The Flayed Man part 13

You've still got plenty of other things to do after your meeting with the Frostmantle paymaster, records to sort through from the Explorer's Guild for example, but that is painstakingly slow work. Pains. Taking.

Malik's efforts have paid off in the form of a burogening friendship with one of the townsfolk from the village and the Flayed Man has been spotted only twice, both instances covered up swiftly by the citry that doesn't want another Ghost Panic on its hands.

It's then that each of you receive a quiet missive from the temple of Vardama, indicating that they have something to share with you.

The review, collation, aggregation and interperetation of data is hardly painful. It does take time, but it is quite rewarding. From Verna's personal view, that is. Others' may vary, but she finds hour upon countless hour of reading and memorization to be quite relaxing.

Painstaking it may be, but a quiet, low-key, unassuming activity that requires a great deal of time spent in unexpected places suits Seldan just fine at the moment. Tedious and boring it may be, but he makes no complaint schooling himself to methodical, quiet work. He has even laid aside sword and armor for much of that time. Now, though, when the summons comes, he takes it up and makes for the temple, presenting himself quietly to the Mourners. Despite being rather obvious by hisvery nature, he seems disinclined to draw overmuch attention to himself.

Malik receives the message, looking first to Seldan ... and then to Verna. "Why would they not just send the information with you?" he asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "What sort of information could they have to share that requires us to travel -to- the temple?"

Iskandar stands up quickly from a table piled with scrolls and books (only a few of them touched by the looks of it). He makes a show of stretching to ease the muscles in his back. "What does it matter? Anything for a chance to get out and stretch my legs!"

"I cannot say, but perhaps we should learn the answer to that." Seldan stands, stretching and allowing a few joints to pop in the process. He seems to be very interested in quiet and a low profile over the last week or so, though does not say why. "A chance to stretch would indeed be welcome."

"If the information was only recently acquired," Verna notes after completing a page and marking her place, "they could not have supplied it beforehand." She rises, though the change is more position than in elevation. "They would not summon us lightly."

Malik nods, offering a little shrug. "No objections, then," he says, setting his own scrolls aside and rubbing at eyes that are downright bloodshot at this point, which is a fairly impressive feat for a wizard. "Something to break up the day might be nice. Like a temple. Or lunch. Perhaps lunch at the temple."

You arrive at the Vardaman temple without much muss or fuss and soon find your way in. One of the acolytes sees you and, clearly expecting you, begins to lead you back towards one of the mortuary chambers. This seems not good.

Seated on a bench outside one of them is a particular swordsman. Either way, you're stopped short of the door because, even with the ventilation and perfumes, the smells of burnt flesh are *extremely* obviously eminating from it.

A very nasally and prissy voice eminates from the sword on the swordsman's back, a huge broadsword that looks eerily like something out of Frank Fratazelli's paintings, "My word! It's about time you all showed up... why, I was having to deal with this awful mess all this time!"

Verna considers as they are lead in this particular direction, as well as the current aroma. "I suspect that this new information may be relate to a recent cremation."

Malik walks with the others, face mostly neutral as they head toward the back rooms. It's when the smell of charred flesh hits, though, that his steps slow a bit -- and stop entirely when his stomach growls, the neutral face turning into a frown at the sound. Though the frown deepens further at -yet another- talking weapon, and a pushy one at that. "Gods d-..." he starts, but then stops, remembering where he is. Looking around, he just sighs, burying his face in a hand and looking for all the world like he'd rather be just about anywhere else.

Seldan is quiet on arrival, wrinkling his noise at the burning smell. He nods to Verna, but it is the sword at his hip that speaks, the voice an irascible old man. "Mess? You aren't even out of the sheath yet. Do you cry in battle?"

A second voice pipes up, this one an older lady with a nasal quality. "Kanian, behave."

Seldan looks down at his hip, crosses his arms, and sighs. "Please, Reunion. Not now."

"It's probably just as well we skip lunch," Iskandar notes to Malik. The he looks at Darius. He squints. He rubs his chin through his beard in thought. Then recognition lights up his face. "Darius! Well met!"

The swordsman in question, Darius, looks haggard and tired and simply raises a hand in greeting to the group even as his sword getting even more miffed, says, "HOW RUDE! I am Ddraig, the strongest, most ancient and beautiful red dragon, cursed to be in this hunk of metal! When I regain my true form I will..." The words are cut off by Darius who says in a tired voice, "Yes yes Ddraig, you've said that more than once... now silence."

The door opens a crack and an even worse smell wooshes out. It can't be helped. "Please, apply this oiuntment beneath your nose and come in." The acolyte is doing the same. Yikes. That is a very terrible smell.

Verna collects a dab upon gloved fingers and reaches into her hood, applying said dab to her upper lip with rote muscle memory. she then passes the container on. "It is not required, though certainly advisable." Once she is properly equipped, she awaits the others, and the acolyte.

Malik looks between the various talking swords, looking for all the world like he wants to say something. But given the smell, or just the overall strangeness of the situation, it appears that the wizard is, for once, at a total loss for words. Looking to the acolyte as they come out of the door as if they were offering the salvation of the gods in that jar, he dabs a bit under his nose and makes his way inside, to the room with the burnt corpse -- the least strange option, at present.

Seldan does not hesitate to do as instructed with the ointment when it is passed to him, blinking several times and wrinkling his nose with a comical face as the odor washes over them all. The nasal older woman, however, takes the opportunity to speak from Seldan's hip. "Why, I do believe that that sword is stark raving mad. That must be truly awful, Seldan, I have never seen you make a face quite like that." Seldan says nothing, simply following the others into the room once he has passed the jar on.

Iskandar also applies the oil liberally. "I hope this is helpful," he remarks to no one in particular. "And not more confusing."

Darius simply locks Ddraig in the scabbard, cutting off any further protests as he dabs the ointment under his nose as well and follows the group and says, "It's worse inside..." He remarks, probably because he had opened the door before everyone got here and slammed it shut just as quickly.

The adventurers, sans Darius, are allowed into the room where as he is politely asked to wait outside for the moment.

On the table is a corpse. A very, *very* burnt corpse. *Extremely* burnt coprse. *Unrecognizably* burnt.

Whatever burnt this guy, well, /it got it done/. "There was an inn fire this evening, afflicting one room. This body was located inside. Seems he ignited his desk lamp and caused a conflagration, at least from what they could see." That doesn't explain why you're here, of course.

"He had your names on a list amongst the few belongings that survived the fire." Ah, there you go.

"Our names? That is highly conspicuous, not to mention suspicious," Verna notes as she visually inspects the remains despite the lack of recognizable features. "Such a rather selective conflaguration could be considered quite convenient, as well."

GAME: Seldan rolls heal: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Malik rolls Heal: (15)+5: 20

GAME: Verna rolls heal: (1)+15: 16 (EPIC FAIL)

Malik looks at the body, frowning. "Not a magical fire," he says, shaking his head as he looks over the remains. "Natural. Though I've never seen a desk lamp that causes the same sort of flash damage as an explosive spell," he notes, pointing out some features on the body. Glancing a bit closer, he squints, then looks to Seldan. "Is that..."

Seldan frowns at the description, then scowls blackly as he studies the body. "Yes, it is the paymaster," he tells Malik. "See, the old scar on his face?" He points out where the scar across the man's face had been, visible despite the depth of the burn. "This is no accident." Real anger colors the Myrrish lilt. "This man had been investigating another murder at our request," he tells the acolyte, leaning down and looking more closely for any sign of an accelerant on the fire, or other evidence that this had been intentional.

Verna peers a moment. "Odd. For a moment he reminded me of a certain Arvek Chord, and it seems entirely probable that he intentionally headbutted the lamp..." Verna exhales a sigh and straightens. "That this be the paymaster does not bode well. Barring an extreme coincidence, I expect that this was intentional, by forces who discovered his work. Forces that, by extension, may well know ours and would certainly know our identities."

GAME: Seldan rolls spellcraft: (5)+13: 18

Malik shrugs. "It would certainly save us the trouble of tracking them down, were they to be kind enough to reveal themselves to us in some manner of attack." Sensing that real anger, though, Malik looks up at Seldan, moving to stand closer to the paladin as he reaches out to briefly put a hand on the man's shoulder, giving him a meaningful nod as he looks back to the corpse. "I think several of us would like to have words with them. The sooner, the better."

"So you know who he is, then? Good! That's helpful. We've been trying to rouse the body to answer questions but to no avail so far." A sigh is let out by the novice, a glance towrads Verna. "It may be that he is simply... not responsive to Vardama so i'm afraid there's little else I can do aside from having one of the senior clerics try to raise him and that is difficult *and* even less likely to work. The man outside refused to depart and was one of the first on sight at the time for the fire, brought the body here at the request of the Guards. They were lucky to've saved the inn, apparently."

"I mean to have no words with them at all, ere I see them brought to Alexandria's court." Seldan looks over at the hand on his shoulder, and offers a brief, fleeting smile to the wizard. "Someone would hide the crimes committed, by committing more still." He falls silent when the acolyte speaks, and nods. "I see. Perhaps another set of eyes would be well, though I would have him know the risk, ere he agrees to anything, and I would also see the inn so destroyed. Were any others hurt?"

"Only in fighting the fire. It was confined to his room," says the novice, nodding towards the door. "The man outside would know more but that's what he told me."

Malik gives a curious look to the acolyte, head cocking to the side. There's a split second of calculation, and he quietly removes himself from the table, pushing past the door and looking at the -other- man with the talking sword. "The acolyte tells me that you have refused to leave the body," he starts, cadence measured and even as he directs his question to Darius. "Why?" The wizard phrases the question simply, not so much as bothering to make an introduction first, but the tone of those specific syllables suggest that it's as much a test as a question.

Darius cracks his neck and says, "I was on a seperate mission for the Guild when I ended up here at the inn. I was having a drink and some food and perhaps if things would have gone well... a woman when I was suddently and violently blown out of the window by an explosion. I had to hear your... friend... screaming, roasting and dying while there was aught I could do about it."

Seldan looks after Malik as he pokes his head out the door, surprise registering on his face, but he watches impassively and without comment as the two converse.

The acolyte just sort of waits on this count, going back to his work on preparing the body for funerarwy rights. It's... not exactly fun to listen to, let alone see.

"So there was an explosion. Large enough to blow you out a window. And yet," Malik muses, "the acolyte says that the fire itself was contained to the paymaster's room." He glances over his shoulder to the acolyte, and the others. "How strange, that a blast that could knock you through the window only burned such a small space. Presuming that you weren't -in- his room." It's clear that the man is suspicious, but he's going with it for now. "I agree with the paladin. I think that we should go have a closer look at this inn." And without waiting for anything like consensus, he's off, moving quietly past Darius and toward the exit.

Seldan smiles as he watches the wizard walk out the door, but calls after, "Malik, we have not asked which inn was damaged." Too late, though, and with a nod to the acolyte, he turns to follow.