Not Today, Death!

"Uh, y-yeah, s-sure. Of c-course! Th-this way." The unkempt and wild-eyed man leads you down narrower and dirtier streets into a worse section of town. Eventually he stops in front of one that is larger but in no less better condition than its neighbors. The obvious flophouse was once a fine manor, now fallen on hard times. Rotting, mildew-stained plaster has crumbled away to show cracked bricks. The damp roof
sags, and several windows have been boarded up. An old woman sits on a metal chair out front, drinking something foul from a tin cup and chewing on a cheroot.

"H-he was in a room h-here," he says in a low voice, trying not to be overheard by the woman.

Overheard or not, the woman stares at you with suspicion and spits a gob of something onto the warped wooden porch. "Wot're youse all starin' at den?" she challenges.

The lady bars the way with a walking cane. "This here be ma property. That makes it ma business. If ya don' be respectin' edlers, ya best be respectin' property rights! Now then, what be ya business?" The woman spits out another disgusting wad of something slimy onto the porch between Salvia and Arne's feet.

The woman is quiet for a moment. "Dead body, says you. I ain't seen no dead body. And how'd you'se know about it anyway? Mighty large nose ya have, pokin' around in people's bizness. How'se about I go take a peek with the little bossy missy? If ya speak true, we can talk more about how much fer disposal and suchnot."

The unkempt man says, "The r-room in the b-back on the f-first f-floor, uh, l-left side."

The elderly woman on the porch looks at him suspiciously and then spits a final gob on the unknown substance before standing up with an annoyed sigh. "Alright, let's git." She unlocks the front door with a large iron key on an equally large iron key ring and leads the way inside. The interior is dark from shuttered windows and the air is stale. The house was large and once nice but fallen into disrepair. The front entrance leads into a hallway with a kitchen at the far end, and six doors--three on each side--which seem to be the rented rooms. The woman stomps with her cane to the last door on the left and unlocks it. The door creaks open.

The boarded up window in this room has been broken inward, pieces of it all over the floor. Something destroyed the furnishings—the remains of a bed, a cheap dresser, and broken gear lie scattered throughout, much of it bloodstained. The body of a man lies among the smashed bed. He seems oddly crushed, many of his limbs twisted in odd ways, the bones crushed. Splotches of dried mud cover the body and parts of the room.

The crotchety woman surveys the room. "Well he wasn't gettin' his deposit back anyway. Now about tha' payment..."

Salvia sees a faint glow coming from somewhere under the floor near the destroyed bed. No other magic is present. The most striking mundane clues are the strange patches and splotches of mud everywhere, the amount of destruction for such a small room, and the injuries to the body. It seems like something large and with superhuman strength is behind this.

The old woman returns back to the porch and nods at the others. "Yeah, well, the sassy lass was right. Git on in and take a peek, quick-like. And I'm gonna need that payment promised. The room is hellfire wrecked!"

The woman harrumphs but accepts the coin.

Inside Arne pulls up a loose floorboard that reveals a cavity that contains a leather pouch of various gemstones, a short sword that glows with magic to Salvia's eyes, two vials of the same pink-grey dust found on the guards at Groverbandy's estate, a potion, and a scrap of paper with the name Crenus Crumble written in charcoal.