As Msr Addrissant speaks (and speaks... and speaks), Valachi's eyes start to stare into the distance, and he lets out a little sigh. After he finishes, however, Val nods in thanks for the man's generosity. "We will see your gold put to good use, sir."
Jorfa is a dwarven smith who has lived in Ravengro for nearly a hundred years, and she is surprisingly talented. Any simple or martial masterwork weapon can be chosen, and will likely be on hand. If you want an exotic weapon, she'll likely have to make it, meaning a wait would be required. If you choose to take a suit of armor instead, you make take a masterwork suit of up to and including chain mail, or you could take instead non masterwork Splint or banded mail if you want a heavy set. You may take only the weapon or the suit of armor, not both.
The credit of 100 gp at the general store is per each character, including our new additions and NPCs (Kendra and Zhan), and does not all need to be spent at once. The will keep a tab for you if you wish to save some for later. Each character also receives their own Ioun Torch (9 total). There is enough in the bag to equip Father with one as well.
Jorfa and the geneal store keepers are interesting characters and other special equipment may be available beyond the standard, but you will need to interact with them more to find out. Of note would be that the general store has a set if masterwork full plate armor on display in the back, though the tag reads, not for sale. Otherwise, purchases from the general store will be limited to items from the core rule book equipment section. Alchemical items are not typically available, but all the resources you would need to make them are. Illicit items, such as MW thieves tools, would also not normally be available.
Father Grimburrow has spent a few minutes looking closely at the new bloody "E" on the monument. You see him mumble a few words and make a periodic gesture with his hand.
Delia maintains her properly trained decorum, when addressing the noble. She curtsies as she responds to him. "Thank you, Master Adrissant, your generosity in helping us is appreciated. I hope your aid is instrumental in helping us find the truth." She looks to the others, "If we have time before our meeting with the council, maybe we should use what we have this morning to shop for whatever supplies we will need. This way, we will be able to continue our work right after our meeting." Delia takes up two of the Ioun Torches, tucking them away in her pouch of sling bullets to hide the heatless burning rock from the eyes of the suspicious populace.
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
As you approach Father Grimburrow, Father of Death for the Temple of Pharasma, he is finishing speaking with the Sheriff and the two present village councilmen. His face is primarily unreadable, but his eyes show a look of concentration. His eyes lighten and his brows relax their tight knit expression as he sees you approaching.
"Ah, Sister Ember," he says welcomingly, "I'm glad you remembered, for I'm afraid my mind had wandered and I'd forgotten all about our meeting. Walk with me if you would, child."
He walks with you in silence for the first 5 minutes or so, taking a less populated path along the riverbank that still leads in the general direction of the Temple.
Background: Father Grimburrow is an older man, in his seventies. You have met him once or twice during the rare occasions when he came to Caliphas for certain ceremonies. While you have never spoke with him at length, he was a mentor and one of the main teachers of your own teacher, Mother Gedra Elenfast. She occasionally quoted Father Grimburrow and his teachings, so you are somewhat familiar with him.
"My last letter from Mother Elenfast was some weeks ago, but I trust she is still doing well? She has mentioned you more than a few times in her letters; it seems she thinks fairly highly of your capabilities."
"If I may be frank with you young lady; I am becoming concerned about these recent signs. Our Father of Prophesy here has been... taken with fits lately. I am not sure if it means anything, as he has had them in the past, but one needs to consider all possibilities where prophesy is concerned. He has been animated lately, and wakes up most nights, when he sleeps at all, raving about his dreams... or visions. He believes that something is coming, but cannot say what. Whatever he is referring to would seem to be grander than the haunting of one old ruin and a small town, though. I do not know what to think about what is happening here. This blood lettering may signify something; it may not. Personally I do not think this is just the work of vandals, but to say it is supernatural also seems premature."
"No, what truly concerns me is the rising of the Undead from our own Restlands. I have known Riff, the Sheriff's deputy, his entire life, and I believe him when he tells me he saw what he saw. The graves of three men, men I laid to rest myself, clawed their way free of the ground, burst into flames and attacked the strangers. The Undead!"
The Father's scowl returns and his stride increases, his long legs eating up ground as he marches, despite his age. You are forced to quicken your pace to keep up, and even jog a few steps to regain his side. He fails to notice, and continues on, his voice and manner displaying genuine anger.
"Riff swears that he saw the strangers do nothing unusual before the undead emerged. They were gathered about the grave of the Professor, ostensibly looking for clues to what had raised his body from its rest. The Iomidine, Zhan, cast some sort of spell while looking at the grave. Riff knows nothing of magic and could recall nothing to help me decide what spell, but I imagine it would have been a divination, looking for signs of enchantment or corruption. No, I think the spell was harmless, whatever it was. I did the same when looking at the grave, and again here at the monument. Besides, I am aware of no spell that could have raised the dead so easily."
"I am very glad you have come, Sister. So far, I think I trust these strangers, or this Zhan at least, but it soothes my nerves greatly to know that you will be with them from here on out. I had considerred asking one of my own acolytes to accompany them, but as our Father of Birth has recently passed, and I have had to place watch on the restlands, I do not think I could spare one. Besides, as an associate of Petros Lorrimor, your association is much more natural, and less apt to be questioned. I asked you to come speak with me so I could give you this charge. I will write to Caliphas and make certain you will be relieved of all other responsibilities until this issue is settled. Zhan said that Lorrimor believed the Whispering Way could be involved. I knew Petros had a keen interest in the occult, and had a long history of opposing such peoples. If I had known the half of his doings, or that he was aware of the Whispering Way... but of course it is too late now. He might have been a very useful ally too the church."
"I would like you to continue on this quest yo have volunteered to join; not only to determine what is happening in Ravengro, but to find out if the Whispering Way IS truly involved. If they are, then this is an issue much larger than just Ravengro. I would like you as well to observe your allies, and determine if they are what they appear, and which are trustworthy. If they are allies of the church, this is good to know. If their interests or concerns might conflict with ours, I would know this as well. Can you do this, Sister?"
Feel free to spend your credit and claim your gift as you see fit, please just post a small summary of the items you purchase. If you have any atypical requests, please address them to the relevant party (such as Jorfa, female dwarven smith, or Luthko (M) and Martha (F) Avanki, proprietors of Ravengro General Store.
At Jorfa's Forge...
Valachi walks into the forge, looking around suspiciously. When he sees the dwarf proprietor, he bows his head in greeting. "Master Jorfa, I was hoping to speak to you about a special commission." He brings forth his spear. "This is a crude weapon, I know, but it has served me well. Before I go into Harrowstone, I was hoping you could umm... infuse silver to its blade? I was told some smiths knew the way. Or if not, do you have silvered weapons to trade?"
The Dwarven woman looks up at Valachi from her forge. She is a woman who has certainly reached her middle years, and her face is lined with sweat and soot. Her frame however, is fit, and her back is straight and her arms muscular. She looks the ranger and up and down for a moment, before putting aside a piece of hot metal. It sizzles as she drops it into a trough of water.
"Hmph... You're one of the one's that fellow Adrissant was talking about, right? Well, lets see it."
She reaches out a hand and takes the spear from Valachi.
"Eh, the workmanship is decent. Nothing special but perfectly serviceable. You want silver eh? Well, I can do it, if you want. However, I should warn you, silver holds a piss poor edge. If you want to use silver you'd be better off taking a silvered mace or a hammer or some such. On a blade or point, the edge will dull and you'll have a harder time convincing whoever you're sticking it into to play nice and stay down. A dull point means a shallower wound. And of course if I just silver this I wont be able to give you the Masterwork quality that nobleman commissioned. That would take a bit more time. I could make you one from scratch pretty quickly, but again depending on what kind of work your friends want done as well. For a spear, steel, or perhaps cold-iron would work better. You wouldn't have to worry about the tip dulling. Of course Adamantium is best, but again... in your price range... Your choice mister."
By this time you are drawing up to the Temple, and he leads you inside without preamble. The acolytes bow or nod to the Priest and yourself as you walk by, but otherwise no formality is observed. He leads you into the private areas of the temple, and back towards the clergy's rectory. He guides you into a small room, apparently his office, and unlocks a drawer in the desk. He pulls out a small scroll tube.
"This is a scroll of Sending. You are to use it only if you find confirmation that the Whispering Way is involved and you are unable to make contact conventionally. Also you may use it if you are in dire need of assistance, or if you discover your allies intend to betray our order in some way. Do you understand me? This is a valuable item, and I do not part with it lightly, but I feel the need is present here. If you can avoid using it, I would appreciate its return at the end of this endeavor."
"What I discover will be reported to you as soon as possible. I will endevor to return this scroll, if it proves unnessesary to use as you wish."
The Dwarven smith looks around for a moment, looking at shelves and racks filled with tools and equipment, and others with weapons.
"A masterwork warhammer I have, but none of silver at the moment. I'll have to make it for you. A commission like that will take about 2 weeks, and it will cost 90 gp beyond the amount paid by Mister Adrissant. Would you like me to start?"
She takes the blade from you and has a good look at it. She pulls is from the scabbard and examines the blade, and runs her thumb along the edge as well.
"I've seen better, and I've seen worse. Yes, a greatsword like this is not that uncommon. I've made a few, and I have at least one of masterwork quality in the back. Adrissant has already paid the cost for such a weapon. Here, I'll get it for you."
She hands you back your own sword and escapes into the back for a time. She returns after 3-4 minutes with a sheathed greatsword. She hands it over for your inspection.
The balance is exceptional, and you can feel the difference the moment you pull it free. The blade is pattern welded, showing a beautiful mix of light and dark metals flowing together as the blade was folded and forged. The resulting grain makes it look like something that was once alive as opposed to a piece of cold steel.
Delia thinks for a moment on whatever she will do with the money set aside for her at the General Store. She had never had to deal with large sums of money before, and her only expenses were at the college. Those were handled by the Professor's scholarship. She comes up with an idea, and decides to try and coordinate with her new friend Marta at the very store.
"Come Father, we are off to the General Store. We will return in plenty of time for the meeting with the council."
Father, nods and follows her dutifully.
If necessary Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
After her business with Marta the shopkeep, Delia caters to Father's urging that she look into taking the opportunity to upgrade her armor. The two of them head to the forge run by the dwarven smith, Jorfa. She greets the others as she arrives. "Hello, Val and Agnar, greetings master smith. When you have finished with these two fine fellows, I would like to look into better armor than I currently have. I have experience with the chain shirt, but I find them rather dull and clunky. Do you have any that contains both beautiful patterning, and a little more freedom of movement? As I look over your works, I'm certain you no doubt have the skill, I was merely wondering if you had any on hand." As the smith works, Delia informs Val and Agnar of her plans at the store, ideally out of the dwarf's earshot.
Val and Agnar, you can read the spoiler above.
The matronly dwarf takes Agnar's discarded sword and swings it up over a shoulder. With the hilt and pommel, the sword is nearly 5 ft long and as such about a foot longer than she is tall. She walks smoothly over to the young summoner and takes a look at her, from head to foot.
"You're a pretty thing, aren't you. You sure you want to be going the places you'll need armour? It would be a shame to mess up those soft cheeks.
The woman's normally surly voice softens a bit as she talks to the young woman, and she even gets a hint of a smile to her eyes.
"Well, you can make many fine armours with leather, and I've seen some beautiful suits done with the colours dyed right into the skins, to make some enchanting patterns. However, leather's not my main trade, and I'm far better with steel. I wish I could garb you in Mithral, darling, the bright silver shines and would bring out the gleam in your eyes. Oh, and it's so light, you'd forget it was even there. However, Mithral is hard to come by these days... especially out here.
"I'll tell you what. Try on a shirt of my mail, and see how it feels. I've got mail finished in a few different colours, though I'm afraid their all fitted for men. I'll have to take a few links out to get them down to the right fit for a girl your size.
She disappears for a few moments and comes back with three mail shirts, all of impeccable workmanship. One is plain grey steel; looking very sturdy and solid. A second suit is polished to a high sheen, making the links appear more silvery than grey, and the last has been kiln blued, and possesses a silky black gloss that reflects a deep blue sheen in the light.
"Well, try one on. They should all fit about the same, but as I said, we'll have to try a bit to get the fit right. A six foot man's shoulders you do not have!"
A masterwork chain shirt would have a max Dex bonus of 4 and the same armour check penalty as your studded leather; -1.
Delia lowers her eyes and nods graciously at the compliment, a proper lady's thanks. "Master smith, you are far too kind. If it would go without disagreement from my staunch defender," she indicates Father "I wouldn't go anywhere in less than a luxuriant gown. Alas, to ease his concerns, I don the armor."
As Jorfa shows the armors, Delia's eyes latch on to the blue-tinted suit. "Oh, Lady Jorfa, the blue is most radiant, and the way the color shifts ever so gently in the light is reminiscent of the boldest silks. If it would be no trouble, could we size that one? The fact that other smiths do not include such lavish beauty in their creations, shows just how skilled your hands truly are at the forge."
"I've never been called a Lady. It is you who are too kind. Especially considering that the armour is blued not to make it pretty, but because it helps it to resist rust. I do like the way the bluing looks, but most who want fancy armour go for the high polish. But polished armour must be polished and repolished. And polishing chain is a chore. You can't just scrub each link, so you have to put it in a barrel with sand and oil, and then roll it until the sand scrubs it clean for you. It can take quite some time. Blued armour does not rust nearly as quickly, and so you don't need to worry about the polish. The bluing itself will rub off in time, leaving a more traditional steely colour in the places that rub, but any decent forge should be able to refresh the dark colour for you. It is merely a matter of using air from the forge."
She instucts Delia to hold her arms to the side and marks spots on the chain with chalk, so she knows how much to remove.
"Removing the links is easy, but afterwards, each will need to be re-riveted. I should be able to have it sized for you by tomorrow."
Composite bows must be made with a specific strength bonus in mind, such as a +1, +2, etc. Anyone can try to use the bow, but anyone who lacks the proper strength rating to pull it suffers a -2 on all attacks with it. If your strength exceeds that of the bow, you still only receive the bonus built into the bow. You haven't seen or heard any indication that there is a bowyer/fletcher in town capable of making bows, but it is entirely possible someone might have such a bow in stock, due to buying it, importing it, or having received it in trade in the past. Basically, you would have to ask around.
On a side note, some of the alchemical items you had mentioned looking for might be available at Jorminda's Apothecary. While your credit was specifically arranged at the General store, you may be able to work something out.
Another store of note is the Unfurling Scroll, a minor magic shop run by an aged retired wizard. Nowadays he spends more time teaching reading and math to the local children, but he is said to have a bit of magic and some scrolls for sale. The last local business is the The Silk Purse, the money lender's shop.
As there has not been much activity lately, I am going to assume that there is nothing further anyone wants to do at this point, and skip ahead a bit.
As noon approaches, the group reassembles at Kendra's home, and gets ready to set out together. Soon, the group is ready and departs, headed for Councilwoman Straelock's home. She lives in a well appointed manor on the southern outskirts of town, and has the home closest to the monument of the four town councilors.
When the group arrives, they are shown into a parlour and offered refreshments while the wait to be invited into the library, where the serving man informs you the councilors are presently involved in their discussions.
Before long you are called upon, and escorted through the home. The library is a large room, perhaps 30 feet long and 15 across, lined on two walls with books, and appointed with a writing desk against another, a bar with various beverages housed in crystal carafes and decanters on the second, and a table and chairs, and a sitting and reading area in the middle. The council members are seating in the sitting area, though councilman Harthmount is standing, and appears somewhat flushed, as though he had been speaking vigorously up until moments ago.
When you are announced, the other man present stands, though mistress Straelock and mistress Faravan both remain seated. A tea service sits on the table between them, and each of the ladies is holding a delicate cup and saucer between her hands.
Councilman Hearthmount speak first, first clearing his throat loudly and then turning to address the party, "Ah, thank you for joining us. We are led to understand that since joining us in Ravengro last week you have been conducting some investigations about town. Is this correct? Sheriff Caeler reported that you had reason to suspect the our late friend Petros Lorrimor's death may not have been the accident it initially appeared to be. Could you explain your suspicions to us please?"
All four of the council members look at you keenly, waiting for someone to answer the question.
Delia steps forward, hoping that if she can give a sparse answer early enough she can cut off any of the others that share overmuch in her opinion.
She curtsies respectfully, folding her hands in front of here in proper stature "Lords and Ladies, the esteemed members of the council, our suspicions are based off the very suspicions of the Professor himself. He had left us signs that he had suspected illicit activity had been taking place at the ruined prison. During his own investigations, a man of both knowledge and great experience, is believed to fall prey to a loose piece of masonry? Furthermore, since his unfortunate departure, there has been an incident of fiery undead rising from the grave directly at those of us that have been expressing our very suspicions. I think much of this is plenty enough to warrant our questioning what may be going on, and the reason we have been asking around and trying to investigate the very ruins within which the respected Professor lost his life. I hope it does not make you bothered by our actions, or our presence, but we just want to ensure that we set right anything that the Professor thought to seem out of line." She unfolds her hands, curtsies once again, and steps back into the group
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19
The council members exchange looks amongst themselves for a moment, giving the appearance that a fair bit of information is being exchanged.
Mistress Faravan gently places her cup and saucer on the table, and rises to address the group. She is a handsome woman in her middle years who is wearing a low cut dress in yellow and green that displays impressive charms.
"Thank you for being so forthcoming young lady, we appreciate you candor. If you do not recall, I am Shandra Faravan, and I have the honour as well of serving on this council. Being strangers here you are no doubt wondering why we have asked you here, and to be honest, not all members of the council were for it. However, kind Benjan informed Mirta this morning of what your role was in the attack at the restlands, and your intention to investigate the grounds of Harrowstone. I can understand your desire for answers; Petros Lorrimor was a quiet man, and kept mostly to himself, as much as one can in a town this size. However, I know he was kind and had an interest in keeping our townspeople safe, whatever they said about him when he was beyond earshot. His interests may have estranged him from a few, but he never brought us any harm that we know of, and even helped to deal with a few arcane problems our town experienced over the years. Though, again, he also spoke of curious suspicions at times, and did not always share enough of what he claimed to know to convince all involved. If I may ask, what was this evidence the Professor left you, and how is this connected to Harrowstone and Ravengro? If their was illicit doings, then by whom and to what end?"
Father, always on the lookout for other's intentions, eyes the council warily as they talk amongst themselves. His focus being mostly on violent acts, tends to miss anything that does not show as outwardly hostile toward his ward.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Delia continues to ply her information as forthright, without actually giving away more than she feels comfortable with. Silently she thanks Shelyn that Zhan hasn't spoken up to volunteer everything they've come across thus far. "Masters of the council, I apologize, but his hints and notes were not displayed as a ledger of names tied to associated crimes. It is more along the lines of the way he wrote as if his words meant something specific to each of us that knew him differently. It may be he wrote in such a way as to tip us off, and the reason we were all named specifically as needing to be present at the reading of his will. Like the hints were for us personally." She takes a short breath before she continues, "Thus, I cannot name who he suspected of doing what per se, just that I was given the feeling I should look into it further to satisfy his own inquiries and see what comes to light."
I don't think she's bluffing, as she is speaking both wholly speculatively, and factually, but just in case you want a roll,
Bluff: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 ugh, here's hoping you agree she's not actually lying.
The Professor's notes did indicate fairly clearly that he felt it was agents of the whispering way who were in town, and serching for something at Harrowstone. The part about giving clues to those who new him may be true, but it seemed more along the lines that he didn't have enough time to write out a detailed letter, and so just pointed you to his journal instead. His journal itself was a detailed leger of his suspicions and the evidence he had seen that the Whispering Way were about. Given all this, I think a Bluff check is appropriate given what you've told them.
Four sense motive checks (and as politicians they are all likely to have some undisclosed level of training in Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 111d20 ⇒ 31d20 ⇒ 141d20 ⇒ 7
Mistress Faravan's brow's knit, and her lips press into a hint of a scowl. "Young Lady, I grant that you do not know us well, and that you feel some sense of responsibility towards finding the answers in this case. However, keep in mind that this is our town and any investigation that wishes to succeed will need our cooperation to do so. Harrowstone is a part of Ravengro, for better or worse, and therefore if we wished it sealed from you we have only to say so. We have our own authorities to whom this responsibility should belong, and if we allow you to continue it is a courtesy. Now that being said, these developments are far out of the norm, and if there are those who have more applicable skills than those our townsfolk are able to bring to bear, then it is in our own best interest to make use of them. I am proposing that we cooperate, and that we help each other find out what is going on here. However, for that to happen, a little trust will be required."
Sense motive on Delia: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Zhan stifles an instinct to groan as the girl lays out her version of events. Why doe she insist on behaving in such a way? Was it just inexperience, or was she really that paranoid? In either event, her naivety was likely to get them driven out of town at the rate it was going. Should he speak up now, or allow her to experience the consequences of her folly? How would she learn otherwise? He might be able to patch things up a bit afterwards, but if she persisted too much longer, any trust they had with the town authorities might be irreparably damaged.
Sense Motive on Council members: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25
Perception on Council members: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Father scowls at the response Delia is given, but nonetheless he leans over and whispers to her, "Worry not Princess, it is not as bad as it looks. Just remember, cooler heads prevail."
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Delia, her irritation rising, scowls and gives her foot a little stomp before Father's words cause her to stop and take a deep breath. "I understand trust is important. You must admit that given little information, and none of you having been requested at the reading, that when dealing with suspicious activities trust is not just given because of someone's title of office. My companions have been subject to my demands of secrecy, and they do not always agree with the extent to which I take it, but as I said, he has not named names beyond that of the mysterious title of a secret society. They have been poking around the ruins as of late, and he intended to deny them whatever it was he thought they searched for. Sadly though, since he did not name anyone in particular, we... I personally, do not know who we can trust. The last thing I imagine most members of secret societies would likely do is come and state outright that they are members, it does not lend well to the society remaining very secret."
She continues, "You may very well prevent us.. me from investigating, or even lock me up to ensure it doesn't happen, but until we find more clues within the prison, all that would do is make you appear as if you don't want us to succeed, all the while whatever strange events are happening may very well continue. You speak of there needing to be trust, and for us... me to trust you it would help if you not stand in my way of trying to stop any wickedness that may be happening in your sweet little town."
She points to the rest of the group "They may not have any compunctions about just blabbering on about whatever they feel you want to know, but I refuse." She crosses her arms and turns away from the council.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
As far as trust, Delia is from another small town in Ustalav almost like this, she is generally as untrusting as any Ustalavan local.
Councilman Heartmount stifles a laugh and tries to recover by taking a swig from a crystal snifter. The contents are a dark amber liquid. The gulp he takes though evidently goes down the wrong way as he turns aside with a fit of deep, barking coughs.
Mirta Straelock covers her mouth with a lace gloved hand and hides her mouth. She starts with a giggle, but when she sees Harthmount doubled over she breaks into a true laugh.
The last councilman, Gharen Muricar moves forward from miss Straelock's side and addresses the group next. He looks from Shandra Faravan to Delia with a grin.
"Rudeness from elders and impertinence from youth! What is next?" He looks directly at Delia, "I am sorry for my lady's harsh words; she was a Royal Accuser in Caliphas, and sometimes forgets that she is longer a barrister. Although she often gets people to admit what she wants to hear, she doesn't always do it the kindest way. Forgive us child, for allowing her to play on your youth in this way."
He steps forwards to Delia, and places a hand under her chin so can look at her face. Gharen is nearly of an age with Harthmount, but bears it better, being fit of figure, handsome, and bears the slim streaks of gray in his hair with dignity. He is the only one of the councilmen armed, bearing a fine rapier appointed in silver filigree on his left hip.
Speaking to Delia, "Is was unkind to take advantage of your spirit that way my dear. We shall have to make recompense. But we digress. So, there was specific mention of these fiends was there? And Professor Lorrimor suspected the Whispering Way was at work in Ravengro."
He smiles as he drops the name. He attempts to kiss Delia's hand before he steps back. "Sorry as well about the ruse, but we had to see if you would truly aid us, or if you are just hear for some goal of your own. We have obviously already heard that particular rumour, though I'll not say from where, as of yet. Had you not been willing to tell us, then doubt would have remained strong as to who you might truly be, and who you might serve. Seems to me the easiest way to get these cultists into Harrowstone would be through the front door, and here we have a group of strangers planning to do exactly that."
Mister Hearhmount has finally recovered from his bout of coughing and takes over. "Yes yes, apologies to all of you, and to you young lady. As Shandra explained, this is about trust. You are strangers to our town, and odd things are happening here. As well, she mentioned that our Sheriffs, as brave as they may be, are not equip to deal with the likes of those flaming piles of bones, and it appears that you are."
"We are faced with a question or two; yes, Petros Lorrimors death seems unlikely, and it raised a few eyebrows on this council even before we heard about anything supernatural, but what could be done? There was no suspect, and the scene seemed obvious, by Benjan's acount, and by Vauran's as well. So we were forced to assume that it was either what it appeared, the crime of a transient, long departed, or something to do with the Haunting of the Harrowstone Prison. Of which we could do nothing to determine the true answer. And then these events began to occur. Your encounter in the Lichyard was witness by more than just Riff, though you may not have seen. Foul letters appearing in the night, the dead rising from their eternal rest? The village is beginning to panick, and a panicked folk tend to demand answers quickly. I would have answers for them swiftly, but have had no real means to gain them. Perhaps until now, which is what brings you into this, and is why you were invited here. We need someone to investigate and discover any indications that Lorrimor died by means other than accident ,that the ruins of Harrowstone truly are haunted, and that there is a connection between what happened there, and these strange events that have been occurring here."
"Our offer is this, that your team will enter the grounds of Harrowstone, on our invitation, and explore enough to answer these questions, or at least to find that which cannot be found. Enter not deeply into the place, only go so far as needed to find what you need to know. We are not asking you to solve this conundrum, only to provide us with answers. Do this, and each of you will be paid the sum of 100 gold pieces, for each man or woman that participates. Well, what do you think?"
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Backing up a bit with Rigor Rictus before jumping back into the happenings...
Assuming the poison is illegal in Ravengro, Kirill would like to make a Knowledge (local) on where one would go about finding some. If he fails he would like to do a Diplomacy to gather that information. If both of those sources fail, he would like to do a Knowledge (local) and/or Diplomacy to gather information to see how the local apothecary feels about poisons. I'll take it from there, but will likely end up at Jorminda's at some point anyway.
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 5 + 2 = 23
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 2 = 10
You are correct that poison is typically illegal in most places, to an extent. If you wanted rat poison, or were a farmer wanting an ingestable poison to kill off foxes, coyotes, or other pests, you could probably get something openly. Any open purchase of poison would be limited to ingestion varieties, and would require a good reason.
Upon doing some subtle questioning, more than one person tells you that Jorminda is suspected of selling poisons, or something nefarious, as Benjan Caeller has seen hangin around near there too often to be coincidence, and has little need for her services. The local word is that he is trying to catch her in the act of something. No one you talk to has any first hand knowledge of actually doing anything though.
As the councilman, Gharen, approaches Delia, Father steps up to her side just slightly in front of her. He looks at the man, an unmistakable look telling him he's being watched. As the man tries to kiss her hand, Father takes her gently by the wrist and pulls her hand from his, especially after witnessing the man's earlier subtle display of where his attentions lie.
Delia, her expression stoic except for the stubborness still set in her chin, tilts her head slightly as she answers. "I will do what you ask of us in this measure." she states, matter of factly, with a tone in her voice that sounds as if she is doing them a favor.