All levelled up. (+2 rounds of Bardic Perform, 1 first& second spell (Share Memory))
"So we need to get out of here? This should have disturbed the nest; however they'll be little comeback on our.... friends?" he whispers, a hopeful catch in his voice.
"We need a ritual upon the new moon & to leave town?" Tybalt adds planning what's next, realising that the library might be useful - although the books could be scryable.
'We'd need a lead-lined room, with climbing vines and natural materials. Or sealed in a pocket dimension?' he tries to think remembering his older teachings.
"Did we want to look for an entrance to the sewers? Or have we completed all we need done here?" Eliva looks at the bird figurine. "This...would be useful if someone needed to send us a message. Do we want to try to leave it with the Sisters, for use if they are in trouble, or our companions we leave with them are?"
"I think we could just examine the library, there may be some useful books...." he adds looking nervously at the door. "But great point about the figurine, that's a good plan."
"Securing the sewers, or at least finding the entrance would be good too." he muses softly.
Tybalt picks up a host of books, probably nearing a handful to a dozen - depending on their size. After a couple of minutes flicking through them he nods down the stairs and looking for the sewers. "At least we can tell Kaniki she is free from her vile servitude."
As if on cue, you spot Kaniki on the stairs. "Intruders still live. That means Kaniki needs to find new employer. Meddlesome intruders make things difficult for hard-working house spirit." She squawks and heads back to collect her things.
"You have somewhere safe to go Kaniki?" Tybalt asks not able to keep the concern from his voice; "We might know someone who could hire you?" he adds cautiously.
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Kaniki squawks and remarks, "Kaniki's services always in demand. Kaniki knows people." With that, she disappears through a wall.
Leandro sighs heavily. "I fear this has accomplished little to nothing, though we have ended an evil in this place. We know not which of us may become one of those things nor how, though we do know that stopping it requires the beast form. We must speak with Dr. Savarre as quickly as possible, though why he told us to consult the witch here is beyond me." He waves his hand at the were-rat's corpse. "Perhaps we should all attend the meeting with your old friends. After all, there is strength in numbers. If Madama Gustalarde's friends and followers decide upon revenge, it is best that we all be together against them."
"We took out the head, the leader of this clan..." Tybalt says solemnly; "The Doctor said that might break the bloodline and ensure that the taint doesn't spread to us... maybe."
"We could lock the cellar or sewer against the vengeful rats, maybe spread a rumour about Madames' decline. I'm sure that will cause her enemies, the other clans to attack at this sign of weakness. Maybe there could even be a civil war and they'll all murder each other." he adds hopefully, though not wishing the innocent townsfolk hurt.
Eliva looks at Tybalt. "I hope the curse is indeed lifted. I understand the desire to lock up the cellar - if it takes us no time, I am in favor of it. But their alternate forms are so small, I fear it will do us little good, and our time may be better served in getting this feather token to the sisters and meeting our allies. I am at peace with either decision," she adds, not terribly set against spending a few minutes locking the cellar door, if such is possible.
Descending the stairs to the lowest level, the cellar is a damp, foul place. It looks to you as if this magnificent mansion rests on a foundation of rot, standing upright as a result of habit rather than engineering. The grimy floor is littered with bones, picked clean of any meat or sinew.
A gaping, open drain, exuding a vile stench, yawns forth in welcome to the sewers below.
The cellar is unoccupied. The drain to the cellar does not have a door or grate, but you may be able to obstruct it. Alternately, you could try to secure the door to the cellar. It has a lock, but you do not think it is sturdy, not do you know who may have a key.
Eliva looks thoughtfully at the open drain. "We take everything we can find in the house and stuff it down the hole to plug it. Or does someone have magic that might accomplish the same goal? Otherwise, I think it better we move on quickly."
"I cannot bar or fill the grate, except by hand and I fear that would take too long." he adds looking at the opening. "However I can lock and bar the door, for what use that'll be."
However he agrees with the Inquisitors' assessment, that they need to move fast. He gets out his picks if everyone agrees to it and a spike to jamb in the lock.
Leandro examines the door and lock briefly, then claps Tybalt on the shoulder. "Come, my friend, I doubt that we can do any good here. Perhaps we can warn the constables about the house. But our work here is done, methinks. The Doctor is our only hope for a cure, if we are even infected."
"Thanks, you are too kind." he says with a swallow. His voice nervous, with a slight ragged edge. Eyes dark around to the corners of the room, then there's a flap and his owl lands on his other shoulder. "You'll get the rats', wouldn't you?" the avian predator just ruffles it's feathers in response.
He quickly works on the lock once everyone is done with the cellar.
Tybalt jams the lock with whatever is available - in this case, a rusted metal stake. He does not know how well it will hold up, but no better materials were at hand.
As you make your way back to the hospital, you feel a certain paranoia that there are eyes watching you. The city streets are dark and still, and a misty drizzle has begun to fall. The infrequent oil-burning street lamps cast anemic glows upon the cobblestones, their luminescence reflected in flecks of light upon the rain-soaked street.
As you turn the final corner, the gothic hospital looms before you. The massive doors are shut for the night, but the heavy iron knockers beckon.
Tybalt pulls the heavy colour of his jacket up around his neck, it feels that there's a constant trickle of icy moisture dripping down there. 'It's only my imagination...' he tries to dismiss it, knowing what is out there. These haunted shores infested by vermin are filled with danger.
He reaches towards the knocker, suddenly the owl chooses that moment to spread it's overladen winds and flap them into his face. Taking a step back Tybalt pauses, rubbing a hand across his wet visage.
Rubbing his hand against the dark trouser leg, he removes little but the reaches up with trepidation to the cast-iron brackets.
the seem to reverberate in his head, though much of the sound is absorbed by the drizzle.
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"What knockers!" Leandro says softly, his reach for them intercepted by the shivering bard. He watches the streets behind them, seemingly oblivious to the chill and eerie feel of the night.
Eliva doesn't like the feeling she gets as they walk back through town, and keeps a sharp eye out for any hits of attack or danger.
Eliva was about to make a suggestion when Tybalt strod up to the door and used the heavy iron knockers. She winced at the loud noise. "It might have been better to slip a note under the door," she muttered. "Now the sisters must awake, and our visit here is much more likely to be noted."
The dull thud of the knocker echoes dully in the sparse hall beyond. After a moment, an attendant opens the door a crack and looks out warily. He recognizes your faces from your time spent with the Sisters and opens the door wide. "Come in," he says. "Get out of that rain. I did not know you would be coming at such an hour. Shall I fetch anyone?"
'Well, Leandro does appreciate beauty - especially in these dour times.' the bard lets go of the knockers, before replying to Eliva.
"True, notice..." Tybalts words are cut off by the opening of the door. He shuffles inside after the porter, the water sloughing off him in sheets.
Tybalt doesn't spot anything following either, and his eyes are sharp. It was probably your imagination.
"We apologize for coming at such a late hour. We will not stay long. We merely want to drop an item and then we must depart. is it possible to disturb Sister Claudette? If not, we can at least leave her a message," says Res.
Res removes the ring of protection from his finger and hands it to Eliva. "This will help protect you." He then places the more powerful ring on his finger. "Where we are going, I will need all of the protection I can get on the front line."
"I will inquire," the attendant says. He hurries off, leaving you waiting in the entrance hall for a time.
After a few minutes, Sister Claudette enters. She appears to have hastily donned her habit, as it is not in its typical well-pressed state.
"We were not expecting you," she says. "I hope you are well."
"Sir Res, Leandro, Eliva. I'm here to support you, as much as I can." he pauses, with a self-deprecating wince, "For that's really where my only strengths lie. I can guide you, with my locket, try and navigate to find the items of power that are sought."
To Sister Claudette he starts with a bow; "Milady, we bring news ... and possibly a way for you to contact us after we leave."
"The witch, Gustalarde, leader of her clan has fallen. Though it appears she may have known about your involvement in the political scene of the town. With some luck this shouldn't have repercussions - as most do not believe you a threat." he says softly hoping this isn't an insult.
Eliva nods at Tybalt's words. "We are doing all we can to ensue you can safely continue your good work unmolested. In case you ever feel you need our assistance or presence, however, you can use this to call us. I hope it will not be needed, though!"
"Thank you," she says, as she accepts the trinket. "I hope it is not needed. You have all been of tremendous service to our Order. Thank you, and be careful."
"We should move from here quickly," Leandro suggests, "So as not to endanger the dear sisters. And sweet Sister Claudette, our gratitude for your selfless assistance is eternal." He kisses Sister Claudette's hand in farewell.
Sister Claudette bids you farewell.
From the hospital, you are able to make your way through the rain-soaked streets to Dr. Savarre's hideout in an abandoned townhouse. As you approach, his head is already peering out the door and he wears his usual excited expression.
"Come in, come in," he whispers. "I have much to tell you."
Lit by candlelight, the dusty storage room takes on a warm glow, although the deep flickering shadows are somewhat unsettling. An aging man is seated inside.
Eliva is concerned for Dr. Savarre's safety, and does her best to keep a lookout as they near his home for any signs of rats or wererats.
Leandro, suspicious because the doctor had said they needed Madame Gustalarde's aid when she said he had the answers, scrutinizes Dr. Savarre and his guest closely, nodding shortly in acknowledgement of the welcome.
"Well, we survived... as you can see. Whilst the were-rat leader faired not so well, though her familiar did escape." Tybalt says frankly when they reach the safety of his rooms. The bard taps his leg nervously and his voice has a touch of hoarseness to it; "Don't suppose you have a drink?"
"We managed to even recover a couple of books from her library too." he adds.
A white-haired, bearded, thin human who appears to be in his 60s sits somewhat uneasily on a crate. His clear blue eyes take in Dr. Savarre's guests.
"Greetings, fellow hunters. My name is Anuqa Amaruq. Doctor Savarre has informed me that you are a formidable group."
"Well, I wouldn't say formidable. But my friends are a noble group with big hearts." his tone amenable; "My name is Tybalt Scorzia and I'm from the forests of Falkovnia." he puts his hand out, though there is a touch of tightness in his eyes. The Ravenloft native has had mistrust drilled into him from birth despite his naturally optimistic demeanour.
'Is it safe to talk in front of him?' he wonders.
"Ah yes, I forgot to introduce you," Dr. Savarre says. "Anuqa has helped me on many expeditions, as he will on yours. I must go to Mordentshire to consult with an old colleague, Professor Binwick. I recalled after you left that he was researching planar concordances. If anyone would know of this Gray Gate, he would be the one. Of course, if the enemy is truly on the cusp of claiming Harrag's Skull, we cannot afford delay. You should travel to Souraigne at once, and I can send word to you in Port d'Elhour once I am safely in Mordentshire."
"As for your tussle with the rats, I never doubted you. Severing the line of lycanthropes at its head is the first step in ridding yourselves of the curse, if you have it. Madame Gustalarde is dead, then? Did you uncover what triggers transformation in her line? Did she have any good books?"
"Yes, a country retreat would be good for your health Dr. Savarre. Keeping away from the local vermin problem." Tybalt says subtly before adding hurriedly; "Of course she said that you would know how to stop any transformations. That it had to happen during the first lunar transmogrification...."
He reaches into his back-pack and gets out a water-skin talking a slug to quench his dry throat.
Anuqa offers Tybalt a warm smile. "A native to these blighted lands, eh? I have been here long enough to feel like I was born here, but I am from elsewhere." He pauses as if trying to recall a piece of neglected trivia. "The Land of the Linnorm Kings. Yes, that's it."
Tybalt gives a shudder at the word 'Kings' for they are synonyms with pain suffering and death; "Did you arrive through the mists too?" he perks up at the thought of planar travel.
'Though it seems to be but one way, as if we are the culvert that all others drain into.'
"You must have been strong to survive here?" he adds cautiously.
Anuqa notes Tybalt's reaction to his home of origin. The Land's reputation precedes me even here, evidently.
"It was more swirling snow than mists, but I suppose it was effectively the same thing. And, no, son, I was really more lucky than strong to survive here. My initial bit of luck was running into Doctor Savarre on my first day here."