The third body was sprawled out in the street. Someone had gone through some effort to arrange the poor girl’s insides around her outsides into interesting designs. The guards were brandishing blades and batons to keep the crowd back. Despite their efforts, by the time the PCs got there, the scene was already muddied with the bootprints of passersby. Investigating the scene, the cuts were definately motivated by arcane purposes. This wasn’t a murder, it was a sacrifice.
A flicker on the rooftop. They’re being watched. Augh scrambles up just in time to catch a glimpse of Cannibal Dak making a shadowy getaway. Billy Blue hired him to look into the murders. A few of the players went off to study the magical implications of the killings. The rest, the more street-savy, went off to meet with Billy. They had a very interesting conversation.
Billy was under pressure to make the killings go away. He was very pleased to speak with the players. After word spread of their harrowing journey out of the tundra, Billy could plausibly place the blame squarely on the players’ shoulders. In no incertain terms, he held the players at swordpoint. After careful negotiations, they left with their hides, and purses, intact.
Studying the patterns of murder, the players figured the murderer was drawing a five pointed star into the very soul of the East Break, painted in blood. Waiting at point four, they all met back up. That’s when the cultists struck.
Screaming shadowy reprisals, robed figures leapt across the rooftops, flanked by flickering motes of dark energy. Dak and his crew were backed into a corner by the madmen. Swift reprisal along the rickety shingles quickly felled the cultists. Recovering from his wounds, Dak relates that he saw the murderer himself heading to the fifth point. No time to waste, the heroes sprinted along the street.
Catching him in the act, the murderer set to finish his grisly task while his dark-robed followers interceded. A fierce mage named Bilious Wendt defended the killer while he cut. As the mage fell, the killer’s powers grew wild and out of control. His body warping to match his sick mind, he fled the scene, desperate to complete the fifth point of the star and finish his heinous transformation.
The streets rang with shouts and battle-cries as the party tried to corner the sprinting beast. The last few shreds of humanity died away in the flight. The horrid thing that finally made it to the final stage of the great ritual had become something between demon and god, an abberation, a living expression of apocalypse. A breath of the end of all things.
The players nobly threw themselves at the beast. They stained their weapons with a holy salve, aggravating the monster’s wounds. The beast plucked them up from the ground and tossed them about, and still the heroes attacked. The thing could not be allowed to feed, to live another moment. After a great struggle, it finally slumped and wheezed, collapsing into a ragged pile of unearthly flesh, a pimple on the ass of the earth.