Even though the party seems to have experienced their fill of Foxglove Manor, the completionist inside them wants nothing more than to investigate every room in the house in case any other clues are lingering around. That was the plan, at least, until they hear the sound of creaking floorboards above them and they run upstairs to confront the culprit.
The party narrows the source down to a single room and cautiously enters. Theo is drawn to a long low of shelves housing countless scroll cases, some of them exuding magic. Krask is struck with an intense series of visions detailing sea expeditions and treasure hunts, and becomes slightly depressed once he realizes that his memories are merely fantasies of what could have been had he never gotten married. Of course, Krask isn’t married, which makes his feelings even more unusual. One of the statues in this study draws the attention of Fobias, who is able to recognize a Shoanti legend known as Ilam. Ilam was a fearsome chieftain who had never been bested in battle and who would rip out the hearts of his defeated enemies, devour them, and set the bodies on fire in a gruesome celebration of strength. It is not a statue that a normal, sane person would keep in their study. Krask straps another painting to Fobias’ back, and the party continues searching for the source of the noise.
With every room, the search becomes more frustrating. Several sounds lead nowhere – open windows and rattling chains are intriguing but offer little to quench the curiosity of the group. In the observatory, Fobias feels as though his skin is on fire (again?!) and is barely able to stop himself from charging out the window into the swirling waters at the bottom of the Varisian cliffs. Each window contains an important historical figure: one depicts Arazni, the Harlot Queen of Geb, and the other shows Socorro, the Butcher of Carrion Hill. Barnaby is determined to find whoever is in the house with them and hoists himself up through the observatory hatch to the roof, only to find broken shingles and rotting beams.
They are, apparently, alone.
Having exhausted their search of the attic, the party descends to the second floor. They leave a few of the creepier rooms alone, but they are intrigued by a bedroom that has been slashed beyond recognition. From the bed to the walls, everything in the room is torn to shreds except for a single, solitary portrait whose subject is facing the wall. It is completely unscathed. Suddenly, nearly all of the party hears a woman’s voice ask, “What do you get up to down in the damp below?” They are hit with an abrupt hatred of women and, unable to find any nearby, they turn their misogynistic rage towards themselves. Several critical knife stabs later, the party settles down and the anger passes.
On their way out, the party stops to check out the bedroom to the west of the gallery. In the drawers of a bloodstained desk, they uncover a suspicious invoice for several cages from Pug’s Contraptions in Magnimar, signed by Aldern Foxglove. There are also several papers signed by Vorel Foxglove. Barnaby explains that Vorel was Aldern’s great great uncle, who passed the house to Aldern’s father, Traver. While the party is discussing their next moves, Krask hallucinates that a long sliver of wood is an ornate dagger and comes inches from plunging it into his own neck before snapping back to reality.
This is the last straw in their investigation. Having ended the terror of the Skinsaw Man, the party agrees that their resources have been depleted enough to go and report back to Sheriff Hemlock. Their laundry list also includes possibly paying a visit to Pug’s Contraptions and heading to the Foxglove Townhouse in Magnimar.
As they leave the Manor behind them, with dawn’s early rays beginning to illuminate the countryside, Fobias instinctively turns back and swears that he sees a shadowy figure on the roof of the house.
He blinks and the figure is gone.
What would Aldern need some custom birdcages for? Who was in the house with the party? Will the party forget this entire adventure and open a museum for old, sweaty paintings?