The party split up. While most of Team Ramrod followed Aust’s spirit into the bedroom, Dare and Mystic headed into a different room. Dare went first. According to Nazzeth’s Detect Magic spell, there’d been at least two items here that were giving off arcane energy, but Dare had no idea which items.

The only thing he knew for sure was that they were in a study. An oak desk covered with parchment and writing utensils faced the middle of the room. Several filled bookshelves lined the walls. And there was something else. Something more interesting.

Dare headed towards the far wall where two suits of black-plated armor stood on either side of a spiral staircase. Each suit of armor held a longsword in one hand and a thick shield in the other. Something about them bothered him. He took a closer look and noticed a strange engraving on the armor’s breastplate — a moon and sun on the closest one. He touched it with one finger and gave it a slight push. Nothing happened, and the armor was so heavy that it didn’t move.

“Mystic, what do you think this symbol means?

There was no answer. He turned. Mystic was in front of one of the bookshelves, a thick tome in her hands. He looked at her, confused. “Are you… reading?”

“I’m searching for the evidence like the Chief Speaker wanted,” she said, not bothering to look up.

“In a book?”

She slipped the book back into the shelf, and shrugged. “It could be anywhere. Want to know one place I bet it’s not? That suit of armor. How about you check the desk?”

Dare giggled but then saw she was serious. “Yes mother,” he grumbled.

Dare headed over. There wasn’t much to the desk. It didn’t even have drawers. He scanned the parchment on top. It was a listing of names. He read them to himself: Sarvinder Peck, Gabourey D’Vaelan, Fendrick Gray…

“Hey Mystic!”

She looked up from the latest book in her hand and sighed.

“Fendrick. Wasn’t that the name of that old butler we saw downstairs?”

She seemed to give it some thought. “I think so. Why?”

“I think I found a list of that Aust dude’s employees. I wonder how much he’s paying them.”

Mystic sighed again, louder this time. “Is that really relevant to anything?”

“I mean, maybe,” Dare traced a line across the page, saw Fendrick made the most at a whopping five silver a week. “What a cheap ass,” Dare said.

The last name on the list was of a servant named Ambra Fallwater. An asterisk was penciled in next to it. Near the bottom of the page, Dare found another asterisk and the words, “Pay same wage as Praxana. Make sure the others have their story straight in case Ambra asks about the previous maid: Fell down stairs, horrible accident, etc.”

“This might be something.” Dare took the parchment and in the process knocked over an inkwell. It clattered to the floor, causing Mystic to sigh for the third time.

Dare bent down to grab the inkwell, and on his way up noticed something on the bottom side of the desk. A small, wooden button. “What’s this do?” he asked himself. Then, in typical Dare fashion, answered himself. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He pushed the button. There was a click from somewhere within the desk. A hidden compartment swung opened from the bottom as if on a hinge. Inside lay a black journal. “Jackpot!” he shouted as he reached in to grab it.

But no sooner did he pick it up that he heard a strange sound: the sound of metal grinding against metal. At the same time, a flash of light caught his eye… as did the smell of brimstone. The light was coming from the suits of armor. Fire suddenly bellowed from their center and glowed between every seam. The scraping-metal sound was coming from the armor as well as both suits slowly lumbered towards Dare and Mystic, longswords raised.

Dare unsheathed Talon. Mystic used her Wild Shape ability to turn herself into a massive bear. It was at that time that they heard Mercarri scream.

While Dare and Mystic were about to clash with the suits of armor, the rest of Team Ramrod was being attacked by the large rug in Aust’s bedroom. With impossible speed, it slammed into Mercarri, knocking her off balance. Before she could fall, it coiled around her several times, squeezing the air from her lungs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Just as darkness started gathering at the edges of her vision, a hand took hold of her wrist. It pulled, and suddenly she was free. Lilvari had saved her. Mercarri, after sucking in a much-needed breath, yelled the first arcane words that came to mind.

A familiar stench filled the room as Shit Hammer appeared above them. At the same time, Nazzeth cast Chill Touch at the rug, causing a ghostly, skeletal hand to rise from the floor. Where it grabbed the rug, tendrils of frost spread outward, freezing the threads. Shit Hammer took aim and smashed into the rug’s upper half, soaking it through with excrement.

The rug managed to grab hold of Lilvari during the onslaught. It pulled her in and squeezed just as it had Mercarri. Lilvari could feel the warm, slippery excrement slathering her face and arms. In a way, she was glad she couldn’t breathe.

Though the rug had a tight hold on her, it had seen a fair amount of damage so far and was threadbare in places. Several spots were torn. It was through one of these spots that Mercarri caught a glimpse of Lilvari’s shoulder.

“We have to pull her out of there!” she yelled. She looked around the room. Nazzeth was further back, attacking from a distance. She could tell that he was as battle-worn as she was. The fight at Fishbarrel had been less than two hours ago.

“You’re closer!” he shouted back.

Mercarri knew he was right. The only other help she had was the spirit, and she was pretty sure it wouldn’t listen to her commands.

“Shit,” she muttered, and immediately realized the humor in her choice of expletive. Well, humor if she wasn’t right here in the middle of it. She held her breath, reached in with both hands and pulled Lilvari’s shoulder as hard as she could. Lilvari popped free, covered in shit.

“You okay?” Mercarri asked.

“No,” Lilvari said, spitting a brown wad to the floor as Mercarri helped her up. They continued their assault on the rug. With one final slam, Shit Hammer hit it so hard that it stuck to the wall behind it… and moved no more. The battle had been won, but as it turned out once again, Team Ramrod couldn’t rest. Sounds of fighting echoed from somewhere. They looked at each other. “I’ll bet you five gold pieces that Dare sprang a trap,” Lilvari said to Mercarri.

Mercarri shook her head. “No way I’d take that bet.”

Lilvari, Mercarri and Nazzeth hurried out of the room towards the sound. The spirit of Aust floated behind.

Meanwhile, Dare and Mystic were fighting the suits of armor in close combat. The armor slashed at Mystic hard enough to kill her bear form instantly. She reverted back to herself. Dare picked up the desk and threw it at the nearest suit of armor, but it easily blocked the attack and returned with a hearty one of it own, slicing Dare across the chest. He yelled at in pain and anger, cutting at the suit of armor with Talon. One thrust caught it in the middle of its chest plate. This one had an engraving of rubble surrounding a lightning bolt. It glowed when Dare struck it and immediately fell.

“One to go!” he shouted.

The rest of the group rushed in, attacking the remaining ‘helmed horror’ with everything they had — which wasn’t much. They were spent from their previous battles. To make matters worse, the suit of armor seemed impervious to some of their attacks. Lilvari’s Eldritch Blast, Nazzeth’s Chill Touch, Mystic’s Guiding Bolt — each attack landed but simply did no damage.

“Stop them from attacking!” Lilvari shouted to the spirit. They were Aust’s contraptions after all. Maybe he knew how to ‘turn them off’ or something. The spirit glared at Lilvari before raising a hand to the armor. They saw Aust’s mouth move, but no words came out. A smile spread across the spirit’s translucent face as it realized his words (or lack thereof) had no effect. Aust’s spirit was enjoying Team Ramrod’s grief. That was for sure.

Mystic transformed again, this time into a starry constellation that resembled an archer. She nocked a glowing arrow made of stardust and fired. It struck the armor dead center. The fire within flickered out momentarily. The engraving burned brighter, but the suit of armor didn’t fall. It headed for Dare instead.

“Keep aiming for the thingie in the middle,” he shouted, just as it reached him. He raised his shield but not in time. The armor slashed at him again — this time across the middle. He grunted in pain. Blood flowed from the gash.

Mercarri saw that Dare was very hurt, and that he wasn’t the only one. She closed her eyes and concentrated. A soft, green glow enveloped Dare, Mystic and Lilvari — the most injured of the group. Their wounds magically closed.

Lilvari yelled out a quick thanks as she pulled out her staff — The Goat Staff of Maglubiyet. She felt it pulse with dark, necrotic energy. She charged the suit of armor from behind, slamming the staff into it’s back. She expected to see the area hit by the staff to wither and blacken, but it did not. “Dammit! It’s immune to necrotic damage too!”

Nazzeth was spent and couldn’t do much. Hopefully he had enough power for one more spell. He muttered under his breath, and as he did, a spike of bright purple energy apparated in his hands. When it reached a blinding crescendo, he flung it at the armor. It embedded itself deep within the armor’s helmet and splintered with a loud crack. The helmet exploded. The now headless suit of armor fell to its knees. It rested there for a moment as the fire inside died away, and when it did, the armor toppled heavily to the floor.

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional grunt of pain.

“Well, that sucked,” Dare said. He caught sight of Lilvari who was covered from head to toe in shit. Though wounded and tired, the sight of her brought a smile to his face. “But I guess I could have been worse off, huh Lilvari?”

She replied with her middle finger, firmly outstretched.

Mystic and Dare told the rest of the party about the journal they found. Dare pulled it from his pack and passed it around. The pages were mostly full. Unfortunately, the words were in a different language.

“It’s Thieves’ Cant,” Mercarri said. “Anybody know how to read it?”

None of them did — not anymore, now that Ultorin was gone. They’d have to find someone else who could speak it. Looking through the text, they noticed a phrase that was recognizable: “Lurkers in Shadow”. It was mentioned several times.

“That’s the group that The Might of Thorsburrow mentioned,” said Nazzeth. “Remember?”

The Might of Thorsburrow was a band of adventurers. They were in Helmshold looking for the Lurkers in Shadow, hoping to bring them down. According to The Might of Thorsburrow, the Lurkers in Shadow were searching for a key of sorts — one that would lead to a dangerous artifact belonging to Orcus, the demon lord of the undead. When Team Ramrod explained to them that this was the same group that had stolen Mystic’s flute, the band of adventurers looked concerned. “It sounds as if they may have found the key,” one of them said. “God help us if they find the lock that fits it.”

The journal Dare had found hidden in the desk seemed to show some link between the Salezzo and the Lurkers in Shadow. Unfortunately without a translation, there was no way to know what that link may be.

“What do we do now?” Mystic asked.

“First, I need to clean up,” Lilvari said. “There was a tub full of water in that bedroom. After that, I think we should get out of here and report what we found to the chief speaker.”

“But what if there’s more to find?” Mystic said.

“We’ve had a rough night,” Lilvari replied. “I don’t know how much more damage we can take.”

No one disagreed. Lilvari headed back to the bedroom. The specter followed. She had it face the wall while she undressed. Before getting in the tub however, she had an idea. She rolled around on the bed, covering it in shit. Then she used the pillows to wipe off the brown splatters that had landed on the chest. She’d search the chest after cleaning up — just like she’d check the floorboard for what Aust was hiding underneath. Right now, there was nothing more important than a bath.

After she was done, she lifted the floorboard. Inside was another black journal. This one had nothing scrawled on the pages, but she did find two letters folded within. They were written in Thieves’ Cant as well. And these too had something that stood out. Both had the initials, “H.T.” signed at the bottom.

Lilvari smiled. “Halia Thorton,” she said to herself. “I got you now.”

The chest was locked. Lilvari called for Dare to help her, since he had a few lock picks. He was able to pick it without much issue. Inside she found several vials of Midnight Tears, the poison used in Phandalin as well as vials labeled, “Antidote”. There was also a lot of gold. Payment for the murders, perhaps.

Nazzeth called for them to come back to the study.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Lilvari told Dare. There was one more thing she had to do. Once Dare left, Lilvari instructed her accursed specter to go to the bed. It did as it was told. The hate in its eyes was easy to see.

“A little further,” Lilvari said.

The spirit floated through the bed, stopping when it reached the center. Only its upper half was visible. The misery on its face as it stood among a shit-streaked bed brought pleasure to Lilvari.

“Here,” she said, “in case you’re cold.” She draped the soiled rug overtop him. Of course it went right through and landed on the bed, but it was the thought that counted. “Now, stay there and rot. That’s an order.”

She joined the others back in the study. They were all huddled around Nazzeth. He’d found something in one of the books. The center had been hollowed out. Inside were two keys. “I have no idea what they’re for though,” he said. “So now what?”

The party still had to decide if they were to continue their search or if they’d had enough fun for the evening. Lilvari, who was closest to the spiral staircase heading up, heard something then — something that may force their decision: a pained whimper coming from the room above the staircase. Looking around, it was apparent that no one else had heard the sound.