Following the trail....

After the sun had set in Shadowdale, during the hours were its citizen spent their evenings in their homesteads as opposed to lingering in the streets (but not late enough to risk disrupting their slumber), they would get a knock on the door. Ashenar Nylund, a new face among Shadowdale’s militia had begun making rounds about town as quickly as he could. To any citizens answering their doors, he would apologize for any interruption and identify himself appropriately before leading into a small series of questions; “Are you recently missing a friend or family member, either a man or woman or know someone that is? Aside from the undead, have you witnessed any other unusual activities within town taking place?”

His search started at the southern part of town, and if no answer was given, he moved onto the next house. If there was any information to be collected, he had a notebook at the ready and was prepared to collect whatever information he could.

To those that would open their homes to him, he would graciously accept their offer, but for only as long as time would allow. He did, after all, have a lot of ground to cover. He would have thanked these citizens for their kindness and of course, would reassure them that his questions were for investigative purposes only.

However, once he reached the home where he would finally gain some insight for his efforts, the sudden pang of guilt formed like a lump in his throat. In all his life, he had never had to bear such dire news to another. It took him a moment to sort his thoughts; to place duty before his own personal feelings on the matter. But before he'd break the news, Ashenar asked of those in the household to seat themselves first.

“An unidentified body of a man has been found near the south point of the town.” The words did not come easy, though he spoke them softly, “While I can’t say if the victim is your missing friend without proper identification first, it is with deep regret that I must inform you that the two are likely linked together.”

Ashenar allowed a moment for the weight of his words to sink in, “I’ll allow you time to grieve and pay your respects at the House of Plenty should the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. If they do, I will need to ask you some further questions at a later point, however.”

There was nothing else he could say. Feeling that no words could adequately express his condolences, Ashenar placed a hand on the shoulder of a single man, hoping the action would convey his feelings louder than words ever could.

Three men would gather around Ashenar in their main room, sitting themselves at a small square table. Their mood was accommodating though filled with worry, once the words slipped from Ashenars tongue however the mood set for an almost instantaneous shift. The atmosphere grew silent and eyes filled with remorse, there were a few muffled curses and at least one man slamming his fist in anger. They all worked through it in differing fashions, but the truth was the same, each was dealing with grief. After some time in silence together one of the man would muffle "I knew Jeremiah was going to get himself in trouble getting involved with those Larch's." Another of the men nods in agreement adding "That families no good, cursed down to their bones."

Intrigued, Ashenar pulled his chair in closer around the table and prepared himself for a lengthier visit than he had initially thought. That is, of course, if any of the three men were willing to talk. While he personally felt as though he were intruding upon their hours spent in grief, perhaps the best time to gain the information he needed from them was when the emotions were high and seething.

“Justice can still be done for your friend,” He spoke in a calm tone, yet there was an underlying determination therein. Pausing, he shifted glances between those who sat around him, “But first, I’d like to know more on this Larch family you speak of.”

"What's there to say? The families had a run of bad luck for almost a year now. Ever since that son of theirs ran away things started going downhill for them, poor Joel was so broke up they fired him from his job. Had to turn to selling about half their belongings just to keep meals on their tables from what I hear."

Another of the men chimes in. "It was going around town for awhile that Joel hired a big group of adventurers to go find his son, they only came back with a cold body. Shortly after Joel got real crazy about a rumour going around town, Jeremiah mentioned things were getting pretty distant between Joel and the mrs. Chasing a silly rumour and obsessing over his dead boy, I get grief but what Joel was doing was obsessive."

Ashenar sank back into his chair, linking his hands together as the wheels within his mind started turning. Hmm, not enough to link these Larch’s as suspects but perhaps I should search the records for any old reports surrounding the Larch’s own troubles, he thought to himself.

“I’ll try not to take up much more of your time, gentlemen. There’s just one pressing question left that I need to ask,” He nodded his head apologetically to all three men, “Was your friend spending much time in the company of a young woman recently- a daughter of these Larch’s, perhaps?”

One of the men drums his fingers on the table for a few seconds before replying to the question. "Not recently no, last I heard the Larchs left the region. Sort of were forced to after ... well. After Joel abandoned his family, people keep saying he just couldn't get that rumour out of his head and went out to hunt some fictional monster. I think really the truth is just that he was ashamed of who he'd become after losing their son and just run out on his family."

Slowly, he rose from his chair, exhaling a deep breath as each of his boots lightly thudded against the floor.

“Thank you for your time, men. You’ll be the first to know if anything turns up and feel free to keep in touch with me as well, should any questions arise. I have enough to carry on with the investigation.”

But did he? Ashenar had his doubts. He could stay here all evening, continuing his questions but he felt as though he’d asked enough already. Seeing himself out, he reflected upon what he learned.

Maybe the Larch’s were onto something with this ‘fictional’ monster. Surely there must be something of them kept within the records.

And there’s still the girl at the temple which no one has apparently thought to question.

And then, there’s the name “Khraever”. Whatever the hell that means…

Where he had hoped to narrowed down his options, it seemed as though more possibilities kept opening instead.

“I need a drink…” He muttered.