Rise of The Runelords 1 - Burnt Offerings

She waves again. "See you around."

After the small distraction Shara continues towards the inn.

People looking at her at this very moment might be surprised to see her eyes glowing like opals, in a whole spectre of different colours. Osmus, who knows her very well, has only seen this happen a few times in the last couple of years. She is happy, content with life and the situation fate has put her in.

And soon enough you enter The Rusty Dragon. An hour or two have passed since you left, and half a dozen patrons are enjoying a hearty breakfast served by an elderly halfling woman who must work for Ameiko. Miss Kaijitsu herself is seated behind the bar, plucking away casually on an exotic-looking string instrument.

Jack walks up to the bar. "Miss Kaijitsu, we have a few questions about the city if you don't mind our asking."

"Ask away," she says.

"We heard rumors about some murders in this town, they might have importance to our investigation. Is there anything you can tell us?" Jack asks with his usual neutral smile.

She looks momentarily puzzled. "Rumors about murders? Oh, do you mean the late unpleasantness?" She says and leans forward conspiratorially, her voice lowered to a whisper. "Yeah, people don't really like talking about it. Bad business, that."

Shara takes a step closer, her face glowing with curiosity. "This is exactly like the stories" she thinks to herself, while pulling her earlobes.

While she is not aware of it, this is another one of the subtle things she does when eager or anxious. All in all Shara is a very easy person to read.

Jack starts writing in his notebook.
"Yes, the goblin attack wasn't good for business either I can imagine, but anything you can tell us might be helpful in stopping such attacks from happening again."

She considers you for a moment, then leans back again, plucking a few stray notes on her instrument. "If you have time for a long story, I'll tell you what I know," she says.

"Go right ahead."

Shathys leans forward stroking his chin, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"Now this is interesting..."

As she speaks, a strange feeling settles over you. Her voice changes subtly, becoming deeper and smokier, and you find yourself clinging to her every word. She clearly has the story-telling skills of a trained bard, and combined with the strangely haunting tunes from her instrument, you enter an almost trance-like state.

"A long-ish time ago," she begins, "a strange fella by the name of Jervis Stoot moved into town. When old Stoot made clear his intentions to build a home on the island just north of the Old Light, we locals paid him no mind. Jervis had already garnered something of a reputation for eccentricity when he began his one-man crusade to carve depictions of birds on every single building in town. He never made a carving without securing permission, but his incredible skill at woodcarving made it a given that, if Stoot picked your building as the site of his latest project, you damn well seized the opportunity.

'Sporting a Stoot' soon grew to be something of a bragging point, and Jervis eventually extended his gift to include ship figureheads and carriages and such. Those who asked or tried to pay him for his skill were rebuffed. Stoot would tell 'em, “There ain’t no birds in that wood for me t’set free,” and went on his way. He could wander the streets for days before noticing a hidden bird in a fencepost, lintel, steeple, or doorframe, which he’d then secure permission to “release” with his trusty hatchets and carving knives.

Stoot’s excuse for wanting to move onto the isle seemed innocent enough—the place is a haven for local birdlife, and his claim of “Wantin’ ta be with th’ birds” seemed to make sense. So much so, in fact, that our guild of carpenters - with whom Stoot had maintained a friendly competition for several years - volunteered to build a staircase, free of charge, along the southern cliff face so that Stoot could come and go from his new home with ease. For 15 years, Stoot lived on the island. His trips into town grew less and less frequent, making it something of an event when he chose a building to host a new Stoot.

Sandpoint is no stranger to crime, or even to murder. Once or twice a year, passions would flare, robberies went bad, jealousy grew too much to bear, or one too many drinks were drunk, and someone would end up dead. But when the bodies began to mount five years ago, we initially had no idea how to react. Sandpoint’s sheriff at the time was a no-nonsense man named Casp Avertin, a retired city watch officer from Magnimar. Yet even he was ill-prepared for the murderer who came to be known as Chopper.

Over the course of one long winter month, it seemed that every day brought a new victim to light. Each was found in the same terrible state: bodies bearing deep cuts to the neck and torso, hands and feet severed and stacked nearby, and the eyes and tongue plucked crudely from the head and missing entirely. Over the course of that terrible month, Chopper claimed 25 lives. His uncanny knack at eluding traps and pursuit quickly wore on the town guard, taking particular toll on Sherrif Avertin, who increasingly took to drinking. In any event, Sherrif Avertin himself became Chopper’s last victim, slain upon catching the murderer in a narrow lane—known now as Chopper’s Alley—as he was mutilating his latest victim. Yet in the battle that followed, Avertin managed a telling blow against the killer. When the town guard found both bodies several minutes later, they were able to follow the killer’s bloody trail.

A trail that led straight to the stairs of Stoot’s Rock.
At first, the town guard refused to believe the implications, and feared that Chopper had come to claim poor Jervis Stoot as his 26th victim. Yet what the guards found in the modest home atop the isle, and in the larger complex of rooms that had been carved into the bedrock below, left no room for doubt. Jervis Stoot and Chopper were the same, and the eyes and tongues of all 25 victims were found upon a horrific altar. Stoot himself was found dead at the base of the altar, having plucked his own eyes and tongue loose in a final offering. The guards collapsed the entrance to the chambers, burned Stoot’s house, tore down the stairs, and did their best to forget. Stoot himself was burned on the beach in a pyre, his ashes blessed and then scattered in an attempt to stave off an unholy return of his evil spirit.

As fate would have it, we would soon have a new tragedy to bear, one that almost eclipsed Chopper’s rampage. A month after the murderer was slain, a terrible fire struck Sandpoint. The fire started in the Sandpoint Chapel and spread quickly. As the town rallied to save the church, the fire spread, consuming the North Coast Stables, the White Deer Inn, and three homes.

In the end, the church burnt to the ground, leaving the town’s beloved priest Ezakien Tobyn and his daughter dead. All that remains today of the once-loved Stoot carvings are ragged scars on buildings and figureheads where we used hatchets to remove what had become a haunting reminder of a wolf in our fold."

With her story done, she looks over your shoulder at the now empty room and makes a pained face. "Shoot," she says to herself, "I should have kept my voice down. What kind of innkeeper drives her own patrons away with unwelcome memories?"

Jack looks at the innkeeper, then back down at his notebook. The pages are empty. "Damn it" he mutters.
"Thank you for the story, most talented, yes." He looks around him, only noticing now that all the other guests are gone.
"Just to make sure, was the daughter's body ever found? and is there another way to get down to stoot's burned down house?"

"I don't actually know if her body was discovered. Most of what I do know, my father told me."

Shathys, standing nearby and stroking his chin mumbles to himself.

"I'm not sure if that helps us on this particular quest with the goblins or the missing body but I can't help but wonder if he was trying to summon something on that altar, or if he was just bat-shit crazy..."

Spoiler:

"Either way, I think our next step will be to go to the house and check it out." Jack doesn't look too happy at the prospect.

"This is crazy" Shara says "And i'm from Chelaxian, murders are kind of an everyday thing there". She furrows her brow and is somewhat confused about her own feelings.

"But i suppose Jack is right, the house should probably be our next step".

Ameiko looks skeptical. "You're more than welcome to try, but you'll find the task difficult. At high tide, the waves breaking on the rocks will defeat all but the most seasoned swimmers. And at low tide, you face a barren cliff face slick with the spray of the sea. And if you do manage to reach the top, you'll have to face Chopper's ghost! Or so the stories say."

"Ghosts Ghoulies and long-legged beasties await." Shathys sighs, trying to hide the excitement he feels welling up inside of him.

"So dear friends, when do we depart? We don't want to keep the ol ghostie of Chopper waiting." Shathys says with a grin

"I'm not exactly an experienced swimmer" Shara says with a shy smile. "I'm not sure i would be able to rockclimb either, but it's worth a try".

"Jack will carry you my darling, nothing to fear." Shathys nudges Jack smiling cheerfully.

Spoiler:

"We must each carry our own weight. I'd rather have you think of ways of getting Mishka up there, or we'll have to leave her behind for this little trip." Jack says. "I assume you all have ropes?"

"I'd rather she not come along, it's too dangerous for her."

Shathys frowns before speaking up, "Dear Ameiko, would I be able to trouble you to keep Mishka around? She's trained and won't be a burden and i'd be more than happy to pay for the lodging."

Shathys scratches Mishka behind the ears. "You're going to have to stay here, girl. You cannot come along for this one."

Mishka wags her tail, growling playfully.