Surprisingly, they did not find Faroud’s office occupied by Faroud. In the scant two weeks they had been away, he had already upgraded to a much nicer part of town. They found him working away in a rather more pleasant office – and, as before, he was delighted to see them. As the Halfling bound in to give him a large hug, he summoned his servants to deal with the weighty cerements. With copious apologies, he admitted that he had already re-invested all his liquid assets; however, he believed he had obtained payment that was worth more to a group such as theirs than mere currency. A deal with an enchanter in town had left him owing Faroud a favour – which he passed on to his friends. The enchanter had agreed to enhance a single item of each adventurer for free, although it would take a week to finish the necessary rituals. Most were delighted with this arrangement, although Ootah again felt that he was being short-changed. No amount of argument from his friends could persuade him otherwise, and even Faroud was mortified that his generous gift to his friends was so poorly received by the Half-orc. Eventually, he reluctantly acquiesced and agreed to accept the enchantment, although he still nursed a suspicion that he was being ripped off, despite all evidence to the contrary. His colleagues put this down to his mercenary past.
As they left the enchanter’s office some hours later, the young urchin Ali ran up to them. Grabbing Calli’s hand, he passed them a note, before running away, waving. It was from Darian – he was back in The Rise, and wanted to see them.
They found him in the barracks, where the guards quickly waved them through – they were clearly expected. He waved them in – with his newly re-grown left arm – and gestures them to take a seat in his large office.
“I hear you have been working for Faroud! That didn’t take long. Do you mind if I ask what he’s had you doing? Don’t worry if it’s private – I’m just being nosy.”
The group don’t see any reason why their task would be a secret, and so filled him on their trip to Anasazi. “Ah, yes – the cliff town. I’d heard that it was important to Faroud’s people, but it’s been always been abandoned as long as I’ve known about it. I heard it’s been like that since the war. I’m glad you’ve helped clear it out – after what Faroud’s been through, it would be nice if his family could reclaim it again.” After chatting for a while about Faroud and his family, Darian turned to business. “Well, the information you gave us has caused quite a stir amongst the Marquesa’s academics – everyone seems to have a theory about what it all meant. Although if you ask me, I reckon they’re all still just guessing. Still, they’re working away at it. And, until recently, there hadn’t been more attacks – not since a couple of weeks after your caravan got hit.”
“But that’s all just changed?” asked Marach.
“Well, I’m not convinced. We’ve lost contact with another outpost – but this attack doesn’t bear any resemblance to the previous ones to my eyes. For starters, there’s big gap in time. Then, there’s the fact that this attack seems to have happened in isolation – all our other nearest outposts are reporting in as usual. Finally, this outpost is a very long way from where all the other attacks were - all of the previous attacks happened in, or on the edge of, the Restless Desert. This outpost is a logging camp, almost as far away from The Rise as the Desert, but in completely the opposite direction. My superiors want me to investigate, but I'm confidant we’re dealing with something else here – and whatever that is, it is probably more mundane. We're meant to receive reports every six days from the garrison commander – I know him: Colour Sergeant Harcourt, he’s a good man – but we haven’t had one for two weeks now. My forces are stretched very thin at the moment, even before the dragon attacks, we were struggling to cope with an area this size, so I’d really like you to investigate this on my behalf. You will be paid for your time, naturally – and compensated for what danger, if any, you encounter. I will also make sure that the Marquesa is aware of your efforts on his behalf, which is perhaps the most valuable payment I have in my power to offer. Can I count on you?”
Again, Ootah was suspicious – but Marach could tell that Darian was telling the truth, and that he could really use their help. Finally convincing the Half-Orc, the group agreed to help. “Excellent!” said Darian. “After your display of conspicuous valour with the dragon, and your recent trip to Anasazi, I am sure you can handle anything you find there. The town is called Harbriggen – it’s a logging camp, one of the few serving The Rise. It’s a fair ride from here before you even start seeing any trees, yet alone enough for logging. As you are officially acting on behalf of the Marquesa in this matter, I have arranged for the stables in town to give you an official discount on their horses, if you like. If you would rather save your cash, I can alternatively arrange passage on a barge that passes near enough to the outpost. Either way, you’ll need this map. Also, here is the last report we received from Harcourt. It seems entirely unremarkable to me, but you may find something in there that I didn’t. Finally, you may need this." He handed over a scroll, bearing a complex embossed seal and watermark. “It’s the seal of my position in the Knights Hospitalier, over the official seal of the Marquesa. You may find that it helps to ease your introductions with any local authorities – your are acting directly on my behalf in this matter, so don’t take no for an answer from any regional busybodies. Oh, and best of luck! I’m looking forwards to finally seeing what you’re capable of.”
The group made some final preparations in The Rise, including the purchase of reagents for their new-found rituals. After a night in the Broken Wing, the group headed out early the next morning.
As the days passed, the roads grew both colder and more deserted. Gradually, the relentless rocky wilderness began to give way to increasingly dense pine forest. After five days' travel, they left the main road, and started travelling down the access road to Harbriggen. They made camp soon after, and prepared to reach Harbriggen the next day.
Setting off shortly after dawn, they should have had several hours of sunlight before they reached the outpost. However, by the time they were halfway there, the skies had already darkened noticeably, although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. By the time they were an hour’s ride away, the sky was already a dark orange – and the moon was rising in the sky. So far, everyone had avoided saying the obvious – but as Corbin looked up at the ominous sign, she felt her heart sink. “Of Eberron’s nine moons, none are currently waxing gibbous. I also recognise neither the colour nor the surface markings.” “What are you saying, Elf?” asked Ootah. She paused, trying to decide what she meant, herself. “I am not convinced that that is one of Eberron’s moons.”
“So?”
“So…be careful?” She wasn’t sure what else to suggest.
“Lycanthropes,” declared Ootah. “The last report talked about wolves, and now this strange moon. Lycanthropes, I’m telling you.” His colleagues said nothing in reply.
Twenty minutes later, it was dark enough that riding had become dangerous – and the horses were getting noticeably nervous. Dismounting, but choosing not to tie their horses so that they could defend themselves if necessary (“Wolfmen, you wait,” muttered Ootah), they sent Calli on ahead to scout. She arrived in Harbriggen without incident – but found it deserted. Beckoning her friends forward, they stood at the edge of town, regarding the utterly empty streets in the strange twilight. The woods around them were eerily silent.
Making their way methodically from the south, they carefully searched the houses and stores as they went. All were deserted – many showed some signs of struggle, but no bodies or even blood stains could be found. In many cases, it looked like the occupants had left in a hurry – pantries were haphazardly emptied, anything resembling a weapon was gone. As they left the blacksmith’s, where even the pokers had been taken, Cohen felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. “Marach, do you feel that? A… I’m not sure. A gradient? Of arcane energy – it grows in this direction…” “Hmm, yes, now you mention it. Very gentle, but distinct – to the northwest. By the, hmmm,” he consulted the map. “The garrison barracks or the overseer’s house.” “Well then – barracks first?”
Inside, as before, were no blood or bodies, but clear signs of a struggle. Every weapon rack and armour crate was empty. Inside the Sergeant’s office they found the latest, aborted duty log. Reading it over, it made vague references to an abandoned manor house called the Ralstein residence on the outskirts of town. It also mentioned wolves, this time in greater numbers. “Were-wolves. That’s all I’m saying. Lycanthropes. We should have silvered our weapons,” grumbled the Half-orc.
As they exited the barracks the ranger’s sharp eyes spotted movement by the overseer’s house. It was the first sign of life they’d encountered since they approached Harbriggen. They all immediately drew their weapons, and cautiously approached the low building. Inside, it was dark enough that they could not immediately see – but as their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they saw figure lurking in a far corner. “We’re from The Rise – we work for Darian. You’re safe!” said Calli, approaching slowly. In response, she heard a low growl, as a wolf moved out of the shadows, and circled cautiously away from her. “Ha! Wolfman! I told you!” said Ootah triumphantly, as he strode towards it. The animal backed away as best it could, grimly gripping something in its maw. Finally, it bolted for the door, snapping madly at anyone standing in its way. It was futile, however – a crushing blow from the rogue knocked it unconscious. “Look – it dropped something,” said Cohen. “Well, you spend your time looking for evidence – I’m going to take this chap back to the horses and interrogate him. You wait. Lycanthrope. He’ll change back as soon as we get out of range of this weird moon. Then I can grill the filthy werewolf for answers.” He strode off to the south, the prone body slung over his shoulder. The rest looked at what the wolf had been chewing – it was what was left of a human hand. In it was clasped a note – the remainder of the log from the overseer’s office. It had clearly been issued as an emergency message, but sadly it had never found its intended recipient. It seemed that most of the town had been wiped out, including the garrison – but they were no wiser as to who, or why. Perhaps it was lycanthropes?
“It’s not lycanthropes,” said Ootah, returning. “Bloody thing was just a wolf. Woke up so I had to chop its head off.”
“Regardless, all signs point to the Ralstein residence,” said Marach. “Either way – there’s nothing left in town to tell us what had happened here.”
"chateau-belge" by Microdjaiis licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0
The manor house stood alone in the dense forest. Cautiously entering, it was immediately clear that something here was different: there were no signs of a struggle, or rapid departure. Arcane torches still flickered faintly on the walls, and the place seemed comfortable – cosy, even. It had been recently repaired to return it to a state fit for habitation, with no little success. One room on the top floor was locked – which presented little challenge to Calli. Inside was a gently ramshackle office. Sat upon the desk was a small stone shaped like a book – and as soon as Corbin picked it up, it began to speak in a crackling voice. Apparently, it was a journal - and while it offered no clue as to the nature of the catastrophe which had befallen the town, it did reveal that the courtyard outside hid a trap door to a secret basement area. Whatever these strange visitors had been doing in Harbriggen, they had been doing it below ground.
From the low dusk light of the manor courtyard, they descended rough stairs down into a room lit with a faint blue glow. The strangely irregular walls were etched with blue lines, glowing brightly enough to adequately illuminate the room. Arcane equipment lined the walls, which Marach immediately recognised. They were intimately familiar to him – this man who owned this room was a fellow Artificer.
The lights in the room flickered for a moment. In the north-eastern corner where Corbin was, they brightened, then went out. The entire section was immediately plunged into darkness. “Corbin?” asked Calli. “I’m still here,” she said, as they flickered back on. Shortly afterwards, the lights in the floor went out, leaving only the walls and ceiling lit. “Hmmm. It seems the arcane lighting is on the fritz,” offered Cohen, as the northwest corner went dark again. “Maybe you’d better come over here Corbin,” said Ootah, “where we can see you.”
There was no reply.
“Corbin?” said Ootah, walking towards where he had last seen her. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear the darkness was moving towards him. “CORBIN!” he shouted, his khopesh drawn. He strode into the darkness, waving his hands in front of him, feeling for the ranger. There was nothing there. “She’s not here!” he shouted, spinning around as he groped around for her. He felt something brush his hand, and spun towards him. There was a brief tingling sensation – which was quickly replaced by a sudden, burning agony. He snatched his hand back and started back towards the light he could now barely see.
At the door, the others looked on in horror – they could now clearly see the darkness flowing towards them. First it enveloped Nevitash, then Marach – as he, too, yelled out in pain, a terrible stinging sensation brushing over his chest. They burst out of the shadows onto the stairway as Ootah stumbled after them. They turned and regrouped as the darkness approached. Ootah swung his blade wildly – he could swear he could hear it connecting with something, but there was no pained cry, no blood on his blade. “Corbin?” asked Calli, drawing her daggers. The fighter merely shook his head, as all around them, the remaining lights flickered, and went out.
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