Located on the far side of the Styes, Hopene'er Asylum was the last remnants of a more optimistic time, when the desperate and doomed of the Styes were cared for and watched over. Now, it was a prison. Large stone walls dotted with barred off windows kept the public out and the inmates in, each keeping their own little worlds apart from each other.

As Jaran, Shroom, and Aldrava approached, they couldn't help but notice a well-worn wooden sign hanging over the main gate. One which read only the ominous words: Welcome Home.

"Well that's farrgin' morbid." Aldrava commented, prompting a nod from Jaran and even what was possible a nod from Shroom.

The team approached the gate and Jaran tried the handle, but to no avail. It was locked, most likely to keep the lunatics locked up there from having an easy exit.

Luckily, it was not long until their presence at the gate was noticed by a youth in a grey tunic with 'Hopene'er' written across the back and a number across the right breast. This was an inmate - an assumption solidified by the fact that this child had an unnerving, blank look in his eyes. It was as if his very soul ceased to exist.

"Welcome to Hopene'er. Name is Brey. Help you?" The youth spoke quickly, leaving out words.

"Aye, wee one." Aldrava leaned down so she was on Brey's level, "We seek entry. Can ye get us someone t' let us in?"

"Will fetch Miss Trantor." Brey announced, "Be back shortly." With that, he walked further into the asylum grounds, before vanishing into the main building.

A few minutes later, Brey returned, holding the hand of an elderly woman in a doctor's coat. Once again, 'Hopene'er' was written on the back, but there was no identification number. Instead, a badge hung around the woman's neck, identifying her as Emil Trantor.

"Dr. Trantor, I assume?" Jaran spoke up as the woman approached.

"Not doctor, miss." Emil corrected the rogue, "There are no doctors working here anymore. Do you have a patient to enroll?"

"Aye. Me." Aldrava's voice took on the tone one might associate with dark, sarcastic humour, "I agreed t' come t' a spooky asylum t' investigate a murder in a city I've only ever heard o', accompanied by a landlubber 'n a magic mushroom.. So, lock me up, for no doubt I be crazy."

Ignoring this, Jaran replied, "No. We're here on behest of Sherborne Refrum."

"That's Mr. Loveage's friend, isn't it?" Emil asked, "Poor, poor man. I can't imagine having to see my best - if possibly only - friend hanging from the gallows. However, I'm afraid I can't be of any help. The only way I can allow someone to both enter and leave Hopene'er is with permission of the guards. Anyone else… well, the only other way in is a one-way trip."

Jaran nodded, reaching futilly for his beard for a third time. He had expected things wouldn't be quite so easy. Just as we was about to speak up, though, Emil continued: "You should speak to Constable Jute. She's a good soul, in fact, the only guard I trust in this whole damned city. If anyone will help you, it's her."

"'n where can Constable Jute be found, then?" Aldrava inquired.

"The garrison, when not on patrol." Emil responded, "Oh, and don't mention Mr. Lovage or his friend to anyone but her. The other guards… they won't take it so well. You see… A handful of the guards are honest, but they are the exceptions. Most of the militia members are youths who needed a job, and whose ambition is satisfied by becoming paid thugs."

The three-story stone building that housed the Stye's garrison was more like a prison than a barracks. Three hundred guards, at least, were crammed into space only meant to hold one hundred, and so often, many were sent out on patrol.

These patrols were coming and going when Jaran and Aldrava approached. They had opted to leave Shroom at Hopene'er - no doubt, an oversized fungus creature from the Underdark would raise alarm if it approached the city's barracks.

For the most part, the two were ignored until they reached the door. There, they were finally paid notice, in the form of being stopped by a militiaman with a rather pretentious-looking pencil mustache.

"Hold it right there, civilians!" The militiaman raised his hand in a 'halt' motion, "Nobody without business gets past these doors. State yours."

"We be here t' see Constable Jute." Aldrava responded, "Private business, between us adventures 'n yer friend."

"Trust me, you don't want to give us trouble." The thief backed up his companion, "Generally not a good idea to mess with well-armed, well-trained, well-seasoned individuals. Plus, we just want to talk."

The guard nodded. "Right, then. However, Jute is on patrol right now. I'd recommend you wait until she gets back. Should only be 'bout an hour."

"We be busy people. Don't 'ave an hour t' waste." Aldrava insisted, "Where be her route lootin' her?"

The southwest section of the Styes hosted most of the district's industry and mercantile efforts. Most of the community's fishers lived there, and numerous warehouses lined the edges of the quarter. Most of these places were either abandoned and boarded up, or served as flophouses. In other words, it was exactly where the town militia would need to keep a close eye - and, so, where they often did.

As Jaran and Aldrava walked among the abandoned warehouses and run-down fisheries, they couldn't help but get a feeling of sorrow. Here more than anywhere, the Stye's former grandeur presented itself. Here, more than ever, one could almost feel the dead hopes and dreams of an industry hoping to make a good future.

Constable Jute was a woman of about thirty, with short, orange hair she kept in a ponytail. She dressed in the armour of the militia - a grey tunic and some basic metal plates for protection. It was actually Jute who saw the outsiders before they saw her, and approached.

"We don't get many foreigners in this area, visitors." Jute remarked, plainly, "What brings you two here? I hope not trouble."

"No, not at all." Jaran shook his head, "We come in peace. We're looking for Constable Jute. Do you know her?"

"More than that, I am her." Jute responded, "So you're foreigners and you can call me by name. That's… well, those two things don't usually go together. What's up?"

"Can we speak in private?" Aldrava spoke up. She didn't need to say more - Jute knew better than anyone how the guards in the Styes were, she didn't need prompting to speak away from them.

"Of course." the constable agreed, then turned to her division, "You lot! Wait for me across the street, we'll only be a second."

Almost as soon as the name 'Jarme Loveage' came up, Jute's whole demeanour changed. At first, it was far less welcoming, but this changed to twofold the original helpfulness when the Party revealed they were investigating on behalf of Refrum.

"I'm the one who arrested Mr. Lovage." Jute admitted, "Found him crouched over his victim covered in blood and carrying a knife… didn't need much more evidence than that. That's not what bothers me. No, that's what happened after the arrest."

"'n wha' would that be?" Aldrava inquired.

"Well, first he was dead quiet." Jute responded, "Totally zoned out, and he never looked at anyone. Sure, he'd look in our direction, but his eyes seemed to look through us, as if staring into some other Plane. Then, suddenly, everything changed. At first it was a murmuring, then it was talking, then it was screaming. All incomprehensible. All garbled gibberish about the sea and doom. Then, it changed again. Just as I was preparing to lock him up in Hopne'er as a loon, he seemed to return to reality. But, he had no clue what was going on. Last he could remember he was preparing to lay down in bed for the night - nothing about the murder, or even how he got to the garrison."

Jaran's hand made a half motion to his beard, this time catching himself before he could move it all the way up to his face. "What then?"

"Then, well, this is where things get weird." Jute continued, "One of my comrades came in, told me we'd gotten a letter from Counselor Dory. He wanted the man transferred to Hopene'er immediately. No questioning, no interrogation - well, not from us. Apparently he wanted a special team to do it. Don't know if they ever did, or if he just hanged. Hard to tell in this city."

"Dory?" Aldrava asked, "That's a name I haven't heard afore. Who's he?"

"Oh, right." Jute chuckled, "Forgot you weren't from around here. We don't get many visitors. Councillor Dory is one of the leaders of the Styes. He's a wealthy warehouse owner. Um, he has a skin condition. Something called Innsmouth Disease, I think? It makes him smell hideous and have the looks to match. Also, he has to take regular immersion in water, I think to ease the pain."

Jaran nodded, "One more thing."

"Sure, anything." Jute acknowledged.

"We need access to Hopene'er Asylum. Y'know, to investigate Loveage's room."

With a letter from Jute in hand, the team of two met up with their Myconid ally back at Hopene'er Asylum, and were finally allowed entrance to the home of the Stye's forsaken. Although Emil was too busy to guide them around personally, she gave them a personal guide - identified only as 'Bennett' - to see them around.

Bennett was a gaunt, older man in a doctor's coat, possibly slightly deranged himself. From him, they learned the asylum's five staff were hard pressed to control the more than four hundred 'patients', and consequently, the less troubled residents were enlisted to help run the place. Over time, the line between 'patient' and 'doctor' was known to blur, until one could only tell the difference from their uniform.

At first, this was all Bennett would say. Once he learned they were trying to prove Jarme's innocence, though, his tune changed.

"He was a quiet type." Bennett informed the three, as they headed into the lockup, "Resolute in his claims of innocence. I mean, I have no reason to doubt the claims against him - Jute is the last good guard I've met here - but Mr. Loveage's remorse was far more compelling - and believable - than any other 'troubled person' I am have met yet."

"Did he get any visitors?" Jaran inquired, "Beyond Refrum's attempt."

"One." Bennett nodded, taking a lantern from a nearby shelf, "Do any of you have a light?"

Once again, the flame flickered on the end of Shroom's staff, and it touched it to the lantern. Although Bennett seemed surprised to see magic, the fact that the mage in question was already a giant fungus proved to prepare him for such an unexpected event.

"It was Councillor Dory himself." Bennett continued, "Made sure he was the only person allowed to visit him, and that none of us were to attend the meeting. I tried telling him, meeting with a potential psychotic alone, well that's not safe… but he wouldn't listen. No, he wouldn't listen."

Bennett eventually stopped before a heavily locked door, at which he offered a word of caution: "This wing is where the worst of our cases are kept. I beg you not to look into any of the other cells. We've given succor to many folk over the years, but those here are truly forsaken by the gods."

Unlocking the door revealed a long corridor with iron doors lining both walls. Each door had a small viewing hatch that was latched shut. No sooner had the door opened than an unnatural gurgle churned up from a cell to the right, and was soon joined by other voices.

The journey down the hall was not pleasant, and even Shroom seemed uncomfortable. Constant screaming and cursing from the cells combined with an overpowering stench of unwashed bodies, filth, mildew, and rotting straw assaulted the senses, but Bennett ignored the din and sensation, hurrying to the far end of the hall, where he ushered the three through an open cell door.

The walls beyond were covered with childlike sketches, all overlapping each other in confusing waves and patterned swirls. In a way, it was beautiful. In another, it was surreal. And, in yet another, it was disturbing beyond all belief.

"See, writer lad?" Aldrava commented, clearly trying to diffuse the obvious tension, "Doesn't take a genius t' make art. Ye could stick these up in a museum 'n yer precious nobles would pay fine gold t' see them."

"Ha ha." Jaran remarked dryly, studying the art. As he continued to look it over, the swirling chaos of the mural began to take forms: It depicted a massive, tentacled creature devouring a city - and, although crude, the skyline suggested it was the Styes.

The creature, it soon became apparent, was drawn trapped in a deep chasm, perhaps an underwater pit, its tentacles wrapped around humanoids who were subsequently drawn being pulled down into the dark.

What was most odd was the creature itself, though. The drawing depicted it bound by a chain, the other end of the chain held by a creature resembling a large, multi-tailed fish.

That was all Jaran and Aldrava could garner from it, before the stench and ruckus overwhelmed them.

"I've seen enough." Jaran stated at last, "We're leaving."

"Aye, landlubber." Aldrava agreed, "Couldn't 'ave said it better meself."

With their two leads examined and hardly any clues found, the Party returned to the Alchemist's Quarter, to bring Refrum the bad news: There was certainly something suspicious going on, but they were no closer to finding out what it was, or who was involved, then when they started. Councillor Dory was strange, yes, but the evidence against him was all situational - hardly something you could go to the militia with.

When they arrived, however, they found something unexpected: Outside was the guard, in the process of dragging Refrum off.

"Hey!" Jaran demanded, seeing a familiar face among the guard gathered outside, "What's going on here?!"

"Step aside, visitors." Juke responded, "Orders from Councillor Dory himself. Refrum is to be arrested and tried as an accomplice to the Lantern Ghost Murderer… is that a Myconid?"

"Aye." Aldrava affirmed, "His name be Shroom, 'n he's goin' t' farrg up every poor sod in a quarter mile o' here if ye don't tell us exactly wha' be goin' on."

At first, Juke didn't seem quite so convinced, but her tune changed when Shroom's staff began to glow brightly. Of course, the militiamen nearby reached to their pistols and swords, but exactly what a creature known for thriving in the hellish Underdark was capable of wasn't something they wanted to figure out firsthand.

"Councillor Dory got an anonymous tip that Mr. Refrum was involved with the Lantern Ghost Murders." Juke informed them, defeated, "At first, I didn't believe it. However, when we searched his apartment, we found a map, with the location of this morning's murder marked clearly off."

"He was investigating the murders!" Jaran protested, "Of course he'd mark that location off!"

"Yeah, that's what I want to think." Juke agreed, "But orders are orders, his case will be taken before a judge."

"'n I be goin' t' guess this 'judge' be Councillor Dory hisself?" Aldrava snarked.

"Probably." Juke sighed, "But I'm not about to disobey orders. I've told you this before. Now call off your mushroom."

Jaran paused. Surely, having Shroom use whatever magic it possessed to make quick work of these guards was an option. But it wasn't a good one. An innocent man might hang if they didn't intervene, but they all might if they did.

Finally, he made up his mind. "Stand down, Shroom." He ordered. He wasn't sure it would work - but at least he could try. It did work, Shroom put out the light of its staff and returned it to a resting position. Visibly relieved, the guards untensed, and continued with the arrest.

Once they were gone, Jaran turned to his companion. "Dory." He said, simply.

"Aye." Aldrava nodded, "Wherever we turn, that scallywag comes up. He's our next lead."

"Our only lead." Jaran pointed out, "Other than a few scribbles on an asylum wall and some shady goings-on, we've got nothing."

"Nah quite. Refrum's given us a handy tip."

"...am I missing something?"

"Aye, yer sea legs, landlubber. But other than that, he's got a map wit' th' most recent murder in his house. That looks like a damn good ship t' start."

Jaran nodded, then walked to the door to Refurm's house. He tried the knob, only to find out it was - of course - locked. "Can I trust you with a secret?" he inquired, turning to Aldrava.

"Let me guess. Ye're smitten by me?" Aldrava chuckled.

"No. Just, what I'm about to do, don't ask too many questions."

"Aye." Aldrava agreed, and Jaran kneeled down, taking out his set of thieves' tools and setting to work.

As with most of the Styes, the locking mechanism in Dory's abode was severely outdated and worn, and so Jaran had it open in three minutes flat. He put his tools away and looked to Aldrava, who seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Th' landlubber has some practical uses aft all." she cocked an eyebrow, "Maybe I won't totally maroon ye when we get t' Saltmarsh."

"Remember." Jaran reminded her, "No questions. Now come on, we haven't got all day."

If the three had thought Refrum's chambers a mess before, they were beyond that now. Bookshelves were overturned, inventions shattered on the floor, and a puddle of oil had formed where a lamp had been knocked over. Luckily, the lamp wasn't lit, or the whole place would have no doubt gone up in flames.

It was unclear if Refrum had put up a struggle against his arresting guards or they had torn the place apart looking for anything to incriminate him, but either way, locating the map to the crime scene took about 20 minutes.

When they finally found it, the map was too badly damaged by a puddle of water from a knocked over flask to read.

"Farrgin' Abyss!" Aldrava cursed, "Ye got any other ideas?"

"One." Jaran affirmed, "I'm pretty sure we know where Refrum is being held. We go there and talk to him. Get some details."

"Like they be goin' t' let us in." Aldrava scoffed, "I be sure Dory has that ship locked tighter than a virgin's powder pan."

"Right." Jaran sighed, "Then we go back to plan one: investigate Dory."

"Aye, Dory." Aldrava agreed.

"We know Dory's a wealthy warehouse owner." Jaran mused, "So we can start by locating his warehouse, work from there."