It was a gloomy and somber day in the small, wayward town of Ravengro, a dour little hamlet already predisposed to gloom and sobriety. The climate was typical for Ustalav's southern provinces. Grey and drawn, with wan, insipid sunshine often marred by lurking cloud cover that at the slightest provocation tended to drizzle a depressing and chilling rain. Once a boom town, Ravengro was now a tiny agricultural backwater. What in any other land may have been a sleepy farmer's town instead seemed suspicious, insular, and contracted.

The town had originally sprung up around a massive prison, now burnt out and decaying, that squatted on a hill overlooking the town like a great corpse. Many years ago a fire had destroyed the prison, and with it the town's main economic base, but the stubborn townsfolk hung on as only Ustalavians could, eking out a living from the rough soil.

The general air was only made more tragic by a sad procession that gathered at the entrance to the Restlands, Ravengro's large and inordinately well tended cemetery. If there is one thing that Ustalavians observed above all else it was the due to the dead. That it was a funeral procession was made clear by the large and lavishly carved casket resting on runners before the gate. Inside lay a teacher, a scholar, an adventurer at heart, a man who had traveled widely the lands of Golarion ever in search of knowledge. The dearly departed Professor Petros Lorrimor.

It was an odd funeral procession. Virtually none of Ravengro's native towns people made up its number. The group was an eclectic bunch. A pair of solemn faced nobles and a scholar in a creased cap, a trio of dwarves in boiled leather jerkins, an aging priest, a grief stricken young woman weeping into a black lace kerchief, and six adventurers newly arrived to mourn the passing of a dear friend.

Clad in a heavy, dark overcoat, under which she wore a simple tunic in the favored blue and white colors of Pharasma, Shara seemed unbothered by the weather. The moisture in the air made her raven curls stick to ashen skin as gray as the skies, but the young woman barely seemed to even notice. While some of the others in the procession wore looks of sadness and mourning, with the occasional sniffle or eyes red with crying, her expression was one of a comfortable placidity, as if death and all its trappings were a simple, familiar walk in a park far nicer than the dreary Ustalav landscape. Perched on her shoulder was a small bird with mottled feathers, one most people would recognize as a whippoorwill. It seemed unusually focused, watching the members of the procession with interest and remaining silent instead of crooning its distinctive call.

Sir Constantine wearing his grey green cloak was in attendance as well the passing of a scholar and friend was indeed a hardship; try as he might he could remember the gist of the lectures he could not recall the vivid details of his lectures.  Though as interesting as they were the scholars path was not his own.

He had his shield freshly polished in a deep brown bringing out the grain of the wood; he saluted the man with his Morningstar a jest they had shared, nothing more than a pun, though personal and appropriate.  He thought briefly about sharing his memories but did not find a way to say so eloquently.

Uncounciously he found himself edging in to the space of the collection of three dwarves and settling in and becoming comfortable. Comfort is what he needed right now and no one could possibly know he had been raised by Dwarves.

He took in the other guests and remained in silence.

Garland was a mountain of a man, standing six foot three inches with a muscular build his dark brown eyes wandered around the setting. He reached up brushing back a few errant long black hairs  over his face as he approached the coffin, letting out a barely audible sigh. He was dressed in a full suit of scale mail adorned with symbols of Pharasma along its pauldrons and painted black and he wore a long black and purple hooded cloak with Pharasma's symbol on his back.

Garland felt an overwhelming sense of sadness overtake him as he saw his old friends coffin and he had to stop himself from breaking down though anyone probably would have noticed a single tear running down his cheek. "I will miss you Petros." he thought before approaching the weeping woman and stood tall despite feeling like he had just been kicked in the gut. He spoke calmly and clearly offering his hand in meeting, friendship, and consalance "My lady, I am Garland Van Burke, Petros was my best friend. I am so sorry for your...for all of our loss. Should there be anything I can do to help please let me know."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:41, Wed 09 Jan 2019.

Murkau stood apart from all others, even his own kind. He had known Petros for decades, watched the Professor age and his daughter grow to be a fine lass in her own right. He hurt, for he had lost a good friend, and that made some of the stoic dwarf's old habits resurface. He glared, hard-eyed and furious, as each newcomer joined the small crowd, daring a single person to let slip even a smirk. Despite his plainly obvious hostility, Murkau kept himself in a neutral stance having had dressed in his best clothes. A silk shirt brocade in black with muted silver threaded into the pattern of swirls, dark grey cotton trousers that ended in cuffs over top the wide soft leather boots. His belt had only a simple sturdy buckle, but held more than just his pants. A finely crafted waraxe, holstered into a simple steel ring, sat just behind the dwarf's right hip, easily within reach. His beard, streaked through with grey amidst the course black hairs, was styled into short mutton chops and oiled to keep it contained. Although the weather matched the atmosphere and general sentiment of those within the procession, Murkau had refused to change or to even wear a cloak. In the back of his head he realized that he needed to cool down, and let the misty rain fall upon his brow and beard, slowly wearing down the fury that had built within his short frame. In his left hand, Murkau carefully held an umbrella for Petros' daughter, keeping her as dry as the wind would allow.

There was a brief round of introductions. The nobles, Lords Galdana and Maran, were patrons of the professor's research. Abraun the scholar, a colleague. The dwarves, Flian, Murdstone, and Boyle, were excavators that had run many of the professor's digs in the past. They made friendly overtures towards Murkau but, rebuffed, contented themselves in quiet conversation with Sir Godalming, reminiscing about the professor. The elderly priest was Father Grimburrow, Garland's brother in the church of Pharasma, if considerably his senior.

The pretty young woman with eyes red rimmed with crying would be known to any friend of the professor, by reputation if not by personal acquaintance. Indeed, he doted on and adored her so that any stranger who held ten minutes conference with the professor would often be regaled with tales of Kendra Lorrimor, the professor's daughter.

Kendra was a tall and austere young woman, although her austerity was marred somewhat by the mask of recent crying. There was sadness and intelligence in her features, slender and clever and well formed. She was younger than one would expect for the child of a man the professor's age, she was of an age with Shara, perhaps a year or two younger.

She placed a grateful hand on Garland's shoulder for his kind words as she moved to the head of the funeral procession. She presented a deep bow to the assembled mourners.

"Thank you all for coming." She said, the hitch of emotion audible in her voice.

"I know that the journey has been long for many of you. My father was a man with an eye for talent and a firm belief in the best in people. He brought out the best in many, and filled the lives of everyone who knew him with knowledge and wisdom. He saw knowledge as a transformative force, and he was always willing to teach and help people better themselves.

Are there any here, friends of my father in life, willing to carry him on one final journey?" She asked, calling for any who would be willing to act as pallbearers in the procession.

Keldros was very sad inside but trying hard to keep his face a mask of stoic calm. He wasn't a huge fan of Ustalav for the most part, and one of the few bright spots and reasons to visit the country was gone now. He was here for only reasons. One, to support Kendra, the professor's daughter. Two, because he had been specifically asked to be. Well, and thirdly, because he wanted to pay his respects.

He didn't really introduce himself unless spoken to directly and only then to say, "Keldros Halfmoon." He stood near to Kendra, not so close as to invade her personal space or grieving, but close enough should she want or need support.

He stepped forward without hesitation but also without eagerness when the question was asked. "I would be honored to carry my friend one more time."

“I would gladly fulfill this honor; There are many to accept such an honor, perhaps those who worked with him day to day?”
SCG nods to the elder dwarves to see if they desire to accept the honor as a group or if one of them will be elected to the honor.

He rubs the smooth golden wood of the holy symbol around his neck

The stoic dwarf listens to Kendra's words, slowly losing the hard-edge to his face until she finishes whereby it vanishes altogether. "Such a fool am I, to so easily forget what ye taught Petros." When she asks if any would bear her father to his grave, Murkau quietly steps to the side of the coffin, murmuring to Kendra as he hands over the umbrella, "I will carry yer father one las' time."

Garland stood next to Kendra the whole time in quiet comtemplation with his hands behind her back, standing at ease while they began the procession. He stepped forward setting his right hand on the wooden coffin and spoke softly "I will carry him to his final rest." was all he said before looking over the others. Petros had inspired all of them in some way and he was pleased to see that even with his best friends death his legacy was living on in others.

One of the dwarven excavators respectfully doffed his cap and handed it to one of his compatriots as he moved opposite Garland, and Count Galdana took up the last spot in the rear of the procession.

With six pallbearers a perfect, macabre symmetry formed around the casket. The weight of a pine box and an old man was compounded with the weight of history, camaraderie, and memory so as to be nearly infinite. But with the strength of six like minded backs sharing the sorrowful load such an infinite weight seemed nothing at all.

Kendra thanked each of the mourners for their kind words and lead the procession, Father Grimburrow at her elbow. The small funeral party wound their way through the Restlands, past rows of neat stone markers cataloging lost lives, up towards the small but well tended Lorrimor family plot.

Some distance into the Restlands our heroes became vaguely aware of motion along the rows of graves moving alongside the funeral. Someone, in fact a great many someones, appeared to be shadowing the funeral party alongside parallel pathways. Could they be latecomers seeking to join the funeral?

No.

As Kendra rounded the bend she stopped up short, motioning for the pallbearers and other mourners to halt. Stretched across the pathway ahead was a small mob of dark eyed villagers, clad in working garb and glowering malevolently at the funeral party. There were a dozen or more, and some were even armed with farm implements or clubs. Guttering torches spat and wavered in the drizzling rain.

Their leader, an unshaven old man with craggy features and a stained, threadbare tunic, stepped forward and brandished a torch towards the funeral.

"That's far enough!" He boomed, his voice surprisingly strong for his frail form.

"Yer not burying old Lorrimor 'ere in the Restlands."

Kendra's features shifted from disbelief to anger, pain and sorrow only adding to her distress.

"What are you talking about?! I've arranged everything with Father Grimburrow. The grave's already been..."

"Your don't unnerstand. We don't want that necromancer buried amongst our kin. You can take him out an bury him by the river, ifn you want, but he ain't going into the ground here."

Several of the club wielding toughs brandished their makeshift weapons and hot tears of frustration began to leak from Kendra's eyes. The situation was fast getting out of control.

“Tis dark days indeed when in fear of heart and doubt of mind that men do think of all wizards both goodly and kind as foul necromongers.  No dark wizard came to speak at the temple of Abadar.”

“Hear my plea to not add to our burden of grief.”

Sir Constantine Godalming rolled 18 using 1d20+9.  Diplomacy
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Thu 10 Jan 2019.

A hint of anger shot through Garland like lightning through water to hear his old friend's name tarnished with accusations of necromancy. His eyes narrowed as he looked past his other pallbearers his voice carrying truth on the wind. "I am a cleric of Pharasma and even I carry Petros Lorrimor to his final rest. My senoir Father Grmiburrow and I would never consort with a person that distorts the natural order or life and death. Who are you to make such claims when we knew the man as a shining beacon against the night and the mists that haunt Ustalav!?"

Shara, who'd been appreciating the ritual and pageantry of the funereal services up until that point, steps forward to face the crowd.

"Necromancy? What are you talking about? If there's clear evidence of such foulness committed by the dear professor, by all means produce it. But if it's just wild speculation, crazy rumors, or whispers of conspiracy, then it is you who are offending the gods with your disrespect of this solemn ceremony." she states clearly, strange eyes scanning the crowd for a clear ringleader or signs of falsehood.



18:07, Today: Shara rolled 24 using 1d20+10.  Perception.
18:07, Today: Shara rolled 16 using 1d20+9.  Sense Motive.

Before the situation could get truly out of hand Constantine's words of reason, backed by Garland's support, quickly defused the tension. The ringleader still seemed bent on stopping the procession but murmurs of discontent began to sound behind him. It would appear that most of his small mob followed more out of deep seated superstition than an active fear of the professor. With no desire to behave uncivilized, and even less to tangle with a party of highly competent looking mourners, they begrudgingly began to disperse.

And yet the perceptive Shara could sense some deeper fear driving these men than simple superstition. Even the insular Ustalavian natives would hardly waylay the funeral party of a member of the community at the urging of just one voice.

"Ya cowards. Cowards!" The ringleader began shouting and gesticulating wildly. But his sway was already broken. Without realizing what he had done he had begun ranting at his dubious followers, not at the funeral procession.

He whirled on the procession and stalked forwards, index finger pointed like a dagger.

"Look you here, ye little whelp. That misbegotten old..." His rant was cut short with a sharp crack as Kendra smacked him full across the face, trembling with petite fury.

"Gibs Hephenus! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Raising a scene, spreading lies, stopping my father's... Your wife would be ashamed of you. Go home." She said coldly, regaining some measure of self control as she brushed past him.

Gibs stumbled back in shock. He looked for a moment like he was about to surge forwards but Count Galdana gave him a dark look and a rash of chuckles from the dispersing crowd sent a flush of ashamed anger through his features. He whirled on his heel and stalked off.

Father Grimburrow, wringing his hands in panic as the situation developed, finally regained his composure and cleared his throat loudly, motioning for the group to follow Kendra's stormy wake. The procession to the professor's grave was short and uneventful after the ruckus on the path.

Father Grimburrow gave a short, poignant service and then all the able bodied members of the group helped to lower the coffin. Last words were said over the grave, small tokens were laid atop the casket, and then the funeral party retired a short distance to let the grave diggers begin their work interring the body.

Father Grimburrow laid a consoling hand on Kendra's shoulder and then made his way towards the church on the edge of the Restlands. The dwarves paid their condolences and then made ready to journey on, as did most of the remaining guests. As the funeral came to a close Kendra stepped up to thank the assembled guests and to invite them all to her home for supper and the reading of the will.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:39, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

Darcon had been shadowing the pallbearers as they carried the casket towards its final resting place. Clad in a pristine white cloak with the hood up to obscure his features, he had been silent as he quietly bid farewell to the Professor, his master's old friend and something of a mentor to Darcon himself.

As he trailed the others, using his quarterstaff of rare white oak as a walking stick, his mind's eye went over pleasant memories of the Professor's visits, the gifts he would bring for a young man still learning the arts arcane, and the amazing stories and lessons he would share. Though Darcon had not had a chance to really speak to Kendra, wanting her to focus on bidding a final farewell to her father, he intended to do so in depth once the funeral had over and the mourning was done.

The rude interruption by the rabble was quite jarring, but the situation was defused almost as soon as it had begun by the morning star wielding warrior cloaked in green and grey, who spoke with a surprising eloquence typically not found among those plying a warrior's trade. Followed immediately by the cleric's strong words, more akin to a challenge, they were enough to break the will of the rabble who had sought to make mischief.

Though they disbanded Darcon's eyes bore daggers towards their backs; he knew their kind, the ones who sought for the slightest of excuses to burn mages at the stake out of sheer ignorance, hatred or jealousy. Inwardly he cheered as Kendra slapped the ringleader and gripped his staff until his knuckles whitened, resisting the urge to smash it into the man's skull.

Later, as the funeral was ending and the body lowered into the grave Darcon bid farewell to the Professor one last time, then turned his gaze towards the other outsiders who had come to the village to attend the funeral. The Professor had made friends with quite a variety of people with a broad spectrum of skills, and that did not surprise Darcon in the slightest. In fact, it could be the solution to a quandary the mage had been facing over the past few months, and he resolved to meet with as many of them as he could and see where things led.

But first things first; Darcon walked over to Kendra and spoke quietly, "I am Darcon my lady, and I count your father as one of my teachers. I must say your bravery in facing this grief and in facing down those illiterate ruffians earlier did not surprise me in the least, you are truly your father's daughter, and if Professor Lorimarr could see you now, his heart would be full of joy. I would be honored to join you at your home for supper, and relive tales of brighter days gone by."

Garland stood at the grave looking down at it as he reached back to his backpack, pulling out the bottle of wine that laid on top. One he had brought all the way from Ulcazar, the same Inn he and Petros had formed their eternal friendship at. "Before you all leave. I met Petros in the county of Ulcazar and he and I put a lost soul to rest. We became fast friends and over the years as we wrote letters he had expressed a desire to return to that Inn and sample its wine once again. On my way here I traveled through Ulcazar to acquire a bottle of the same drink we shared. I can think of no greater sign of his legacy then if the people he knew and loved shared in it with me."

Without waiting for an answer he pulled the cork from the bottle and lifted it back, taking one swig of it as the sweet taste of the wine coated his tongue. Without a word he offered it to the next person, hoping all would partake in a farewell drink to the Professor.

SCG held back much like Garland he had intended for the grave to be filled before he departed.  He spoke to Father Grimburrow and the dwarves in hushed tones...
“I fear those malcontents may desecrate this grave in the dark of night, before I get an opportunity to speak with Mr. Hephenus personally, can any remain here in the case?”

He accepts a drink of the wine offered him and passes it on. He nods to the man, offering his hand.
“Constantine.”



Once SCG is certain the body will be warded for the evening he goes to introduce himself properly;
“Lady Lorrimor, I am Sir Constantine GodAlming.”
He offers a bow and then turning he offers her the crook of his elbow...

As they begin walking he waits for her to speak...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

When the crowd came to try and stop them, Keldros had stayed silent as speaking up would draw attention to him and might have inflamed things more with his...heritage. So he kept his head down and tensed, ready to set down the Professor should things have turned violent - but thankfully, they did not and the crowd dispersed. His lips twitched at the slap Kendra gave.

He bowed his head respectfully during Father Grimburrow's eulogy. when it was over, he began to turn to Kendra but another person came up to speak with her, so he waited. Then another one of the people that didn't look like they belonged in the town spoke up about the Professor and wine.

He pondered it for a moment, as well as the request from other, and then gave the slightest of shrugs. His voice was soft and unthreatening - and it sounded like it was something he worked at, something he purposefully did to help with de-escalation (often pre-escalation). "Do you intend to stand vigil here every night? If someone truly intends to desecrate the grave, they may not be dissuaded by one night's intervention."

He hesitated then took the wine, taking a small sip of it before passing it on. "I'm not saying you shouldn't stand watch, only pointing out that either nothing will happen, or we might wish to approach it from a different angle - say, talking to people and spreading the truth about the Professor to dissuade that sort of thing."

Kendra drank lightly from the offered bottle, passed around the small knot of new friends like a sacrament to an old one. When all had tasted the rubiate liquor it was laid on the casket, more than half still remaining to see the professor merrily into his next life.

Kendra shared kind words with Darcon, Garland, Sir Constantine, and the others who gathered around to express their condolences. Slightly apart from the group Father Grimburrow seemed to share Constantine and Keldros' concerns.

"I'll have a word with Sheriff Caeler before the night is out." The old priest said quietly, drawing Keldros and Constantine aside. "I'm sure he can spare a deputy to watch over the grave tonight. Hephenus Gibs may be a curmudgeon and a bit full of himself, but I doubt that he has the courage to do more than scowl without a mob of cronies at his back. Besides, I believe you are wanted at the Lorrimor estate this evening."

Kendra, who had overhear their brief conversation, nodded.

"There is a dinner after the funeral, and the reading of my father's will. It would mean a lot to him, to us, if you could attend." She said.

The invitation was general, but of the assembled mourners only our heroes and Count Galdana were able to attend. The others bid their farewells and Father Grimburrow bustled off towards the sherrif's office.

Kendra led the way back through Ravengro to the professor's modest home near the middle of town. The center of the town square was dominated by the Harrowstone memorial, a large statue of Warden Hawkran, who had died in the fire that gutted the prison. His pose was heroic but the stone was old and worn, its plinth covered in creeping moss.

The professor's home was a cozy, rustling, untidy place filled to the brim with books, scrolls, and oddities. Bookshelves lined all of the walls, even in the dining room, and the piles of books and papers on chairs and end tables made the collection of scholarly knowledge look like it was spilling off the walls and into the rooms.

Once she was sure the troublemaker had lost his sway on the crowd, Shara stepped back to allow the more saddened and somber among them to say their piece about the professor. When it was her turn, she simply stepped up to the casket, bowed her head, and smiled, before allowing the next person to speak. She knew that death meant better things and new adventures for the dear professor, but that others preferred mourning of death before celebration of life and a transition to the realms of their fate. She would hold her own vigil for the late professor later, in personal prayer, but for now she was content to sate her curiosity about the odd company the man kept.

A select number of the procession headed to the estate, and here she grew wide-eyed at the man's collection of lore. Most of their relationship had been via correspondence, so this was her first time actually seeing the place in which her learned friend wrote his letters from.

   Murkau kept his face as stone during the encounter, ready to place the Professor on the ground should the need arise. Thankfully it did not, as the more eloquent spoke to the mob, and they shortly dispersed. Though not before Kendra gave Gibs a sharp slap across the face, which brought a grin to the normally dour dwarf's mug. "Ye still got that arm on ya, eh lass? I'm surprised he came within striking distance, there's stories of your fury across half of Avistan!"

   Once the Professor was laid in his grave, Murkau took part in the wine though only a light taste, his order allowed only a small partaking of any drink that might befuddle the senses, before handing the bottle to the next. Afterwards he spoke with his fellow dwarves before they left, apologizing for his rebukes earlier. When others questioned whether or not any of the mob from before might do something sacrilegious, Murkau only briefly thought about it as he figured those raised in Ustalav knew better than to meddle in the affairs of the dead, lest they raise an angry spirit. Therefore he quietly followed the assembled back to Kendra's, excusing himself to change clothes shortly after entering.

When the ceremonies were over Garland made his way to the Lorrimor estate, meeting everyone else there with a gentle and welcoming smile. He did not bother changing as he wanted people to see him as he was, a cleric of Pharasma as well as a healer and scholar still dressed in his priestly adornments and armor. When allowed entrance he looked over the bookshelves, taking note of the large collection as he walked along them. It was clear that he was in his element as he looked over all the reference material, clearly impressed. "Ordo's guide to surgery, Prehistoric Triage, Alchemical herbology and bodily effects...Petros had quite the collection of medical reference material. Its no wonder he was an endless wealth of information about the topic." he said aloud

He wanted to pull a few tomes down and start reading though he tried to be more considerate. He knew if Petros was here he wouldnt have minded though he only knew Kendra from the letters and didnt know the daughter nearly as well. Instead he took a seat on the nearby couch, folding his gloved hands neatly in his lap as he waited patiently for the others to arrive and for the reading of Petros' will.

SCG thanked the man for agreeing to send a deputy for the nights watch.  He still intended to pay a visit to the rabble rouser or at least find out what tongue he had listened to or what ill will he bore; so that amends might be made if they could.

He was glad that the lady accepted his arm for the trip back; once they reached the door he let her go in first; as others proceeded in he let them enter the dwelling ahead of him.  He walked around the house making certain he knew of all the doors and windows, satisfied he too finally entered.  He wondered what was the condition of this town did it have a court and a jail, surely the sheriff had the support of the people.

Seeing the collection of books and melange of assorted curios; he looked for the personal items a music box, collection of hard candies or a pipe.  It dawned on him suddenly...
“I wish had known him better.”
His eyes moisten

Darcon entered the Professor's house carefully, almost as if not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the place. Once inside he found the cozy interior quite welcoming, especially contrasted to the dismal weather outside.

His gaze immediately shot to the bookshelves, and his eyes widened at the lore that was surely gathered there. The cleric of pharasma already beat him to it, and Darcon joined him in inspecting the shelves as they waited for everyone to arrive and the reading of the will to being.

Running his fingers lightly over the spines of the tomes, almost reverently, he inspected the titles with a small smile, wondering if Kendra would allow him to borrow a few of the books for reading. If so, Darcon decided his stay in Ravengro would have to be extended until he had studied some of the collected lore here, and made notes for his own use.

Garland looks back at Constantine as he mentions wishing he knew Petros better and it made him consider the people that were here, all touched by his best friend in some way. "Pharasma teaches us that death is not the end. Everyone will go to the boneyard when we pass on and everyone will stand before the lady of graves and be judged for our works in life, obtaining an afterlife to bless or profane how we lived. Yet even in death Petros, as all of our legacies, live on with those left behind. You, me, Kendra...all of us were touched by him in some way. If you wish to know him better you need only look to those of us who knew him. Through our memories, stories, experiences, and encounters he will live on even after his passing."

Keldros had nodded to Father Grimburrow when he spoke of his 'plan' with talking to the sheriff. "Thank you, Father. I appreciate your vigilance and aid in smoothing our concerns."

The half-elf wasn't sure he was up to eating just yet, but he gave Kendra a small half-bow and indeed did follow her home. He didn't step in first, after Kendra, but he didn't wait to be the last either. He looked around as he slowly walked inside. He had never actually been to the Professor's home before - they had always met on sites and in exotic locales when the Professor needed his help.

The one man lamented not knowing the Professor better and the cleric of Pharasma spoke up with an attempt to use his religious beliefs as a comfort for others. It was partially successful, though not wholly truthful to Keldros. But this wasn't the time to take away from something that might ease the pain of others in the room that were mourning - such as himself, truth be told.

"Well spoken."

Kendra invited our heroes and Count Galdana to sit around the scrubbed wooden table, a tight fit but not particularly uncomfortable. Cozy. She served a hearty but simple dinner, potatoes baked in cheese, smoked ham, tea, and dark wine.

The meal was intimate and remembrances ran deep. The Count was known to Garland by reputation, both residents of Caliphas, and they shared a little banter about the city's politics. Stories of the professor's adventures flitted like ghosts of a friendlier past about the table and Kendra seemed eager to hear anything she could of her father's professional life.

"Thank you for making the journey to Ravengro." She said when everyone was settled and the meal was beginning to wind down, lifting her glass to the table.

"I'm glad that you came, Count Galdana, I know you were a good friend to my father. The six of you," She said, addressing our heroes, "I am especially glad to see. You see, each of you is named in his will. I haven't read it myself, his instructions were for the will to be read in the presence of all beneficiaries after his passing, but I understand that he's left something to each of you.

Finish your supper, the town barrister Mister Hearthmont should be here shortly for the reading."

After the food had been cleared away there came a sharp, clear knock at the door. Kendra bustled over to admit a short, portly gentleman with a bristly beard and immaculately pressed barrister's robes. Kendra introduced him as Councilman Hearthmont, the town's barrister and the head of the town council. Like most of Ravengro's inhabitants he looked sullen and distrustful of outsiders, although he had character to at least act polite and professional.

He bustled his way to the head of the table, retrieved a pair of small spectacles from a case in his waistcoat pocket, and produced the professor's will from a wax-sealed scroll case. He cleared his throat, glanced around to be certain that he was being granted the proper gravitas, and began to read.

“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this
parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with
the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and
personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or
sell them as you see fit, my child.

“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this
document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading
of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in
attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I
have two final favors to ask.

“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are
few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of
what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many
of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and
inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge
of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.

“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire
a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one
of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward
legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under
lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have
borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable
for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my
daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the
danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting
my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver
the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who
will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.

“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of
another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend
that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is
safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone,
and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she
desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal
gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum
of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these
funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in
Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon
the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month
after the date of the reading of this will.

“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this
first day of Calistril, in the year 4609.”

SCG temples his hands in front of him, his fingertips touching, but the palms at an angle; as the will is read.  Afterwards he reads the document himself.

“It would seem I have received a request, in order to accept I must know what is expected and what this entails.  I also have no resources for such an extended stay.”
He looks to Kendra
This message was last edited by the player at 19:35, Mon 14 Jan 2019.

Darcon enjoyed the meal and ate his fill, something he rarely did, preferring to eat only close to satiation. A full stomach dulled the mind in his experience. This night he made an exception, and did not regret it in the least.

Afterwards, he remained seated as the will was read, listening carefully. When it was finished he found he had no qualms with the instructions, or rather the request of the late professor.

Darcon had intended to remain here anyway to study the professor's books, this only gave him a good excuse. Not to mention watching over Kendra would be an honor, and Darcon would sleep easy knowing the professors spirit might feel peace when it knew his daughter was in good hands.

"I agree to these instructions," Darcon announced softly, looking at Kendra as he did so. "I do not have any accomodations here, so I would be glad to have some recommended. I can pay for my stay as long as it is not too expensive, in the latter case I earn my keep by helping with any scribe work the mayors office might require, or helping to identify any suspected items of magic the town treasury might have in its possession."

His mind did keep wandering to the trove of forbidden books the professor mentioned in his letter; ancient, dangerous lore...Darcon mind began almost to itch and he wondered how he might convince Kendra to allow him to have a look at those tomes.

Perhaps they contained ancient spells of banishment and detection of evil things, and maybe even spells that could allow a user to take the fight to such creatures. Surely in the hands of a well meaning mage like Darcon such lore could be put to good use, rather than be locked up in a university. Or better if he were allowed to make copies of the spells to be found there-in...

Still this was a request best saved for the coming weeks, once the daughter had time to come to terms with her grief.

Shara said a quiet personal prayer over the meal before digging in. She remained mostly quiet as others regaled each other with tales of the late professor, but would occasionally chime in with some keen insight on the mannerisms and behavior of the professor and his colleagues. She watched the others closely, as did the bird on her shoulder that she fed the occasional table scrap, getting the measure of their characters and personalities.

She remained calm through the reading of the will, though her eyebrow arched ever so slightly when the sum of gold they were to be bequeathed was mentioned. She nodded to the requests and looked towards the others for their responses.

It was only when the will was read that Garland thought anything. He was pleased to know that he was in the professors thoughts though the nature of the situation made him wonder. "What did you get yourself into Petros?" he thought.

He looked to Count Galdana first. "It seems my leave of abscence will be longer then I thought. Count Galdana, when you return to Caliphas would you mind delivering a letter to the cathedral for me? They should be aware I will be away for some time."

He then spoke to everyone in unison. "Knowing Petros as I did, he was not a man to make such requests lightly. I believe there is a reason he asked us to stay and watch over Kendra, perhaps one he could not pen directly. We should begin with his collection of tomes to see what we are dealing with. We can make further steps once we know what has come into our possession...and though it may be painful to recount the tale, I wish to know how Petros died."

“Perhaps I can do some work for the sheriffs office, I have experience in law and order; and perhaps they can aid in securing the chest.

"I have little else at the moment to be doin', so I'll gladly do this. If any of ye need anything, let me know."

Councilman Hearthmont dutifully collected signatures on the will from each of the beneficiaries with Count Galdana acting as witness. He bowed to the table, packed his small valise, and readied to depart. On his way out the door he leaned back to give Darcon an appraising look.

"If you are interested in clerical work I can arrange an introduction at the city offices. Call on me tomorrow." He said, and left with a shallow bow.

The will lay in the center of the table as if presiding over the gathering.

Kendra seemed as surprised as the others to learn the contents of the will, especially to learn the sort of research that her father had been involved in.

"I...I hadn't given much thought to what I would do next. Father and I had discussed traveling to Lepidstadt next year to study at the university there, but now that he's gone I'm not certain what's next."

A sad look passed over her face before she forced it into a bright smile.

"I would be more than grateful for any of you who would like to stay. We have a...we have two spare bedrooms, my father's and a guest room. And any of you who wish can find accommodations at the Laughing Demon. I don't know how receptive the townsfolk will be to add an outsider to the constabulary," She said to Sir Constantine. "But you spoke well at the procession. I'm sure Sheriff Caeler would at least entertain the idea."

Kendra's face fell a bit at Garland's question, but her brave face again covered painful memories.

"My...my father's death was an accident. He had been exploring up at the old..."

Count Galdana, who had been sitting in thoughtful silence, leaned in over the table. If he heard Garland's polite request to carry a letter he gave no sign. Instead his eyes focused with birdbright intensity on Kendra, a calculating, appraising glance. He steepled his narrow fingers and broke in over Kendra.

"The books, girl." Perhaps realizing his rudeness his features softened somewhat and a patronizing smile curled on his features. "There may be time for painful remembrances later. For now we must find out what Petros left behind. Where is this chest of tomes?"

His eyes darted about the room, peering into corners and shadows as if to see the chest before him.

Garland shot a glance at the count, though paid him little more mind then holding up a  single hand in front of him as if he were silencing a new acolyte. "Go on Kendra. The professors death was an accident as he was exploring where?" he asks in a calm voice, concentrating on the young woman with a warm smile.

He didnt say it but something seemed off to him. Petros was a man who hunted evil, explored ruins, and brushed with danger so there was no question he lived a dangerous live. However an accident seemed unlikely as the Professor was known for hiring experts and muscle when going on a research venture or monster hunt.

“Aye, I have two gold to my name, in silvers and coppers I would gladly pay it for room and board, but honestly I would be better served obtaining work, if not the sheriff then perhaps the stables, and paying my own way.” 

SCG thinks beyond his immediate needs
“And yes securing the chest of books is an upmost concern, do we know the size and weight of it? Will we need a wagon or cart?

"I am skilled in the ways of the priesthood, as well as the healing arts. I would happily provide such services to the local clergy and villagers in my time here." Shara chimes in.

Count Galdana looked angry at Garland's dismissive gesture, Kendra's eyes wavered between them for a long moment. Eventually Constantine's comments and the Count's insistence on seeing the books seemed to sway her opinions and she rose with an apologetic look to Garland. She bustled out of the room and the sounds of her rummaging came faintly to our hero's ears. She returned a short moment later with a small ironbound chest which she placed on the table.

It was locked, and there was another pause as she searched her father's study for the key. She gestured for Garland to follow her and talked as he helped her look.

"Father's death was an accident up at the abandoned prison, Harrowstone. He was always taking trips, and he had been there several times, but never without telling me where he was going or how long he would be gone. The day he died he left for the prison in the morning and when...when he hadn't returned by supper time I went to Sheriff Caeler. We went to the prison to look for him.

We found him just inside the front gate. A stone gargoyle had crumbled and fallen on him, it looked like it killed him instantly." She said, grief still tinging her voice.

Eventually she found the chest key tucked away in a small drawer and returned to the table.

She unlocked the chest, took a deep breath, and pushed open the lid. Count Galdana crowded in over her shoulder to peer inside.

The chest held a small stack of books. There were five in total, each with a note tucked into the front cover so as to protrude slightly.

The first was a thick tome with a rich purple cover. Its center was worked with an ornate but tarnished gold insignia depicting a sword and a feather crossed beneath a vigilant eye. The spine was thick and a small ornate lock bound it shut, although there was no evidence of a key in the box. Its title named it Manual of the Order of the Shining Eye and the note indicated that it was to be delivered to Judge Embreth Daramid in Lepidstadt.

The next several books were bundled together and the note indicated that they were to be delivered to Professor Montagnie Crowl at Lepidstadt University. The first was a jet black tome with yellowed pages named On Verified Madness. The pages looked ancient and the professor's notes were scrawled liberally in the margins. The second was called Serving Your Hunger, a copy of one of several books sacred to the goddess Urgathoa. The third was The Umbral Leaves, a translation into common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuthon.

The last book was smaller and newer, set atop all the others and penned in the Professor's hand. It was obviously a journal or log of some kind, the entries were dated and numbered and several of the recent entries had been circled. Rather than a note the words "READ ME NOW" had been scratched into the leather cover with something sharp.

---

11:58, Today: GM, for the NPC Count Galdana, rolled 18 using 1d20+8.  Diplomacy.
11:57, Today: GM, on behalf of Garland Van Burke, rolled 12 using 1d20+2.  Diplomacy.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Wed 16 Jan 2019.

Darcon gave Hearthmont a nod at his offer as the councilman departed. He intended to take him up on the offer, but did not intend to start working right away, he had funds enough to survive for the next couple of days at least and intended to spend them with Kendra, the Professors other acquaintance and the treasure trove of lore gathered here in this house.

"I would be happy to take residence in the guest room here," the mage said to Kendra in a kind tone. He wanted to be close to her in case she needed something and ofcourse, to study the books in Lorimar's library.

At Galdana's prodding, as Kendra bustled to get the chest Darcon found himself considering Count Galdana with some measure of suspicion, and not a little distaste. The man's attitude and callousness irked Darcon, and he disliked the way the Count greedily sought after the chest.

He resolved to spend the next few days taking residency here in the guestroom; the mage did not trust this Count to have Kendra's best interests at heart, not to mention the threat of the rabble they faced earlier yet loomed; at least one might return after a few drinks in his belly to seek revenge for Kendra's slap.

As Kendra brought the chest and opened it, Darcon viewed the books with interest. Ofcourse, as soon as the smaller book was laid on the table he reached out immediately and picked it up, before the Count could get his grubby hands on it. "It does say 'Read Me Now'," the mage explained to the others by way of explanation.

Taking a quick glance towards Kendra to see if she had any misgivings, Darcon flipped the book open and started skimming through it.

The Count peered curiously into the box, poking around to make sure that nothing was underneath the tomes. He tried the lock on the Manual of the Order of the Shining Eye but left aside as there was no visible means of opening it. His curiosity seemed satisfied, his nervous sense of excitement abated.

"Just books after all." He said, half to himself.

The journal in Darcon's hands held the Professor's research notes. The general fare was dry, boring logs of research and day to day affairs but the circled entries were startling and illuminating, the first of which was dated nearly ten years ago.

Ten Years Ago
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.

Two Months Ago
It is as I feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?

One Month Ago
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.

Twenty Days Ago
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.

Eighteen Days Ago
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.

Seventeen Days Ago. The date of the professor's death.
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.

---

SacG listens at the reading of the document.

“I fear my friends that we may need to go and see what evil maybe brewing and to see what the professor saw, his concern was dire and if the whole town is in danger we cannot ignore it.”

He looks each person in the eye...
“Perhaps we could leave a guard here to look after the books and glean more insight while several of us go to the prison, perhaps also engaging the sheriff.”

After having read out loud the journal entries, Darcon shut the book with a loud snap of finality. He was silent for a moment, digesting what he had read and letting it settle onto the others also.

Finally he looked up and spoke, "Well, first things first. It is apparent the Professor's death was not an accident; this...Cabal, The Whispering Way seems to be involved, and quite possibly the very cause. We need more information about them, as well as this Harrowstone place, which seems to be a ruined old prison somewhere around here, as well as the fire that burned it down."

Turning his head to glance at Kendra out of both concern and not a little tinge of sadness he went on, "Your life is in danger my lady, especially if word gets out about this journal and perhaps these other books as well," Darcon stared hard at the Count for a moment as he spoke, tinging his tone with a touch of sinister inflection, then nodded at Sir Constantine as he spoke and went on, "I propose she always remain under our guard, with at least two of us with her at all times. Someone keeping watch on the outside of this house would also be beneficial."

Turning to glance at the tall and muscular Garland, the mage asked the cleric, "The list the professor mentioned the Temple of Pharasma having, can you obtain it? It will aid us in our investigation. Not to mention the tools to ward against evil spirits the Professor writes about, your fellow clergy may know something about it so any information about that could be helpful."

---

ooc: Knowledge (History): 14; Knowledge (Arcana): 08 To recall anything about The Whispering Way


This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Shara arched an eyebrow at the revealed religious texts, as she was familiar with the wicked faiths behind them. She knew that the professor had a purely academic interest in such materials, but they were still unpleasant to look at and think about.

But it was the journal that really caught her attention. The Whispering Way... something about that sounded familiar, and not for a good reason. By context, though, they were clearly a cabal of necromancers, and therefore anathema to the faith of Pharasma.

"I'm in." she blurts out, surprising herself. Regaining her composure, she continues. "I mean, I will help investigate this Whispering Way and any influence they may have in this region, including the death of the professor. I can not, and will not, let necromancy go unchallenged, even far from my home."



11:07, Today: Shara rolled 22 using 1d20+9.  Knowledge (Religion). For anything about Whispering Way.

"I've been with the Professor helpin' fight the various undead he's come across for years. I'll help put down the cabal that ended his life, especially since my own organization opposes undead and those who would deal with them," The dwarf was positively fuming as the journal was read, his fury at this mysterious organization causing his knuckles to whiten as he clenched his fists. As the other's spoke he seemed to calm, though a dangerous glint remained in his eye.

"That said we lack the knowledge the Professor had, so we should do some research ourselves before entering the ruins. Rule number 3 of Dungeoneering: Know what you're gettin' into. We should check the magistrates records in the morning, see what we can find."

Garland sits there silently listening to the entire journal and when it is completed he even takes it to read over himself looking for any missed details or things that seemed like code. "That is a lot to take in but it seems my suspicion's were accurate. Though I am surprised Petros did not enlist aid as he often did I feel we must look into his death more as well as continue his investigation of Harrowstone."

On the table in front of him he makes a spiral motion that people might recognize as the symbol of Pharasma. "Your work is done my friend, rest knowing that we will continue it." he whispered in thought before looking across that table at the count as he ignores the other questions. "I have been patient and rather cordial up to this point but now I believe we must address the troll in the room. Count Galdana, I want nothing more then the truth. What were you really looking for?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:42, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

Kendra looked more and more stricken as Darcon read out her father's journal, fear and anger warring in equal portion over her face.

"Thank you all, I don't know what I would do without all of you here." She said solemnly, looking around the group.

"If these...this Whispering Way really did have something to do with my father's death we must find them. They can't get away with it." She flushed with anger.

"You can all stay here in the house if you'd like, with the couch and a bedroll in the study there'll be enough room for everyone. My father's library will surely be useful for any research we need to do, and the Temple of Pharasma and the town council both have valuable records of the town's history." She nodded toward's Murkau at his prudent suggestion.

She put a warning hand on Constantine's arm.

"It doesn't seem prudent to venture up to the prison tonight, let's leave it for tomorrow at least. And I hardly think that I'll need an armed guard." She said, although she sounded less than certain.

At Garland's pointed question the Count merely shrugged.

"What was I looking for? I heard the will, the same as you. Surely you must have been as curious about the books mentioned there as I? I must confess, while my interest in my dear departed friend is keen my interest in his work is less so. Still, I was curious about the tomes that he would chose to leave us." He swept to his feet, leveling a calculating glance at Garland, and took up his hat and cane.

"Alas, I must be away to Caliphas before first light. My business was not so pressing as to prevent me from attending the funeral of a dear friend, but pressing enough to urge haste."

He took Kendra's hand and bowed low over it. She looked a bit uncomfortable at the undercurrent of hostility that seemed to have sprung up between the Count and Garland.

"Do call on me, child, if you are ever in need. To the rest of you, adieu." He bowed to the assembled guests and marched out of the house.

Shara's brow furrowed at the tension between Garland and the Count, especially when the Count gave a rather dismissive response then hurried off. There had to be more to his attitude than simple curiosity about the Professor's will...


08:58, Today: Shara rolled 24 using 1d20+9.  Sense Motive.

SCG took in the continued information though he was no scholar he felt assured those most capable would find the necessary information.

“It seems obvious to me that those involved in whispers are most susceptible to endless suspicion.”

“Thank you Lady the floor shall be sufficient for my sleep.”

He considers the researchers and the tomes.
“I meant not to imply a hurried excursion into the place without obtaining the knowledge needed.  I have cold iron but nothing of great effect against such evil as the notes portend.”

“I have been schooled but more of breadth than any real depth a superficial overview as the professor would say, have said.”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:13, Mon 21 Jan 2019.

Appearing to ignore the Count as he bowed and left, Darcon looked at Kendra and smiled before speaking in a reassuring tone, "Our thanks for your generous offer my lady, I at least will take you up on your offer. I will make use of your father's books before retiring to sleep, but let me know if you need anything from me."

Pulling back his hood he let his long hair fall to his shoulders and walked over to a nearby shelf of books, propping his staff by a wall. Turning his head towards Kendra he added, "As for a guard, well your father requested us to remain with you until you get your affairs in order, and remain with you we shall. Think of us less as a guard and more like companions."

Garland clearly wore his mistrust on his sleeve though without evidence he had nothing to go on and allowed the Count to lie to his face. Though he looks him dead in the eye as he goes to leave. "Pharasma teaches us that all will stand in the boneyard when we die. All will be judged by her for our works in life. Think on that truth and have a safe journey."

Garland would not say another word till the Count was gone, thinking it to dangerous to let an unknown element let him know any future plans. Only when the count leaves does Garland claim a spot on the floor in the professors study where he can roll out his bedroll and place his things. He then returns to join the others sitting down with one of the books Petros left to them before he opens it and begins to read, speaking softly. "In the morning I will go to the temple and consult with Father Grimburrow and hopefully obtain the prisoner list that Petros mentioned. I welcome anyone who wishes to visit the temple with me. Once that is done I recommend we look into this false crypt should Father Grimburrow know nothing of it. "

Shara nods at Garland's talk of the temple.

"I will assist you. While not formally clergy, I was raised by a temple of Pharasma and am well-versed in religious lore and practices." she says, touching the dagger at her hip.

Keldros remained quiet throughout the evening, seemingly deep in thought. His keen eyes flicked between Garland and Count Galdana but held his peace until the Count was leaving. He hesitated for a long moment, and then stood suddenly.

"How fortuitous, my dear count. With the funeral over I find that my responsibilities in Caliphas are pressing for me as well. Would you mind if I accompany you on the road?"

The Count paused, his hand on the doorknob, a look of mild surprise on his face. After a moment his usual gracious smile spread and he bowed.

"I would be honored. My carriage leaves before first light, I shall have my coachman ready your mount as well."

Keldros took Kendra's hand warmly before he left, leaning close to whisper some words of comfort and consolation before leaving on the Count's heel's, their conversation regarding their itinerary briefly drifting back to the house.

Kendra made sure that everyone was comfortable that night before putting out the lights. She insisted that Shara take the guest bed, and with the men in bedrolls or on the couch it was quite cozy. Nobody took up the professor's empty bed.

---

Kendra was awake early the following morning and the smells of oatmeal and tea wafted through the house. After breakfast Garland and Shara bid farewell to the group to make their way to the city's temple of Pharasma.

They were greeted by an acolyte who bowed politely and led them to Father Grimburrow's simple cell. The aging priest raised a hand in a gesture of blessing.

"What brings you here, my children?" He asked rheumatically.

Exeunt to Chapter 1.1 - link to a message in this game

---

Meanwhile, the morning was slow at the Lorrimor residence, breakfast and conversation wafting through the morning air, until there was a sharp rap on the door.

Kendra answered it to reveal the stern looking figure of Ravengro's sheriff, Benjan Caeler. He looked somewhat apologetic at the interruption but firmly stepped into the kitchen.

"Miss Lorrimor." He said, doffing his hat politely.

"I need to have a word with your guests about the disturbance in the square."

---

Shara definitely gets the impression that the Count is being evasive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:43, Tue 22 Jan 2019.

SCG notes the knock and upon hearing who has come pokes his head out.

“We have not been formally introduced I am Sir Constantine GodAlming out of Absolom.  I had meant to meet with you on my own, this is most fortunate indeed.  I believe we have plenty of oatmeal to share.”

He extends his hand to the sheriff...

Sir Constantine Godalming rolled 29 using 1d20+9 ((20)).
This message was last edited by the player at 20:21, Tue 22 Jan 2019.

Sheriff Caeler took Constantine's hand and gave it a firm, businesslike shake. His demeanor wasn't hostile or inquisitive, if anything he seemed apologetic at breaking in during Kendra's period of grieving.

"Apologies for the interruption." He nodded politely to Kendra and the men sitting around the breakfast table.

"I have some questions for your friends about the disturbance in the square this morning." He said.

"Where were you last night between the hours of midnight and dawn? Did you see anything suspicious near the town square?"

“No worries friend, we came back here and eventually settled in for the night.  I am not aware of anyone leave by before dawn.  Several left after breakfast to seek the priest.”

SCG continues to eat his oatmeal the butter and brown sugar making it taste good.

“What happened in the very heart of your town?”

"Aye the lad speaks the truth, we all slept here after supper and the reading of the will. The Count and that Keldros fellow left shortly after the reading of the will, but they had pressing matters in Caliphas so I doubt they stayed in town for long." Murkau added, eating his own breakfast of oatmeal with some dried meats he brought out. "I stepped out shortly after the reading but I sat on the porch, smoking a cigar. I reentered the residence well before midnight, and had not noticed anything in my time outside. Did ye need any help sheriff?"

Kendra quickly verified Constantine and Murkau's whereabouts as Sheriff Caeler jotted in a small notebook. He snapped it shut and stowed it in his coat pocket.

"Sorry for the disturbance, you five are the only strangers still in town and Councilman Hearthmount wanted me to do my due diligence.

There was some...vandalism last night. Somebody painted a big letter "V" on the Hearthstone memorial." His tone was conversational now, no longer investigating but discussing simple, small town vandalism.

"I'm having my deputies wash it off, I'm sure it's just some farmer's children playing pranks."

"Hearthstone memorial? Mind if'n I ask ye what it's a memorial to sheriff?" Murkau asked after swallowing the bite he took while the sheriff spoke. "Strange things might be afoot, Godalming, think we ought to let the man o' law know whats in the professor's journal?"

“Nay sir I have seen such signals used to coordinate crimes perhaps a countdown for a crime to happen five days hence.  Such an obvious sign and no clues to follow; Tis unlike the work of children.”

SCG looks thoughtful and smiles a little
“In my day I did such and left an apple core, a pee puddles and my small footprints in the general area. I also left both the paint and brush, not to mention spilt paint....perhaps we should look before it is cleaned.”

"It's the statue in the center of town." The sheriff said.

Most of our heroes had seen the statue on the way into town, an old iron statue on a stone plinth standing in the town square.

"It was built years ago, after the old prison burned down. It commemorates the guards that died in the fire. If you'd like to take a look you'd best hurry, they're cleaning it off now."

"It'll be a good first stop at the very least, want to come with?" Murkau turns to ask SCG as he stands from the table. It was a good thing Murkau had prepared to leave the house already, so he just needed to deal with his plates and hook his weaponry onto the various belts.

“Unfortunately I have the responsibility for this home and it’s contents until the others return, so in good conscience I cannot leave.  I will come as soon as I am properly relieved from my post.”

Darcon had spent some time last perusing the professor's library; as much as he would have liked to read the books on the arcane arts the professor had in his collection, their immediate need demanded he catch up on recent and not so recent events of their locality. Thankfully the library was organized well enough and he found what he needed to start putting together the pieces to this puzzle.

He awoke early and after freshening up and eating breakfast with the others, he was present when the sheriff arrived. Listening to him with interest Darcon agreed they ought to visit the memorial, since it was connected with what was sure to be their next goal, visiting the ruins of Harrowstone itself.

Sir Constantine made a good point, however. They could not leave the books, the chest and Kendra unguarded.

"Do we really need to split up further? Kendra can come with us while we can hide the chest and its contents here and lock up the home, the memorial is not so far away after all and we can be there and back in no time," he said to Constantine, glancing at Kendra to see if she agreed.

---

Knowledge History: 23

"I'm sure things will be more than safe here with Sir Godalming keeping an eye on the books. Although if you would like to accompany us I very much doubt that they would be in any danger. They sat in that chest perfectly safely until last night." Kendra said. There was no question of her remaining at home, she was headstrong and inquisitive enough to brook no argument on that account.

She bustled about briefly, clearing away breakfast and putting on her hat and shawl, before joining our heroes in the entryway. She motioned for Sheriff Caeler to lead the way, linked arms with Murkau and Darcon, and marched off towards the town square.

---

The small town square was an unusual hubbub of activity. The sleepy little town of Ravengro saw very little crime, and none of such a public and visible nature, and in the way of small towns the crowd was gathering the fuel that would churn its rumor mill for months to come. Whispers and hushed gossip flew as villagers vied for a better look. More than one shot suspicious, unfriendly glances at the strangers as the sheriff led them through the crowd.

At the center stood the Hearthstone memorial, a statue of Warden Hawkran on a tapered square stone pedestal. A pair of deputies were near the memorial, one shooing the crowd back while the other worked with a bucket and rag. While the vandal had indeed painted a large letter V on the base, Sheriff Caeler's description of the crime had perhaps been a bit pedestrian.

The painted V was a rusty, flaky red. Even a cursory inspection showed that the glyph was formed, not of ink or paint, but of splashed blood. Smears and splatters of blood had been thrown around the base and up onto the statue, creating a macabre tableau.

---

On the outskirts of Ravengro a lone figure approached, trudging up the long and dusty road that wound past small farms and over rolling hills.

Keanala Stonesmarque, delayed on the road, had arrived a day too late to attend the funeral that had brought her to town. She had made up what time she could, but as she drew nearer to the town her attention was drawn to a crowd of people clustered in the town square.

“Of course, my hope is the others return from the library for lunch.”


SCG waved them on their journey as the group departed leaving him alone to ward the homestead.


His mind focused on the job of guarding the house.

It is a short time later when the doors open once again and Garland returns to the estate with a pleased look on his face. He waits for everyone to be gathered before reporting their success. "With Shara's help we were able to convince Father Grimburrow to open the archives for us and he's also agreed to sell us all sorts of items like potions and holy water. Something that concerns me is he mentioned people have been acting differently in the last few weeks, darker and more suspicious. Shara and I both believe there is more going on here then even we thought before. What of you all, are there any new discoveries?"

Murkau let himself be led by the younger woman with a small chuckle, grabbing his pack as they left the door. Upon arriving at the town square the dwarf quickly put on a dour face again, not quite expecting a large crowd this early in the morning. The dwarf shook his head, beady eyes glancing about the crowd as they were escorted, muttering under his breath, "You'd think that they'd have more important matters this early in the morn. After all your farm and lands don't care much should there be a hubbub at the town, and ye could hear of it later on."

Upon having a clear view of the statue, Murkau tensed, his body shifting from wary anxiety to high alert, "This was made with blood... How long has your man there been scrubbing sheriff?"

Shara quietly followed along behind Garland as the man shared the discoveries they'd made at the temple. With this new observation from Father Grimburrow that moods had been darkening, she made sure to keep a close eye on the people they'd passed and even the group of the Professor's associates, looking for any signs of magical or spiritual influence.

"Perhaps I hadn't noticed, in the weeks since my father's death I've mostly kept to myself. But in retrospect things have been a bit tense around town. Tempers running short, neighbors quarreling, that sort of thing." Kendra said, commenting on Garland's report. Her words were underscored by the crowd's general grumbling. They seemed just as unhappy about strangers in town as they were with the vandalism.

Scrubbing down the statue was proceeding apace, the unhappy deputy on mop-and-bucket duty was making rapid progress cleaning off the monument. It was easy enough to wash the smooth stone; the blood, while gruesome, looked perfectly mundane. As if unconsciously guided by some macabre fascination with the letter he cleaned off all of the splashes and drips of blood first, before wiping out the red V itself.

"We found it like that this morning." Sheriff Caeler said to Murkau.

"Councilman Hearthmount wanted to see it. He ah...asked me to inquire about it." He glanced somewhat guiltily at our heroes. "But it really does just look like it was a prank."

A bit taken aback when Kendra linked her arm with his, Darcon stiffened instinctively but tried to appear as if it was normal. After all, it was not everyday an attractive woman made contact with the normally reclusive and introverted mage. He tried to take his mind off it by telling the others about what he had read about the prison ruins over the night as they departed for the town square. The returning Garland's report was also interesting and gave him something to mull over as they walked.

By the time they got to the scene of the crime and pushed through the crowd though, Darcon was more at ease, though upon viewing the vandalism all other thoughts were gone from his mind. "Well that is certainly not normal," he muttered, staring at the bloody letter scrawled on the statue. Glancing at the sheriff he asked, "Do we know if the blood used was animal, or humanoid?"

Ignoring the whispering of the villagers crowding about statue, his eyes raked over the it and its immediate surroundings, trying to take it all in and perhaps see if he spotted anything that might have been overlooked.

---

Perception: 12

Upon seeing the statue Garland made his way toward it, as closely as he could without interfering with the crowd on guards. He walked all the way around it, watching closely, looking for signs besides the blood painted V and only when he made a full circle did he stop in front of the V.

He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small wooden holy symbol depicting the spiral sign Pharasma was known for and held it up against his forehead. "Pharasma grant me power to see the ebb and flow of magic. Let no secrets escape our sight." he whispered, a soft prayer and spell. A moment later when Garland opened his eyes they had disappeared replaced by light blue energy as he continued studying the sight.

Meanwhile back at the house SCG keeps a careful guard on the house, even going outside and walking around to make certain the window, (if there is one; although he already checked this in his initial survey) into the room is barred.

"Hmmm, no way to tell, really." Sheriff Caeler said to Darcon. "Nobody's found an animal carcass or reported any missing pets. Since this happened just last night it's difficult to say whether anyone would have noticed a missing animal by now."

Garland's magical inspection of the monument revealed little. There were no magical auras present except for the occasional minor magical trinket on the villager's persons. One such person was Councilman Hearthmount, who bustled over to our heroes.

"Hrmm. Surely you have duties elsewhere?" He said to the sheriff dismissively, evidently miffed that he was being so cooperative with the strangers in town. Sheriff Caeler knuckled his forehead respectfully and moved off to pointlessly oversee the cleanup and shoo away the gawking crowd.

"You certainly ask a lot of questions." The councilman said in a not-quite-accusatory tone. "I'm certain that our capable constabulary will deal with this incident. I understand that you are guests of Miss Lorrimor? How...lovely. See that you remain well behave guests while you remain in town."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:28, Wed 30 Jan 2019.

Shara gave the councilman a long stare before speaking.

"As adventurers and learned scholars, we would be happy to lend our well-qualified assistance to the local constabulary in order to solve this rather strange mystery. Surely you want to get to the bottom of this quickly." she replied to him, putting on her sweetest voice.


18:57, Today: Shara rolled 21 using 1d20+6.  Diplomacy.
As usual, keeping my eyes and intuition peeled for anything hinky about him or the others in the crowd.

Seeing nothing magical about the site Garland maintains the spell as he approaches the others, making sure to come from the blindspot of the councilman. He points at the man and nods to Shara before clearing his throat to get the councilman's attention. "Excuse me councilman. Ive been trying to examine the site with Pharasma's blessing but there's something magical on you that is distracting me. Could I examine the item in your possession for a few moments? Just so I know what not to look for?"

SCG finding that everyone refuses to return he loads the box of books up into a backpack and makes his way to where the monument was desecrated.

Even not knowing the small hamlet well he is able to cross the bridge over the small tributary and arrive at the town center.  He is likely too late to see anything first hand, but at least they are all back together.


Seeing the sheriff again he waves.

“What have we learned here?”
This message was last edited by the player at 18:46, Fri 01 Feb 2019.

While Garland and Shara both seemed convincing enough not to come off as rude or hostile to the surrounding townsfolk, Councilman Hearthmount was clearly less than impressed by them. He drew himself up to his full height and looked haughtily down his nose at Garland, quite a feat considering how meager that height was. He slipped a be-ringed hand into his waistcoat pocket.

"I'll thank you to keep your fingers out of my personal effects." He harrumphed ill temperedly. He was on the verge of saying more but seemed to sense the effect that Garland's polite request had had on the nearby townsfolk and snapped his mouth shut, chins wobbling.

"Enjoy your stay in Ravengro. Sheriff Caeler, I would like to see you in my office." He said brusquely, whirling to march off towards the council chambers.

The sheriff nodded politely to our heroes and followed the councilman. Kendra rolled her eyes and pulled a rude face at his retreating back.

Garland stood there for a moment, disappointed but not completely surprised by the councilman's response or actions. He waited till the councilman and sheriff were out of earshot before he spoke softly to the group. "Perhaps we should approach the sheriff later. The temple is ready and and able to assist our investigation, having the local law enforcement in a similar position would likely help as well."

He raises a hand to his face, covering the still blue luminescent glow from his eyes before pulling it away a moment later, causing the glow to fade as he mentally willed the spell to end. "I believe there is nothing more I can find here. When you are all ready I suggest we meet at the Lorrimor estate to go over all our findings."

Intrigued by Garland revealing that Hearthmount was in possession of a magical trinket, Darcon followed the exchange between them closely. He noted the Councilman slipping a ringed hand into his pocket, making a mental note on it. Regardless, he was pleased to see his back, considering the unwelcome suspicion leveled upon them by the Councilman.

"Well that one certainly does not like us. Reminds me of that Count Galdana from last night," Darcon remarked to the others.

Listening to what Garland said, Darcon replied quielty, "Good to hear you secured aid from the temple Garland, I look forward to the details of your discussions there, and whether you uncovered anything about the Whispering Way. I plan to study the professors library to see if he has anymore information on them there, I firmly believe his death was no accident and that this cult is involved."

Aside from the background of the Whispering Way, Darcon was keen to try and find out if the Professor had made any notes on known members, or anything they could use to identify any existing members. For who knew, perhaps the Councilman or Galdana numbered among its members.

"Be of good cheer my friends, it seems the councilman must take such matters to be of grave importance and will be working hard to settle the townsfolk.  It is natural that he survey us as another factor beyond his control."

He pauses and looks thoughtful
"The constable seems a good man, so we must not take any harshness to heart once he returns."

Kendra led the way home, idly bantering and subtly quashing any more serious conversation with a laugh. Once they were out of earshot of the villagers and safe at her home her face fell back to its customary inquisitive studiousness, now with a hint of worry.

Everybody quickly shared the results of their investigations while Kendra set out tea.

"That's...troubling. If there really is something making the villagers irritable and suspicious it would explain the vandalism, and even the councilman's attitude. He was always a bit of a ponce, but he's always been polite."

She sat at the table and stirred disconsolately at her tea cup, the tinkling of porcelain underscoring her dark thoughts. Grief and shock at the revelation that her father may have been murdered had given way to a real worry that whatever had caused the tragedy was still at work in Ravengro.

"Should we investigate? Should we continue my father's research? It just seems like there's so many threads."

"I think we should do both. Clearly, the prison needs to be investigated, and the site of the professors demise scoured for clues of foul play. But if what we've seen in his journal is accurate, then it's best that we go in armed with as much knowledge as we can, which means taking advantage of the wealth of material here at the estate." Shara replies to Kendra.

Sitting near Kendra and cradling a teacup in his hand, Darcon looked at her with concern and replied, "Yes to both I say. The Professor intended us to stay for a month in any case, so why not use that time to investigate this cult, The Whispering Way, expose them and bring them to justice. Not only will this honor the Professor's memory but perhaps even save this very village."

The mage did not bother mentioning the danger inherent in this task, the professor's murder was proof of that well enough. But his killers needed to be revealed and brought to justice, lest this cult spread and begin to fester across the land. If they did not end this here in this village, Darcon was sure they would never be able to stop them once they began to spread.

Thinking about it more as he slowly sipped his tea, Darcin became convinced that the group's combined skills and talents would be enough to overcome a group of cultists, who were likely made up of everyday men and women driven to dark desires, as was true of so many neophyte cults he had read about.

Or so he hoped. The news that the elder in the temple had said the mood in the town was darker sounded quite sinister, and hinted at dark forces at play. It sounded like a dark enchantment cast over the village like a pall, something that should be beyond a mere neonate cult, assuming what the elder said was true of-course.

After he had finished his tea Darcon started searching among the tomes in the professors library, determined to learn everything he could about The Whispering Way.

---

ooc: Knowledge (Arcana): 12 (Note: Since Darcon is reading over the books and research notes of Lorrimor perhaps he could get a research bonus to his check?)

The whole way Garland was quiet, deep in contemplation as he tried to put the pieces together though when they were alone he was the first to suggest passing a bottle of wine around and drink merrily. Who knew when they would get another chance?

"If the professors suspicions are correct, and I trust Petros' research, Harrowstone is haunted. I believe our first objective is to find the false crypt and regain the items he mentioned. Once properly prepared for any spectral remnants we can investigate the prison. My suggestion is thus: Those of us skilled in academic research should do just that, finding out all we can about the false crypt and any items within and as a secondary topic Harrowstone and its prisoners. Those without such skills I believe would be best used to stakeout the monument for future vandalism. Such a minor event seems to little for such an important monument so I suspect there will be more. Anyone staking out the monument should take care to find out who is responsible but not to engage without the local law enforcements assistance. Most of all we need to start gaining the peoples trust, if people are being influenced by supernatural phenomena having built up trust with the locals will help fight that."

He pauses as he takes the tea, putting in an extra spoonful of sugar and mixing it in as the silver spoon clanked against the porcelein. He brought it to his lips and drank before looking up. "As I am an academic, I believe I'll access the temples archives at sunrise. Petros was convinced they held the location of the false crypt and I trust his judgement. I welcome any who wish to assist me."

SCG  took in all the information from his new companions...

“Did anyone record the names on the memorial, and inquire about surviving family?”


“The research is important and we must be as thoughtful as possible at the same time obtaining holy water and other tools.  My fear though is that the marking on the memorial was a signal to countdown an attack on the town; with some terrible event coming on the fifth day, meaning we should be intercepting it before it arrives.”

He likes the idea of the research, but is afraid a perfect plan may be too late...


“”Can we each or in small teams research connected topics, I would like to speak again to the sheriff and see what knowledge he has .”
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Tue 05 Feb 2019.

"My own skills are more of the practical applications, tt would be best if I help with overseeing the memorial and talking with townsfolk. Me and Godalming here can go speak to the sheriff in the morn, see if he's noticed anything else he wasn't comfortable in telling us at the time. We can bring the professor's journal, if it'll help persuade him. The man ought to know there might be dangerous people lurking at the old prison."

"Yes, if the Whispering Way is active here in the town we must root them out. And if we really do have just five days to solve this mystery we haven't a moment to lose." Kendra said.

Before our heroes dispersed she insisted on packing a lunch pail for Garland as he made his way to the temple and an extra large one for Constantine and Murkau as they left to speak with the sheriff and investigate the visitors.

Far from a leisurely afternoon at the Lorrimor estate filled with idle reading and note taking, the research session was a flurry of activity. While Darcon and Shara each dove down into their books Kendra proved herself to be an insightful and valuable assistant. With her knowledge of her father's library she would bring stacks of books to the kitchen table to be perused, always on the correct topic and in a useful order, and spent a great deal of time organizing and cataloging the notes that they jotted down.

While Darcon's research only seemed to confirm what the group already knew, Shara was able to turn up some juicy new tidbits about the cult's aims and operation.

---

At the temple of Pharasma Garland was welcomed back politely and ushered into the archives by an acolyte. They were located in the dusty basement of the temple, past crates of spell components commonly used in divine casting and next to a room full of cloth draped remaindered furniture.

The small room was a bit claustrophobic, tall shelves lit by flickering candle light and filled with niches for scrolls and ledgers. Most of the history concerned the births and deaths of townsfolk, weddings, a record of religious events, and the like. While records of commerce and town history would be more likely to be found in the town council archives, finding the list of names that Sir Godalming had requested was a simple matter. It was recorded on its own scroll, the births and deaths of all the townsfolk who had perished in the fire. Unfortunately a complete list of the prisoners eluded him, although he found tantalizing evidence of five particularly noteworthy inmates.

There was also a great deal about the prison itself, mostly in the form of recorded indulgences performed by priests on behalf of the prisoners. By cross referencing various sources he was able to complete a relatively comprehensive account of its final days.

---

Sir Constantine and Murkau looked for the sheriff first at his offices in the small town jail, and when they unable to find him were informed by a deputy that he was on duty. After a short walk around town they managed to find him patrolling near Jominda's Apothecary. He seemed preoccupied with something, but shifted his attention to our heroes when they approached.

"Hullo." He said with a tip of his hat.

"Bloody shards..." Keanala muttered, shaking her head as she walked up to the door of the Lorrimor.  She was annoyed, more at herself than anything else.  Upon getting closer to the crowd surrounding the statue with the V scrawled on it, she had spotted Kendra, but by the time she had pushed her way through the crowd, Kendra and a bunch of others had moved off...somewhere.

After following up a few ideas, and really not impressing anyone with her tracking ability, Keanala finally decided to forget about trying to find Kendra in the town and instead head straight for the professors old home.

She glanced over a shoulder and tugger the hood of her cloak a little further down.  She did not blend in well with humans and everyone in the town seemed pretty darned upset over something.  It only took a few upset looks at the mention of the Professors name before Keanala decided that discretion was the word of the day.  "What is wrong with this place?"

Grasping at the door knocker, the newcomer banged on the front door a half dozen or so times.  "Hey!  Hello?  Anyone there?"

At the house...
“ I have to agree with Murkau on this for research I would be more in the way, but talking to the sheriff and maybe looking into the town guard we can find out more about recent events and possibly heretofore unrelated crimes.”


As they make the return trip to find the sheriff he hopes his measure of the man would grow rather than fade...

“Good day sheriff, we thought that Murkau and I might walk with you during your rounds and not be too much of an inconvenience.”

Having taken a momentary break from her research, Shara hears the sound of a door knocking. After the open hostility of the angry mob at the funeral, she grips the dagger on her hip before cautiously opening the door part way.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asks, her keen eyes quickly making the measure of the stranger at the door.

Kendra poked her head out of the library curiously as Shara answered the front door. Whatever the newcomer's response, it was drowned out as Kendra squealed an excited greeting. She rushed out to give Keanala a big hug and drag her into the house.

"Goodness gracious! I haven't seen you since you rescued my father from that awful dig site. How have you been?"

She drew Keanala inside and introduced her to Shara and Darcon. Once the introductions had been made Kendra pushed her down at the table and began piling her plate with leftovers from lunch. She spoke quickly, her voice excited but tinged with worry as she filled her in on the happenings since the funeral.

She spoke of the angry mob that had almost prevented the burial. She spoke of the reading of the will and her father's journal, which had hinted that a sinister cult called the Whispering Way was operating in Ravengro for some nefarious purpose. She spoke of what Shara had learned at the temple, that some dark influence was making the townsfolk suspicious and unfriendly. And at last she mentioned the large, bloody V that had been painted on the memorial in the center of town.

---

The Sheriff paused in his meandering patrol but shifted uncomfortably when Constantine asked to accompany him.

"Perhaps it would be better if I answer your questions here. What can I help you with, citizen?" He asked, an air of formality sliding down between him and Constantine like a wall.

It seems that, while his politeness was perfectly intact, his helpfulness had evaporated since his chat with the councilman.

---

Constantine and Murkau exeunt to Chapter 1.2 link to a message in this game
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:49, Thu 07 Feb 2019.

Garland had left that morning just before sunrise and made his way to the temple to consult its archives. The old Gothic building felt like home to him with its wide hallways and familiar stonework. In these walls he felt like he was in a home away from the great Moonlight Cathedral of Caliphas. It made it all the more welcoming as he descended the stairs into the basement archives, holding up a single candle which banished the darkness and showed him the mass of tomes.

"If the church isnt aware of this crypt it probably dates back to the original construction of the graveyard." he thought as he walked along the old bookstacks, stopping at the burial records and construction records. He pulled an old tome from the bookshelf and set it on the table, turning the pages as he shined the candle over it. "So the town was founded in 4594...that was 125 years ago if my math is correct. I need to start looking at records there."

Next he pulled the map of the graveyard out and laid it across the large table. He followed it with another old tome as thick as someone's head and set it down on the table, picking up a quill and ink to put his notes to paper he began going over the deaths of the past, each time assigning their grave, crypt, or whatever the case was to a makeshift map he had drawn. It took him hours looking through the records, each time setting the massive tome's down and writing down the names and position of their final rest before going on to the next. Garland researched another book, then another, then another, then another and kept going without thought of food, drink or rest.

Nearly a whole day had passed when he finally went through the last book, the candle nearly burned down all the way. There was only one crypt left, a crypt with no name attatched and no family calling it their home.

With a smile he leaned back in the chair, exhaling in a moment of relief as he had found evidence of the crypt's location. He knew where it was, tonight he would return and inform the others. Tomorrow they would enter it and see what religious artifacts remained inside.

OOC: More of a mood post, Garland will return late that night waving his makeshift hand drawn map around cheerfully shouting "I found it!"

Keanala eagerly returned Kendras embrace.  It had been a while since the two of them had been together, far too long as far as Keanala was concerned.  She listened intently while her friend explained things, and shoveled food into her mouth.  It had been a while since she'd eaten so well.

"I saw the V on the statue."  Keanala said, pausing to finish her latest mouthful.  "So, what's the plan?  I'm here and I want to help."

In reply to GM (msg # 92):

“It has ever been thus in the workings of councilmen and those who work for the people, I understand your position.  Let me assure you the people is whom you are responsible for, not the man elected to represent them.  Perhaps you can just tell us who was on watch when the vandals struck and maybe even if any of those listed on the memorial have family still nearby.  Just perhaps also even the least little hint that might lead us in the right direction.”

Shara looks the newcomer up and down before speaking up.

"Are you any good at research? We're digging through the professors library to get a better idea of what we're looking for. If bookish things aren't your forte, then perhaps Sir Constantine could use some assistance in his investigation of the vandalism." she replies.

Kendra and Keanala chatted the day away, variously helping Shara and Darcon with their research and trying to puzzle out the strange circumstances in town.

It was winding towards evening when tired eyes had enough of poring over old tomes. Shara and Darcon concluded the day's research, Kendra recruited Keanala's help preparing dinner, Murkau and Constantine filtered into a house filled with the wafting smells of cooking after their day's investigation. Despite the dubious circumstances in town it was a cozy little domestic scene that Garland broke in on with his announcement.

His excitement was infectious and Kendra's eyes lit as she rushed to pore over the map that he had drawn. As studious and clever as always, she quickly retraced his notes to tap her finger on the mysterious crypt.

"This one? I think I've seen it, although I don't spend much time in the Restlands myself. I can't wait to investigate!"

Still highly pleased with himself and his findings after hours of research Garland let out an excited cheer along with Kendra, not even noticing anyone else in the room at first. "It took me hours of pouring over the burial records. With 125 years of history and deaths there was much to go through but it became a simple process of elimination! With that method it was only a matter of time until I found the location. I say we begin the investigation at first light!"

He paused as he looked back at the others, taking a breath and hoping they were just as, if not more sucessful then he was. "What about you all? Did you discover any new information or leads?"

Kendra gave a brief recap of what they had found perusing her father's library, the meager secrets of the Whispering Way that they had been able to glean.

"...and they damage corpses to prevent Speak With Dead." She said, finishing up her findings.

Her voice hitched and a look of misery briefly replaced her excitement.

"When we found my father, up at the prison, the stonework that had crumbled and fallen on him struck him here." She indicated a place just below her nose. "His j-jaw was crushed. We thought that he was looking up at it when it broke off, but now it really does sound like he was murdered. I...pardon me a moment."

She rose from the table and hurried into the kitchen alone. The sound of rattling pots and pans sounded faintly through the door, perhaps loud enough to cover the sounds of a lonely young girl crying into her handkerchief, and when Kendra returned some minutes later her eyes were red rimmed.

"Just checking the...kettle. It's fine." She informed everyone.

Seated in the shadows of a corner table, his staff propped up near him, Darcon had been browsing a book before Garland had returned, and updated them on his own findings. Darcon's lips tightened at Kendra's anguish and he replied, "Be strong Kendra, we will bring his murderers to justice, I assure you of that!"

The mage was troubled at what they had learned of The Whispering Way however, deeply troubled. The sort of rituals and magics they were known to perform made it appear they were quite powerful. Rituals to create litches were far and above mere journeyman level magic, and certainly more than any spells Darcon himself could perform.

Still, assuming the rumors were true it would likely only be the highest echelons of the cult who could muster such dark arts. Perhaps once they ascertained the cult's exact whereabouts they could severely disrupt their activities and with proof in hand alert the requisite authorities to take action and crush the cult.

Yet there also seemed to be another way. Turning his attention to Garland he asked the cleric, "What exactly do you think we can find in this crypt? The artifacts the Professor mentioned...could they be used against The Whispering Way, perhaps somehow nullifying their dark arts and allow us to take the fight to them?"

Garland frowned, knowing Kendra was still grieving and he approached her with open arms offering a hug as he leaned forward, trying to whisper quietly enough so the others wouldnt hear. "Don't hold it in. Grief is a natural state of mind when we loose someone and it will take time to heal. Give yourself that time."

Once the words were shared he turned back to Darcon, speaking plainly. "The truth is I dont know what we will find. Petros believed there was some defense against Harrowstones ghosts in the crypt and in my experience Petros always had good information. We wont know for sure till we find said artifacts and examine them."

Keanala had removed the Scale Mail that she had arrived in and spent much of the last hour wearing a frilly apron over her leather tunic.  The domestic side of things with Kendra and the meal preparation had been relaxing but now it was on to business.  She leaned over the table and peered at the map.

"Wait...you want to break into this crypt?" she asked, an eyebrow raising up while her finger tapped the map.  "With the townsfolk attitudes that I saw today, they may not take kindly to that.  How are we going to proceed?  Sneak in at night?"

Garland looked up at the newcomer for a moment before slowly shaking his head side to side. "No, the cover of darkness would likely bring us greater problems if we were spotted. We will be going at first light. Shara and I already recieved permission from the temple to exhume this crypt and recover any artifacts and Ive also arranged for a temple representative to assist us"

Shara nods at Garland's response. "Indeed, this is a sanctioned little expedition, though it may still be a dangerous one. We should be on our guard, in case this foul cult reached this crypt before we did." she replies.

Kendra responded warmly to her friends warm words, giving Darcon a warm, sad smile and Garland a little squeeze as they comforted her. Once the following day's plans were set she cleared away the table as everyone settled in for the evening.

---

The following morning Kendra was up bright and early with breakfast, her demeanor excited and her hands fidgeting with nervous energy. She had replaced her black mourning dress with work clothes, trousers, and a wide belt festooned with pouches. She had a long kitchen knife stuck through her belt like a sword.

"Very well, then, shall we be off to the Restlands?" She asked brightly, eyes eager.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:16, Mon 11 Feb 2019.

When morning came Garland got up early. He knew he would be delving into an old crypt today and who knows what, or who would be down there. While he could find no burial records for it he also couldnt find any construction records making the crypt's history and layout an enigma. He spent the morning preparing for the incursion and by the time breakfast was ready he was prepared for the expedition.

"Before we go, Shara and I will be making a slight detour to the temple to get Enos, one of the local priests. He will accompany us on this expedition as a consultant and I believe it will serve us best to be transparent with him and the temple."

Keanala was just finishing up her morning preparations.  Her scale mail, still a little dusty from the long travel to town, was donned, and a hood pulled up over her head.  She was not ashamed of her Oread ancestry, and it was easy enough to pick it out in what skin she showed.  After yesterday, Keanala had decided to try and downplay it, if only for a little bit.  A morningstar hung at her waist, and she was putting a fresh bowstring onto her short bow.  From her mouth, hung half of a muffin.

"...permission to exhume a crypt..." she muttered in amazement, balancing the act of talking and eating the muffin admirably.  "I don't know if I've ever had such a thing.  Not that I make a habit out of breaking into crypts but...permission.  This is going to be an interesting day."

The string tied on, the Oread gave her bow a few testing draws.  "Anything else we need to know about this venture?  No grave robbing, I assume?"

"Because we don't know if the crypt has been tampered with, I intend to bring my companion along with me. I will reveal her to you now, so you are not alarmed at her presence later." Shara says.

She closes her eyes, focusing inward, and chants under her breath. After a minute, a spectral figure appears. Shaped like an armor-clad human, the translucent form appears wispy around the edges, and a feminine face can just barely be seen beneath the ghostly visor of its spiritual armor.

"Do not be alarmed, for she is no undead. Merely a lost spirit that the goddess has tasked me with helping to find her way to the River of Souls. She's stubborn, but she may aid us if circumstances are dire." she continues.


Those familiar with the church of Pharasma have heard of spiritualists like Shara, shepherds of lost souls, and they are very much different than necromancers, despite the ghostly appearance of the phantoms.

Kendra seemed very interested in Shara's phantom, pacing around the ghostly figure in wonder and peppering her with questions. The ghostly figure fascinated her and her questions revealed a keen mind and not inconsiderable knowledge of supernatural phenomena.

Our heroes made their way to the temple where they were met by Father Grimburrow. He exchanged some words of ecumenical nature with Garland before calling for Enos to accompany them. To the young acolyte, a lad of perhaps fourteen, he extended a warning to be careful and keep his wits about him. Enos was wide eyed at the prospect of excitement in as sleepy a town as Ravengro, his gaze constantly drifting over the group's weapons and adventuring gear.

Garland led the way through the Restlands and, with his hand drawn map and a little direction from Enos, was easily able to find the crypt that the professor had mentioned.

It was a freestanding granite mausoleum, two leering gargoyles perched on the roof and gaping sightlessly down at the little group of adventurers. It was surrounded by well tended headstones and markers but bore no family crest. Instead the word Aurum was insculpted above the entryway. Darcon quickly translated from an old dialect of elven, it meant Golden.

The twin doors were heavy, iron, and pitted with weather. A fine lock held them closed, but a closer inspection showed that the locked had been melted through with acid and then rearranged to look from a distance like it hadn't been tampered with.

Shara steps closer to the mausoleum, noting the damaged lock. Phantom at her side, she pulls the mangled lock from the door, inspecting it with brief curiosity before dropping it to the ground. With a whispered word of instruction, her phantom tugs on the door as she steps back, ready for any signs of danger.


Phantom has 12 Strength and is manifested corporeally. It'll try to open the door.

Darcon had travelled in silence with the others, the hood of his pristine cloak hiding his features, just like he preferred. He studied Shara's conjured phantom with interest though, but he tried his best to hide his study. The ability to summon creatures from beyond, from other planes or realms was not a minor feat, and he found himself looking at Shara in a new, more respectful light. He hoped that the creature would be able to offer constructive aid in their investigation.

When they reached the temple Darcon paid close attention to the head priest Grimburrow, trying to discern if he had any hidden motives. Darcon was not a suspicious person by nature but the events of the past few days had made him a little paranoid, as if he expected any potential cultists to jump out of the shadows at any given moment.

Enos seemed earnest though, and was offered a small smile of encouragement as he joined them. As with the summoned phantom, Darcon hoped the lad had useful skills to offer on their investigation in the crypt, despite his youthful appearance.

When they finally reached the mausoleum and after deciphering the elvish script, he noted yet was not surprised at all at the evidence of tampering on the lock. "Who was it though who passed here last, the Professor, or someone else?" the mage wondered out loud in a soft voice.

SCG had informed the others that although initially helpful the sheriff had been put in his place by the councilman.  And reported the availability of dwarven crafted weapons and armor.

The updates from the others were similarly very limited in scope.

He thought it appropriate that the whispering way would take measures to maintain secrecy.

“It is my Hope our answers shall be enough to take the sting from our grief.”

He looks to each person in turn
“Perhaps we should know of each other’s strengths and abilities so as better to face the challenges to come.”

Garland took some time to examine the gate as he reached down, pulling the morningstar from his belt before he looked back. He began chanting a spell until the weapon became a shining beacon of light, casting it in all directions. "My suggestion is thus, Constantine in the front as you are likely the most heavily armored of us all. If there is danger you will have the greatest protection. I will follow behind to provide support and healing as necessary. Enos and Kendra will stay by me at all times. I also recommend one our burly members take up the rear in case of rear or pincer attack. If you see something say something as soon as possible. Now when delving into places like this is is paramount that we stay together and move slowly as a group. If you get seperated stay where you are unless you are in mortal danger and call out. Echos are common in such places making locating a lost person difficult but I promise that I will come for you."

Garland paused as he pointed to the grate. "If we have rope tie it to the grate and it will serve as a guideline back to the exit. Our goal here is to explore the crypt and find the artifacts mentioned by the professor. All other goals whether academic or monatery are secondary."

Garland's glowing morningstar illuminated the dark interior of the crypt as a ghostly touch swung the doors wide, rusted hinges squeaking loudly. The interior chamber was large enough for the group to squeeze into together, bare walls of carved stone seemed to eat the light from Garland's morningstar. Rather than a sarcophagus or monument the center of the chamber was taken up by a stone staircase descending into darkness.

The stairs went down a single flight into a large subterranean chamber, bare stone walls carved with burial niches much like any other mausoleum. They were all empty, no bodies were interred here. Instead several of the niches held wooden chests, aging, discolored wood bound with iron fittings. It looks as if the Professor's journal was correct. This was a cache, not a tomb.

As our heroes fanned into the chamber, weapons at the ready, a dread shiver ran down every spine. The air seemed to cool and the group felt the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

And yet for all the caution that these foreboding circumstances may prompt, several of our heroes acted wholly without caution.

Garland, Constantine, and Darcon felt a fearful wave of lethargy fall over them. Fear and horrified fascination filled their minds and they felt themselves inexplicably drawn forward, towards the center of the chamber. They walked forwards, enthralled. And then all three saw a vision of a massive, spectral mallet swinging down on them.

The rest of our heroes saw the three walk forward but, before they could intervene, a low crumbling sounded in the chamber roof. They saw no spectral visions but, with a crack, the ceiling crumbled, sending stone and earth tumbling down on the three in the center of the chamber.

---

Garland, Constantine, and Darcon all fail will saves and walk like zombies into the center of the room where the ceiling collapses on them.
Darcon takes 10 damage.
Garland takes 8 damage.
Constantine takes 3 damage.
Anyone still conscious is fine, if you were knocked unconscious you are partially buried and must be dug out as a standard action before you can be moved.

Constantine shakes off the strange feeling and is glad his shield deflected much of the collapsed ceiling.

He immediately holds his shield overhead and begins to try and locate and free his companions. Through the dusty air and debris.

“Garland, Darcon?  Where are you?”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Thu 14 Feb 2019.

Not a moment after Constantine calls out for him Garland lets out several labored coughs as he pushes over a large bolder. The cleric is covered in blood with a huge gash over his eye and running down over his face and onto his black armor. "Pharasma has not seen fit to claim me yet." he said, letting out a few more coughs as he covered his mouth with his free hand, trying to keep the dust from getting into his lungs.

He tried raising the morning star to see better but felt a sharp pain in his shoulder which made him groan in pain as he looked over it, knowing it was dislocated at best and maybe broken at worst. The cleric didnt wait a single moment though and instead pushed forward with one arm working he started digging at the rubble. "Come on, everyone! We have to get them out of there!"

Shara watched in horror as the ceiling collapsed atop her comrades. As the dust settled, the moans of pain alerted her to the fact that they survived. Ill-suited to manual labor, she directed her phantom to start pulling pieces of rubble off the survivors.

"Of course we are going into a tomb, 'nala.  Why didn't you bring a shield."  Keanala muttered to herself, changing her bow for her morningstar.  She had just started to look around the room when the ceiling collapsed.  Her first instinct to to step closer to Kendra, making sure that her friend was okay.

"Careful, there may be more triggers." she cautions and then turns her attention to the three fallen companions.  "Hey!  You guys still with us?"

OOC:
If Kendra is okay, Keanala will help to dig the others out.

“Darcon must be knocked out under this rubble, everyone get clear I will pull him out.”

Fearing the roof will collapse further he attempts to convince the others not to come in.

He uses Darkvision to scan the rubble for the heat of the man’s body or at least his blood...

The growing feeling of dread in the back of his mind was not enough to prevent him from moving forward, and when he saw the spectral mallet bearing down upon them Darcon realized it was too late.

Instinctively he raised his hands and staff in a futile attempt to protect himself as the mallet appeared to suddenly disappear and the ceiling came crashing down on them instead with a loud rumble.

The mage's feeble attempts at defense were less than useless, though perhaps mercifully he was knocked out almost immediately by the falling rocks. He came to once the dust had settled and found himself buried in darkness, with a searing pain in his head and arms. Instinctively he called out, "Help!", though the effort caused another stab of pain to lance through his head.

---

Stabilization Check: 10 (success!); <b>Free Action: Call for help!


This message was last edited by the player at 09:05, Sun 17 Feb 2019.

Although the rumbling subsided, bits of dust drifted down from the now cracked ceiling and the occasional pebble bounced down over the pile of rubble pining Darcon's legs. His compatriots had little trouble pulling him out of the pile of tumbled stones. Although he was still battered, crushed, and debilitated, he was no longer pinned after a little digging.

As Keanala moved to check on Kendra she heard the shorter woman gasp and rush to Enos' side. The young acolyte lay crumpled near the entrance. A quick investigation revealed that nothing had happened to him, he had simply fainted dead away when the ceiling collapsed. Kendra splashed his face with a little water from her water skin and he began to come too groggily.

"We should hurry, who knows how sturdy the rest of the ceiling is." She said nervously, glancing upwards.

Apart from the pile of new rubble in the center the room was large and bare, save for the burial niches, and the only exit was the stairway that the group had descended through. Three medium size chests, probably light enough to lift with a burly adventurer on either handle, occupied niches at the far wall.

SCG picks the man up and gets away from the collapse...

Can someone aid Darcon he is badly wounded.  Perhaps a burst of healing energy will both aid us all and clear some evil from this place.”

Garland groans a bit as he reaches up, taking hold of the holy symbol hanging from his shoulder. He pulls it from his shoulder while still connected to the small chain, gripping it tightly as he takes in a deep breath. "Pharasma, lady of graves, judge of all life. Grant us your healing touch."

The prayer fills the room with a brilliant white light for just a moment. Cuts close, broken bones reassemble, bruises fade, and everyone is left with a feeling of warm belonging and love as the healing takes effect.


OOC: Everyone will heal 7hp

Darcon blinked instinctively as there was a flash of white light, right after which he felt a jolt of energy suffuse his body. The numbness was driven away and though there was a brief surge of pain in his head it quickly vanished, like ice rapidly melting under a hot sun.

Gingerly he touched himself on his head and winced slightly; it was still tender but not painful and any swelling appeared to have faded. Ditto for his shoulder.

Slowly he rose to his feet, using his staff for support and stepping gingerly around the rubble. "My thanks Garland, I do believe I can move without help for the moment," he said weakly. "This was ill done; though we should have been more careful and vigilant. Still, at least the trap implies no one else disturbed this crypt before us, despite the tampering on the lock."

Turning his head towards the far end of the room he gestured at the niches with the chests and added, "Might as well collect those, I believe they contain what we came here for. But careful for any more traps."

---

At Darcon's suggestion Kendra moved to investigate the chests. The first chest was unlocked, covered in dust and cobwebs, and completely empty. It looked like it had been raided many years ago and left empty on the shelf. The second chest showed signs of having been recently pilfered. The dust was disturbed and the lock was melted open with alchemist's acid, just like the look on the crypt door. Inside was a wooden divider partitioning the interior into chambers. About half were empty, while the other half held vials of potions, bundles of arrows, and a leather scroll case. The third chest was locked tight.

As Kendra investigated the crumbling stone of the roof groaned and dust drifted down from rotting wooden cross beams. A carved stone fell loose and clattered onto the pile of rubble near the center of the room.

"This place is coming down any minute." She said. She waffled for a moment, then grabbed a handful of items from the chest and made towards the exit.

"Let's get out of here."

---

Kendra grabs the scroll case and a quiver of arrows from the second chest.
The remaining items in the chest are:
Two silvery white potions
Two clear potions
Two glass cylinders that Keanala recognizes as Haunt Siphons (more info in the Journal thread)
A quiver of 10 masterwork arrows
A quiver of 5 masterwork arrows
2 masterwork arrows

It has been 2 rounds since the original collapse
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:35, Tue 19 Feb 2019.

Garland looked up at the ceiling and felt like the place was going to be more dangerous every moment. He walked over and grabbed one side of the large locked chest, looking over to the others. "One of you help me with this, everyone else head to the exit!" he said in a hasty tone. Garland had no plans to leave any of the artifacts behind and if he couldnt take them with him he was going to take the whole chest until they could unlock it.

SCG shield in hand holds his shield high and grabs ahold of on handle of the chest.

“We should plan to restock this cache for future use.”

With Garland and Constantine on either side of the locked chest they had little trouble manhandling it up the narrow stairs and into the standing mausoleum. The structure itself looked sturdy enough, although stones continued to tumble from the crypt roof below. Once they were outside they could see a section of graves and earth directly behind the mausoleum visibly sagging as the subterranean chamber began to collapse.

Kendra, her arms full of equipment, paused to grab Enos by the wrist and drag him out into the daylight behind Constantine and Garland. She double checked to make sure that the rest of our heroes had made it out before the ceiling tumbled in entirely, caving in with a crash and a whoosh of air like a foul sigh from the mouth of the mausoleum.

"Is everybody alright?" She asked, double checking the party members that had been injured in the original collapse.

"I will live Kendra, thank you for your concern," Darcon said with a fit of coughing from the dust generated by the collapse of the crypt. It appeared he had been wrong, someone else had gotten in, avoided the trap and accessed one of the chests.

A pity they had not been able to fully loot that chest, the potions looked enticing. Still, at least Kendra had gotten something. "Are there any scrolls in that case, or is it empty?" he asked her curiously.

The third chest ofcourse, was with Garland and Constantine. Darcon wondered if they would try to open it now or later, at the Professor's house. "Beware of any traps on that, especially the locking mechanism," he warned them, gesturing at the chest with his staff.

As he and Constantine stand watching the huge sinkhole form Garland cant help but think he owes Father Grimburrow a big apology. He would have to make ammends in some way both to the temple and the families for all the graves that had been disturbed with the sinkhole. "I have only a few bruises remaining." he said answering Kendra's question as he set his side of the chest down.

He set a hand on Enos' shoulder and pointed at the precipice where the soil was caving in. His voice is serious though his tone is equally full of remorse and care. "Go and tell the temple about this Enos. I will remain and watch the graveyard until Father Grimburrow decides on an action. With so many burial rights disturbed I would not be surprised if someone does not stay in their grave tonight."

Once the boy begins to run off he looks back at the others, espeically at the chest. "I suggest we place that under lock and key till we can access the contents. Perhaps some acid like the previous locks would do the trick...unless one you knows how to open it. I fear the key may be buried in whatever remains of the crypt. In the meantime I will stand guard here until this crisis can be dealt with."

SCG shakes his head
“I had but taken minor bruises compared to others the main blow did not reach into my thick head it angled away.”

He considers the items taken from the cache, the care taken in placement the trove designed for set purposes made him scratch his chin and wonder.


“This was obviously placed and intended for future use, and had the chamber collapsed it would be unknown and beyond reach.  Perhaps inside the chest is a mark of ownership.”

As potentially useful as the contents might be SCG wanted to see restitution or payment made to the rightful owner.

Perhaps he was ahead of himself
“Does the chest bear a mark of ownership or of the craftsman who wrought it?”

He smiled recalling the blacksmith he had meet earlier in the day....
This message was last edited by the player at 22:41, Wed 20 Feb 2019.

"Well that was the easiest crypt raiding that I've seen."  Keanala said, putting away her morningstar and pulling out her bow.  The sinkhole had not escaped her notice, and her eyes grew serious as she glanced over at it.  "Not that I've been part of any tomb raiding before."

"Hey, Garland.  You're not going to be staying here alone.  I'll keep you company."

"Th' cache'll be taken care of, but if any of the dead would rise tonight, I want to be here to put them back down." the dwarf speaks up as the others file out of the crypt.

Enos nodded to Garland, wide eyed, and scampered off towards the temple.

Kendra spread her haul out on the grass where she and Darcon could examine the items. The scroll case was a dull, unadorned folio, the edges sealed with beeswax as such things often were to keep out moisture. She broke the seal with her kitchen knife and withdrew several sheets of parchment, which she passed to Darcon. There were four scrolls, a scroll of detect undead, a scroll of hide from undead, and two scrolls of protection from evil. The quiver held ten finely crafted arrows, which upon further appraisal proved to be +1 arrows.

Constantine's examination of the chest showed no special insignia or markings. It was old, sturdy, and well made, but otherwise un-remarkable.

"It seems so...strange." She said, musing now that they were out of danger.

"It does look like my father came here and took some of the things from the second chest. But why did the ceiling collapse on us, and not on him? It didn't look like we set off a trap, it just caved in."

She shrugged, ever practical.

"If the three of you are going to keep watch here tonight I'll drop by later with some supper. Oh, hello Father." She greeted the aging priest as Father Grimburrow puffed around the corner, followed closely by Enos.

"By Pharasma, what happened?" He asked, taking in the bloodied adventurers and collapsed gravestones behind the mausoleum.

Garland looks at the man, ashamed of his inability to stop the collapse and the damage to the graveyard. Who knew how many burial rites had been effected and how many dormant spirits might rise now that their graves had been distrubed. "I am still trying to piece that together myself father. We found the cache that Professor Lorrimor had mentioned in his journal and we found the religious artifacts also mentioned. However there was some kind of trap set, one I assume Petros did not fall for, yet I did. I felt a sense of fear and fascination as I lost control of my body, forced to walk to the center of the room before I saw huge spectral hammer come down upon me. When the vision faded the roof of the crypt collapsed. We escaped but as you can see the damage is substantial. Fearing the worst, I dared not leave in case someone did not stay in their grave"

"It's strange days in Ravengro, with the commotion in the square yesterday and again this morning, the dead animals, and now this." Father Grimburrow said, gesturing at the sagging gravestones.

"You saw a vision, you say? Felt compelled? It could have been a Haunt."

Father Grimburrow gave a brief explanation of the rare supernatural phenomenon. A haunt, as it turns out, is part way between a spirit and part way between a trap. Unquiet spirits gather malevolent energy in the haunted area and then wait, poised to attack any living creature that happens upon them. The effects of a haunt vary from minor spectral phenomena to catastrophic destruction in the haunt's area. The spells detect undead and detect evil give a chance to detect a haunt before it triggers, although they are by no means guaranteed. Once expended a haunt typically re-forms several days later, and can be cleansed permanently by putting the angry spirits to rest.

After his explanation he motioned to Enos.

"Stay here, and keep watch on the crypt with these brave adventurers. If there are no further disturbances by midnight tonight we are most likely safe from further ghostly reprisals. I will take the artifacts that you recovered to the temple, and see if we can get this chest open."

Shara nods in understanding as the priest explains to them the nature of haunts.

"I am familiar with such forms of spiritual activity. I have a few tools to help combat them, and I should have been more wary for haunts during our expedition. It was folly to assume that such a thing wouldn't be present on hallowed land." she replies, her voice tinged with regret at the harm her companions had suffered.

Darcon recieved the scrolls from Kendra with a nod of appreciation, carefully rolling them up and putting them into his own scroll case. Then taking out a vial of greenish substance from his own equipment he held it up for the others, including the just arrived Grimburrow.

"Acid, we can use it to open this chest right now to see if there is anything we might find useful in our investigation," he offered helpfully. Something the priest just said though tickled his mind and he couldn't help asking, "Dead animals? Can you tell us more about that?"

SCG had not realized the effect he had thought a gas had made his head swim and in a dreamlike state he had wandered forward.

He immediately thought of how the professor had died perhaps that too was a haunt.

He nodded grimly but kept quiet and stood watchful over the group and the graves...

"A haunt...I've read about them though I know of no one that has experienced one. Perhaps until now. I will have to adjust my blessings from the lady knowing that. I would hate to be caught so unaware yet again." he says, considering the implications and thinking back to his years of study of the undead and supernatural phenomena.

He looks back at Darcon, nodding at the idea. "If you have some acid, or if one of you knows how to pick a lock then we should get it open. If not perhaps the general store has some...in fact, we should make a stop there anyway if we intend to make a trip to the prison. I believe that is our next lead."

"Oh, I thought you had heard. It seems our vandal was not so careful as he was yesterday. One of the deputies found a dead cat in a nearby alleyway, evidently the source of the bloody graffiti this morning. People are scared, and Sheriff Caeler announced that he's having a deputy keep watch on the monument tonight." Father Grimburrow said to Darcon.

He nodded his assent to the mage's suggestion of using acid to melt open the chest, like the lock on the mausoleum and the now buried chests in the crypt. It was a relatively quick matter and then the chest was open.

Like the other two this one was divided into compartments. Two of the compartments held haunt siphons, two held potions that proved to be potions of cure light wounds, and the last several had the dividers removed to make space for an oblong darkwood case with the symbol of an eye over a crossed sword and feather worked in silver on the lid.

The case was shallow and the only thing inside it was a palm-sized token, vaguely heart shaped, and worked in brass. The interior of the lid was carved with letters, numbers, and the words 'Yes, No, and Maybe'. Darcon's extensive study gave him some clue as to its function, but Shara recognized it immediately as a spirit planchette, an item used in spiritual divination.

"Remarkable." Said Father Grimburrow, who evidently recognized it as well. "To think that these had been hidden beneath the Restlands all these years. Enos, take these back to the temple." He lifted the chest with the spirit planchette, potions, and haunt siphons.

Garland nods slowly, though its a shame he didnt get the chance to study the architecture of the crypt before its collapse. "While I dont know how Petros found out about the cache, once I knew roughly where it was it was a process of elimination to find its location. The temples records were invaluable in that search."

He see's Enos go to collect the items and puts up a hand in a halting motion. "Father Grimburrow, I agree that these items must be cataloged and studied if only from an academic perspective but what Petros wrote still remains. They are useful items that will aid the next step of the investigation. I would like to request their use when we investigate the prison. If everything Petros wrote is true, and the stories about the prison are true, I believe it is the cause of the change in mood for Ravengro's people. Thus an expedition into the prison is warranted and we should have the tools to protect ourselves against haunts, ghosts, and who knows what else."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:35, Tue 26 Feb 2019.

"Tools are good."  Keanala sided with Garlands opinion.  "Haunts and Ghosts just giggle at simple steel.  If we are going to encounter any of the sort, we need items that will help us deal with any encounters."

She turned to Father Grimburrow.  "Please, Father.  Consider Garlands words."

“Tis truth we sought the cache and information for a coming threat.  The blood upon the center of town proclaims darkness is marking this place for foul intention.”

Father Grimburrow considered for a long moment and then nodded sagely.

"If the threat that the professor mentioned is as grave as you say then you may indeed need these items to combat it. Very well. I will leave the examination and cataloging to you." He said to Garland.

"I would like a report for the temple archives, beyond that you are free to use these artifacts."

He tucked his hands into his sleeves and gathered up Enos, still dazed looking, and bowed to the group.

"Luck be with you." He said, and turned towards the temple.

Shara looks over the recovered items with interest, particularly the planchette and haunt siphons.

"These tools will be most useful for aiding our investigation, by allowing us to communicate with spirits or capture the essence of a haunt. I'm glad we all managed to survive our encounter, and with these we should have better luck on our next one." she remarks, her fingers brushing the surface of the objects.

Garland nods slowly and bows slightly to the aging priest. "I will cataloge them as we wait for night here. Thank you Father." he replied before looking at the others. In truth he was starting to feel like the leader of this little group as everyone seemed to agree with his suggestions.

Garland had dealt with restless spirits before so he know knowledge would be their greatest weapon and they needed more of it, yet he was duty bound to remain for the time being. "Since we are all gathered I believe we should discuss the next phase of our investigation. We still require a few pieces of information though my duty as a cleric means I must remain here tonight to ensure the dead remain at rest. However that does not mean we must all remain. The next step, in my opinion, should be Harrowstone itself. We still need a list of the prisoners and staff who passed in the harrowstone fire. If possible a map of the grounds would also help.  If Keanala and I remain this should free the rest of you to conduct your own research and investigations. Tommorrow morning we can regroup to share any findings. "

SCG shakes his head..
“I believe Garland and I can watch over the graveyard tonight, perhaps resting in the day tomorrow when y’all are handling more search for answers.”

He looks for a comfortable and defensible position, likely one with stone beneath his feet.

“Also if anyone is inclined to have the detect evil and magic spells handy it would benefit us all.”

"We already have a list of the staff that passed away in the fire, so that only leaves the prisoners. The archives at the town hall would be most likely to contain that sort of information. I don't know how many records of the prison survived the fire, and it was over fifty years ago, but I'm sure they'll have something." Kendra said.

She took her leave of the group stationed at the cemetery as they settled down to watchful vigilance. She returned at lunch time to drop off a large pannier filled with bread, cheese and salt pork for lunch, along with wine and a picnic basket.

The day wore on uneventfully, and when Kendra came by the Restlands with dinner the only people our heroes had seen were the occasional townfolk who came by to visit the graves of relatives or gawp at the sinkhole.

The graveyard took on a chilling air as evening settled into dusk. Lengthening shadows crept out from the grave stones, turning the orderly and well kempt markers into lurking, mismatched threats that seemed to encircle and loom over our heroes. A couple of guttering torches thrust into the earth made the shadows leap and dance, drawing the eye and distracting the mind. As the night wore on our heroes took it in shifts to keep watch, wary eyes peering out into the night.

It was a nervous, frightening experience, to spend a night of silent vigil in the graveyard. But as the pale fingers of dawn began to creep over the horizon a feeling of relief pervaded the morning air. The night had passed uneventfully.

When midnight came Garland looked up at the moon and breathed in a sigh of relief. "The witching hour is upon us. We should go before the mists themselves decide to swallow us up." he said before he lead the way back to the Lorrimor estate. He opened the door and took one step inside, knowing that action would cause Kendra's worry to disappear for no one in Ustalav would invite someone inside after the sun had fallen

"The graveyard is safe and I will adjust my blessings from the lady tonight. We can reconvene in the morning." he said softly before he walked back to the Proffessors office and stripped down, shedding his armor and weapons until he could sit in comfortable meditation and prayer. Only when that was done did he lay down and sleep till long after dawn.

The long night passed uneventfully and he had been resting when Garland warned of the witching hour.  SCG had watched and wondered how cold undead actually were and how they might appear to his dark sight.

“Indeed we should remain ever vigilant.”

When morning came he and Garland returned to the house for additional rest while the others started research for the day...

Having trusted the watching of the graveyard to the others, Shara was well-rested when they arrived wearily, the fact their hearts still seemed to beat sign enough that no further ill had befallen them.

"I will assist anyone who wishes to search the town archives. My scholarly inclinations have more to do with faith than bureaucracy, but I can still lend an extra set or two of eyes." she says to whoever may be awake.

Shara and Kendra made their way around the house quietly while the others caught up on the sleep they had missed with the previous night's vigil, trying to make as little noise as possible while gathering up notebooks, quills, and spare parchments. They left the house asleep as they made their way to the town hall.

There was once again a commotion in the town square, this time centered around Sheriff Caeler and two of his deputies. The two deputies were standing in front of the monument and the sheriff, normally so even tempered and affable, was turning the air blue as he shouted at them.

"...lazy, irresponsible, good for nothings! I ought to take both of your badges and..." The tirade continued as Kendra sidled up to one of her neighbors to ask what was going on.

It was another vandalism. The first night the bloody V had appeared on the monument. The second night VE had been scrawled there, although our heroes had been busy investigating the crypt that morning and had missed the disturbance. When it became clear that the vandalism was a continuing theme the sheriff had set two of his deputies to stand watch over the monument. Last night they had fallen asleep at their posts, hence the shouting. And it appeared that the vandal had taken full advantage of their lapse, for the letters VES were scrawled on the monument in rusty, dried blood.

Kendra shuddered and pressed on, leading Shara to the town hall.

The archives were in the loft of the building, a high ceilinged room with rows of shelves holding folios of information. Most of it was transactional information, livestock sales and the like, with a section devoted to the minutes of town council meetings. The archivist, an elderly halfling woman named Esther, gave Shara a mistrustful glare but as a citizen of Ravengro Kendra was more than entitled to search through the records.

Although not particularly historically minded, Shara fared well with Kendra's assistance and the well cataloged materials in the library. Although she wasn't able to glean much personal information about them she uncovered five infamous names, the five most dangerous prisoners who were being held at Harrowstone during the fire.

---

Meanwhile at the Lorriomor estate the morning was leisurely. Most of our heroes were sleeping off the previous night's excursion, but Keanala drifted in a fretful, restless slumber. Her dreams were nightmares of being lost in a deep, dark wood, gnarled trees looming up and misty pathways confusing the mind. In her dream she wandered, deepening panic rising in her chest as she searched futilely for some beacon to guide her.

Presently she heard the soft, keening strains of a flute drifting through the trees. Far from comforting, the eerie melody seemed to fill her slumbering mind with dread. And yet she felt compelled to follow it, pressing on through her dream towards the source of the haunting music.

In the Lorrimor's spare room she rose, sleepwalking, from her bed and marched towards the window. Her eyes were closed, trapped in her dream, and yet her fingers moved unerringly. She opened the window and raised the sash.

The music in her dream masked the noise, but the sound of buzzing wings grew louder and louder.

In the dream world the music grew closer and closer, and as she approached it fear grew in her. She was almost upon it, the discordant music coming from just around the next bend. Louder and louder, until the woodwind seemed to be tearing at her eardrums. And then, just as she rounded the last corner, she awoke.

She found herself standing in the guest room, alone, near the open window. But a very real buzzing sound filled the air as two massive insects, easily the size of her hand and resembling massive mosquitoes, were flying towards her. Stirges!

They darted into the room and, as if of its own volition, the window snapped shut behind them. Keanala found herself trapped with the dangerous little pests.

---

Keanala, you are trapped in the guest room with two stirges. Constantine and Garland are in the next room and can arrive in 1 round if called for. I'm not going to map out this combat since stirges attach to their victims and tactical positioning is less important, but normally for combats I'll put up a grid map to maneuver on. For now just assume that everyone can reach everyone else in one move action.

Keanala, it's your turn, Garland and Constantine can post about arriving or reacting but should hold off on taking a turn until next round. I've also split the combat off into its own thread since it takes place early in the day and Shara and Kendra will be researching until evening.

Enemies:
Stirge 1 - 5 HP, 16AC, Fort +2, Ref +6, Will +1
Stirge 2 - 5 HP, 16AC, Fort +2, Ref +6, Will +1

Exeunt to Chapter 1.3 - link to a message in this game
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:18, Thu 28 Feb 2019.

With a headlong charge of adventurers barreling into the room the dangerous little creatures stood little chance. Keanala didn't have much success defending herself, groggy as she was, but Constantine and Darcon's timely arrival made short work of the stirges.

Constantine's stroke whistled through the air and snipped the stirge's appendages, sending it tumbling down to curl up on the floor. Darcon's magic was not so subtle. Twin bolts impacted the bloated body of the little beast, popping it like an overfilled sausage and sending a splatter of ichor and her own drained blood dripping down the back of Keanala's smallclothes.

Despite the mess and the faint feeling of anemia Keanala was no worse for the wear, save the lingering strains of music that she could still faintly hear.

---

Shara and Kendra arrived home shortly after the disturbing interlude and Keanala's nightmare, eager to share the results of their research and to tell the group about the continued vandalism in the town square.

Kendra was horrified as our heroes explained what had happened. Ever practical, her first response was to collect Keanala's soiled clothes and dunk them in the wash tub to soak. She offered the shale skinned adventuress the pick of her own wardrobe in the meantime.

The energy in the Lorrimor home was nervous that evening over dinner, and Kendra tried to brighten the mood with light talk. It was difficult to ignore the increasingly supernatural threats bearing down on our heroes though, and a pall seemed to hang over the evening.

As the second creature was dispatched SCG cradled the swooning Keanala on his arm inside his shield.

“Fear not the night bugs are no more.”

Once he set her down he checked the room including the drapes closets and under the bed.


“What transpired I heard a slammed weight and then your call for aid?”

Keanala clung tightly to Constantine, trembling slightly.  She felt weak, vulnerable, and most embarrassingly frightened.  Constantine was the closest to her so it was he that she embraced as if she were drowning and he was the lifeline.

"I don't...give me a minute...I'm shaking like a frightened child."  She said, not willing to loosen her embrace. "I heard music...still hear music...this is embarrassing...I'm shaking like a frightened child. There was this music calling to me and then...this...I woke up here with bloody Stirges."

As Garland enters the room he looks around, more then a little confused about the sudden commotion. Though his first thoughts are the same as they always are, to the wounded. "Was anyone injured?" he asks in a concerned voice as he watches the scene unfold.

SCG feels angry at first at the vile nature of this attack, but having turned away the face of evil he tenderly turns back to Keanala

“It is no matter for embarrassment the same thing happened to three of us in the crypt , if they speak aright it is a haunt that must be dealt with and faced together.”

As Garland enters
“Aye she was attacked and wounded, I was just about to try and aid her as best I can.”

Swift action to lay on hands..
Today: Sir Constantine Godalming rolled 5 using 1d6.  Lay on hands


“We should all gather and stop this haunt before it comes again.”
This message was last edited by the player at 13:06, Tue 05 Mar 2019.

Darcon was pertubed at Kenala's revelation of the strange music she heard, as well as the continuing vandalism in the town square.

"Did anyone else hear the music Kenala heard in her sleep?" he asked the others over dinner later. "If so, or not, can we attribute it to this Haunt? I did not think it would be able to exert its influence so far from the crypts," he added, looking at Constantine, Garland and Shara in turn, hoping they had answers.

Taking a sip from his cup he looked at Kendra and remarked, "About those letters, it does seem like someone is trying to spell something in animal blood, and they keep getting away with this vandalism. It could be unrelated, a mere prank by vagrants taking advantage of the recent happenings, or something darker. I do not see how it could be the cultists of the Way, it does not make sense they would do something like this to gain attention though."

Sloshing the liquid around in his cup he sighed and put down the utensil on the table, adding, "Whoever it is should be easy enough to catch, we just need someone to keep vigil over the monuments at night. Far enough to be concealed yet close enough to act when the vandal strikes."

It seemed to the mage they had three main avenues of action:

-Investigate Harrowstone
-Deal with this Haunt
-Catch the vandal of the monument in the village square.

Only the first appeared to be connected to the Professors death, but the second might need to be dealt with sooner for their own immediate safety. As for the third, it could be connected to their investigation or not. Either way dealing with it might at the least remove a distraction from their main task.

Kendra nodded gravely as Darcon laid out the situation.

"Whatever the case may be, I don't think that we can put this down to coincidence or ill luck any longer. There is clearly something supernatural going on in town. Do you think what happened to Keanala was the same haunt that collapsed the ceiling of the crypt?

If my father was right then the whispering way would be behind it, although I don't know what would allow them to manipulate spiritual energy this way.

The vandalism doesn't look supernatural in nature, so whoever is doing it may be an agent of the Whispering Way. But Darcon is right, if the Way is as secretive as we think it would be unlike them to act so openly. I don't know what they hope to accomplish, except to make people in town nervous."

Dinner that night was steak and kidney pie, to help Keanala recover from her ordeal with the stirges, and Kendra made sure that she was comfortable for the evening.

---

The night passed uneventfully and the morning's grey dawn light brought the usual hubbub from the town square as the villagers buzzed and gossiped about the vandalism. Kendra tried to keep up a cheerful face as she served breakfast.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

"Was this attack caused by a haunt?" he questioned. "As I understand the nature of haunts they work like a trap. When activated they create an effect of some kind. I am not convinced this was an attack by an angry spirit so much as a person. As for the letters, I believe there is some symbology we are unfamiliar with. Everything in the supernatural has some kind of meaning afterall. Tonight we sleep, tommorrow we gather and figure out our next move."

Garland collected a clean glass and poured himself a glass of wine before he brought the liquid to his lips, taking a slow drink before he spoke again."My vote is Harrowstone, I believe that is the source of this towns woe's and we should begin the investigation there sooner rather then later."

Keanala had slept.  That was about the best way to describe it.  She could still hear the faint music but she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it or not.  Come morning she was more rested but a little fidgety.

"I don't know if I brought that haunt back with me last night or not.  I don't remember much about it, other than the music."  Keanala sat at the table, a cup of steaming coffee clasped in her hands.  She glanced occasionally over at Constantine and Darcon.  they had seen her in a most unflattering manner last night and that stung.  Showing such weakness in front of others was something that Tanarak had disapproved of, and she didn't want anyone thinking that she was less than capable.  She could just imagine the man chastising her for acting like 'such a girl'.  "Harrowstone seems like the most likely place, and probably more of a lead than some vandals, though I'm not discounting vandals either.  Unless the vandals scrawling is somehow the start of a mystic rune that is going to cause supernatural trouble for the town."

She took a sip of her coffee.  "I'm for checking out Harrowstone.  If there's time afterwards, and we're still in good shape, we set an ambush for some vandals."

“Aye we have the gear.  Let us have a first and a second assigned and readied to either use the haunt siphon or to use a scroll in the event it is needed.  Who among us should be first and second; and give all the rest of us some instruction should we have to make the attempt.”

He eats heartily of eggs, oatmeal and drinks milk.

“Are we also each at our fullest or do we need to take time to compose ourselves, are we all healed from the collapse?”

Kendra spent the morning making ready and helping our heroes with their gear, cataloging the haunt siphons and other equipment that they had retrieved from the crypt. She wore trousers and gardening gloves to protect her hands, and again had the long bread knife stuck in her belt.

On their way through town the group stopped by the town square to look at the latest desecration on the monument. The plinth was surprisingly unblemished. But a crowd was still gathered, and Sheriff Caeler was still looking stony faced. The deputies had kept a vigil all through the night, keeping a wary eye on the monument. The vandal must have seen them and circled around, for the bloody letters VESO were scrawled on the rear of the town hall, where the vandal's actions couldn't be seen from the square. And there, below the gruesome graffiti, was the slaughtered corpse of a farmyard dog, its throat slit and its blood used to daub the grisly message.

With nothing but unsettling omens behind them in town, our heroes headed south towards the prison. It could be seen from the edge of Ravengro, squatting atop a craggy hill like a burned out corpse, a ruin with crumbling walls and soot stained foundations. The winding path up the hill was a hike of four or five miles, and by mid morning the group stood in front of the broken gate.

---

---

One of the massive wooden doors was missing and the other hung askew, giving easy access to the prison grounds. A small outbuilding stood in the court yard, a brick manor house over grown with thick sheets of ivy. The roof sagged and the rafters were visible through empty windows.

The prison itself was an evil looking two story structure that dominated the center of the grounds. Partially flooded by what had once been the prison's pond, the burned out structure seemed darker than the surroundings, as if even the wan light of Ustalav wouldn't deign to illuminate it. Here and there stone gargoyles leered from the eaves. Once drain spouts, now they looked like evil sentinels, those that had not crumbled and fallen away. The windows were narrow and blocked by iron grills. The reinforced door swung ominously in the light breeze, creaking softly.

"Th-that's where we found my father's body." Kendra said, pointing in towards a spot just to the left of the prison entrance.

Garland had woken with a very specific set of spells in mind, relying on detection for the day. He could still heal through channeled energy if needed but in these circumstances he wanted the ability to see the danger before it came for them.

On the way there he stopped by the general store to pick up a few flasks of acid, being sure they would need some way to bypass locks in the old prison. As they passed the latest vandalism he looked at it and sighed "We need to finish this before they finish spelling whatever the symbolism requires. There is no way to be sure but tonight could be our last night before this symbolism's effect takes place. We must be sure to explore and investigate as much as possible and retreat in only the most dire circumstances."

As they came upon the old prison Garland approached the spot where Petros' body had been found and he kneeled down, looking at the scene. "Kendra, do you know who originally found Petros and what were they doing out here? It seems like this would be a place that people would avoid whenever possible." He then looks upwards, trying to see where the gargoyle originally was that had crushed Petros' skull.

More disturbed than he let on by the fresh act of vandalism on the monument (it certainly looked like someone was spelling something), Darcon found approaching the prison itself to be somewhat of a relief. It looked sinister yes, but that was to be expected. And finally they might get some concrete answers in their investigation.

He glanced curiously to where Kendra pointed, to where the Professor's body had been found. As Garland kneeled at the scene, Darcon moved a bit to the side, held out a hand with fingers splayed and murmured something unintelligible under his breath. Nothing seemed to happen save to his eyes, which appeared to glaze over with a subdued light until they were almost entirely white.

---

“Let us proceed cautiously as the trees may harbor dangers while we afix our eyes to the building alone.”

SCG steps forward careful to not tread under the looser gate and setting his shield overhead.  He enters the grounds just beyond the gate looking for and listening for danders.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Thu 07 Mar 2019.

"Sheriff Caeler and I found the body." Kendra said, shuddering as she recounted the long trek up to the prison and the horrifying discovery.

"My father had visited the prison the day before, and when he didn't return we went looking for him. We found his body here," She indicated a spot on the ground. "A stone gargoyle had fallen and hit him just here." She pointed to a spot below her nose, the falling stone had crushed his jaw and throat. The crumbling, fallen stone gargoyle still lay there, although Ustalav's ever present rain had washed away any bloodstain or spoor. Kendra studiously looked away from it.

Darcon's brow furrowed at the wholly un-surprising results of his spell. An overwhelmingly powerful necromantic aura emanated from the prison and permeated the area.

As Garland examined the area around the body his attention was drawn to some faint scrawls on the prison walls. Runes had been chiseled into the stone at knee height, the grass and weeds surrounding the foundations cleared away, and stretched out to either side. They appeared to circle the entire prison, except for the crumbled portion. Garland directed Darcon's attention to the runes, and he played the aura of his detect magic over them. The runes themselves were non-magical but held a fading aura of necromancy and abjuration, they had clearly been used for some arcane ritual.

Although he wasn't able to decipher exactly the purpose of the ritual Darcon could recognize that they were scribed in ancient Varisian. The structure of the spell was confusing until he realized that one of the repeating words was not an arcane rune but a name. The name 'Euran Hawkran' was scribed again and again through out the scrollwork of runes.

"It'd be best to be done with this place before darkness settles in. We're burning daylight." Murkau says as he trudges past the gate looking around. Noticing the brick manor, the dwarf hooks a thumb at it, "We know who lived there? I'd presume the warden myself, but I'll admit I'm no jail keeper. If so, perhaps we might find keys to any locked doors inside the prison."

The more Garland looked at the scrawlings the more he became interested in them. He looked back at Darcon and asked softly "Did you discover something?" While waiting for an answer he pulled his backpack from his back, opening the main compartment and looking through its contents. After a few moments he shook his head at being uprepared for this particular situation.

"Hopefully we can find some paper or parchment inside. I would like to take a rubbing of these symbols for further study before we leave." he stated before slinging the backpack over his shoulders. He looked back and asked softly "The prisoners that we confirmed died in the fire, what do we know about them besides their names?" he asked to no one in particular.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Fri 08 Mar 2019.

Shara shrugged at Garland's question.

"Names are about all we have, though the monikers themselves can be a bit telling. I was actually just thinking about the strange music we heard, and the fact one of the notorious killers was named The Piper of Ilmarsh. I don't know much about him beyond that, but given all the associations with malicious spirits and the like we've had, I wouldn't rule out the vengeful ghost of a prisoner running amok." she remarks.

Garland and Shara's research on the prison had been patchy in some places, but either was able to confidently confirm Murkau's guess. The house on the prison grounds had belonged to the warden and his wife, both of whom had perished in the fire.

The house itself was relatively sound--the fire hadn't spread beyond the walls of the prison--it was time and neglect that had made it a ruin.

While Kendra didn't have the proper equipment to take a rubbing she did have a field notebook in her pack, she tore out a few blank pages and passed them to Garland. "At least there's plenty of charcoal." She said wryly, nodding towards the prison.

The structure itself was relatively intact, the fire had mostly been confined to the lower level during the riot, but there and there an old charred timber could be seen.

SCG looks thoughtful.
“It fits music was heard and the blood suckers were brought forth.”

SCG looks at the ruins the open spaces and the smaller structure
“The house is intact perhaps the warden kept a journal or other clues can be found therein; and perhaps it can be a rally point in case of forced retreat.”.”

"Yes, I have discovered a few facts. The runes inscribed all around the walls were part of a spell, or a ritual to be more precise, that was conducted here. I detect emanations of necromancy and protective magic, but the purpose of the ritual eludes me," Darcon replied to Garland.

Lowering his hand he added, "There is something else, a name consistently keeps repeating among these runes. A name called 'Euran Hawkran'. Does that name ring a bell for anyone?"

The mage looked around at the others, including Kendra, hoping someone would be familiar with the name.

Murkau combs through his short beard at the question Darcon posed recalling the information that everyone had gathered, "Wasn't tha' the name of the Warden that died in the fire? They gotta statue of the guy in the middle of town. This must be the warden's house... I'm headin' in, let's see if we can find anything of use for the rest of the prison."
The dwarf hefts his axes, and makes his way towards the decrepit house.

Garland takes as good of a rubbing as he can with the tools available to him, placing the paper in his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. He waits till they are at the entrance to the old building before he grasps the holy symbol hanging from his shoulder, whispering softly as he casts a spell. "Pharasma grant me the power to see our greatest abominations, let none that escape your boneyard escape my senses."

SCG leads the way into the abandoned manner.  He muses to his self if the nest of Stirge reside in the attic or what they may find.

“We have done well finding more and more about this terrible thing; with your steadfast help we shall prevail.”

SCG readies and checks his shield and ensures his Morningstar’s leather strap  is firmly around his wrist and at the ready.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:08, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

"Yes, the warden." Kendra confirmed Murkau's comment, common knowledge to the people of Ravengro. "And I think that his name was on the list that Garland found, the staff members who died in the fire."

Garland's spell played over the house but revealed no undead presence on the entrance, although the walls were stone and sufficient to prevent his spell from penetrating the interior of the house.

The warden's house was an old abandoned ruin rather than a burnt out ruin, having been spared the fire that had ravaged the prison proper. Empty windows holding slivers of broken glass stared out like eye sockets, and the door gave way at a touch. While the youth of Ravengro often dared each other to spend a night in the haunted prison most only made it as far as the main gate, those with the courage to step through contented them selves with throwing stones through whatever windows remained in the warden's house, only a mad few would step foot in the moldering structure, and none at all into the prison itself.

Still, the main room of the small structure had been picked over by the greedy or the curious in the fifty years since the fire. The furniture was overturned or broken, the pictures missing or faded, anything loose pilfered.

The second floor had fared slightly better, while it looked like curious feet had trod its hallways the property was still largely intact. There was nothing valuable to be found after so many years, the blankets tattered, the furniture moldering, but Shara managed to find a mostly preserved desk in one of the bedrooms. The handle crumbled away when pulled, but a little digging at the soggy wood with a dagger revealed a void filled with sludge that may once have been parchments and a rusty iron key.

Those searching downstairs had less luck. Constantine was prodding at moldy old couch with his mace when it shifted, one of the legs breaking off as it lurched enough to crash partially through one of the clapboard walls. It was a minor gouge, but hundreds of tiny eyes suddenly fixed on the hapless paladin from the opening. An instant later a ravenous swarm of rats boiled out into the room, flooding over the floor in a squeaking, chittering mass.

---

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Key:
D - Doors, both are currently open
S - Stairs leading to the upper floor
con - Sir Constantine
dar - Darcon
mur - Murkau
gar - Garland
*Shara is currently upstairs but can arrive this round and act immediately.

Enemies:
rat - Rat swarm. HP 16, AC 14, Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +2, Swarm Traits (Half damage from piercing and slashing weapons)

Combat:
On their first round the rats move out of the walls and engulf Constantine, who takes 3 (3 out of 6 due to DR) damage and has the Nauseated condition for 1 round.

It's now the player phase.

Edited: Constantine takes only 3 damage from the swarm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:08, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

Though the swarm engulfs him and the rats tear and bite SCG does not cry out...


He attempts to crush the rats on his shield into the rats still on the ground in front of him.
Awaiting DM ruling if possible or not


I have a trait for this type of thing.... Bellis Honey Harvester Source Andoran, Spirit of Liberty pg. 18 Category Region Requirement(s) Bellis [in Andoran] Your frequent exposure to bees—and their stings—makes all such creatures seem more like nuisances than actual threats. You gain DR 3/— against damage dealt by swarms and a +1 trait bonus on saving throws against distraction and poison from swarms.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Not the first time...probably not the last either

---

This message was last edited by the player at 18:53, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

Murkau rushes to the paladins aid, swinging his maulaxe down at the rats again and again, crushing them with the sledge side of his peculiar axe. "Back to tha hole ye came from!"

---

Full-round action: Charge! to H-6
Hit AC 25 for 6 bludgeoning damage.

Murkau Holdheart rolled 25 using 1d20+6.  Charge attack - maulaxe.
Murkau Holdheart rolled 6 using 1d6+2.  Maulaxe damage.

Seeing Constantine engulfed in a swarm of rats he reaches down to his belt and pulls one of the flasks he picked up back in town. "This is not how I planned to use these." he thought as he drew his arm back and shouted. "Constantine, move!" As soon as the paladin moved out of the radius Garland threw the flask into the swarm, hoping for the best.

Garlands vial of lobbed acid went wide, splashing against the far wall and engulfing only a few of the rats which squealed and began to curl with acrid smoke as they melted. Constantine held his shield like an anvil and Murkau charged down like a hammer, squashing and scattering the chittering vermin. Ravenous and enraged, the rats swarmed over this new antagonist.

---

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Key:
D - Doors, both are currently open
S - Stairs leading to the upper floor
con - Sir Constantine
dar - Darcon
mur - Murkau
gar - Garland
*Shara is currently upstairs but can arrive this round and act immediately.

Enemies:
rat - Rat swarm. HP 8/16, AC 14, Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +2, Swarm Traits (Half damage from piercing and slashing weapons)

Combat:
Constantine spends the round nauseated but recovers and can now act normally.
Murkau deals 6 damage to the rat swarm.
Garland misses the swarm's touch AC of 14 and his throw deviates, doing 2 points of splash damage to the swarm.

The rats swarm over Murkau, dealing 3 damage. Murkau fails a will save and is nauseated next round.

It's now the player phase.

"Careful!" Darcon called out, gripping his staff in both hands as he watched his companions getting swarmed by the rats. After a moment of indecision he moved quickly, skirting the edge of the swarm until he found a clear place close enough to affect the rats but not injure his friends.

Raising his staff he slammed it point down onto the ground while uttering a word of power. Lightning flashed with a low crackle inside the house, sending sparks flying in all directions...

---

Move Action: Move to I7;

Upon hearing the sounds of conflict, Shara ran down the stairs, her spiritual companion in tow. She flung a piece of debris at the swarm using strange telekinetic powers, as her companion closed in and swung a spectral blade at the swarm.


18:45, Today: Shara rolled 5 using 1d6+1. Damage. If it hits (flanking?), Murkau can make an immediate action attack.
18:44, Today: Shara rolled 12 using 1d20+3.  Phantom Slam.
18:43, Today: Shara rolled 4 using 1d6.  Damage.
18:43, Today: Shara rolled 16 using 1d20+2.  Telekinetic Projectile.

Garland let out a curse as he held the morningstar in his dominant hand and took a step forward, swinging with as much might as the cleric could muster.

“Take care my friends swarms are very common and survival is most likely,”

With that SCG pummels the rats with his morning star

13:45, Today: Sir Constantine Godalming rolled 7 using 1d8+1.  Morning star damage . 13:45, Today: Sir Constantine Godalming rolled 22 using 1d20+3.  Attack roll against swarm.

Combat:
Darcon's light flash does 5 damage to the swarm.
Shara's TK projectile does 4 damage, enough to disperse the swarm.
Everybody else smashes or stomps on fleeing rats as they scurry away.

Combat concluded, victory!

---

Our hero's swift action sent scurrying, mangy bodies flying as spells and steel pummeled at the break in the wall where the rats were boiling out. Shara's telekinetic throw struck a decisive enough blow the scatter the largest knot of rats, and the rest squealed and dispersed, scampering out the doors, through the broken windows, and into dozens of little hidey holes in the walls.

Kendra shrieked and performed an awkward, panickey dance as rats ran past her ankles on the way out. She shuddered and rubbed her hands together as if cleaning off something disgusting.

"Horrible little things." She said as the last rats scurried away.

A further search of the house revealed little more than the moldering remains of the Hawkran's personal effects, Shara's rusty iron key was the only noteworthy artifact in the place.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:02, Wed 13 Mar 2019.

"Ugh."  Keanala slowly loosened the tension that she had drawn on her bow.  She plucked the arrow from the string and held it in one hand.  "Nice work on those things.  Never liked rats.  Everyone okay?"

SCG makes certain all the rats are off of him and quickly checks for bites and scratches, especially deep ones that may result in infection.

“Better than horrible massive things.”


“Check for deep wounds rats can cause disease.  I took more than I first thought though in coming to my aid it appears our friend has taken more.  I was the appetizer and he the main course.”

Kendra fussed over Constantine and Murkau until she was satisfied that the weren't in imminent danger of expiring from their wounds. Apart from deep scratches around shins and ankles anywhere not covered in armor they seemed fine, but Constantine was right about the propensity of rats to spread disease. Kendra resolved to keep an eye on both of them over the next couple of days to make sure they were in good health.

"Lets hope that key comes in use inside the old prison," Darcon murmured, implying his hope that the effort expended here had been of some use. "Since there appears to be nothing of interest here let us move into the prison proper, there must be some clues as to the fate of the Professor and the affairs of The Whispering Way there."

Garland took a few moments to look at both injured party members and their wounds for a few moments before he stepped back. "I have several chances to channel energy. If either of you would like healing in that way you need only ask. When we return to the Lorrimor estate I want to examine both of you to see if you're suffering from infection or disease." he stated, smiling warmly as he looked at their faces with a reassuring tone in his voice. "I've spent several years of my life working as a doctor in Caliphas, you'll be in good hands."

He looked over at Darcon as he made the suggestion and nodded in agreement, gripping his mace tightly in his dominant hand as he walked toward the door. "I agree, the main prison seems the next best place though keep a lookout for someway to scale the walls. I would like to take a look at the area above where Petros passed."

"Dastardly little things, alway's after the littlest bit of food. If I feel worse for the wear I'll let ya know, for now lets get goin'." The dwarf cleans the sledge side of his maulaxe before moving out of the decrepit house towards the prison.

“Indeed we should keep going; if we gave up now old wives would ridicule us to no end with brooms and buckets they have fought such swarms.   Perhaps we can find a place the wall has fallen away or a door is open.  Scaling walls is not my favorite thing.”

Our heroes moved across the grounds to the prison proper, hesitating for a scant moment in front of the crooked wooden doors.

There was a palpable feeling of dread as they crossed over the threshold, the oppressive feeling of claustrophobia, the lingering tug of men who had died in anger and terror and hate, the faintest scent of charred flesh. A collective shudder seemed to move through the group and, although none of our heroes were unduly put out, Kendra seemed shaken.

The massive doors, once strongly barred, were easily pushed open with the groaning screech of rusted hinges. Our heroes moved through a small foyer and then into an entry way that split off in four directions. A quick peek through the doors showed corridors flanked with doors to the west and north, and a large open chamber like an auditorium to the east. South were the doors that the party had entered through.

---

Shara looked around at the possible paths through the prison before them.

"I don't suppose anyone has a good idea as to where we should start in our search? Perhaps where the professor met his fate?" she asks, with a sideways glance at Kendra.

Seeing her friend a little shaken, Keanala went to Kendras side.  She rested a hand on the other woman shoulder, giving a soft squeeze of reassurance.

"So.  Big open area first?"

“Aye it would give us a chance to secure and control a large area and deal with larger threats first.”

SCG heads to lead the way into the large chamber on the right

Garland reached over and put a hand on Kendra's shoulder, a gesture he used with many new acolytes back at the cathedral when they began to loose their nerve. "Process of elimination. We need to check every room for clues but be sure to stay together. It's important that everyone is honest with one another, bravery and pride be will get you killed. If you're feeling, seeing, hearing, or smelling something odd say something as soon as you can."

Garland then points his morningstar towards the auditorium "I agree, lets start here."

Darcon entered last, glancing about the gloomy place with trepidation. Narrowing his eyes he peered from underneath his hood, his gaze raking across the area. "Careful everyone, watch your step. Remember the trap in the crypt earlier, we don't want to fall for something like that again," he advised. "Be alert for signs of anyone else having been here recently as well," the mage added.

When Garland pointed towards the auditorium Darcon shrugged and replied, "Seems as good a place as any, lead on."

---

Perception: 23 (looking for anything useful or interesting in sight, such as tracks, traps, secret doors, etc)

Our heroes moved swiftly to take advantage of the last few moments of Garland's undead detecting enchantment. They moved into the large room east of the foyer but Garland held up a hand to forestall them from moving in any further.

The room was a large meeting hall or auditorium. The rows of benches and podium towards the front of the room painted it as the location of guard briefings and meetings with officials. However, thick eye bolts set into the benches showed a dual purpose, places where inmates could be chained while groups were inducted into the prison or disciplined. And at the center of the camber, just before the podium, a pair of manacles were set into the floor. Clearly this was where the condemned would stand when the auditorium served as impromptu courtroom.

Just as his enchantment faded Garland detected a strong undead presence centered there, on the manacles. Nothing could be seen by the naked eye, most likely some haunt was tethered to the place where the condemned had stood. It would be possible to move through the room without disturbing that location, but any investigation of the front of the room or the lectern would likely trigger the haunt. Darcon's keen eyes roved over the area and could not see any visible papers or clues. It would be impossible to tell what was in the lectern drawer without investigating closer.

The far side of the room had two exits, leading to another open room to the north (A4) and a small office to the south (A5).

---

---

A1 - Entryway
A2 - Foyer
A3 - Auditorium - You are here
A4 - ???
A5 - ???

SCG strides into the room,
Between the two doors and below the room designator

“Anybody see any signs of vermin or other things?”

Garland stood at the doorway, holding up a hand to stop everyone as he stood there, seeing the aura of something not of life and deaths natural course. "Hold, I detect an abomination. Give me a moment to investigate." he said as he closed his eyes, looking even more deeply at the room as he cointiued to survey the situation.

"I don't see anything." Kendra answered Constantine nervously.

Garland's field of scan narrowed and intensified, his magically enhanced senses picking out the threads of undeath in the area. He detected a single aura of moderate necromantic potency.

Darcon stopped in his tracks when he heard Garland state his discovery. Remaining behind the priest he waited for him to reveal more of what he had detected with his magic.

Murkau grunted, waiting a moment before asking the priest "What do yer eyes see Garland?" The dwarf waited towards the front of the group, content to be a shield for the rest.

The spell fades a moment later and Garland looks back at the others. "There is a single aura of necromantic energy ahead. Thats all I could determine before the spell faded...I suggest we prepare one of the siphons and move inside carefully."

“Aye ready the symphony and I shall move forward into harms way.”

SCG waits for them to get set and then starts straight up the middle to the front of the room.

Kendra fished in her pack and handed Garland one of the delicate glass haunt siphons. He approached as closely as he could the edge of the aura, he was several feet away from the podium, and twisted open the supernatural trap. There was a sudden rush of ghostly energy and ethereal tendrils formed and writhed, drawn inwards into the haunt siphon. A low wail sounded and the temperature dropped slightly. Then it was over, and the haunt siphon began to glow with a sickly green light.

An examination of the now safe podium found nothing particularly noteworthy. Just a loose collection of moldy papers, ink smudged, dealing with the day to day operation of the prison. There was a duty roster and a supply request, but no illuminating clues.

Garland sets his hand on Constantines shoulder with a smile. "Im pleased that this did not put you into danger but please share some of that burden. You need not shoulder it all yourself my friend." he said, hoping that paladin would take his words to heart.

Garland looked at the siphon, taking in its details as he turned it every which way in his hands. Noting the only difference was the light. "I think I may have to study these devices more when there is time. I could write a full paper just on the few changes Ive noticed."

After a moment he removed his backpack, placing the used siphon into it before he began to collect the paperwork, page by page gathering everything together and placing it in his pack for further study and possibly even historical reference material. Once that paperwork had been collected Garland took a small piece of charcoal and a blank, partially burned page, placing them on the ground in front of him before he kneeled down, taking in a deep breath as he spoke to the spirit. "I want to help you but we need to speak to one another. Can you write your name for us?" he asked in a tone that betrayed his feelings of pity for someone trapped here. Garland was a scholar and a healer but these were not the wounds of a body wracked by injuries or disease, instead he was trying to heal the soul trapped here so it might pass on.

Keanala leaned over Garlands shoulder, her own interest piqued by the haunt siphon.  "I haven't seen one of those working before.  That's pretty useful.  Can we get more of these?"

“Someone must take point as we move forward; fear not I know that you can take my place should the need arise.”

He nods
“The detection spell was well done allowing us a foothold and a haunt removed.”

He looks at the siphon...
“Can it still be used or is it now filled?”

The remainder of the room shows little of interest so SCG looks around the room at the variety of doors...

The small area behind the room between this main chamber and the outer wall seems like a place that must be cleared next.

Garland's query echoed through the open chamber but the unquiet spirits didn't deign to answer, the charcoal and paper remained inert. His knowledge of the undead told him that such inquiries were unlikely to be answered directly, except by an attack. Unless one possessed something specific to the spirit being questioned, some object or person intimately tied with it, a mundane seance was unlikely to yield any answers. There were magics and rituals capable of pulling answers from the hostile dead, however.

Still, this particular haunt was unlikely to cause problems for some time. While most haunts re manifested after a single day, any haunt drained with a haunt siphon could take as long as two weeks to gather enough spiritual energy to re manifest.

Kendra shuffled through her bag, looking at the treasures that had been retrieved from the crypt.

"Well, we have one more. And Father Grimburrow would likely be able to make more of them, if he has this one to work from. We can likely buy more from the temple of Pharasma." She answered Keanala.

"That one is expended," She nodded towards the one that Garland was stowing "But the spiritual energy held within could be useful, I suppose."

Constantine's search of the southern wall of the chamber revealed little. He clamored up onto the knee height stage and searched the lectern and rear area but didn't find more than the moldy papers that Garland had already examined.

"No, I suppose it would not be that easy." he said aloud, shrugging a moment later knowing that not all hauntings were very vocal. "I am unsure if we 'should' use the other siphon. Father Grim burrow may need to study one before he or the other priests can build them and who knows what such an endeavor would cost as they are powerful magical items. Regardless, we should move on. Lead the way Constantine."

Kendra nodded.

"We'll try to save it, but I'm sure that the temple would be able to replicate even a filled haunt siphon. So, where too next?"

“There are two more doors out of this room perhaps we shoul keep going through these.”

"Outer door first?" Keanala offered, hooking a thumb in the direction of the door to A5.

Darcon watched the process of the trapping of the haunt with fascination, the green glow of the filled siphon reflecting in his eyes as he stared. "Interesting..." the mage murmured as the process was completed. Looking towards Kendra he asked curiously, "Since the haunts manifest again, albeit much delayed due to these siphons which I presume somehow drains them of their essence, is there anyway to permanently slay a haunt that you might know off?"

As Constantine and Keanala implied the group should get moving again Darcon nodded and replied, "Lead on."

“Aye the outer door first then.”


SCG cautiously takes ahold of the door to open it and find out if it is locked or barred.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:40, Sat 23 Mar 2019.

"Maybe destroy what ties them to the mortal plane? Just a guess, my knowledge of undead is more oriented towards the physical ones." Murkau adds in response to Darcon, stroking his beard with his off-hand. "Best to finish off a path before going to explore others, one of the first things I had to teach yer father back in the day," the dwarf nodded to Kendra.

Kendra nodded her agreement as she corroborated Murkau's assessment, happy to be discussing one of her fields of study. Or one of the fields that she had been studying for the past several days.

"Yes, like ghosts and other unquiet spirits you can't truly be rid of a haunt by damaging it with positive energy or otherwise dispelling it. You have to resolve the unfinished business that tethers it to our world. It's why researching the history of a place can be so important, knowing what caused the haunting can tell you how to exorcise it."

Our heroes followed Constantine cautiously into the next chamber, weapons out and spells at the ready. Their caution was unwarranted though. Nothing attacked them when they entered the room, and a thorough examination didn't trigger any traps or haunts.

The room looked like a storage room of some sort, two long sorting tables or work benches took up the middle of the space and the walls were covered with tagged bins. The tags had long since rotted away, but it was plain to see that this was where the prisoner's personal effects were stored. Almost none of the equipment here would ever be returned to their owners though, for more often than not the belongings would simply be held as a formality until the inmate was hanged.

The contents of the bins were mostly moldy rubbish, but here and there an item of value could be picked out. All told the group managed to scavenge a set of masterwork thieves tools, a silver medal from some long lost war (80gp), a small sized tapestry that Daron recognized as depicting the Battle of Ghorcha Pass (280gp), a fine ivory comb (35gp) and hair pins (20gp), a masterwork dagger, a masterwork silver war razor, a wand of lesser restoration with 12 charges remaining, and 724gp in assorted coins.

The most tantalizing feature of the room wasn't in the bins, however. Inset into the far wall was a large iron safe with massive hinges and a heavy handle. It was locked, the key hole rusty but serviceable.

---

“Perhaps a clue is preserved in the safe and fortune favors us with tools for opening such a contrivance; if anyone is a locksmith.”.”

Kendra rapped curiously on the safe, the dull thudding sounds of her knuckles a testament to how thick and solid the door was.

"I don't know anything about picking locks." She lamented.

"And I doubt we would be able to get someone from the town to come up to the prison to jimmy it open for us."

Darcon looked at the iron safe with interest, but he had no way of opening it. He did have another vial of acid but the door of the safe appeared far too thick and big for a vial of acid to be of any use in opening it, at least in his opinion.

"I have another vial of acid, but I do not believe it will be of much help in opening this," he remarked, gesturing at the safe with his staff.

“Perhaps it is not locked or is rusted out.”

He tries to just turn the handle...

“Did anyone see a paper with instructions for the safe?  Often in jails the information is written down so it is not forgotten by those working day to day.”

As much as Constantine heaved he wasn't able to budge the handle, and Darcon's assessment seemed more than reasonable. There just wasn't any melting into the safe, at least not with what they had on hand. The possibility of finding a paper with instructions was remote, the safe had a key hole and not a combination lock.

Recalling something, Darcon turned to face the group and remarked, "Shara, didn't you find a key inside the house earlier, when we were swarmed by the rats? Why don't you try using that on the safe here, but beware of any traps."

Taking his own advice Darcon moved back a few paces from the safe, just in case.

"Or maybe just bash it in?" Keanala offered though she was not very fond of the idea.  "Or can we take it with us and back to town where we can take our time opening it?  I don't have a lot of experience with locked treasures.  Usually we had a...specialist with us to open up the things."

Garland shakes his head back and forth at Keanala's suggestion. "I do not recommend bashing it in as anything fragile inside would likely be destroyed in the process. Unless Shara's key works I believe this is one of those situations where we will have to come back to it"

"Good thinking." Shara said.

She tried the key in the lock but was disappointed to find that it didn't fit. She thought for a moment and then used her dagger to scrape away some of the rust clustered around the keyhole and the head of the iron key. With a little jimmying and some dubious scraping sounds it slid home with a rattling click. She fished around in the lock for a moment, worried that the rusty key would break, but managed to spin the cylinder before the handle of the key snapped off. The bolts shot back and, although the key was broken off in the lock, it was open. Constantine pushed the heavy door out of the way to reveal the contents of the safe.

Inside was a hodgepodge collection of items, protected from the rot of the prison by the watertight seal around the safe door. Garland and Darcon pored over the items, examining them magically to determine what secrets they might hide.

Bloodstained Handaxe - The first item was +1 handaxe, obviously a woodsman's tool rather than a weapon. Wet blood still glistened along its edge, spattered over the head and handle in a way that would make it impossible to wield without getting one's hands bloody. Darcon detected a curse on the axe, although he couldn't determine the curse's exact effects.

Collection of Holy Symbols - This mass of dozens of silver holy symbols dangled from fine chains all tangled in a mass. Although they didn't appear to be fused or locked together, any attempt to untangle them proved useless. There were symbols of Pharasma, Erastil, Abadar, and a dozen other major and minor deities from across Golarion represented. These too had a curse upon them. Any divine caster carrying these symbols would face 10% spell failure chance, exactly like an arcane caster wearing armor, and would suffer a -1 saving throw against divine spells. However, subtle lucky magics seemed to interact with and influence the pervasive haunting around the prison. The bearer would also have +2 to AC and all saving throws made within the prison.

Moldy Spellbook - This leather bound spellbook had become faded and caked with mold over the years, although some pages remained legible. When Darcon paged through it he shouted in alarm and let it tumble from his grasp. For there, in blood, he found his own name etched again and again in the margins an spaces. Kendra picked it up with horrified fascination and reported that, to her, it was her own name that she saw scrawled there. Indeed anyone that examined the book found their own name scribbled in blood. As Darcon examined the book he felt a sudden greedy fear grip his mind, a paranoid terror of losing his ability to cast spells. He shook off the compulsion with relative ease but got the impression that, while they bore it, the book would make any caster reluctant to expend their spells. The spells held by the book were comprehend languages, false life, gust of wind, illusory script, levitate, mage armor, magic missile, and summon monster IV. He got the feeling that any lengthy examination of the tome could have deleterious effects.

Smith's Hammer - This heavy masterwork blacksmith's hammer had the well worn handle of a master craftsman's implement. Its masterwork nature would give the user +2 on Craft checks, with an additional +2 on armorsmith, blacksmith, and weaponsmith checks specifically. Holding the hammer itself was something of an ordeal, for when picked up strong pangs of guilt and regret washed over the wielder. Most significantly Garland, Constantine, and Darcon recognized it. It was the spectral hammer that they had seen crashing down on them when the crypt in the Restlands collapsed.

Tarnished Silver Flute - This flute bore the marks of age and ill repair but looked like it would still function, although none of our heroes tried to play it. The enchantment on this item seemed to resonate with the haunted prison just as the holy symbols did, although neither Garland nor Darcon were able to determine what effect it might have if played.

"If no one wants to use any of these, I can carry them. Perhaps Father Grimburrow may be able to purge the curses when we head back to the town." The stout dwarf stepped to the front saying. The dwarf was trusting in his kinds' resistance to magic to prevent him from suffering any ill effects from carrying the cursed items.

Kendra nodded and help him carefully stow the haunted artifacts in his pack. She handled them nervously, trying to touch them as little as possible, and didn't seem any the worse for the wear after the maneuver.

"Where shall we explore next?" She asked.

"While the curses are something to keep in mind, I believe these may have some connection to the prisoners who may still haunt this place. Why else would such artifacts be locked away like this?" he adds as he looks over at Kendra, not exactly comfortable with her carrying cursed items though he said nothing about it.

After a moment he points toward the other side of the building. "There was that long hallway going to the west. Perhaps we should see what is that way."

Shaken by what he had seen and senses, Darcon watched the objects be stowed away into Murkau's pack. He had been tempted by the spellbook, and still was despite the dark power infesting it, but it was too dangerous to peruse right now. Later, if they survived this place and found a way to purge the curses he could dive into the new lore and spells within the tome.

"To the hallway then," he echoed Garland, and gestured with his staff for the others to lead the way. "Wary of any traps," he added, the memories of the cave in and his own near death experience still fresh in his mind.

---

ooc: Someone should regularly keep checking for traps guys.

"It's kind of an odd place to keep cursed items, isn't it?  Out in the open like this?  Well, locked in a safe out in the open I mean.  I would've thought that they'd be kept in a basement someplace."

Keanala shrugged.  "Hallway is good."

“These items seem connected to the harms that have befallen us.  Do they need to be cleansed or destroyed to rid the curses?”

"These objects may not have been cursed when they were put in here. It looks like this was where the prisoner's belongings were stored, the safe was probably just for the highest security prisoners. Fifty years in a haunted prison can have all manner of strange effects." Kendra said as they trooped out of the property room. She shrugged.

"Then again, they may have been locked away because they were cursed in the first place. Cleansing the curses on these objects could go a long way towards resolving the haunting of the prison itself."

Our heroes made their way through the property room, backtracking through the auditorium and into the hallway to the west. They proceeded cautiously, checking for traps and haunts, but found nothing in the short corridor. The four doors leading off the corridor led to offices, now in shambles, that had once served as the administrative head of the prison. The papers were moldy, scattered, and largely illegible, but a great many remained intact. Taking an hour or two to properly collect and catalog them could lead to great insights about the prison's history and day to day business, and would provide a +4 bonus to knowledge checks about the prison itself.

The group could decide to make that search later but, finding no threats or traps, pushed on.

The two doors at the end of the corridor opened, one into a small washroom, and the other into a larger and more officially furnished office. The large desk was still stable and the walls were taken up with shelves, a cabinet, and a rack for weapons. But before our heroes could cross the threshold to investigate further Murkau and Darcon both hissed a warning.

No tangible presence could be seen in the office, but as they approached they could feel a rheumatic ache in their joints and a surge of anger and resentment directed towards the doorway.

---

---

A1 - Entryway
A2 - Foyer
A3 - Auditorium - You are here
A4 - ???
A5 - Property Room
A6 - Offices
A7 - Warden's Office

Remaining steady after hissing out his warning to the others, Darconc considered the doorway curiously, aware of the growing ache in his joints and the feeling of resentment and anger being directed towards the doorway.

"Careful, it could be a trap or another of those haunts," he warned the others. Raising a hand he made a quick gesture and murmured something under his breath, then held out his hand palm facing the doorway and the room beyond.

---

Cast detect magic to see if anything catches his attention
This message was last edited by the player at 16:47, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Darcon's magical detection played over the interior of the room as he stood on the threshold, intensifying as he concentrated. His magical gaze detected nothing, illuminating in its own right. It meant that the foreboding aura that our heroes detected was likely not a magical trap or a spell, given their location it was almost certainly a haunt.

"We could use the haunt siphon or try to clear it with positive energy, although the latter would only suppress it for a day or two. We could also try to commune with it or investigate what unresolved business is keeping it here and resolve the haunting itself." Shara said, lending her expertise on the affairs of spirits.

"Of course, we could just trigger it and try to survive its effects."

“I am game to trigger and others observe and be ready to siphon.”

SCG moves aside the doorway waiting for the go ahead from his companion

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Kendra asked tremulously as the rest of the group save Constantine backed down the hallway. They backed up to the far end of the hallway, close enough to rush to Constantine's aid if the worst should happen, but as far as possible from the haunt itself.

Sir Constantine steeled himself and then stepped across the threshold.

An furious babbling like a mob of angry voices surged and rose, the temperature rising noticeably and the smell of burning flesh filling the air. Half glimpsed, ethereal figures rushed inwards towards the door, the manifestation of the prisoner's hatred and and resentment of their jailers. A surge of raw anger seemed to form and coalesce at the door into a scrawled symbol, prisoner's chicken scratch. Although it disappeared almost immediately words of condemnation towards the warden and his guards could be read.

Our heroes clustered in the hallway were blasted with the power of that symbol. Aches and pains tremmored through most of them but Darcon was suddenly wracked with a torturous agony. He seemed to feel harsh blows as from iron rods raining on his joints and hands and a searing pain lanced through his jaw.

Then, with a final moan, the haunt dissipated, leaving the hallway empty and Darcon shuddering with the memory of pain. The haunt was expended, at least for the time being.

---

Anyone within 60ft is affected by the haunt, which mimics a symbol of pain spell. Everyone except Darcon passes their saves. Darcon takes a -4 to attack rolls, ability checks, and skill checks for 1 hour.

---

With the haunt cleared our heroes were able to explore the warden's office without further trouble. The warden's desk held dusty papers similar to the nearby offices, these papers could likewise be collated into a collection that would provide a +4 to knowledge checks regarding the prison with an hour's work.

The gear on the nearby shelves was mostly rusty and useless, and the weapon rack was empty, but a cache of supplies was secreted in his lower desk drawer. The cache consisted of the prison's payroll, 500gp, four potions of cure moderate wounds, three potions of lesser restoration, and two potions of remove disease.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:12, Thu 04 Apr 2019.

The wave of anger born in despair washed over SCG.  He tried to make sense of the wash but in reality it made him question much of what he thought of the purpose of imprisonments and Redemption...

He looks back to the hallway
“Is everyone in fine spirits still yet?  Is it me or does it seem possible those housed here were subjected to torture?”

Kendra shuddered in the aftermath of the haunt, and at Constantine's grim suggestion.

"Perhaps the warden and his guards weren't so blameless. Ugh. Well, it doesn't look like there's any way through in this section. Where should we explore next?"

"Not just possible Constantine. Highly probable. Considering the history of the prison it is no stretch of the imagination that all kinds of atrocities were commited in these walls. Torture may be just the beginning. I pray Pharasma granted them the wisdom not to partake in necromantic research as well." he breathed in a sigh of contempt for the atrocities that had taken place in this prison and yet were continued in prisons across Ustalav. Perhaps one day they would outlaw the practice which caused so many emotional scars across the land.

He takes his time to gather all forms of paperwork and anything that might be pertanent to further investigation. "The next nearest door seems the best place. We need to explore the entire facility today before posting a guard in the town square tonight."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:27, Sat 06 Apr 2019.

"I hope that we have enough of those siphons."  Keanala added.  "There seem to be a lot of haunts in this place.  I wonder if they were here before the place burned down or before."

The memories triggered by the haunt still affected Darcon, phantom pain from the images and memories wracking his mind. "I strongly suggest we try to clear these haunts with positive energy, if we cannot afford to spend a siphon," Darcon remarked as the others explored the Warden's office.

After choosing two of the potions for himself the mage gestured to the others he was ready to move on with the exploration

---

ooc: Darcon will take 1 potion of CMW and 1 Potion of Restoration
This message was last edited by the player at 09:20, Sat 06 Apr 2019.

“Aye perhaps the warden was in the whispering way and perhaps the fire was part and parcel of some twisted scheme.  If this place was a torture chamber the potions we found give clue to the awfulness otherwise it was aid for any wounds that might happen.

SCG shrugs and begins to move forward once more he knows they must press on and hope to clear it all before nightfall

Our heroes moved through the moldering corridors of the prison, peeking through doorways and taking a quick survey of the layout. They first explored the northern corridor that led off of the entryway and found that it quickly branched out.

To the right of the corridor (A9) they found a staircase leading to the upper floor and a staircase leading down into the dungeon. The stairs leading up were traversable but those leading down were collapsed by the deadfall, triggered by the guards to keep the prisoners contained in the lower level during the riot.

To the right the floor plan opened up into a wide section of corridors punctuated with doors leading to the various prison facilities (doors 1-6). Our heroes chose the first door that they came to (A8) and took a look inside.

The interior was the prison chapel, overturned pews forming little mounds and an altar visible at the far end. Rather than the general disuse and rot that had overtaken the majority of the rest of the prison this room was festooned, high and low, with delicate cobwebs. Although no hostiles could be seen in the room it would be nearly impossible to enter without disturbing the webs.

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Explored Rooms:
A1 - Entryway
A2 - Foyer
A3 - Auditorium
A5 - Property Room
A6 - Offices
A7 - Warden's Office
A9 - Stairwell

Unexplored Rooms:
A4 - ???
A8 - Chapel - You are here
1 - ???
2 - ???
3 - ???
4 - ???
5 - ???
6 - ???

"Our findings are disturbing but we should continue, there is still much more ground to cover before nightfall." Garland said as he pushed the door open, disappointed in their findings though not entirely surprised. He took the lead this time walking back down the hallway, through the foyer, past the auditorium and opened the double doors at the east side.

OOC: Moving to A4 for more exploration

“The webs indicate spiders or some creatures with webs.  I can go in with a torch and clear the webs.”

"Perhaps we'll return later to see what's in there." Kendra said to Constantine, following after Garland as he moved on to explore.

They moved through the auditorium and into the room on the east side of the prison. It was a large, open chamber with training dummies and similar equipment moldering against the walls. The far wall was partially collapsed, letting the murky waters of the pond flow towards the center of the chamber.

In the center a deep, black hole gaped. This was where the lift had been positioned, which the prisoners had attempted to scale after the guards triggered the deadfall that collapsed the stairs. The hole was blackened and charred, the panicked guards had dropped lamp oil and torches down to prevent the prisoners from escaping which had started the blaze that consumed the prison.

Before our heroes could explore much farther a dry, rattling screech sounded from the hole and the smell of charred flesh filled the air. With a whoosh six grinning skulls rose through the opening, wreathed in flame an swooping through the air.

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During their turn the flaming skulls rise from the pit in the floor and fan out. It is currently the player phase.

Two of them swoop towards Garland and Constantine and attack, although both miss.

FS1 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5
FS2 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5
FS3 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5
FS4 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5
FS5 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5
FS6 - AC 13, Touch 13, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1, HP 5/5

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Explored Rooms:
A1 - Entryway
A2 - Foyer
A3 - Auditorium
A4 - Training Room - You are here
A5 - Property Room
A6 - Offices
A7 - Warden's Office
A9 - Stairwell

Unexplored Rooms:
A8 - Chapel
1 - ???
2 - ???
3 - ???
4 - ???
5 - ???
6 - ???
Door to the north of the training room (I forgot to label it on the map)