Voyla smiles, and reach for Dramin's hand.
"Pleased to meet you."
♤
♤
♤
Bacarov sighs. There's nothing for him to do about Marsh. All the years behind them as comrades seem pressed into the last week of travel and thwork current place in Ravenmoor. But tonight, the things that irritated him so about the man would be needed. Like the roll of coppers you keep in your fist, sometimes it comes out in the interrogation room. Sometimes, when you needed a line on the big fish, you cracked the dusthead across the table from you.
Now it is time to decide. Do they wait for the cultists who run this farm to show? Or do they go to the mayor and set this right? "The way Kreigler ran that crowd earlier today. Chap like that would send the lackeys to the reeds to check on the fire. Then he'd run to ground. Go to his manor." Sebastian looks in the direction of the mayor's home. "We take a circuitous route to the mayor's. We confront him. We put him down. Like Markham said, these cultists of Ghlaundar,they're small time compared to what might be waiting elsewhere. But him and the people responsible for this abomination...for the dark poison tearing apart the forest...they will answer for their crimes. And they will answer tonight."
He nods to Vinnie, "Unless you've got anymore pithy comments, would you pack it in and lead us out? Scout a clear path to the mayor's house. Keep it quiet. Dalton, better go with him. Let's get our of here before they come to investigate."
"You," Sebastian looks to Voyla. "...I'm not in the business of putting innocents in danger. I'll do all in my power to prevent that from happening. Our source claims there are roughly 20 involved in this cult, so the innocent and the guilty won't exactly be flying their colors. They'll like as not try and blend in... We must be vigilant."
He nods for Dalton and Vinnie to get going. "Voyla, you and Dramin stock with me. We'll follow those two. Calwen, follow behind, watch our trail to make sure we're not followed."
(communal sneak?)
(listening as we go)
Dalton nods grimly. "He was able to convince me of his good intentions, even if it was a lie. I understand full well that he could manipulate the opinions of the general townsfolk even more easily. I agree- confront him when his followers are not his shield."
Pulling his hood back up over his head, Dalton makes off with Vinnie to the mayor's house, avoiding the main roads of Ravenmoor.
"Wait! The mayor? Put him down? What evidence you have against him?"
Regarding Bacarov's orders, Calwen nods in acknowledgement. "I will guard our rear," she says. "Which brings to mind... I seem to have lost my shield..." She glances back at the sickly wheat fields and her expression darkens. "...No matter."
When Voyla asks about the mayor, Calwen offers with a nervous stammer: "We- we have our suspicions... regarding his... er..." She trails off and looks to the others for help.
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♤
I don't have time for this... Bacarov watches as Marsh and Dalton move forward them looks back to Voyla. He waits a few beats of his heart, noting the anger stoking within it. Every grain of sand that falls to connect another moment we risk discovery. it's like being back in the city and watching as the moments fly by and his quarry gets closer and closer to escape. He tries to swallow down his frustration and responds. "The mayor is in possession of paraphernalia closely tied to the cult's activities in Ravenmoor. Our informant confirmed what we'd suspected of his involvement early on. Kreigler claims to be a worshipper of Desna, but his power comes from that goddess' enemy, ghlaunder." Another deep breath, the smoke from the fires nearly causes him to choke. "If he surrenders without a fight and is willing to face justice, so be it. But my chips are on him resisting. Judging by the enemies we've faced and the dark powers at their disposal, yeah, I'm putting him down."
Bacarov prepares to move out. "Now you can stay here, face whatever is coming, you can come with us and aid our efforts, or you can get in our way and I'll see you arrested and in the Magnimar stockades for the next 5 years for interfering with an officer of the law. Your choice, but we're cleaning out Ravenmoor."
Dalton thumps Bacarov on the back to alleviate his coughing before nodding to Vinnie and setting out to the Mayor's place. From what little he'd seen of the young Varisian girl, he figured she would see which way the wind was blowing.
Voyla's face turns sad.
"As much as I love my birth town, I have also seen disturbing things. I fear you are right, and there is a shadow growing here, a shadow I want eradicated as much as you. But please, let's make sure of people's involvement before we attack them. This is a small and far away town, and much of our customs are alien, as alien as your customs are to us. Let's not burn the innocent together with the guilty. Let's not kill the repentant. Law without mercy is tyranny."
"And undeserved mercy is weakness."
He goes into his pocket and draws out a scroll to hold onto, knowing full well it may be his crutch for the time being.
"What I have seen so far I have only read about in the libraries, but if the libraries and studies of men and women much smarter than I are to be believed... There is much worse coming."
Dramin grabs a small whetstone and looks at the scythe, discarding it when he sees how keen the blade still is.
"If I had to burn down the small village to stop the revival of something that threatens our plane, I would." The words coming out of his mouth almost sound heroic, if it wasn't for the truth buried deep in them.
Knowledge without wisdom is a wildfire young one.
The voice in his head wasn't his own, but a memory of something he was taught at a young age. A memory he seemed to have forgotten in his recent years.
"I hope my honesty doesn't upset you, but you should know that I have teetered on an edge before, and I have no desire to fall into the precipice unless the cost was right."
Voyla starts walking with them towards the mayor house.
"Honesty don't upset me. Truth is the source of good, and lies the source of evil. But, have you ever thought what happens if, in order to beat a monster, you become a worst one? What's the point of trying to save the innocent if you kill them? There is a line, maybe hidden, maybe hard to follow, that separates good from evil. And it's a line each one of us have to choose to defend, or to cross."
"Ahhhhh boi. She's definitely gonna replace Warshawski. Moral compass an'all that jazz."
"Look, we hunt down monsters like vampires, frickin skin cults, sick f$!&s that diddle and torture babies and that kinda shit. This was supposed to be a simple missin person case an now look at what it's turn into."
"Don't have time to tell you the whole story, but we already stopped a mass murder gang, stopped a serial killer, uncovered a massive leaf growin operation and found a cell of the Whisperin Way right here in yer home town miss. So yer gonna have'tah give us the benefit of the doubt when dealin with some of these people here."
"Sebastian there is a good detective, an as a disciple of Abadar he loves the letter of the law---to the point he will let followin it kill him at times. Don't worry, he isn't here to run a bloody inquisition on the innocent or nothin."
Marsh is on point making a circular path to the Mayors house.
Voyla makes her best effort to ignore Marsh...
As the party discusses the situation, now accompanied by Voyla, the begin to make their way from the smoldering wreckage of the Chenowitz property and back toward Ravenmoor proper, eyes and ears trained on the fields around them. There are no signs of life, aside from the ever-present mosquitoes. The Kriegler residence is not so terribly far from the Chenowitz property; even navigating the thick mud and patchy foliage, the manor comes into view after a quick twenty-minute hike.
The sun hangs low in the western sky, dyeing the horizon a golden color that should be warm and inviting, but with the circumstance considered, one could not blame the investigators for finding the yellowy glow a bit sickly-looking. The air is moist, soupy, and uncomfortably warm; thanks to the fires, it must be hotter now than it was during midday. Even over the crackling of the ever-more-distant fires, the song of the cicadas makes a fitting accompaniment to the oppressive atmosphere.
The Kriegler manor looms ominously atop its little hill, the tallest structure in Ravenmoor made even more imposing by its position on the little raised point of land. Coming from the southeast, the party faces the rear of the saltbox-style house. No one appears to be home, though the distant sounds of the Founder's Festival and the growing aroma of meat grilling fill the air.
Marsh scan the building.
"Is there a back window or door to this place? Meh, if not I'll make my own."
"One bad thing about bringin the fight here is that the mayor has pulled the wool over the sheeps' eyes. Now you got the whole town watchin if this goes bad. Let's try to get in and get some solid proof. We might need to high tail it out if the whole town comes down on us."
"Look at the time! The crowning of the Festival Queen will be done shortly! The mayor should be there, as he presides the ceremony. Maybe we can talk to him after he crowns the Queen."
She glares at Marsh.
"And I don't think burglarizing the mayor's house is a good idea."
"For what it's worth, I think Voyla is right. We just need to scope out his place, see what the best ways to break in might be, if that should become necessary. And it might." So saying, the monk rests his palm on the hilt of his sword and studies the house's exterior with a critical eye.
Marsh shrugs.
"This is where the tax collector stayed before he got murdered and thrown into the mass grave over at the not so abandoned farm, but whatever Sebastian decides."
♤
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》Cloak of Darkness (+4 ac | +2 Stealth)
》CON Drain (-1)
"Sebastian there is a good detective, an as a disciple of Abadar he loves the letter of the law---to the point he will let followin it kill him at times. Don't worry, he isn't here to run a bloody inquisition on the innocent or nothin."
Maybe....maybe that's exactly what this little town needs, Vinnie. When you spend too long away from proper laws, you sometimes forget how to see the evil among the good. Bacarov's hand brushes the badge of office hanging beneath his tunic. [smaller]"How else to explain the existence of such evil in so small a community..." He mutters to himself, eyes distant for a moment as images of the dead flood his mind. Big cities like Magnimar. The evil is lost amid the crush. Festering and growing and infecting...
"Don't be foolish, Desnan," Bacarov says more sharply than he realizes. "We won't be approaching the mayor out in the open where his followers and those he's fooled can come to his defense. No. We stick with the plan. He'll run to ground here when he knows his little blood-field has burned." His left hand absently brushes the hip satchel where his manacles are held. "I have enough evidence to arrest Kreigler and haul him back to Magnimar. But that means leaving behind his disciples to run amuck here or scatter on this dreadful breeze."
He looks Marsh's way then back to the group. "Vinnie has the right of it. But we go in now while the townsfolk and the mayor are distracted. The festival and the fires will take care of that while we look for more evidence as to who exactly is involved."
Bacarov gestures to the western approach. "The sun seems low, we stay in the shadow of the mayor's house and our approach is better covered. Add to that we keep the house between us and the festival." He looks at the upper floor. "Voyla, perhaps you can keep an eye on the festival from up there. See how things proceed. Once we're inside, I'll need you to outline the entirety of this festival."
"Keep your eyes peeled for the mayor's brother," Bacarov tells the group. "I think he'll be with his brother, but a festival may not be to his liking."
"Calwen, I'd prefer you were with us but I don't think Windmane is going to assist our ability to move quietly..." He leaves it up to the knight as to how she'd like to handle the horse.
Bacarov taps his left satchel, catching Vinnie's gaze for a moment. The big warrior knows it's where the Inspector keeps his lockpicks. "Vinnie, you're with me. I'll need your eyes as we check the back entrance. Dalton, take the southwest corner...Dramin, you're on the northwest corner. Both of you keep watch while I work. Voyla, you and Calwen remain here at the tree line until I signal the all clear."
If there's no objections, he nods for everyone to get moving.
approach
Voyla seems ready to protest.
"But the festivities..."
She then realizes there is more in question than just a festival.
"Please promise me to avoid hurting innocents. They are good people, in this town. Maybe not all, but most of them. Please."
She gets a grappling arrow from her backpack, and some rope, fires it towards the top of the house, and nimbly climbs up, to the ceiling.
One on top of the house she hides as well as she can manage, her bow at hand, and starts scanning the horizon all around, after praying for Desna's help (Using Guidance in both checks).
Dramin nods when he realizes the inspector has already come up with a plan. Fast thinking and from the heart. Always impressive.
He feels that his magical armor is still up and takes stock of what he has remaining in terms of scrolls. Not much it seems. All the tools have been expired, all I have left are tools of destruction.
He looks between the shield and the gravity bow scrolls, and makes up his mind, clenching on to the spell that makes him feel more empowered and capable of bringing about change.
The last time you threw up a shield you let that woman get dragged off. Worried about your own hide than those of others. You've always been condescending but that numerical evaluation is cold.
The internal struggle seems to be getting worse and he hopes that they deal with this by tonight, thinking it may be the dream woman causing these emotions. No its not magic or a woman, just you.
He takes his time to go over to the corner. Seeing that Dalton will be positioned there eases his somewhat, knowing that the reliable monk would be much more aware than he.
Dramin waits, the scroll in his hand and his weapons ready to come out in a flash.
Calwen nods in appreciation of Bacarov's concerns, then turns to her warhorse and whispers to it in elven as she strokes its mane. After a moment's hesitation, the horse snorts, nudges Calwen with its snout, and begins trotting toward a patch of tall reeds nearby. Calwen gestures to Dio and then points to Windmane, and the young drake scampes over to join the horse. Although not terribly well-hidden if someone were searching for them, the creatures would likely not be visible from a distance. With this task accomplished, Calwen nods and moves back toward the foliage. "Signal when you feel it is safe for me to follow. I fear I am not much for sneaking in this armor, though I also would not feel safe without it." She sighs and glances around uncomfortably. "Not anymore, at least."
Before Bacarov and Marsh can get started on the door, Voyla takes her own initiative regarding Bacarov's suggestion to gain a vantage point on the top floor. She fires her grappling arrow and finds a purchase near the apex of the roof, and scrambles skillfully up before anyone can so much as question her methods. By the time Bacarov's lockpicks have been fished out, Voyla is already perched on the steeply-sloped roof, peering down over the village.
You also feel quite well-hidden, at least from this direction, by the slant of the roof. You could turn and see quite well the moor and the fields you came from, but would be more exposed to prying eyes from that direction.
Regardless, as the rest of the group approaches the rear of the house, Bacarov tries the back door and finds that, to his surprise (or perhaps not) the back door is unlocked.
Voyla dreams of the festival, and even imagines what would it feel to be the girl that is crowned queen of the festival.
Desna is the goddess of dreaming, isn't she?
She keeps looking for anyone or anything approaching the house, from all sides.
♤
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[smaller]》Cloak of Darkness (+4 ac | +2 Stealth)
》CON Drain (-1)
Sebastian enters the room, the old habits of spear and shield returning as he moves right and Vinnie moves left. Immediately he reaches out with his senses, embracing his newfound connection to the arcane.
entering
listening
If he senses it's all clear, he'll call for the others to enter.
School: divination
Range: 60 ft.
Area: cone-shaped emanation
Duration: concentration, up to 1 min./level (D)
Saving Throw: none
Spell Resistance: no
Source: Core Rulebook
Summary: Detects all spells and magic items within 60 ft.
You detect magical auras. The amount of information revealed depends on how long you study a particular area or subject.
1st Round: Presence or absence of magical auras.
2nd Round: Number of different magical auras and the power of the most potent aura.
3rd Round: The strength and location of each aura. If the items or creatures bearing the auras are in line of sight, you can make Knowledge (arcana) skill checks to determine the school of magic involved in each. (Make one check per aura: DC 15 + spell level, or 15 + 1/2 caster level for a non spell effect.) If the aura emanates from a magic item, you can attempt to identify its properties (see Spellcraft).
Magical areas, multiple types of magic, or strong local magical emanations may distort or conceal weaker auras.
Aura Strength: An aura's power depends on a spell's functioning spell level or an item's caster level; see the accompanying table. If an aura falls into more than one category, detect magic indicates the stronger of the two.
Lingering Aura: A magical aura lingers after its original source dissipates (in the case of a spell) or is destroyed (in the case of a magic item). If detect magic is cast and directed at such a location, the spell indicates an aura strength of dim (even weaker than a faint aura). How long the aura lingers at this dim level depends on its original power:
After reassuring Calwen by clapping her on the shoulder of her armor (quietly), Dalton will follow Bacarov and Vinnie inside. His gaze immediately falls upon the fireplace - a good place to burn evidence, he thinks to himself, studying it carefully a moment to see if he can discern anything unusual among the ashes.
Outside, from her vantage point on the roof, Voyla keeps an eye out for anyone approaching the Kriegler residence from any direction. At the moment, there is nothing to see, though a wind has begun to blow eastward, carrying the smoke from the burning Chenowitz house away from Ravenmoor. It also sends the tall reeds into an undulating wave, making it a bit more difficult than normal to see anything moving within, though the Desnan feels confident that nothing is there.
Inside, the house is much as you remember it from earlier this afternoon, though that visit seems like days ago after everything that has happened. Listening closely, Bacarov detects no movement inside the house as he enters quietly.
His detect magic spell does pick up a number of faint auras, however. There are very weak auras coming from the pantry, the dining room, and a very weak and distant one coming from somewhere near the floor behind the closed door of the master bedroom.
Dalton sees nothing unusual in the fireplace; there are no scraps of paper or other suspect materials.
"That chick can sure climb, I bet she works out."
Vinnie looks about the house a bit.
"you gettin any clues on where to start looking or pullin up he floor?"
Voyla, besides keeping an eye open, will activate her Detect Magic ability, (60' cone) looking all around.
Dramin wanders into the house when he sees the lack of activity outside.
His eyes look upon Bacarov as he casts his sensory spell, and he does so himself. When he sees the door and the signature somewhere behind it he walks up to Marsh.
"The master bedroom has a really faint signature of magic behind it. If we are to find something of value, it would be in his private sanctum where no one would wander due to small-town niceties."
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Bacarov runs his forefinger down the bridge of his nose, nodding in agreement with Dramin's observation. "Near the door itself, along the floor or just beneath it. There are others too. Pantry, dining room...then the bedroom. All of the faint. Could be residues, but by their strengths I don't think they're active."
"The magic has the flavor of conjuration." Bacarov closes his eyes momentarily as he recalls his time sitting with Xavier Albridge. "Summoning, calling, bringing forth the powers of other planes like creatures and the like." He shrugs and nods to the bedroom door. "But even healing spells could be considered conjuring."
Bacarov slips over to the bedroom door and gives the door know a test. This close, his eyes adjust well enough that he can inspect it for surprises. If he's anything like me, he's got his share of enemies. Open door or no, he'll want to know if someone's paid him a visit... Bacarov thinks on the thin thread of white he keeps tied between the door and jam of his flat back in the city. It'd saved him from a nasty surprise by a sczarni named Uloch.
If there is nothing, he enters the room and carefully seeks the source of the aura, mindful of his surroundings.
"Check that door for heat."
"Alright, let's get in there. If it's healin magic that would be great, but with all the summoned bugs an flyin death pigs an shit, be ready for zombie mutant-ass house cats. Heh heh, I hate cats, especially undead flyin ones."
Bacarov and Marsh investigate the door to the master bedroom together, and are able to determine that there does not appear to be a trap upon the door. If there is, then it must be beyond their ability to discern. However, trying the door finds it to be locked.
Voyla stomps with her feet on the ceiling of the house.
"Something discovered that the Chenowitz farm has been cleansed! And it seems very affected by it! Be alert, maybe it will be able to track us!"
She concentrates her sight (and her Detect Magic ability) on the direction of the Chenowitz farm.
♤
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Bacarov slips Marsh his set of thieves tools to assist the effort.
assist
At Voyla's warning he feels time slipping away. Whoever...or whatever found the fire, they're going to follow our tracks...maybe warn their chums...
"Calwen, maintain a watch on the back door. Get ready to hold it if necessary. Dalton, grab that painting of Iola and stuff it in the fireplace, but don't start a fire. We may need some leverage..." He pats the burning hands wand at his hip. "Dramin, see what you can find in the pantry and dining room. We know there's magic there, conjuration. See what you can find."
He crosses back into the living room and takes out an iron spike from his satchel. "Let's jam this front door closed in case of unwanted visitors... don't want them invading our little party before we're ready."
Once done he crosses back to the master bedroom and helps in the search of the place. Bacarov focuses his magic sense into the room to find the source of the aura.
Dramin hears the stomp on the roof and again glances at the door. With his Scroll in hand he begins to walk out and toward the dining room. "That woman on the roof... Be careful with this house, I do not know what those signatures may be but conjuration..." He trails off, not wanting to hurt morale.
He begins to look around for the signatures.
Dramin searches around the dining area, and while he still detects the source of magic somewhere in the cabinet, he is unable to find the object emitting the aura. It does appear to be coming from the cabinet, but it seems to be eluding you.
Meanwhile, Marsh alone is able to undo the lock on the master bedroom's door. The door swings gently inward with a light creak, and he and Bacarov look into the private dwelling of Andretti Kriegler.
The room is simple, and quite small, the only furniture visible being a posh bed, dresser, wardrobe, and washbasin. It all looks quite ordinary- a small painting of the blonde, pleasant visage of the late Miranda Kriegler hanging over the bed (similar to the one hanging in the living room) and a most unusual quilt being the only embellishments. That quilt is quite the piece of work, embroidered with a series of images that recount the sojourn of Iola Kriegler, much as has been told to you previously- her perilous trek alone into the depths of the Churlwood, her meeting Desna, being presented with a pair of druids who escort her back to Ravenmoor, and finally Iola turning back the blight in a ceremony alongside the the two druids. There are a few odd details, however. The druids, perhaps in an artistic effort to conceal their hooded features, have red, featureless faces; Desna herself, as depicted, is pale, with long, black hair, elven ears, and nude, as in most of her artistic depictions; however, there's something funny about her wings. They don't look like those of a butterfly; at least, not unless the one who knitted this quilt had a funny idea of how butterfly wings work. At the end, you see Iola and her druids, surrounded by villagers, standing atop a mound in the middle of a field, offering the fruits of their harvest on a stone tablet to a winged butterfly-like shape in the clouds.
Nothing stands out as being the source of the aura you felt. It seems to be coming from beneath the floor...
Outside, Voyla keeps an eye turned toward the field, but sees nothing moving in your direction.
- - - -
You have, for the past several hours, slogged your way through to the grotesque moors that make up the hinterlands surrounding this little isolated village. Your plan was to arrive early enough in the day to take full advantage of the Festival, hopefully ending the day swimming in local coin thanks to Duroj's dancing. However bizarre Ravenmoor's customs might be, no one expects a dancing bear... right?
But since you finally made your way through the muck and the dense foliage and the swarms of gnats and trudged up into the Festival Grounds, you've seen stirges on strings being flown about by the village children like people might walk their dogs. You've seen people line up to take turns jumping over a small bonfire. You've seen an old man outbox tough young men a third of his age, seen people betting coin on trained raven fights, watched as a trio of old men took turns passing around a roll of lit flayleaf while debating which village maiden might be the best in bed, and barely a single eyebrow raised in interest at the sight of a halfling and his trained bear.
But you had to start somewhere, and as you set about your bear-busking, decorating Duroj's furry body with its decorative cloths and bells, you do at last gain some attention.
A small boy, accompanied by what must be his mother and father, approaches, an eager smile on his freckled face. His father is a tall and handsome man with a chinstrap beard, and his mother is a stunning woman with the telltale facial tattoos of the Shoanti. The boy points excitedly to the bear and tugs at his father's hand as he runs toward you, grinning eagerly. A few other locals notice and are drawn over. It seems you may have your first customers of the day!
"Can that thing really dance, mister?" the boy asks, excitement readily apparent in his voice.
His father leans down and mutters in the boy's ear: "We can watch for a couple minutes, Orni, but the Feast's startin' in a few minutes. You don't wanna miss the crownin' of the Queen, do you?" He looks up at you and smiles. "No offense, o'course. We got a friend of the family competin'. Anyhoo, we sure are gettin' a lotta out-a-towners in today, ain't we? You wouldn't happen to have come along with the party from Magnimar, would you?"
Voyla keep the watch for more time, just in case something tracks them.
The bear placidly rests on it's haunches, panting as he recovers from the trek through the moor. Duroj offers no attempt to withdraw, nor issue with what is about to transpire... but a tear forms at the corner of Niklos' eye nonetheless. The muzzle is slid over his head with a whispered "Nashti zhas vorta po drom o bango"
The arrival of Orni forces Niklos into the role of performer, as he initially feigns surprise before mock realizing that the boy is speaking to him. Ignoring the elder and responding to the younger he nods with faux seriousness "Aye he can mic maestro... but Duroj is no thing, he is my friend. Would you like to be his friend too?"
While waiting for Orni's answer Niklos shakes his head and answers the elder "No Domn, we are not of Magnimar."
domn - sir
"Strangest thing, all these out-a-towners," the boy's father says, scratching his beard. "Feels like an... uh... a special kinda day, dunnit?" He looks toward his Shoanti wife, who nods and looks off toward the east thoughtfully. "Sure hope them investigators are doin' all right..." the man thinks aloud. "Anyhoo, welcome to Ravenmoor, sir. Hope you find it to yer likin'. If you need any help gettin' around, let me know. Viorec Korzha's the name."
A few more individuals make their way over to watch the bear in action. Among them is a lovely blonde girl wearing a white dress and an odd fur coat that seems too large for her- of elven make, perhaps. The girl quietly observes both you and the bear from the back of the crowd, cold blue eyes seeming unimpressed. Before long, a tall bald man comes up and lays his hands on the girl's shoulders and leads her away, but not before shooting you a very suspicious look. You hear a half-mumbled "half-man scum" and "'nother conspirator" before he and the girl leave.
Profession (Ursari): and Perform (Dance):
The performance consists of Niklos beating out a rhythm on two sticks and Duroj clumsily responding with shuffling dancing moves on two legs - mostly lurching from side to side in tune with the beat. Throughout Niklos keeps up a dialogue with his bear in Varisi, praising, scolding and instructing. At times the praise leads his bear to clap his paws together or raise his arms in cheer - and others the criticism to cover his face with paws in shame or fall to the ground and roll up to hide his head. Throughout Niklos' voice is harsh, but there is warmth beneath the steel.
As they perform he keeps a weather eye upon the crowd, noting the suspicion that he sees and slurs that he hears. Such welcome is not unknown to him... but it does leave him more wary than he was when he arrived.
"No time to finesse this shit."
Vinnie pulls out his hatchet and crowbar and goes to work pulling up the floor boards where Sebastian indicated.
"After ya get that door spiked, start tossin the place. We've got a limited window of time here. Hopefully find somethin useful or damnin against the mayor."
Vinnie finds out what was under the floor first then he will search the room.
"Did ya see the quilt up on the wall? There's an altar on the mound. This isn't a Desnian thing, but meh, we already knew that for sure."
♤
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"It is why I wanted the fields burned behind us..." Sebastian says distantly, casting his words over his shoulder like a pinch of luck-salt. Hello, Ghlaunder. Bacarov's hand rests on the grip of the Burning Hands wand at his hip. But instead, he reaches up and pulls the quilt down gingerly. "Evidence..." He rolls it up and finds a bit of twine or a belt to tie it.
That done he proceeds to the painting and searches behind it to see if there is a secret hiding get hole. Then he searches the rest of the room for the same.
Searching for hiding spots
if marsh finds the precious
At the Kriegler manor...
Bacarov and Marsh search the room. Bacarov finds nothing of note behind the painting or anywhere else in the room, but using detect magic to pinpoint the location of the aura, Marsh pries up the floorboards.
Underneath is a fairly small wooden chest, with a heavy lock upon it. The aura seems to be coming from within. When lifted from its hiding place, the chest is very heavy, and one can hear what sounds like coins clinking about inside; that, and at least one other, heavier object.
...Bacarov is able to discern that whatever is generating the magical aura, it is some sort of restorative magic, rather than summoning. Possibly a wand.
Outside, Voyla keeps her eyes trained on the fields. In the minutes following the strange, agonized scream from the fields, there was no movement- but suddenly the Varisian spots something among the reeds.
- - - -
Back in Ravenmoor...
After a few minutes of performing, as the Ravenmoor folk laugh and clap and ooh and ahh at your show, a well-dressed man with a well-groomed beard and receding hairline approaches the crowd. He casts a strange glance at you and then lays a hand on one of the townsfolk's shoulders. "I hate to interrupt, everyone, but the Founder's Feast is overdue to begin, and our sausages will get cold!" He laughs a little. "Of course, you and your partner are free to join us in our festivities, good halfling. I hope you don't mind me butting in to your act- Mayor Andretti Kriegler. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He offers a hand to you.
No sooner does he do this than a rough-looking, thin-as-a-rail woman with sunken eyes and horrid teeth comes barging through the crowd, trailed by a half-dozen men. "Kriegler, we gotta talk!" the woman shouts. The crowd disperses almost immediately at the sign of her and her posse, most of them heading for the pavilion and the multitude of tables set up there. "We jus' been out to the Dagwood place. Markham Dagwood's dead, an' his big devil pig, too."
Mayor Kriegler visibly pales. "Markham's dead?" He covers his mouth with his hand and steps away from you, but the woman's loud voice blows any attempt at keeping the conversation private.
"Them Magnimar folk killed Robb, an' now they killed Markham. You ain't stoppin' me from doin' justice, Mayor. I got me a kill squad together, an' we're goin' huntin'. If you're smart, you'll stay outta our way 'till we're all done, an' we're marchin' their heads aroun' town on pikes, you hear?"
Kriegler appears horrified. "You can't!" he stammers. "Doriv, I understand where you're coming from- really, I do- but take your boys and head back to the mill. The people from Magnimar..." He speaks the following very quietly: "The situation is being handled. Leonard went to look into it. And the Weaver, too."
"Yer idiot brother an' the crone?" Doriv snickers. "You mus' know somethin' I don't, Kriegler. I know you got yer sneaky ways, but sometimes, the bes' answer is a crossbow bolt between the eyes. That will solve yer problems a lot better than a dumb carpenter an' an old woman that sews dresses for a livin'!"
Kriegler glares at her. "You should speak to your Mayor with more respect, Ms. Carmiscu," he says with a low growl, his eyes piercing and cold as ice. "But fine. Do as you will."
"Nobody asked them lawmen to come stickin' their noses into Ravenmoor business," Doriv says coyly. "I got a couple more boys to round up an' then we're headin' out that way. Chenowitz place, probably. If that place hasn't already killed 'em, then we will."
Doriv and her gang, six men strong, each bearing crossbows and hand weapons, march southeast. Kriegler watches them go, rubbing at his temples frustratedly. He spins suddenly on his heels, as if remembering that he is not alone, and looks at you with an indiscernable look on his face.
"Sorry for that interruption, again," he says with a weak smile. "You've picked a strange day to come to Ravenmoor. Please have a seat and join us for dinner, won't you?"
Voyla, trying to keep hidden, tries to see who is bringing the scarf.
"If this here lock don't open nice I've got my crowbar set to crack it like a walnut."
"Buildin like this should hav-ah basement wouldn't you think? Wonder why they stuck this chest under the floorin in here? Did ya hit the night stand an stuff too?"
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- Living Room painting of Iola resting in unlit fireplace
- Exterior doors except rear entrance are iron spiked shut. Leaving back entrance for Voyla
- Crazy story quit bundled up and ready for transport
- Dramin searching dining room and pantry for "aura items"
- Calwen covering rear entrance
- Bacarov's oak of darkness is still active
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Dresser
"Nothing here..." 7Sebastian looks at the box as Marsh pulls it into the open. "You know as well as I, Vinnie. You place things beneath boards and dirt when you either wish them safe...or when you seek to bury a past you regret leaving behind."
At least regret wow imply remorse...
"I think a wand is inside. Restorative magicks...conjuring to be sure but this may be the part of Kreigler's tale that would bear some truth. Maybe clues to a past when he was still dedicated to Desna rather than Ghlaunder." He glances back a the rolled up quilt, the ghost of a kiss brushing his memory. "But those wings on the depiction of the nude elf woman...more like the stirge wings...mosquitoes..."
He looks upwards to the ceiling. He pulls his lock picking tools and goes to work on the box. "I'm thinking the thumping along the roof we're hearing is Voyla. Calwen, ready yourself by the rear door. The others are spiked shut. We might have company soon."
lock box (wow 1 again)
Sebastian shakes his head and hands the box back to Marsh. "Break it open, mate. Then head upstairs with Dalton. See what you can find. I'll be there momentarily. And be careful, the other Kreigler might be here somewhere."
He moves into the kitchen to join Dramin. "Need a hand?" He moves to the cabinet and helps in the search. With a muttered call to Abadar, Bacarov's eyes begin to glow with dark blue energies.
cabinet
Dramin senses the cabinet has something to it. He was hoping he didn't have to take a swing at it, though he grabs the scythe and gets ready to lay it in when he hears Bacarov.
That might have been a little drastic Dramin.
He turns to the old sleuth and nods and lets out a sigh. "I've never been much for searching for clues unless they were in a textbook."
He notices the spell being cast as his eyes glow. What is that I feel from Bacarov?
.
Dramin doesn't say anything to the man. At the back of his mind he knew something had been different, sort of off, but he never thought it to be a tie to the divine itself. He realizes that everyone has changed somewhat in the short time they've been in this small town... some for the better and some...
Stop that, no one wants to see your introspection face. Its worse than your condescending one. At least the latter might create some sort of morale.
"Lets see what we have, I've searched these parts so far but it eludes me.
The Kriegler House:
Together, Dramin and Bacarov are able to find the hidden compartment at the back of the cabinet. Inside is a wand; after concentrating their efforts, the two are able to determine it to be a wand of lesser restoration, with 17 charges remaining.
But back in the bedroom, things are not going so smoothly. The lockpicks utterly fail to disable the lock on the chest, and when Marsh turns his crowbar on the chest in an attempt to pry it open, it becomes clear that the box will break before the lock does.
- - - -
Outside...