TIME July 8th, 8:30pm LOCATION The Ship Inn, then the cemetery, Chuza
BACKGROUND:
Griffiths wanted two children back within two days or he’d escalate past letter bombs. Valka had a lead on his location. The price was digging up Hawke.
WHAT HAPPENED
Brin took the news better than expected – if anyone would have understood the necessity, he reasoned, it was Hawke himself.
The exhumation paperwork went through without further argument. Raven collected a shovel and pick, and they made for the cemetery to find Bucephalus, the groundskeeper.
He had some trouble following Raven’s explanation, but the paperwork spoke for itself, and he led them to Hawke’s grave.
Raven dug down to the coffin; Bucephalus insisted on levitating the casket out himself rather than risk damaging it.
Krusha opened the lid to the smell and sight everyone had been dreading, steeled himself, and pried Hawke’s jaw – and its telltale false tooth – free.
The casket went back into the ground, and Krusha spent a moment reconsecrating the plot before they cleaned up and headed back to report to Brin.
Asquith was waiting there when they arrived, with news of his own: one of his old comrades, Andros, was very likely lost after venturing into Kalitzim and never returning.
Another, DikDik, had gone chasing an archaeological and astrological lead to the ruined druidic observatory at Borthanza – deep in what Asquith called, without much reassurance, Green Hell.
He thought they might still be able to intercept DikDik and bring him back to Chuza.
As a way of both finding and confirming him, Asquith conjured a ‘blood’ compass – a device that would need feeding, via leeches, from tiny spider-like mites housed within it.
A short rest at the Port Inn, and then the trade with Valka – Hawke’s tooth for a map leading straight to Griffiths’ family mansion in Paraisopolis.
Armed and armoured, they passed through the barbican gate into gang territory and found the crumbling mansion exactly where the map promised.
Krusha caught the front door swinging shut ahead of them, torchlight flickering behind the boarded windows.
Creeping closer, Raven picked up voices and movement inside, then shouting and breaking glass.
Krusha stumbled slightly on the uneven cobbles but drew no attention. Raven pried a couple of boards free and crawled in, Krusha close behind.
The room was dark, the door to the entrance hall cracked open just enough to show a gang member standing guard – his torchlight catching, unmistakably, the shape of a walking corpse dressed in a woman’s clothes, lipstick smeared across its ruined mouth, an offset wig askew on its skull.
The zombie lurched at the guard and slashed him; he and two others clubbed it down between them, sounds of a second fight already audible from further inside the hall.
Stepping into the dark room afterward, one of them spotted Krusha in the corner. The torch swung round to find all three Agents.
“Awight, a couple of darlings… or skanky cats.”
a gang member, torch raised
