Inspector Fredrick Abberline's death

As he sat listening to the young woman's tale Fredrick reflected on how they had met that evening. His afternoon walks always took him past Joeminda's old shop. He stopped to wonder what had happened to her and where she was now, it was still an unanswered question. He hated not knowing.

This day was different though, a light was on in the alchemists shop and the door was open. He walked up to find the new owner diligently sorting herbs and powders into several different glass vials. Polite conversation and his natural charm put the woman at ease. She introduced herself as Areen Mardessen, a retired adventurer and part time Pathfinder from Absalom. Fredrick invited her to dine with him and drinks soon after led to the two of them retiring to his parlor. As they shared stories of past adventures he noticed an odd noise from downstairs.

"What's that my dear? Andrezi Galdana? Yes he was one of my companions. " Fredrick was caught off guard by the question. Only half listening to his new interest, the sounds were louder now." I say, does that sound like footsteps to you? I sent William home long ago. I wonder if he's returned for something." As the bard moved to stand up a man appeared at the top of the stairs. "You're not William! What is the meaning of this? "

The man moved quicker than anyone Fredrick had seen before, his stance reminding him of a Lepidstadt duelist. The shadowy figure was running his blade through him before he had stood. Fredrick's last sight was of his killers eyes gleaming with a maniacal evil, his last thoughts were a poor woman's screams.



Hours later the shadowy killer sat in the room the old Professor had constructed to keep himself safe when dealing with spirits. He held the bards skull in both hands starring into the empty sockets. "Now good Sir, you will tell me all you know about my dear cousin."

Mistwalker

Bilith, the man known as the Mistwalker spent hours in study, searching for more information about the relics that called to him.  The owner of this private library had been so very kind to allow the Mistwalker to peruse his collection.  It was his last act of kindness.  No one in the region would find the nobleman’s body, Bilith would burn the vacation home to the ground when he was finished here, another act of destruction…in Rovagug’s name.  Bilith’s thoughts had drifted to daydream as he found similar information in each book he looked through.  Frustration grew as each tome would seem so promising before reiterating the same information, the key that would open all doors.  The last time the mists called Bilith, he could almost taste the power of the key, how he longed to destroy it and feed it to his own relic.  In anger, Bilith tossed the book aside, sweeping several more tomes from the shelves, and screaming at the corpse of the book’s owner.  “Answers will be forthcoming!” yelled the Mistwalker as he kicked the corpse, “ANSWERS!!!”  The broken form of the nobleman received several kicks from Belith before the Mistwalker’s gaze fell upon one of the books fallen upon the floor.  Stamped boldly in red ink on the inside cover, “From the Saffron House Collection”  Bilith thanked Rovagug for showing him the way and set about preparing the vacation home for the flames to come. 

Detective Viorec's Dossier

Message carried by a low level agent of the Whispering Way, traveling with 3 advanced festerogs. Remy was led to this group by what seemed like the Shudderwood itself. When they were found, a group of the Princes Wolves had engaged them in a losing battle. The message itself was disguised as the scythe the agent carried. Once the Key was exposed to the scythe it was forced to activate. Rotating the shaft allowed the group to align the "grain" of the wood to make a series of runes that could then be translated.

The message seems to be answers to unknown questions, including the location of the party plus one more.

THE FONT
the font is in ardeal. traveling in the company of guards sent by daramid.

THE KEY
the key has passed it's first test and will pass through the old capitol on it's way to you.you will not be able to keep the key from meeting the font in ardeal.

THE LIVING PHYLACTORY
by our divination's the armageddon clock has reached 2, it was moved by an outside source. you may tell your master we have received his payment and agents have been assigned.

THE ASSASSIN
the assassin is in position, all are in his shadow.

THE WOLF KING
the kingdom is still in chaos. you have managed to pull one of the leaders after you, beware he brings the minions of the abyss with him.

LADY DEATH'S PAWN
the martyred one has aligned with a vizier of air, the longer you can stall him the better for your lord. by our divination's you can only slow the martyr's ascension, lady death will always have her pawn.

M

Magical Mist of the Shudderwood

The mist streamed through the trees, eliminating the existence of things viewed only moments before. Now only shapes and movements were made out by sight, while sounds mislead and are muffled.  Viorec moved forward with his companions, moving carefully forward, invisibility unnecessary due to the mist outlining forms when they move.  It was movement that caught the young detectives eye, a blur of mist.  Viorec feet lead him towards the movement, and soon he made out a humanoid shape in the mist, the most defining feature being the large brim hat.  The detective was focused and determined, suddenly consumed with catching up to the mysterious figure of the mist…

Dimly realizing his legs were growing tired, Viorec finally pierced the mist and what his eyes revealed stole his breath.  The Worldwound gaped before him, brimstone assaulted his sense of smell, but the demon dogs, man-sized feral-looking creature with dark bluish-black skin growled at the detective while vulture men danced madly around a smoking ruin, slowly turning their attention towards him.

Viorec turned back towards the mist, and his eyes caught the mysterious stranger.  The detective charged back into the mist, the sounds of braying demon dogs rapidly following behind him.  The stranger’s words finally reached the detectives ears, a raspy voice, telling him to use the key.   Desperate to be away from the demon dogs at his heels, Viorec activated the key and felt its magic rip forward, tearing away at the mist.  Suddenly the detective found himself back in the Shudder wood, the mist gone and an image in his mind’s eye, that frightened him even more than the sounds of demon dogs erupting around him in the wood; A  giant door covered in arcane sybols with several seals and locks.  The first of those locks springing open…

Detective Viorec's Dossier

Current werewolf tribes of the Shudderwood.

Dorzhanevs or Broken Ones: These lycanthropes settle
in remote or isolated territories, building small provincial
communities near the wood’s edge. For the most part, they
pose as simple farmers or trappers, occasionally traveling
to larger communities to sell or trade for goods. They live
and hunt in small packs, targeting lone travelers or those
who stray from larger groups. Physically smaller than the
other  tribes,  the  Broken  Ones  transform  into  red  wolves.
Their  pack  structure  is  matriarchal,  and  their  current
tribe leader is the druid Cybrisa Dorzhanev.

Jezeldans  or  Demon  Wolves:  The Demon Wolves
are  an  amalgam  of  newly  afflicted  werewolves,
whose  pitiful  existence  is  typically  scorned  by  most
natural  lycanthropes,  and  exiles  from  other  tribes,  all
worshipers  of  the  Demon Lord Jezelda,  Mistress of the
Hungry Moon. Their current tribe leader, an antipaladin
named  Adimarus  Ionacu,  was  once  in  fact  an  afflicted
werewolf who willingly contracted the disease in devotion
to his demonic patron. As a boon, Jezelda transformed him
into  a  natural  lycanthrope,  and  bade  him  convert  more
werewolves  to  her  worship. Jezeldans are one of the fastest-growing
tribes in the region, and may soon rise as the new lords of the wood.

Mordrinacht or Silverhides: The Mordrinacht, colloquially
known as the Silverhides for their gray-white fur, are more
aggressive than the Broken Ones, yet possess more composure
and  subtlety  than  the  other  tribes. The Mordrinacht
rarely  form  standard  packs, instead  living  much  of  their
lives as solitary  individuals or lone wolves. They have also been
successful at blending  in with normal humans and
living  secretly within their communities, with a few bold
individuals even settling in some of Ustalav’s major cities.
Descended  from  those  afflicted  with  lycanthropy by the
ancient  high  priest  of  Desna, the Mordrinacht have long
gathered  at  the Stairs of the Moon to pay homage to the
spirit of their ancestors. It is no secret that the
Silverhides’ current leader, Mathus Mordrinacht, has had
designs on the position of packlord over all the packs of the
Shudderwood for some time.

Vollensag or Primals: The smallest of the Shudderwood’s
tribes, the Vollensag are all descended from the ancient Kellid
tribes who once inhabited these lands before they were driven out by the
invading Varisians. At present , less t ha n 30 Vollensag remain ,
settled deep in the woods and traveling in small migratory
hunting packs, living as much as their ancestors did. Despite
their declining numbers, the Primals’ ability to transform
into large gray dire wolves makes them a force among the wolves
of the wood. Until recently, the Vollensag
tribe leader, Kvalca Sain, was packlord over all the wolves of
the Shudderwood.

Prince’s  Wolves:  Varisian  werewolves  with  ties  to  the
Sczarni crime family, the Prince’s Wolves were created as part
of Prince Andriadus Virholt’s efforts to rid his lands of the
agents of the Whispering Tyrant centuries ago. The Prince’s
Wolves maintain a tight pack structure and spend much of
their time traveling in small family groups. The Prince’s Wolves
transform into wolves with brown or gray fur, and their current tribe
leader is a roguish scoundrel named Rhakis Szadro.

Detective Viorec's Dossier

These two things were discovered in the personal library of Estovion the Lodge Keeper of Ascanor.

The Halo of Dreams
The origin of the Dusk Moth can be traced back to pre-Thassilonian Varisia, though the role it
played in those ancient times has been lost to history. During the Age of Enthronement, Desna’s
priests recovered the relic from the ruins of Thassilon, and carried it into the Shudderwood during the
founding of Ustalav. There the priests constructed a temple to the goddess of dreams and disassembled
the Dusk Moth, incorporating its parts into a great observatory atop the temple, which they dubbed the
Stairs of the Moon. High atop the observatory, during the twilight hour, the faithful enacted a sacred
ritual of communion to activate the power of the Dusk Moth, placing them in a heightened dream-state
in which they could commune directly with the Song of the Spheres.


                                               Estovion’s Journal
Just Over Two Weeks Prior to the PCs’ arrival:
It appears that my past has come back to haunt me, in the form of unexpected visitors who
arrived last night. Ostensibly nobles from Courtaud, they bore invitations from Adivion Adrissant
in Caliphas, and Belik admitted them to see me. Their leader, a disturbing man named Auren
Vrood who carried a sinister-looking, twisted homunculus on his shoulder, confided to me that
they were agents of the Whispering Way, come to finally collect the debt I owe them for
helping me with the spirit I discovered at the Stairs so long ago. Vrood “requested” that I
arrange a meeting between him and one of the werewolves of the wood. Though I would prefer
to have nothing more to do with them (for my youthful indiscretions were just that), I saw no
choice but to acquiesce to their demands, lest they reveal my secrets to the Palatine Council.
As Mathus is my sole ally among the packs, I will speak to him and arrange a meeting, and
hopefully I can wash my hands of this whole sordid affair.
Two Weeks Prior to the PCs’ arrival:
Vrood and his fellows have returned. Though I made my office available to them, they declined
and requested a meeting with Madame Ivanja instead. Mathus arrived shortly after and went
straight to Ivanja’s tower as well. I was somewhat surprised by their choice of location, but I
suppose even necromancers and werewolves have their needs. I spoke briefly with Mathus after
the meeting, but he was unusually withdrawn and gave no hint of what was said at the meeting.
Two Days Prior to the PCs’ arrival:
A grave threat has befallen the Shudderwood, and I fear its origins lie at Ascanor. Unknown
forces, almost certainly agents of Vrood and the Whispering Way, have attacked the Stairs,
butchered Kvalca Sain, and stolen her heart for some dark purpose. Although their motives remain
a mystery, this single act has thrown the entire hierarchy of the Shudderwood’s packs into
disarray and violence.
I know that it is customary when a packlord dies for his successor to consume the fallen
packlord’s heart. With Sain’s heart gone, the position of packlord shall fall to whoever can claim
the title, either by recovering the lost heart, or more likely through force, by slaying the leaders
of the four rival tribes and adopting the surviving wolves into his own pack.
Mathus has spoken with me before of his desire to become packlord, and I now wonder if his
secret meeting with Vrood was the impetus behind these events. Without Sain’s heart, however, I
doubt the other tribes will accept Mathus as their leader. He might find allies with the Sczarni
or the Broken Ones, but the Vollensag and Jezeldans will never bow to his rule.
Mathus’s concerns doubtlessly lie with his pack, not with me, however, and I worry my
alliance with the Mordrinacht shall soon be forfeit. I fear greatly for the safety of the lodge,
for if Mathus moves to take Highthrone without Sain’s heart, or if it becomes known that his
ascendance is due to the Whispering Way’s interference, civil war will soon erupt among the packs
of the wood, with Ascanor caught in the middle.

The Receptacle

It took Desmond Kote a few minutes to realize what he was feeling.  An emotion had begun in his center that he had not truly felt in over a century, and after a few moments contemplation he realized the emotion was fear.  Quinley had sent his latest research and if what the mercenary half-blood said was true, the tyrant stirs.  The receptacle for Tar-Baphon, the living dead man has begun uniting the Orc tribes under his banner and the doomsday clock has turned to Two O’clock.

Gathering up the message Desmond knew it must be presented to Luvick.  Heading into the audience hall to inform the master, the inquisitor mused that the prophecies appeared to be true.