Your round of drinks comes quickly and with practices ease from the barmaid. There is something a little off about the place, but you can't quite tell what it is. It isn't the room, though, it is the people. The obvious travellers taking their ease do not seem strange, but there is something uneasy about the people you can only assume are the town's locals.

Mahasset goes to the temple. It lies upon the site of a secondary spr though you can only assume the main spring would have more water, as this one doesn't produce enough water for a whole town, even one as small as this. The wood and masonry walls of the humble temple are worn but clean. The friezes adorning the walls are well executed, but have been touched up by amateurish hands. Though the gilding of the dome roof has begun to wear off, heavy layers of wax still give it a blinding sheen in the sunlight. A holy symbol of Sarenrae adorns the door, etched into the door and inlaid with gold.

As you enter, you find a scene of horror. Two dozen of the townsfolk are lashed to cots in the temple sanctuary. Two dozen others wander aimlessly. Six acolytes, judging by their simple robes, tend those strapped down.