Gregorotto

As the funeral winds down, Ismark nods to Joliet's mention. "Better now than later." He takes a deep breath, moves to Father Donavich, where his steeled eyes meet those bloodshod tear-strown eyes. "Thank you, Father. My father respected you above all others in the village: he thought of you as a friend. But he would support us in this action now, for the good of the village, and your own soul." Before Donavich can react, Ismark is upon him, wrapping his arms around Donavich's back and pulling both arms back, locking him in a grapple. The priest cries out, as Ireena moves quickly, taking the ring of keys from the tattered belt that barely keeps Donavich's robes around him. The protests of the priest are incomprehensible before Ireena takes the key ring and steps back, apologizing. "We love you, and we love Doru: but that thing is not Doru. Not anymore, Father. I'm... I'm sorry." Donavich protests. "No... NO! NOT MY SON! HE'S ALL I HAVE LEFT! PLEASE! NOT MY BOY!" Turning, Ireena closes her eyes, and walks to Joliet, handing her the keys. "Do it. We'll keep Donavich here." The dawn rises. It's time.

I also have a spare language I left unchosen for just such an occasion, so I'm fine taking Dwarven if no one else wants to burn a language. Do we need to roll or are we keeping our previous stealthiness?

Mercedes Tiefling Folk Hero Wild Magic Barbarian 5 My words | My thoughts | My Actions AC 13 HP 50/50 Speed 40 ft., PP 13, darkvision 60 ft. Resistance fire Rage 3/3 Magic Awareness 3/3 Cantrips hellish rebukeCasting Time: 1 reaction, which you take in response to being damaged by a creature within 60 feet of you that you can see Range/Area: 60 ft. Components: V, S Duration: Instantaneous Save: DEX 12 You point your finger, and the creature that damaged you is momentarily surrounded by hellish flames. The creature must make a Dexterity saving throw. It takes 2d10 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, the damage increases by 1d10 for each slot level above 1st. | darknessCasting Time: 1 action Range/Area: 60ft./15ft. sphere Components: V, M (bat fur and a drop of pitch or piece of coal) Duration: Concentration, up to 10 minutes Magical darkness spreads from a point you choose within range to fill a 15-foot-radius sphere for the duration. The darkness spreads around corners. A creature with darkvision can't see through this darkness, and nonmagical light can't illuminate it. If the point you choose is on an object you are holding or one that isn't being worn or carried, the darkness emanates from the object and moves with it. Completely covering the source of the darkness with an opaque object, such as a bowl or a helm, blocks the darkness. If any of this spell's area overlaps with an area of light created by a spell of 2nd level or lower, the spell that created the light is dispelled. Oh, neat, another traveler. Either they kill her, or they join her. "Oy, the Shadowfell? Sounds right fun. Always wanted to go pokin' round those places, that and the Feywild. Hear they know how to smash a right good party." She grins. "Mercedes Kilgrace. Axe murderer by day, wine nurse by night. Just kidding: we're here looking for trouble in our own way. Don't suppose you've seen any little green fellows with funny heads, have you?" Out of Character Situational: Move: Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Ongoing Effects/Conditions:

Bastion My words | My thoughts | My Actions AC 14 HP 22/22 Speed 40 ft., PP 13 Sneak Attack 2d6 Precise Strike 1/2 Attacks and Scores Scores Skills Strength 8 (-1) Save -1 Athletics +1 Dexterity 16 (+3) Save +5 Acrobatics +5 Sleight of Hand +7 Stealth +7 Constitution 13 (+1) Save +1 Intelligence 15 (+2) Save +4 Arcana +2 History +2 Investigation +4 Nature +6 Religion +2 Wisdom 12 (+1) Save +1 Animal Handling +1 Insight +1 Medicine +1 Perception +3 Survival +5 Charisma 10 (+0) Save +0 Deception +0 Intimidation +0 Performance +0 Persuasion +0 Dagger Melee or Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 1d4+3 piercing damage, Simple, Finesse, Light, Thrown, 2 total Shortbow. Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6+3 piercing damage, Simple, Two-Handed, Ammunition Unarmed Strike. Melee: +1 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 0 bludgeoning damage. Class and Race Abilities Mobile Your speed increases by 10 feet. When you use the Dash action, difficult terrain doesn't cost you extra movement on that turn. When you make a melee attack against a creature, you don't provoke opportunity attacks from that creature for the rest of the turn, whether you hit or not. Squire of Solamnia Your training in the ways of the Knights of Solamnia grants you these benefits: Mount Up. Mounting or dismounting costs you only 5 ft. of movement. Precise Strike. Once per turn, when you make a weapon attack roll against a creature, you can cause the attack roll to have advantage. If the attack hits, you roll a d8 and add the number rolled as a bonus to the attack’s damage roll. You can use this benefit 2 times per long rest, but a use is expended only if the attack hits. Expertise Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make for two chosen proficiencies. Choose two additional proficiencies. Stealth Sleight of Hand Sneak Attack 1 per turn Once per turn, you can deal an extra 2d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack with a finesse or ranged weapon if you have advantage on the attack roll. You don’t need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 ft. of it, that enemy isn’t incapacitated, and you don’t have disadvantage on the attack roll. Cunning Action You can take a bonus action on each of your turns to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide action. Skirmisher You can move up to half your speed as a reaction when an enemy ends its turn within 5 ft. of you without provoking opportunity attacks. Survivalist You gain proficiency in the Nature and Survival skills and your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of them. As Jaqi cleans house, Bastion lets his irritation rise, but with only one left, it can't be all bad, right? The one attempts to flee, and as Heather fires, whatever spell she had on it seems to have been meant to ensnare it. He considers, should he fire? Kill the goblin before it can escape and go for reinforcements? Or simply let it live? Mercy is afforded to those who deserve it, and Bastion is not feeling particularly merciful... but duty is higher than feeling. He notches an arrow, and thinks. Out of Character Situational: Move: Action: Attack vs. the gobbo Bonus Action: Reaction: Ongoing Effects/Conditions:

What Came Before Though Iolanthe can tell her words are getting through to the two cultists, the moment she strides away, the various members of the Flaming Fist that guard the duo break into laughter and mocking, to the effect that such a little thing as her could ever sway a cultist like them. They are sure in this matter and have no problem mocking not just Io, but also the two cultists. Arrival at the crime scene is met with immediate friction, and Hravin and Iolanthe know why immediately: the Watch and Flaming Fist do not always see eye to eye. One is a well-funded military organization, and the other is a massively neglected, underfunded, underappreciated, undermanned peace keeping force without the favor of a single Grand Duke. Iolanthe attempts to soothe the situation a bit, with the dwarf nodding along and Foremantle maintaining his irritating but cordial little smile. Hravin brings forth his questions. "Scene was discovered by a washer woman on her way to the Upper City this morn, about a bell's ringing before the sun's rising. We were the first on the scene, and we secured all entrances in and out as well as every residence and business on the block as well as the Upper City's wall. The Fist was informed, and here we are, with you lot breathing down my crime scene. We didn't investigate, we only secured, per our orders. We know any cult-lookin' activity is Fist territory, and I don't have to like it one bit." Foremantle pays it no remark. Gaerzil walks them through the crime as it happened, step by step, and as he does so, Misty, Hravin, Iolanthe: they all see it as he sees it, as it is described to them. From what is being said, it could have happened no other way, short of a magic jumping spell or potion. There doesn't appear to be any new magic, there doesn't appear to be anything beyond the imagery given: the cult of Zariel was leaving a message, but what about and to whom? Unfortunately, waxing poetic about the name Hall or Hallgate doesn't give anything new: the name is so mundane, how could it mean something cryptic with regards to the baatezu? A thought is brought up: can they speak to the death through magic? Foremantle lets them speak, then nods along. "I have a contact, in the clergy of Kelemvor. She's been part of this type of thing since the Cult of the Dragon crisis a few years back; I can go get her, if you want?" Given the affirmative, he goes quickly and returns half an hour later with a tall human woman, thin with high cheek bones and white hair. "Mortarch Gracie Scyre, in the service of Just Kelemvor. Foremantle has brought me up to speed. I can animate the body for a moment, granting you leave to ask it questions, but this is neither a true resurrection nor would I allow such a thing to happen. Once the spell is cast, you may ask this poor sod five questions. Ask carefully, though." She gets to work, casting the spell, and soon after she finishes, a blue-white light fills the body for a moment, before a gasp comes from its breath. The same pale glow illuminates the now-opened milky eyes and mouth. "Ask away."

The group elects to go towards it, following Mariposa's lead. Brigg, as they go, makes observations, not of all how long it's been since anyone has been here—the tall grass alongside some of the abandoned homes and the disarray in some of the foundations and brick work suggests it's been some time, but other things, like a bucket next to the well and abandoned still rotting food, suggests perhaps not. Which is it? What's the truth here? As they move along, Najya, in her stealthy way, tries to make a formation with the group where she remains unseen, but she is not used to the layout of villages like this. Leaping over a fence, she lands in an animal pen, devoid of life, and into a trough: her foot goes right through the dry wood, an incredibly loud action that echoes off the distant trees. Their cover is blown, unfortunately. But nothing comes of it. As they approach, Brigg sees clearly the hut is wider than most of the huts, and just as old, but lacks the deterioration of age. Not exactly upkept, the grass around it is not so high, and there is a field beside it, a clearly cultivated field, with crops growing, and at the center a strange bulky mound upon which grows different crops. He can't tell in the dark exactly what they are, but this is worked agriculture: around the village there were multiple fields, but all overgrown, untilled in this season. Smoke rises slowly from the chimney, and the smell of wood burning is apparent: the light within shows a hut, but abandoned. "You come at odd hours to Nanny Pu'pu's hut. Not surprising. Strangers come in strangeness." The voice is sudden, directly behind them, and its speaker is hunched over but still almost as tall as Brigg and Story. Her ears are the first thing noticeable about her, massive things and round, yet still very much human. Her broad nose is marked with the yellow dye that marks much of her face, in the shape of an upside down hand with gnarly fingers: her own fingers, from the look of those spindle-like things. Older than old and smelling slightly as the elderly sometimes do, the woman is bulky but muscular in that bulk, veiny but not brittle, with bags at her sides. Her bare feet are massive, and she wears conservative clothing for a Chultan woman. "You have questions about M'bala. I will give them. Come, follow Nanny Pu'pu." She moves past the group without another word, towards her home.

Day 4: Payback Carlona snorts at Wendy's mention of Dungsnout. "Weren't so nice in my opinion, but I lost friends to that hag. Didn't realize it until the affair was over, but there it was. Got what she deserved." She sounds somewhat bitter about it, and sighs. "Still, I miss the place. Gonna be good to see it again." Carlona nods along. "Well, I do like milk and cheese. I suppose it depends on if it's Tethyrian yellow or ripe Chessentan, I'd steal that cheese in a heartbeat." She nods. "I appreciate it, whether it comes up with the others or not. You all've done me a lot of good. Selebon gave us all hell about you newcomers being a waste, but what a waste you aren't, saving my hide." Her thanks is sincere, as is her belief in the group that's saved her. Carlona can be trusted, as far as Belmund can tell. Day 8: Spider Woods ⚔ Round III ⚔ Webbed as they are, Wendibear and Dani do their best to break free or at least act. While the bear breaks free and tears towards the remaining ettercaps, Dani fires off a barrage of spells which catch the ettercap, almost bringing it down, leaving marks as each one impacts with a crack. Rahnur and Belmund act in concordance with one another, almost bringing down another, while Theodoric hits his spider for the last time: its head implodes from the blow, and the spider falls. That's one down. Aralim, as Taliesin, summons forth the dawn to bring forth a spell of sleep upon the creatures, and two of the ettercaps, nearest death, collapse into a snoring, gurgling fit of blood: not dying, only resting. The other spider and last ettercap, however, continue their assaults and attempts, the spider moving to Theodoric and missing with its pincherGiant Spider 2 Attack 9 vs. Theodoric AC 20, miss, the other ettercap clicking as it tries to lead the horse by itself; the horse begins to resist, and the ettercap begins to panic, looking at the attackers and the horse: should it eat it? Should it abandon it and fight for its life, or simply flee? As Wendibear comes barreling towards it, it makes a noise like hocking a big expectorant from its mouth and fires another wad of webbing at her: it hits Wendibear smackRecharge roll: 5 Ettercap 2 Web Attack 19 vs. Wendibear AC 11, hit, ensnared in webs; see previous post for details in the face, then spreads all over the ground, ensnaring her once more. The ettercap hisses in joy. While Carlona misses the spider, Sulesdeg's massive blow cleaves off half of its pincher and a few eyes with it. If they're quick, they can still save the horse. Out of Character No map, pure TotM Initiative Spiders9 Party8.5 Allies Sulesdeg-AC 16, 46/65 HP Carlona-AC 16, 51/51 HP Enemies Ettercap 1-AC 13, 5/44 HP, Asleep Ettercap 2-AC 13, 41/44 HP Ettercap 3-AC 13, 12/44 HP, Asleep Giant Spider 1-AC 14, 0/26 HP Giant Spider 2-AC 14, 18/26 HP Out of Character Caravan Stats 85/84 Travelers 12/12 Wagons 8/60 days passed Yay! General rules: Influencing the Caravan is an optional rule you can use, as conflict may potentially come up and other caravaneers may help you out if you're friendly with them. Persuasion, Deception, etc. come to mind. If a wagon or individual members of a wagon are friendly towards you, you may get support. The Dc will depend on who you're trying to influence and how. If you want to learn about a NPC or wagon beforehand, you have the manifest and thus list of names and goods, but influencing people is a different matter. Green Imsa is friendly to everyone, but Evermor is only friendly to Dani, for example. Imsa is one person, but Evermor has a whole wagon. Some cart drivers will be downright hostile, thus influencing individual people makes more sense. Rahnur: To learn sign language, it takes 10 days minus your Intelligence modifier, so 9 days. These can be stretched out over the whole of the caravan ride, and will take 25 gp from your salary (I'm modifying it since there's no reason for it to cost 25 gp per tenday), and will be done separately from your salaried work. Roll a d100 and we'll discuss complications as they arise. Day 3: Decided to keep the results of your roll to myself, Foxxe. Day 5: Rahnur, Dani, and Aralim has bless on them for 5 days. Use it wisely.

I think design is an oft neglected part of play by post. Whether it's images, clear formatting, music, or organization of information IC or OOC, design is incredibly important for accessibility for both players and readers.

Brevity. I come from another site and brought with me a propensity of long-windedness, with posts ranging from 500-2000 words on average. That often hurt posting rate and morale because who has time for that (me. I do)? As such, brevity has helped me polish my writing more and make my dialogue sharper, and make sure that what happens happens. Granted I'm still more long-winded than most DMs I come across, but I'm working on it, not done. As a player I make no promises. If we're including offline, I'm working more on props. My players got a letter a few sessions ago and were tickled pink by it, so I'm adding music, props, and occasionally food out of game for in-game moments.

To Story's question: not terribly long, it turns out. Najya slinks off before anyone can notice, following Eku but her disappearance does not bode well into those woods. Something else catches her attention but she doesn't know what to do with it, nor what is throwing her off. Perhaps it is her lack of knowledge of the outside world, a dereliction of duty on the part of her handlers, and she has yet to learn what is missing, but as she returns, something feels off. She expresses as much in saying Eku disappeared and there is a settlement ahead. Story translates, curious, as Mariposa awakens at last. Story nods in agreement with her and with Brigg, who begins to hunt after the path Eku took. As soon as he reaches the trees Najya points out to him, he loses the trail immediately. No sign of foot fall, any of her works, nothing. Why is that? Is it his nerves, or is it something else? Fireflies begin to dance as they move across the grass her, the upward incline disappearing as it becomes more flatland, savannah with waist-high grass, pushing for miles until it reaches distant tree lines. A peak rises to the west, dividing the setting sun, and at its feet are the huts and hovels of Mbala. Dancing fireflies continue as Brigg leads the way followed by Najya, their natural stealth helping them along, Najya unable to hear Brigg at all save for knowing where he is by sight and prior knowledge alone. The thought dawns on all of them save Najya as they arrive at the edge of Mbala: the lights they had seen were only fireflies. There are no lights in any of the huts of Mbala. The grass is overgrown here, to the knees in the best of places. A few houses have signs of collapse and rain trouble; crops rot, tuber overgrowing their pots and gardens. As the sun disappears, a fear grows in them. Mbala has been abandoned. Story draws their attention, pointing with a pawed hand. "Look. A single hovel, with lights." Artus says what they are all thinking. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Backtracking and playing with the lights, Armen's flicking of the light affects the bar room Greyrose and Ka find themselves in, as well as the lofty bedroom. In the door that Ka came from, he finds nothing of note: simply a smaller bath than the one in the finer bedroom, a washing basin, and nothing of note, except footsteps that must belong to Ka. What a strange place. Greyrose, meanwhile, looks around the room and with key in hand, begins using the keys to search the bar-like area, with Ka helping him as she takes immense pleasure in the strange buzzing on and off created by Armen's flicking of the lights. Behind the bar is an area with a locked cabinet, which the smaller, simpler key does in fact fit to. Turning the lock, there is no trap, nothing to fear, but he opens it and within he sees, mounted into the wall, what can only be described as an incomplete crystal ball. Circular and glittering, what makes it incomplete is a hollow in what is the ball's top, facing directly towards him. With this piece, the device could be activated, judging from the way it would fit in and lock: but now, it is just a simple oddity in the wall. Searching the room, he and Ka also find a wand beneath the bar, the wooden handle covered in dust and displaying a scene of revelry with much food and drink, and a strange spoon, wide in the basin with a flower on the end. Magic? Almost certainly. The puzzle continues to grow: but where is the missing part? Out of Character Let's get some investigation going on each room; bear in mind this will take time. Whoever succeeds, I'll have you roll the hours involved.

⛤᛭⛤ StatsCharm -1, Cool +2, Sharp 0, Tough +2, Weird +1 ⛤᛭⛤ Harm: ○○○ / ○○○○ Unstable: ● Luck: ●○○○○○○ Exp: ●○○○○ Moves Cast Out EvilCast Out Evil: You may banish an unnatural creature from your presence. Roll +Tough. On a 10+ it is banished. On a 7-9 it takes a little while for the banishing to take effect—the creature has time to make one or two actions. Either way, the banished creature is unharmed, and you have no control over where it goes. This move may be used on unnatural hunters (e.g. the Monstrous). On a miss, something is keeping it here. That’s bad. Lay on HandsLay On Hands: Your touch can heal injury and disease. When you lay your hands on someone hurt, roll +Cool. On a 10+, heal 2 harm or an illness, plus they’re stabilized. On a 7-9, you can heal the harm or illness as on a 10+, but you take it into yourself. On a miss, your aura causes them extra harm. No LimitsWhen you push your physical body past its limits, roll +Weird: • On a 10 or more, your body obeys your will, to the limits of physical possibility (see below), for a moment. • On a 7-9, you do it but choose one consequence: suffer 1-harm, take –1 forward, or you need to rest right now. • On a miss, something goes horribly wrong. Advanced No Limits. If you advance your no limits move, add this: • On a 12 or more, you can continue acting at your body’s limits for 30 seconds. For the purposes of this move, “physical possibility” means “conceivably possible for a human.” For example: • Physically Possible: Lift an SUV, Jump over a truck, Punch through a wall. • Not Physically Possible: Lift a building, Fly, Punch a blast of energy at a foe. SmiteSmite: Your body and divine weapon always count as a weakness against the monsters you fight. Your unarmed attacks are 2-harm intimate hand messy. IC Empathy may be a mistake. Diving into what Hal is feeling, Sophie would find nothing but confusion and fear wrapped in an armor of paramount frustration and damnable irritation at factors outside his control: at the people who healed him, at his grandmother's influence, at his father for not even coming to visit him, at some force beyond all of this that was at once both hands off and hands on, forcing new and terrifying powers upon him. He doesn't understand it. He doesn't understand any of it, and the powers he's given make even less sense. Logically, even if Sophie is not particularly familiar with Arthurian legend, it makes sense: what does an organic sword and flaming shit have to do with Camelot or even Welsh mythology? Confusion wrapped in frustration: that's the name of the game within Hal. He reads the text again as the line goes dead and it becomes obvious on Sophie's cheek the phone call is over. "Who talks like this? 'Shall'? Is Alice possessed by the spirit of Lewis Carroll?" He jokes, but then adjusts. "Maybe we should go find her?" OOC X

What Came Before Qan-Di offers Hravin a grin. "Just promise me that where ever this takes you, you come back in one piece. Oh, and if you see any good noodles, get me some, I need some to make some recipes from home. Maybe I'll share?" She winks. The next day, Falburn listens along to their talking and nods with Iolanthe's explanation. "It's not uncommon for folk who emigrate from Elturel to change their name, make it more local. Adding 'gate' is one such method I've heard of." When time to go, Foremantle steps forward. He is tall, muscular, with a perpetual resting rage face; his brown eyes are dark seas. "Manip Tradran Foremantle, at your service. I'll be your guide on this matter." His voice is downright friendly, breaking with the look on his face; his smile is uncanny. Before they leave, everyone looks at the letter and begins reading it over, looking for clues in it. Aside from the blood, there's no hidden cipher to find: there is a straightforward and somewhat desperate request to have a place to return to, as if the city were too dangerous (and clearly it is). The letter is simply that: the blood, however, indicates drippage, as if it seeped from a wound. Dry now, that part of the letter is crumpled. As they finish, Foremantle and Flame Falburn nod to one another and he lays on, first taking them to the cell to interrogate the survivors of the attack from yesterday. There, one of the black-armed guards stops them. "No one is to speak with them. Manip Hithlin suspects infiltration, and we can't risk it. You understand." Manip Foremantle does not stop anyone from trying to speak to the leaders, but ultimately relents. "Hithlin will grant no exceptions. Best we go." He says this with antagonism in the name of Benn Hithlin. Foremantle is generous with his opinions and his time, answering any and all questions. He leads them first back to the Outer City to speak with Vasha, which takes place in excellent circumstances. Misty and Io have little to do with Vasha in the past, so now is a good time to get to know her. A human woman in her mid-thirties from the looks of her, she has crows' feet of sleeplessness and worry about the corner of her eyes, her hair pulled back and the smell of kaeth strong. By reputation, she cares for the needs of everyone in the caravan, keeping peace and negotiating where it is necessary to; she listens to her companions, the heroes of the caravan, in all things, though she is only the civilian leader: the young girl Dara is the spiritual center of all things. "Yes, Hall was their original name, like Segren's. I don't know how quickly they changed their name but the last time Segren spoke to him, he was already a Hallgate. That was when they were children; Markus is the only member of the original Hallgates left, his siblings having moved north to be part of the New Neverwinter project. I think? He mentioned that in his first and only letter." At no point is Vasha anything but genuine, Iolanthe notes, and she answers entirely honestly. When shown the pendant, her face hardens; Gaerzil and the others realize she must be remembering Vollis, the cultist among them. "I don't know the inner workings of Markus' life, unfortunately. I know like us he and his wife are childless, and I know little of her. Bol... Bolnata? I think? If he had enemies, I wouldn't know it, sadly." Studying Segren, Mishka finds relatively little to tell. He has a dark green-brown bruise on his forehead, the swelling significantly down, but he could be sleeping or he could be dead. Is he even breathing? (he is) Once they are done, Manip Foremantle happily takes them back into the Gate, and to the scene of the crime. , the brackish smell of docks filling their nose as the sound of early morning gulls creates a constant cacophony the stirrings of people are now overlapping with. He explains that the Hallgates live in Heapside, but maintain their leadershop in Bloomridge, and it's a straight shot from one to the other if one were to follow the walls of the Upper City, which they are not doing. He takes them down a series of side alleyways upwards in the Steeps, which is true to its name, very steep. The smell replaces brackish salt water with the smell of back alleyways, waste and refuse and the peculiar smell of admixtures. Darker, it is a relief from the morning sun which has already begun its oppressive ascent. Truly, what runs down from the Upper City truly does stink. Eventually they take a side alleyway near a high set of walls and meet with a group of not Flaming Fist but City Watch, a dwarf coming forward. "'bout time you got here. Name's Velnar: and this is my crime scene." Foremantle guffaws. "No one said otherwise, friend." He nods at the symbol of the Flaming Fist. "That says enough right there. Right this way." Sectioned off, the walls are stained with blood almost as much as the ground. The body on the ground is pale, a man in a fine leather vest and what was once a blue workman's shirt, now browned with dried blood reflecting light: blood does seem to take its time drying without natural coagulants. He bears a passing resemblance to Segren, Mishka and the caravan heroes note, with darker hair and a leaner, hungrier face. Most telling of all are the symbols on the wall: the smears of handprints, the clear letters written in Infernal: translated, Gaerzil and any who speak Infernal know it says "FOR THE FALLEN." Bloody footprints indicate a figure of medium height and size, likely a human or an elf, moving around the scene when the blood was fresh. The group moves to the body. It becomes clear death came from the back, where near the kidneys is a single, powerful incision from a sharp, single instrument. The blow was deft, calculated, and immediately fatal. From the blood that quickly came from the ruined kidney, the culprit created the signs on the wall, the spelling precise but the rest of it less than. There is clearly an attempt to draw something, but it was given up in irritation and smeared over. Gaerzil studies it, recalling the unholy symbol of Zariel. Is that an attempt to render that in the same light, but in two dimensions? How drool. While most catch things here or there, Gaerzil takes in the entire crime scene, memorizing the spacing, the lettering, the language, the flaws, the failures, and almost able to map out the culprit's exact movements in and out of the scene. They came behind Markus Hallgate, stabbed him in the back without him knowing (the face of sleepy surprise locked on his features, almost free of rigor mortis and thus indicating the murder took place before deepnightCommon term for midnight). The culprit made the symbols while the blood was fresh, then left: but why are there no bloody footprints leaving the scene? He finds them, follows them about fifteen feet along the Upper City wall, before the figure stopped, stepped in a puddle, and cleaned their boots: the puddle is discolored, almost as if dirty but for lack of dirt beneath the cobbles. Velnar grunts. "Well?"