen her in action, Grover." He claps the Constable on the back. "She'll be fine. I'm more concerned about protecting this group. You don't know - they might have allies waiting to jump out in an ambush!" The group stops on the span of the bridge, looking in both directions nervously. Then Alan responds to Chase: "I'm sure you could, Chase, though I was having a hard time finding the tracks myself. It might be that we could follow the scent if we had a hound. That smell was so strong, I can almost smell it still." Donovan hiccups and then clears his throat. To Aanbo, Alan says: "I've been thinking about your point, Brother Aanbo. At first glance, Orlane is small enough that there's not many places that fit that bill. But so many people have moved away - or disappeared - that there are plenty of empty buildings like the barn where we found you. When it comes to that, I guess that any of those abandoned buildings could work as a hiding place for monsters." Donovan starts coughing.

Donovan nods: "Just...>cough, cough<...inhaled a bug." He coughs once more. "I'll be ready to go...>cough<...in a moment."