Whatever residue remained of the possessed scythe she dropped from her open hand to the ground. She drew a sigh of relief that it was done and the spirits were dispatched. She turned mismatched eyes to her companions, "Thank you for your constant aid. I am thankful it is destroyed." Lirin twittered in her ear and then hopped out from the hood, peering out slightly at the others. "It is gone?" the little thrush asked. "Aye, I hope so," Jayla answered before casting Detect magic in the area of the chopping block just as a safeguard. There was possibly some residual magic but she hoped it was now just a faint trace and no more.
Noting the effect on the once flowing blood, Jayla informed her companions, "The fresh-flowing blood has stopped and is crusted over and faded on the block. There is no radiating energy coming from the block. I think believe it's ended." Jayla reached up and gave Lirin a tickle on her feathered head.
Having seen Khardan get injured when the scythe lashed out at him when he first attempted to grab it, the little witch moved to his side and examined the cut with her trained healer's eye to see if the wound was infected or poisoned by the old scythe blade.
and when satisfied, laid her hand on his arm and infused the wound some of the positive healing magic she had at her disposal.
The deep cut sealed and healed wholly and cleanly without issue.
"There, that should feel better now, my brave friend."
Khardan appears to be considering the merits of continuing to thrash the old scythe, but the healing that flows through his body gets his attention with a hiss of surprise and bared fangs.
"Hey! Oh...uh, thanks, Jayla. Thanks. Good job with the...spirits, I'm guessing? So I guess this place really is haunted."
"Should we go get some sort of blessing from the Pharasmins? Or maybe lots of holy water?"
"Getting some Holy Water is probably a good idea. What does everyone think about that? Do you think we'll have any problem getting some in the village? I'm concerned if the villagers find out what we are doing here they will be upset, and make Miss Kendra's life harder." She moves to study the remnants of the scythe in a clinical way, but not touching them.
"You were fortunate, Khardan, that the old scythe blade was not rusted or poisoned. From my examination of the wound there were no signs of the flesh or blood being tainted before I healed you. I wonder if all the spirits the Whispering Way released went into the scythe or there are more spirits to contend with..." she spoke quietly and her eyes darted about the area of the balcony.
At Imperia's suggestion of holy water, Jayla nodded in agreement. "A fine idea, Mistress Imperia. If questioned, we could always say we wish to carry holy water as a reassurance for when we leave the village and move on and unless the locals are following us, thinking back on the crow she had seen watching them twice now, we may be able to purchase the holy water from the clerics without issue or questions."
After a moment of contemplation she added, a faint blush creeping across her usual pale cheeks, "Although, at present, I am low on funds and do not have coin for such a purchase. I am willing to add whatever coin I can to the kitty for such a purchase, however."
"...I am low on funds and do not have coin for such a purchase. I am willing to add whatever coin I can to the kitty for such a purchase, however."
"Let's hustle, then," says Khardan. [b]"I want to sort this place out today."[/ooc]
The party turns and departs from the forlorn stone balcony with a new realization of just what may lie within Harrowstone's walls. The wind picks up as they cross the grounds... along with what might have been a sinister chuckle that is soon lost in the breeze.
As they approach the town, they can hear a ruckus coming from the southwestern edge of town... there's a crowd of people gathered along what appears to be some sort of memorial statue on the riverbank.
"I have enough funds to purchase one flask, and contribute to the purchase of another."
Imperia follows the noise. She watches the crowd for signs of impending violence and looks at the statue to see if she might recognize what it is.
He was described as a tough, but fair and self-sacrificing man in the books you read. Some accounts say that he was responsible for the fire that consumed Harrowstone--and he started the fire to prevent the worst of the prison's inmates from escaping.
As the party gets closer to the monument, they hear fearful chattering coming from the crowd...
"...who would do something like this? This is disgraceful!..."
"...is that really blood?..."
"...to defile a righteous man's memory like this..."
A sharp, authoritative voice barks above the din of the crowd. "ALRIGHT, FOLKS! PLEASE REMAIN CALM!" The voice is coming from a stubbled, leather-clad man with a wide-brimmed hat standing before the statue. Two men are behind him, apparently scrubbing the base of the statue. "We will conduct an investigation into this vandalism shortly--please return to your homes."
As the nervous crowd slowly departs, the man glances over and appears to notice the party's arrival.
Having a pretty good idea of what he's about to see, Khardan grips his spear and grits his teeth. He waits for one of the others to do the talking.
Jayla watched the rowdy crowd of people and listened to the man as he asked for calm. Her mismatched eyes took in the monument and lingered on it and also the blood that was being washed from it. Could the unleashed spirits have perpetrated this? she mused silently, but she held her tongue for the locals were already riled without further flaming their fears.
Her eyes met the man's and she spoke steadily and politely. "Good day, sir. My name is Jayla Janviel. What has happened, here? May we be of help?"
The man nods at the young witch approaching him. "Name's Caeller. I'm the sheriff of this town here."
"See, something weird's happened to our memorial statue here..." He waves a hand at the two men hunched over the statue's base with scrub brushes and buckets of water. "...some damn fool thought it'd be funny to splatter blood on it."
"Sheriff, sir?" One of the men looks up at him with a worried expression. "...it's not coming out."
"Scrub harder, then. Didn't your mama ever teach you how to wash things?" He replies without looking behind him.
"No, really, sir--look!"
The sheriff sighs and glances over at the statue, only for his lips to purse into a grim line. The base of the statue has a large "V" painted in blood above its engraved brass nameplate.
The scrub brushes of the men at work on it are soaked red, and the water they're using has turned a dull, rusty red. The blood still looks as unnaturally fresh as it was before.
"...anyways, have the lot of you seen anyone who might have done this?" He turns back to Jayla, expecting an answer.
"It is good to meet you, Sheriff."
So the blood kept flowing on the old warden Hawkran statue as it had on the chopping block back at Harrowstone? That was not a good sign. Jayla kept her thoughts to herself presently.
As the sheriff and his men talked, Jayla cast Detect Magic in the direction of the soiled monument and bloody water, hoping to gauge if it was the same necromantic magic as at Harrowstone.
The bloodied water seems to be just that--bloodied water. No magic detected there.
"...anyways, have the lot of you seen anyone who might have done this?" He turns back to Jayla, expecting an answer.
"Nay, we did not see the perpetrator, Sheriff. But magic is certainly involved and I fear you will not be able to remove the blood-marked 'V' with water and brush, at least for the time being. Has anyone noticed any other strange events or phenomena before the marking of the monument or since?"
The sheriff shakes his head. "No, not a one. Then again, we haven't had a chance to canvass the neighbourhood for any potential witnesses. But if there is magic involved here, that's going to make my job more difficult."
The man sighs and waves off his two cleaning deputies. "Alright, gents, you heard the lady. Might as well stop cleaning." The two men stand up straight, with one of them rubbing his back and groaning. "One of you lot go and fetch Mr. Ghoroven. He might know something about whatever's going on here."
I believe this is Lyvar Hawkran. He was the last warden at Harrowstone before it burned. Some say he started the fire to stop the inmates from escaping. By allow accounts was described as a tough, but fair and self-sacrificing man." Imperia says as she joins Jayla at the monument. She nods in greeting to the sheriff. I wonder if this has anything to do with the spirits being released from the scythe.
"May I ask who Mr. Ghrovoven is?"
Bramwell walks around the monument, interested in its construction, and catching every detail out of curiosity more than anything else.
"That's unusual, isn't it, a statue for a warden. Such honrs are usually reserved for kings. He looks not like a king, so the Hawkran must be a hero, is it?", he asks the Sheriff. "I suppose he was no hero for the prisoners and their... friends", he adds, thinking of the Whispering Way.
Jayla listened to both Imperia and Lord Bramwell speak of the warden and his monument and then Imperia ask the Sheriff about Ghoroven. She waited to hear the answer.
"This isn't the sickness, just a symptom," rumbles Khardan, ever impatient of delay. "We know where we need to apply the cure. We should go."
"Mr. Ghoroven? Just the mage who runs the Unfurling Scroll magic shop in town." The sheriff says with a shrug. "Certainly more knowledgeable than I am when it comes to s@#~ like this."
"That's unusual, isn't it, a statue for a warden. Such honrs are usually reserved for kings. He looks not like a king, so the Hawkran must be a hero, is it?"
"Aye, that he was." Sheriff Caeller nods. "The Riot of '61 was a damn horrifying tragedy for everyone--it was his quick and decisive thinking that saved the town, at the cost of his own life and those of his men..."
He sighs. "...even his beautiful wife."
"This isn't the sickness, just a symptom," rumbles Khardan, ever impatient of delay. "We know where we need to apply the cure. We should go."
"Excuse me?" The sheriff narrows his eyes at Khardan. "What are you going on about, now?"
"Wasn't really talking to you, chief," says Khardan with all the diplomatic savoir faire of a barroom brawl.
"We got business to take care of that'll solve your vandalism problems."
"Ah yes I remember a Mr. Ghoroven. He was at the University for a time. I'm surprised he found his way here. Runs the magic shop? I'll be sure to stop by if I don't see him earlier."
Looking to Imperia and the others, Jayla asked quietly/discreetly, "We will be waiting for Master Ghoroven to arrive or moving along?"
"I'd like to see what he thinks about this. He may have insight or he may be as eccentric as I remember."
A few tense minutes pass as Sheriff Caeller's deputy comes back up the road, followed by a clean-shaven man with balding grey hair and glasses. His neatly-stitched blue robes billow around him as he walks, kicking up dust on his way to the memorial monument. His nose wrinkles as he takes in the sight
"Sheriff, sir? Found him." The deputy calls out with a side glance towards the mage. The man snorts and steps forward.
"Yes, yes, Sheriff, I'm here." Mr. Ghoroven brushes off some dirt from the hem of his robe and adjusts his glasses. "Now, what's all this about?"
"Well, we got ourselves a case of some sort of magical vandalism here." The sheriff points to the bloody letter on the base of the statue. "We were hoping--"
Whatever the sheriff was about to say is cut off by Ghoroven storming forward and stooping to inspect the letter in greater detail. He pays no attention to anyone else as he strides forward, causing him to collide into less attentive deputy nearby. He brushes off the man's unintentional obstruction with barely even a glance.
"...hmm." The wizard taps the side of his glasses and his eyes glow white.
Imperia waits a few moments and then asks, "Well what do you think this is? We're suspecting magic tied to the Prison somehow."
"Eh?" Mr. Ghoroven, wrinkles his nose and glances up at Imperia. "It's clearly a letter written in magically-afflicted blood."
"And it's quite potent necromantic magic, in fact." Ghoroven turns back to the letter and continues to focus on it.
The sheriff moves up to Imperia. "Wait a minute, young lady. What makes you think whatever's happening here is tied to Harrowstone?"
"Oh, Sheriff, let me finish before you accost the lady, will you?" Ghoroven grumbles at the sheriff and gets back to his feet. "Anyways, I would surmise that whoever put this bloodied letter on this monument was a mage of exceptional skill--and one who likely has a grudge against the warden's memory, for some reason or other."
He turns to the party and adjusts his glasses. "Do any of you know of such a person?"
"Not a living one, no," rumbles Khardan. "Sheriff, you've got a ghost problem. Best let us go handle it before it's more than just blood on a statue."
The sheriff looks taken aback for a moment. "Really, now?"
"I'm not calling you a liar or anything--I mean, Pharasma knows we're living in Ustalav--" Sheriff Caeller starts pacing in front of the monument while his deputies look on with worry. "--but are you sure you're equipped to handle ghosts?"
"Nope. S'why we're looking for help from the Pharasmins. And Sheriff, I am the Spear of Arqueros, the Golden Bulwark. I don't lie and I will do whatever is necessary to protect this community. Help us do what we must and you help your people."
Jayla looked at the Sheriff as he asked if they were equipped to deal with ghosts. She wasn't entirely sure they were - yet - but as a group they could formulate a strong plan to take care of the ghost problem.
"It appears the ghosts of some of the inmates of Harrowstone have been released. We do not yet know the number or for what purpose, but it does appear the old warden was not much liked as this magical defacement suggests."
Changing her focus to Ghoroven, she asked the magic shop proprietor, "Pardon me, Master Ghoroven, but are there any such living mages in town, possibly a descendent of one of the prisoners, who would have the magic and motive to do something like this?"
"Hmm..." Ghoroven puts a hand on his chin and his expression turns pensive.
"...I'm not entirely sure, myself. The answer to that would likely lie in the town's records, I think. Either in the town hall or in the Pharasmin cathedral."
Imperia brightens at the thought of more research. "Back to the town records or should we speak to the Pharasmins? They might have records and the Holy Water we need. Something has stirred up the spirits in Harrowstone, and we want to help take care of the problem. The town doesn't need angry ghosts." she murmurs under hear breath but helpful ghosts might be interesting."
"I'm all for seeking out the Pharasmins first. If need be, we'll then go to the town hall and look at the archives."
"Pharasmins." rumbles Khardan in agreement. "Let's go."
And they do...
"Aye. On your way, then." The sheriff waves the party off. "Oh, and... would you be so kind as to keep quiet about this?"
"The last thing we need is for folks to start panicking over this."
---------------------
The party leaves the Harrowstone memorial behind as the clouds overhead seem to gather and become darker. A chilly wind follows them as they cross the nearby south bridge over the river and start on the dirt road north. They pass a few farmhouses as they walk, and they catch glimpses of people hurriedly moving about in the windows--presumably, to take their minds off the unexpected & unexplained vandalism of their monument to Warden Hawkran's memory.
The grand stone cathedral of Pharasma looms over the town, its eastern facade displaying an intricate stained-glass mural. The mural shows Pharasma seated on a grey, drab throne, passing judgement on a well-dressed man in shackles. The Lady of Graves' expression is one of silent contempt, and the man's eyes are cast to the ground in humility.
A small garden of black roses is on the side of the cathedral, being tended by a purple-robed acolyte. He looks up at the party as they approach.
"Doesn't look like things ended well for that one," growls Khardan, looking up at the stained glass. "Wonder what happened to him?"
"Hey," he says, raising his voice so the acolytes can hear him. "Which one of you lot is in charge?"
"Er..." The acolyte seems to recoil from Khardan's growling voice before steadying himself and getting to his feet. "...Father Grimburrow is the high priest of this parish, sir. He's inside."
"Well, don't be shy, lad. I don't bite," he says, baring his tusks in an impressive grin. "Go get him or take us to him. This nice lady has some questions for the good father." He indicates Jayla with a dip of his spear.
Khardan's remark draws Bramwells attention to the stained-glass mural. He studies the scene for a while, contemplating the possibilities of the moment depicted. In doing so, he barely notices that Khardan is now exchnging words with a pharasmin acolyte. "The Lady of the Graves cares little about wealth, I think. No money can sway her judgement," he says absent-mindedly. Then, he smiles an eerie smile and looks at Khardan. "I'd say he's gone to the same place as the ghosts of Harrowstone ought to, once their souls are set free from the prison grounds, yes?" His voice shows some excitement; for the first time, Bramwell seems to be personally engaged in the idea of exploring Harrowstone.
The acolyte starts walking up the stone steps to the cathedral's oaken doors. "Right this way, please."
He pushes open the doors to reveal a sparsely decorated great hall, with stone pews arranged in neat rows before an elaborately carved mahogany altar. An old priest dressed in black robes is reading a book upon the altar--the same priest from Professor Lorrimor's funeral.
"Father Grimburrow? These people wish to have an audience with you." The acolyte bows once before heading back outside.
The wizened old man looks up at the party and beckons them forward. "Yes? What business do you have in Pharasma's holy grounds?"
Khardan looks at Jayla. She's the one with the words, he thinks. And I'm not going to get anywhere by trying to frighten a priest of death.
"Ah! Holy or not, no other grounds are more appropriate for our business, Father Grimburrow", Bramwell says stepping forward. He speaks without looking at the priest; instead, his eyes wander all over the altar, taking in every detail. Circling the priest like a capricious cat, he reminds the pharasmin of their earlier acquaintance. "You remember us from Professor Lorrimore's funeral, yes? Hard to forget faces like these, I say", he asks, pointig to his own countenance and then glancing at Khardan while shaking his head sideways. "I know, I know. Thank you for the kind words towards the Professor, by the way."
Suddenly, Bramwell finds himself in Grumburrow's face. "But here's our business: we've been to Harrowstone, and found it still hold prisoners. For it is haunted, and very much so!", he exclaims raising one finger up in the air. "And we need help to get rid of the ghosts. Who better to turn to than the Lady of the Graves, wouldn't you say?"
Imperia follows the gentlemen into the temple. "The gentleman in the mural isn't trying to sway her because he's rich. He's there because he released the warlord Kazavon, and he rightly fears her judgement."
Imperia walks up and carefully attempts to step between Father Grimburrow and Lord Bramwell tying to make some space between the two, "Good Day Father Grimburrow. I don't know if you remember me. Ipmeria Albus, Librarian at Lepidstadt University and former research assistant of the Professor. We're hoping your chuch can help us. We have reason to believe that Harrowstone is truly haunted. We've released some of the spirits. However, we've found ourselves unprepared to deal with ghosts, and mages powerful enough to leave bleeding letters on statues. Do you have guidance you can give us or records we can pursue?"