Jean turns from the door at the shrieking, pulling a vial of holy water from his bandolier he steps closer to the figure tyring to identify it.
Seeing the Alchemist readying to throw his vial directly at the ghostly figure, Jean tries to call out to him. "Mithias, no!" realizing that he was too slow, he decides to teach by example. Running forward he uncorks the vial and splashes its contents on to the figure directly.
"You have to hit it like this!"
Firavel is oblivious to the pile and is shocked when the straight-jacket flies out. "What the...?
Firavel moves to flank the... empty jacket? and slashes at it with his blade.
Realizing that the straight Jacket is merely animated rather than possessed Jean draws his longsword as he moves forward to cut it down.
In that case I'm letting Rosie sing before everyone charges it.
Yanking a hand axe free from his belt, Leon instinctively lashed out at the shrieking coat.
Initiative
23 Mithias
21 Sethis
21 Wyldling
15 Firavel
15 Leon
13 Jean
12 Lysa
08 Enemy
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Surprise Round
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Sethis brings his heavy crossbow to target and fires a quarrel at the oncoming straitjacket. The bolt tears a sizable hole through the thick leather.
Jean and Lysa both ready their weapons as the straitjacket begins flying toward the group.
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Round 1
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Mithias pushes forward and stabs out at the jacket with his spear, but his blade brushes harmlessly off the leather coat.
Sethis moves behind the Wyldling who moves forward and engages, missing with a claw.
Firavel moves behind the straitjacket and slashes down with his blade, leaving a long ragged cut across its back.
Leon leaps forward and executes a deft swipe with his axe, severing the left arm of the jacket, leaving only dangling threads at the shoulder.
Jean takes advantage of Firavel's position but is unable to connect with the flying object.
Lysa steps up and brings her morningstar down in a big arc over he head, connecting with the straitjacket and bashing it toward the ground.
The jacket lashes out with its remaining arm toward Lysa, but it barely manages a swing before the Wyldling brings it down with a strong swipe.
Amidst the clothes where the straitjacket waited, you find a thin gold and silver necklace.
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"Should we check the trap door?"
Leon stares at the jacket for a short time, as if trying to figure out exactly how to make sure an animated shirt is really dead, then shakes his head, slowly reaches for it and picks it up.
After holding it for a moment waiting for it to come to life again, he quickly knotted it, and then knotted it again, twisting it upon itself so it was little more than a ball of cloth.
"Having to straight-jacket a straight-jacket. That's one uncle Simon never warned me about."
Nodding to Sethis, Simon picked up the pendant and looked for any identifying marks.
"Wonder who this belonged to."
Shrugging, he put it in his pocket.
Lysa peers at the necklace before he puts it away. "It is pretty. Not the kind of thing a prisoner would wear though. Perhaps it belonged to some woman who worked here in the laundry?"
"Jean, never leave yourself open in hostile territory and never drop your guard even in seemingly clear environments. How do you expect to defend the land and it's people, if you are not ready to protect yourself?"
Jean's father's words echoed in his mind as he stared at the straight-jacket. He had ignored a potentially serious threat, he could have reacted faster if he had been ready. Despite the years he had lived and all he had accomplished he still felt woefully inexperienced.
He turned to Sethis."Yes, this door is suspicious enough in it's existence within a prison. I'll go first." Sword in hand, Jean moves to open the door.
"We'll see if we can track down the owner or her family. If we can't find anyone, it's all yours if you like it." Leon says with a smile to Lysa as he takes up a position behind Jean, still holding his axe.
With a shake of your head, you calm down and your mind clears. What in the world were you just thinking? Must be the lingering spirits in this prison...
The secret door opens to reveal tangled mounds of moth-eaten fabric sitting on several wooden tables, each surrounded by workbenches. Various sewing tools — shears, needles, rolls of thread, boxes of chalk, and other objects lie scattered over the floor, while the arm of what appears to be a skeleton protrudes from a stained heap of fabric to the west.
As the group enters the room, a ghostly apparition rises from the skeleton. The ghost appears to be a young human woman with long hair falling around her shoulders and wearing a lovely blue dress. Tears stream down her face in continuous lines, and as you take in the sight, you realize that much about her is blue, including the small puffs of smoke that emanate from her mouth as she speaks in a hollow voice, "Are you here from Ravengro to replace those cowardly guards who locked me in here to die?"
Jean sheathes his blade upon seeing the ghostly apparition and instead readies a vial of holy water to splash on her if necessary. Stepping forward cautiously, Jean answered.
"Yes, we have come from Ravengro for answers. Can you tell us who you are and what occurred that night?" It wasn't a total lie and though Jean wasn't completely sure what to expect from this ghost, it wasn't immediately hostile to them.
The ghost regards Jean as he addresses her, and you all notice her tears continue to fall down her face.
"My name is Vesorianna Hawkran, and my husband was warden of Harrowstone. As for what happened that night... The prisoners rioted, they started a fire, the casks of oil stored in the lower levels exploded, and the eastern wing collapsed."
She frowns and looks around quickly, "Are the men who speak in whispers still around? I saw them kill the other man, and I felt them moving within the prison, but none entered my domain so I was not able to speak with them. I have not felt my husband's presence in some time, and I think they may have had something to do with it."
Screw you axe!
Fascinating, were sitting here having a calm and rational conversation with a ghost. I never would have believed it possible a few years ago.
"Um, who's your husband m'lady?"
Vesorianna turns to Sethis, "My husband was Lyvar Hawkran, the last warden of Harrowstone prison, and the spirit who kept the prisoners contained within these walls for the past fifty years."
Gouts of smoke come out of her mouth as she places her hands over her mouth while she closes her eyes. The sorrow in her voice and face is evident to everyone in the room. Through her sobs, she manages to speak, "He was trapped below during the riots, and he died down there. But even in death... he did his duty. The spirits of the criminals, they wanted to escape, but he didn't let them, he kept them in their cells, under control... kept Ravengro safe... but he's gone, his spirit is no longer in Harrowstone!"
"Sooo, now all the spirits of the prisoners are loose?"
"The men who speak whispers? Ah, them again. This is all starting to make more sense now. How long ago were they here?"
"Uhm, if you don't mind ma'am. Could you describe the man that they killed? And why were you locked in here?"
"So these whispering folks killed someone. I'm guessing it was our friend, the Professor... And they were likely the ones who took the warden's spirit and thus freed the spirits of the criminals to haunt this prison. So that's what those runes were. Not to hold a spirit in, but to capture it...," Firavel says thinking. His eyes go wide and his face drains of blood as he realized something.
"Ummm.... is that a ghost?"
"Sooo, now all the spirits of the prisoners are loose?"
Vesorianna lets her hands fall and she looks at Leon. "No, not yet. I have taken on my husband's role. My presence is keeping the criminals locked in Harrowstone. But there are five powerful spirits that are close to breaking free. One in particular is trying to destroy me. He has the ability to leech my essence away by spelling my name in a magical ritual. Once he has completed my name, I will cease to exist, and the gates of Harrowstone will be thrown open for these psychotic ghosts to descend upon the living."
"The men who speak whispers? Ah, them again. This is all starting to make more sense now. How long ago were they here?"
She thinks for a moment, "They were most active between two and three weeks ago, I cannot be sure since time does not pass exactly the same for me as it does for you."
"Uhm, if you don't mind ma'am. Could you describe the man that they killed? And why were you locked in here?"
"He was an older human, dressed in a long leather coat, wearing spectacles. His head was bald on top, but he had white hair on the sides. I heard him referred to as a 'professor' if that means anything."
Her face turns angry at Lysa's second question, and you all momentarily glimpse the actual horror of her undead existence. She rises up and her hair begins twisting and turning, with the ends beginning to smolder. In a harsh voice, she responds, "My husband went into the prison at the beginning of the riots. After thirty minutes, I came in from our house outside to check on him. The guards told me that he had gone down into the lower levels to try and restore order. I peered over the elevator shaft and saw him fighting with other guards - they were being overwhelmed by the prisoners! But the guards up here wouldn't send the elevator down, they said it was too dangerous. I ran over and released the catch to give Lyvar a chance. But the guard panicked. They dumped casks of oil down the shaft to make it hard for prisoners to climb up, and several of them grabbed me and locked me in her 'to prevent more of my meddling' they said."
"The fools forgot about the fires on the level below. When the oil ran down the shaft and hit the flames, it exploded, leaving the eastern part of the prison in ruins. The guards fled, and left me to die in this room, full of smoke and ash."
After a few seconds, she visibly calms down. "It is not easy to think about, even after all these years. Those cowards could have stopped the riot, saved my husband, and prevented a number of deaths, including mine. But they fled into the night like scared children..."
"Ummm.... is that a ghost?"
"Yes, I am a ghost. I reside in this room, unable to leave my mortal remains. But until recently I was with my husband, together forever as man and wife here in this place."
Jean looked like he was mulling over something in his and and finally it hit him. "Professor Lorrimor and I had many discussions about the nature of the Undead. Ghosts sometimes learn the ability to possess individuals."
He turns to the rest of the group. "Didn't someone mention seeing a V painted in animal blood outside on a statue of the warden? The Sheriff, you said he may have been acting a little odd regarding the investigation of Harrowstone itself. Also, wasn't there a guard presence here not too long ago? If that's the case, then the ghost may not be inside Harrowstone any longer." Jean's mind was racing now; trying to put the pieces together. However, he couldn't jump to conclusions. He needed to be sure.
He turned back to Vesorianna. "How sure are you that all 5 of these ghosts are still here? Can you sense them?"
She nods, "Yes, I can sense them, and I know they are still inside the prison."
"Is there anything we can do to help you move on? Perhaps to join your husband wherever he went to?"
"Hmm, I was wrong then, that's good. If that's the case then we need to deal with these spirits and stop the ritual if we can. Can you tell us where these ghosts are likely to be found? If not then we'll just have to hunt them all down." Jean steps back toward the rest of the group.
"Is there anything we can do to help you move on? Perhaps to join your husband wherever he went to?"
"After we handle those ghosts, of course. As long as they're still here, we're going to need Miss Hawkran's help containing them."
Vesorianna shakes her head, "No, now that my husband has disappeared, I am all that remains between these criminals and their freedom. I must stay here as their warden - it is a duty I accept, knowing that I am doing what my husband would do if he were still here. But the ghosts know that I was not the warden, so I need something, a symbol of authority from the living world, that they would respect. If you find anything of my husband, something that would mark his position as warden, please return it to me. With it, I can control most of the criminals..."
She turns to Jean, "I can control all except the five most dangerous. They can be found both above us and below us. Some were in cells on the upper level, while others were incarcerated in the lower cellblock. While they are still active, I cannot complete my hold over this prison. Defeat them, return to me with a symbol of authority, and I shall continue to contain the evil within these walls."
"Madam, we will do our best to aid you in this endeavour."
"Agreed, in that case we should head to the top level first and sweep our way down to the basement. We can check the rest of this floor when we are done."
"Sounds good. Miss Hawkran, is there a map of the prison anywhere? Maybe in your husband's office?"
"Good idea Leon, plus the office would also be a good place to find a symbol of his authority."
Vesorianna hesitates, "I'm sorry, but I do not know of any map my husband might have had."
"Oh well. Worth a shot."
After sitting quietly for most of this, "I'm sorry ma'am I don't mean to be rude even though I am pretty sure this is going to come off exactly as rude, but how do we know you're who you say you are? How do we know you're not one of the prisoners or worse one of the five and you need something of the warden's to free yourself?"
Vesorianna smiles sadly, "I do not think you rude, simply prudent. I would suggest you examine the rest of the prison, then return to visit me after your exploration is complete. If you still doubt my identity, I shall submit myself to your judgement, even if you decree my destruction."
"But if you return and believe I am who I claim, I would ask you to help me contain the remaining spirits as I asked. Is that a fair request?"
Jean stares for a moment before responding. "I believe this is a fair request. We should get moving before our options are taken from us."
"Yes."
"I too agree that it sounds fair."
"Thank you, ma'am." Leon says politely with a slight bow before turning and leaving with the others. He seemed quite comfortable speaking with the spirit, as if it didn't seem out of the ordinary to him.
The group moves up the stairs and finds a landing. To the north, several large tables and benches lie stacked in a jumble. From the light streaming into the room, you can tell a large section of the wall has crumbled away from this part of the upper floor.
To the south, the group sees a large "room" containing several benches and a table, all sitting behind iron bars. From the furniture, it was apparently used as a guard post when the prison was inhabited.
Additionally, there are several other hallways leading to other parts of this floor.
Wooden benches once lined this large hall, but several are now stacked in a jumble and others are overturned in disarray. Weakened by fire, the entire east wall has collapsed away, creating an unintended entryway to a wooden deck beyond. The view of the lake beyond would be beautiful if the silence were not so eerie.
As the group proceeds through the tables toward the double doors, the distinct sound of buzzing fills the air.
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Please roll initiative and a Perception check. If you make the Perception check, please provide your actions and/or intent for the surprise round.