Banksoopy Brickle Drakenhold

Beyond the bustling crowds of shiphands, street vendors, and hurried passerby, you can see the glitter of the clear ocean, full of wooden ships of all shapes and sizes docked on great stone piers. The stink of drying fish seems as if it will stick in your throat permanently, and you taste the tang of salt on your tongue. Through the chorus of yells, ship bells, and seagulls, a fresh, unexpected breeze from off the water ruffles your clothes. This is the great harbor of the port city of Drakenhold, though your reasons for being here at the moment are your own. The weathered, splintered sign of the Black Barnacle Inn creaks behind you. Welcome to Drakenhold.

A young sailor lies dead on the dock, blood dripping into the water. A wizened old fishwife, face sun-wrinkled like a raisin, points at a young girl. "It wos 'er!" she croaks. "She summoned 'em! She killed Jack!"

Frantic whisperings break out among the crowds, which have come out of hiding.

"Weren't mey!" the girl says, her round cheeks red as apples. She points at a hardened sellsword, whose scarred face is grim and dark. "I saw 'er do it! She ain't from around these parts! She killed Jack! She's a witch!"

The sellsword doesn't say anything, but her hand is tight on the pommel of her weapon.

"Witch! Witch! Witch!"

The mob of townsfolk drag all three of the women off down the street to be taken to trial in the morning. It happens too quickly for you or the women to do anything about it.

"That lot killed those monsters! They'll be perfect judges for the trial tomorrow!" calls someone in the crowd. "Hear, hear!" says the rest of the crowd.

Unfazed by the mob and impressed with your victory against the apparitions, the barkeep (Bartleby) at the Black Barnacle insists on treating you to a round of drinks.

"My treat, my treat," he puffs. "Come on in. Yeh won't have no privacy anyway, not with that display out there." Standing outside the inn, you look at each other. What do you do?

On your way out of the inn, the judge comes in and stops you for a moment. "Please do try and find out the culprit. We'll reward you if you do. The trial will be at noon tomorrow in the courtyard of the citadel. You know the punishment for witches — burning. Jolly good, fellows."