Since Maia stated that she'd recount everything she had learned, I'll just put those two spoilers in this post for convenience:
Maia #1:
With a combination of skill and a bit of luck, you quickly come upon a number of records on the topic of Harrowstone. From the various records you find, you're able to piece together quite a bit of information about the place.
Built in 4594, Harrowstone was one of Ustalav's most infamous prisons. It was constructed to house the worst of the worst criminals from the many smaller jails about the country, often to await death by hanging, but always to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. In fact, the town of Ravengro itself was founded because of the prison, as a place where guards and their families could live, and to produce food and other supplies for the prison.
Harrowstone has now stood ruined for over 50 years, following a fire in 4661. The fire killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards, as well as the warden and his wife (although none of the records provide a reason for why she was there at the time). A large portion of the prison's underground eastern wing was destroyed in the fire, but most of the stone structure aboveground was left relatively intact. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months following the tragedy, and placed by the river.
At the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison, and the fire itself came about during a prison riot presumably staged by one or more of these five only a few months after their arrival. One record states that "while the commonly held belief - in fact, the story told to the public - is that the tragic fire began accidentally during the riot, in truth the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall to seal the prisoners below, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping when the few panicked guards remaining above started the fire in a desperate attempt to end the riot."
Maia #2:
With some digging, you're able to uncover the monikers of all five of the prisoners in question; Father Charlatan, The Lopper, The Mosswater Marauder, The Piper of Illmarsh, and The Splatter Man.
You're also able to uncover more detailed knowledge regarding two of the five, but similar information about the remaining three seems to be harder to locate, and would likely require at least another day of study to find.
- Father Charlatan (real name Sefick Corvin) was the only one of the five who wasn't technically a murderer, yet his crimes were so blasphemous that several churches demanded he be punished to the full extent of Ustalavic law. Although he claimed to be an ordained priest of any number of faiths, Father Corvin was in fact a traveling con artist who used faith as a mask and a means to bilk the faithful out of money in payment for false miracles or cures. He became known as Father Charlatan after his scheme was exposed and his Sczarni accomplices murdered a half-dozen city guards in an attempt to make good the group's escape.
- The Mosswater Marauder (real name Ispin Onyxcudgel) was originally a well-liked artisan and a doting husband. When he discovered his wife's infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage and struck her dead with his hammer, shattering her skull and his sanity with one murderous blow. Wracked with shame and guilt, Ispin became convinced that if he could rebuild his wife's skull, she would come back to life - but unfortunately, he could not find the last blade-shaped fragment from the murder site. So instead, Ispin became the Mosswater Marauder. Over the course of several weeks, the cunning dwarf stalked and murdered nearly 20 people while searching for just the right skull fragment. He was captured just before murdering the daughter of a visiting nobleman from Varno, and was carted off to Harrowstone that same night.
And to directly ward off a possible misunderstanding: There were a lot more than five prisoners within at the time.
DM Are, you'll need to roll a Fort save for me the next morning for the Gray Pox. I think I have another day before the Filth Fever kicks in. Hopefully you will roll better. ;-)
Fort vs gray pox:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
STR damage:1d6 ⇒ 2
When Kul wakes, his skin is still warm to the touch and with gray spots here and there, but he doesn't feel weak the way he did the previous day.
Ami will do a sweep of the town on Yeenback, checking to be sure that no more gnolls moved into the town while they were gone.
He sniffs around the doors of the apothecary/harpiehut, but does not go in.
Amiamble finds a partly smeared bloodstain on the sandy ground outside the harpy's building, and it smells like things of an unknown nature are happily cooking away in the cauldrons inside.
When his patrol is complete, we will go find his sister and...POUNCE!!
"Sister! Haleenie!! Did you see how fast we can run!? Do you want to see us zoom!!?"
Better prepared for the pounce today, Haleen skillfully dodges the initial pounce, but allows the cat to overrun her on the return pass. Laughing, she nods. "I did, and I'd love to see you zoom, brother!"
"Kalyx!!" Pent finishes his pernod and absinthe explorations, and bounds towards the market stalls, hoping to locate the twitchy pesh witch.
"Uh... Ya withhold the Yavipho from being sold? I'm still in the market for it, ya know!" Pent looks down, and steps outside the stall. "Now, I'm outside the market..." Pent steps back into the stall. "Now I'm in the market..." This continues for four or five turns.
"Alright, we're on the verge of a rather significant step in settling the town into a safer clime, after we finalize the final eyes that lie unwise under the dais of the temple. Would you be my Yavipho Keeper until we return??" Pent practices his puppy dog eyes for a second time.
One of Kalyx's eyes involuntarily twitches closed several times during Pent's inside-outside routine, but she plasters a winning smile on her face once he gives her his full attention. "Of course! But," she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial near-whisper, "you're not the only one in the market. Don't wait too long, or you might find it missing your grasp!" She pats her pocket meaningfully.
The gnome pats the halfling on the back, and heads to the bar, to root out each and every nook and cranny.
Pent discovers two casks of ale; one full and one almost empty. There's also numerous bottles of cheap wine in a cupboard, along with various spices. Finally, there's a stew puttering away in a large pot, forgotten by everyone after the cook ran away.
Nothing out of the ordinary happens as you make your way back to Kelmarane and the battle market. Inside, Haleen appears to have been keeping a vigilant watch over Kardswann.
Following the various avenues of information gathering, I'm assuming everyone will be converging (likely at Kendra's place or in Narah's inn) to share their discoveries, either in the evening or the next morning. So feel free to meet up :)
***
Narah:
Narah wrote:
She will try to pick up a bit more information, but she won't push it. Once people are drunk she will encourage them to repeat and maybe explain the nursery rhyme she heard earlier on the street. What's the name of 'her', which is spelled just right? Are the in the later part and 'she' in the first part the same person? Are there any former prison wardens who survived the fire still alive? What was the name of the Warden and his wife and where did they live? Did they have a mansion in town? What kind of man had the warden been?
It seems like most of the adults have forgotten the rhyme, or can only remember bits and pieces of it. None can provide any information about what inspired it, or what it means, other than it seemingly having been around "forever". One older man, however, claims it has only been sung for a few decades, but even he doesn't remember anything more specific.
If any former prison guards are still alive, they no longer live in Ravengro. By all accounts, even those who had grown up in town left within a few years of the fire.
The Warden's name was Hawkran. Those at the tavern can't quite recall his or his wife's first names, but "You'll find both their names, and those of the other guards who died, on the memorial statue by the river".
The Warden and his wife lived in a smaller house on the prison grounds, untouched by the fire.
Nobody can tell you much of the kind of man he had been. "I wasn't around back then, y'know? But I reckon only a good man would have sacrificed himself for the town, right?"
"Mostly human? That's not entirely.." The man takes a swift gulp of his tankard, swallowing awkwardly. "Well, your hair.. the light hits it kinda strange." Furrowing his brow in thought, he finally comes upon an answer. "Are you a faerie? A fae of the forest?"
Gather information results:
As the evening passes, drinks seem to loosen the tongues of several of the tavern's patrons. From the various accounts you hear, you're able to piece together a number of tidbits about Harrowstone:
The place was built in 4594, but has been unused since a devastating fire in 4661. It was constructed to house the worst criminals from the many smaller jails about the country, usually sentenced to death by hanging, or to live the rest of their lives as prisoners. In fact, the town of Ravengro itself was originally founded because of the prison, as a place where guards and their families could live, and to produce food and other supplies for the prison.
The fire was started during a riot, and eventually killed all of the prisoners within at the time, as well as the warden and many of his guards who sacrificed themselves to prevent the dangerous criminals from escaping into the town. Tragically, the warden's wife also died in the fire, although noone knows why she was in the building. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months following the tragedy, and placed by the river.
Beyond this information, you also hear stories about more recent happenings. The most frequent ones either involve the ghost of the warden's wife haunting the place, wailing and sobbing while mourning her husband and attempting to frighten intruders away, or Harrowstone's executioner still guarding the balcony on the western side of the prison, where executions were carried out, with his scythe (despite executions in the prison typically being hangings) sometimes being seen patrolling on its own.
Seeing that Pent seems to have defused the man's anger... somehow... really, it's very mysterious, how the gnome manages to not make people wish to kill him... Mahdi stands up and brushes the knees of his robe off.
"Time will tell," he responds neutrally to the emir.
"In any case, we have much to do. We have slain a number of gnolls that infested Kelmarene, and also uncovered the promise of a great evil. I will continue to do what I can for your condition, but the matter of your redemption is best served by lending your strength to deeds of valor, yes?"
Since that is apparently the idealistic tack they are taking with the fellow.
"We leave to return to Kelmarene within the hour. You will return with us, sir... just in case we have misjudged your cure."
The emir nods, a grim expression on his weathered face. "I would gladly come with you. I've seen the looks thrown my way from those who pass by. It might be.. safer.. elsewhere."
Aldebert Piddlespot wrote:
He holds out his hand to help the man up. "Come, let us get you equipped we need to move out as quickly as we can."
He returns the mans ceramic idol collection, and his magic dagger. "We had to sell your armor to pay for some of the wolfsbane. It didn't quite cover the cost, but we're happy to help."
As he hands him the dagger, "You might want to sell this to the caravan and outfit yourself with less hurtful gear. You no longer have any protection against the back-bite of this dagger I think."
Rising unsteadily, the emir gratefully accepts the collection, and, after a slight hesitation, the dagger. "You are honorable men, for returning such a valuable weapon to someone at your mercy. If you break this curse of mine, I will hand it back to you, as a gift. Perhaps it would serve as a small measure of repayment of the debt I would owe you."
When he's done, Pent locates Hadrod or Hadrah, or both, and tries to restrain himself when he gains audience with them.
"Hello, hello! I am entirely grateful for your generosity, and I would repay you for it, if you would allow a free gnome the chance! It turns out, the underwear you gave me..." Pent wiggles from the hip, jingling his coinpurse. "They're quite lucky!" He reaches into his pants, past his marbles, into his purse, to retrieve a couple of gold. "For you!" He presses the coin into an open palm, and taps a finger to on his lip, thinking one last thought. "You wouldn't happen to have five glasses and a decent bottle of spirits, would you? I'd gladly pay for it, too!" Pent tucks his thumbs into his pants, awaiting the camel drivers' response.
"Why, hello to you, as well," Hadrod greets, while Hadrah begins to protest any necessity for payment, holding her hands out in a gesture that serves the dual purpose of functioning as a mild warding off as well as being readily accessible for anyone wanting to push coins into them. "No, no, nobody was using those anyway, there's no need.." She swiftly closes her hand as soon as the gold is delivered, handing the coins to her husband in an even swifter move.
Hadrod peers intently at the two coins in his hand, turning them one way and then the other, before allowing them to vanish into his pockets with a satisfied nod. "Five glasses and a bottle? I don't think we've got any glasses, isn't that right, wife?" Hadrah shakes her head in response. "Only cups, I'm afraid."
Making his way to a chest at the back of the room, Hadrod speaks over his shoulder. "We've got a bottle we were saving, for a special occassion or some such. But if you buy it, we could get a new one later, I suppose, before such an occassion comes upon us." He pulls the chest open, and a bottle out.
Yahirma uses her wand of divination to inquire 'What is Eccardian Drovenge's next objective now that Liebdaga is slain?'
Chance of success:1d100 ⇒ 30(1-18: fail; 19-100: success)
"Director unsettled by pillars of fire,
Rushed his cast to the stage;
All but set for the final act,
yet the nemesis remains unfound;
The knight from the grave is plain to see,
or will Mammon's divine pet snatch the fake death?"
"Then we should go to the Well, then. M'Lady Chammady, if you would guide us there, we can find another way to disrupt his plans and hopefully get him to show himself."
Beginning to guide the group down off the hill, Chammady suddenly slows her steps. Turning to her husband-to-be, she muses aloud. "You know, the more I think on it, the more I wonder if the idea to dress Derek up as Liebdaga might actually work.. If Liebdaga shows himself above the city, I'm not sure my brother could resist approaching him. Perhaps not in person, at first, but I'm sure you could give him reason to come himself. One like Liebdaga wouldn't wish to parlay with a servant."
"Have you any idea when your brother might start whatever he plans for the Arodennama? It sounds like our time is short. If we are to close the gate to the Hell and deny Eccaridian his reinforcements we will need to strike hard and soon."
She shakes her curls. "I don't know, exactly.. I'd expect him to do it this evening, or the next."
I'm sorry about my lack of posting the last couple of weeks, but I'm happy to say that the reasons for that lack of posting (among them issues my ISP has had in my area) have now been resolved. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to post daily (or close to daily) for the foreseeable future :)
While Mahdi's calculated response seems to only anger the man further, Pent barking into his ear somehow serves to calm him down enough to consider the words. "Wolfsbane?" He peers down at his arms and legs, searching for signs of fur. "You're right. I don't sense a shifting. It.. feels like I can't." His eyes fill with wonder. "Am I cured, then?"
Pent fares little better than Mahdi in terms of determining the emir's current condition.
I'm sorry about my lack of posting the last couple of weeks, but I'm happy to say that the reasons for that lack of posting (among them issues my ISP has had in my area) have now been resolved. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to post daily (or close to daily) for the foreseeable future :)
Naraj sips from her "ghost" as she listens to the tavern guest. It takes her a moment to realize that this was likely a joke and she laughs politely, even though her resonates in a somewhat unreal fashion to it. As the smoky streaks give her face away again she returns: "Were there any sudden disappearances of merchants in this town then?"
She's pretty sure that there is something in the old prison, but she won't speak of Lorrimor's journal or the circumstances under which he died.
Narah runs her fingertips softly down her neck as she thinks and adds: "I am Narah. And you are?"
"Sudden and sudden.. Many a travelling merchant has never come back a second time." He flashes a smile. "Bayn's the name. Nice to meet ya, Narah. There aren't many like you around these parts."
Bran studies the offerings and rubs his chin. "I'll take a few pieces of the beef. Say, did you know the late professor Lorrimaor?" Bran inquires, half-interested, as he reaches for his coin pouch.
The butcher selects and wraps up two chunks of beef, answering as he works. "Sure I knew him. It's a small town. Once you've been here a while, you know everyone. Don't know why he'd go up to Harrowstone like that - what with the warden's wife haunting the place and all." He places the finished bundle on the table in front of Bran. "That'll be 6 silver."
I'm sorry about my lack of posting the last couple of weeks, but I'm happy to say that the reasons for that lack of posting (among them issues my ISP has had in my area) have now been resolved. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to post daily (or close to daily) for the foreseeable future :)
Narah: That's up to you; you can make a gather information check to determine if you discover any further rumors or information during your tavern evening.
Mahdi's lack of training within the field brings with it an equal lack of knowledge with which to base any diagnosis. He can, however, tell that the emir's pulse seems weaker than it was before the wolfsbane was administered.
***
Assuming the ass in question is moved:
Still restrained by rope, although no longer by gnome, the emir lets his eyes and tone of voice speak of his fury. "What in the nine hells was that? Indelicate, you say? Indelicate! Sitting on my face and pouring some kind of poison down my throat is indelicate!?"
She thinks for another moment before addressing Chammady. "Are there particular sites that your brother finds particularly significant? Perhaps there's a place that he would be particularly visible?" she asks as she scans the cityscape. "I imagine he would want as many people to see him as possible while also maximizing the impact of the setting."
"Oh, I know where he wishes to perform his staged battle. Above the Arodennama - the statue of Aroden." She points to the massive 90-ft-tall white marble statue on its pedestal only a mile or so from where you stand. "Of course, since I chose it, he knows that I know.. so I'm sure he won't be there until it's time to set the final stage of the plan in motion."
***
Maddok wrote:
"If we're to see Eccardian defeated and Westcrown truly safe, we will need a way to draw him out. He's hidden in the city's shadows for his entire life. He could easily continue doing so."
Chammady vigorously shakes her head. "I suppose he could, possibly to seek a better time if his plans completely fall apart, but he doesn't want to live in the shadows. That's what this is all about. He wants people to know him, to believe in him, even love him. My brother will try to execute his designs, until no hope remains that they can come to fruition."
She smiles. "But, you won't need to draw him out. The final stage of his plan should be upon us soon.. After all, noone would cheer for a savior who waited until the entire city was destroyed before he saved it. And once he shows himself, his mock battle could easily be turned into a real one."
***
Derek Keegan wrote:
"I think we may need a little more, he is trying to destabilize the town right? So who does that mean he will go after? Law enforcement, spiritual guides, nobility, powerful merchants.
People who have spiritual and temporal power, and now the city no longer have a mayor.
I don't think it's enough to defeat him, we need to show Westcrown that there still IS a city even after his defeat.
If we have any favours or connections, we need to call them in to make a show of stabilizing Westcrown..."
The soon-to-be-Lady-Lind nods. "Very true. Several heads of noble families have already rolled this night, I'm sure. But those plans have been in motion for a long time, and I think you've already dealt with much of it. Ecarrdian's puppet was unable to gain control of the Hellknights in the city, for instance, and with the Ciucci family's aid, Lodros Marthis quickly quelled the power struggles within the dottari after his brother was assassinated. Both of these forces working for the city at this stage was not part of my brother's plan, and neither would he have expected your Gardeners to be as strong as they've shown themselves."
She ponders for a moment. "You mentioned cutting his support from under him. One thing that would surely help in that particular matter would be to close the gate to Erebus. If the devils who are here could not easily escape, and new devils could not replace those who fall, things would be easier to manage.." Her voice trails off, and she glances apologetically in Appario's direction before continuing. "The gate is formed by a well of many worlds, set up in a townhouse basement on the central islands. I'm sure it's heavily defended, though."
"I suppose that sounds right," Yahirma speculates as if trying to convince herself that friendship is acceptable when eternal loyalty and servitude are an option. "Your condition has been treated using one of the most powerful medicines known to the planes: a philosopher's stone, which is able to bring the dead back to life and turn base metals to gold. I speculated it might have a similar curative effect on you.
"We have just dispatched a deadly fiend that was imprisoned here, but I doubt that is the last of this city's evils. If you feel capable, your strength and abilities may yet see Westcrown freed of its diabolical influence."
The vulpinal frowns as Derek (and Yahirma) attempt to turn her offer into one of friendship. "Are your friends not loyal to eachother, and do they not serve eachother when required?" She shakes her head, unsure of herself. "I've not been myself for so long.. perhaps the difference will come to me in time."
Another head-shake follows Yahirma's suggestion. "I'm not sure what I could do.. It's been so long since I was me, since I fought for good against evil. Everything about me was twisted and corrupted. Perhaps parts of me still are. I can't risk that, if the fate of this city is at stake."
***
Yahirma wrote:
Just double-checking to ensure nobody's still in need of any healing
I think Derek is still suffering from the CHA damage he took following the pit fiend's death shriek.
The emir groggily wakes as Mahdi feeds him the anti-plague, only able to get out a muffled "wha.." before Pent's rump settles into position atop his head. Pinned down as he is, he's similarly unable to prevent the drops of wolfsbane from finding their way into his throat.
For a few minutes, it seems as if the wolfsbane has had no effect. Father Zastoran murmurs something about "Maybe a few more drops.." Then, suddenly, the emir begins struggling violently against his bonds and those holding him down, and the few spots of his face visible around Pent's curves pale considerably. Drops of sweat form on his forehead, soaking into the gnome's pants. The thrashing doesn't last long, however, and once it's over the emir still breathes, although that breathing is somewhat labored.
That's actually good enough! I forgot to say the group currently has a +2 bonus to diplomacy attempts within town.
Bran Grindle wrote:
Bran waves as Narah gestures toward the tavern. Having his attention stolen away from the butcher by Narah's momentary appearance, Bran is apologetic as he reengages him.
"Well met good sir, my name's Bran. How are you this fine evening? I'm looking for some quality cuts of jerky. What meats might you have available?"
The butcher spreads his arms wide. "What you see is what I've got. Pork, beef, and lamb. You won't find better quality meats anywhere within a few day's ride, that's for sure." His tone is oddly defensive.
"Just a drink, Master Elkarid, I think I've fed well enough today." She smirks as she realizes the names of the offered food. "You seem to be laughing evil in the face. I like that - hiding is not my thing, as you will probably believe. I'll try a liquid ghost... that's a drink isn't it? I should be very interested whether anyone has some stories to tell about this town and the secrets of that old prison to the south..."
She looks to a random guest next to her at the bar in curiousity and gives him a well measured half smile.
The tavern-keeper nods as he turns to a nearby tap to fill Narah's order. "Life's too short to wander it afraid of all things dark and evil. Most like, any man or woman would find themselves at the end of it and having faced none of the horrors from the stories.. What good then, all the time spent worrying? No, enjoy it while it lasts, that's what I always say!"
He puts down in front of her a tankard filled to the brim with a pale fluid, glowing faintly with a greenish tint, then hastens to another customer waving at him from the other end of the bar. Once Narah tastes the drink, she finds it similar to a sweet ale.
With the barkeep out of earshot, the guest to which she awarded a half-smile edges closer, softly whispering "Good thing you didn't go for the chowder! It's no coincidence that Zokar always has a fresh batch after some unpopular merchant leaves town, never to be seen again!" He grins broadly, ruining the ruse even before she has a chance to consider it. [b]"The prison, pffh. Everybody says it's haunted, but take it from me - it's all nothing but the wind whistling through, and vermin crawling in the walls!"
Narah waves friendly to Bran and continues to the tavern, indicating to him where she's going.
The tavern is warm and full of life when Narah enters, although much of the ongoing conversation gradually dies away as the locals turn to get a good look at the newcomer. The way her dress flows as she moves, it doesn't take long for the occasional whistle to accompany her movement, or indeed the occasional wife berating her husband for having the nerve to even look in that direction.
Tavern-keeper Zokar Elkarid, the youngest of the men present at the Professor's burial, quickly comes to the rescue he assumes Narah requires, jovially waving her forward. "Narah an'Aras, wasn't it? Do come in! Don't mind them," he adds, indicating the people watching her every move. "Can I interest you in a bite to eat, or something to drink?"
The menu above Zokar features dishes with rather peculiar names, such as "vampire steaks", "wolfballs", "corpse chowder", and "liquid ghosts".
With some digging, you're able to uncover the monikers of all five of the prisoners in question; Father Charlatan, The Lopper, The Mosswater Marauder, The Piper of Illmarsh, and The Splatter Man.
You're also able to uncover more detailed knowledge regarding two of the five, but similar information about the remaining three seems to be harder to locate, and would likely require at least another day of study to find.
- Father Charlatan (real name Sefick Corvin) was the only one of the five who wasn't technically a murderer, yet his crimes were so blasphemous that several churches demanded he be punished to the full extent of Ustalavic law. Although he claimed to be an ordained priest of any number of faiths, Father Corvin was in fact a traveling con artist who used faith as a mask and a means to bilk the faithful out of money in payment for false miracles or cures. He became known as Father Charlatan after his scheme was exposed and his Sczarni accomplices murdered a half-dozen city guards in an attempt to make good the group's escape.
- The Mosswater Marauder (real name Ispin Onyxcudgel) was originally a well-liked artisan and a doting husband. When he discovered his wife's infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage and struck her dead with his hammer, shattering her skull and his sanity with one murderous blow. Wracked with shame and guilt, Ispin became convinced that if he could rebuild his wife's skull, she would come back to life - but unfortunately, he could not find the last blade-shaped fragment from the murder site. So instead, Ispin became the Mosswater Marauder. Over the course of several weeks, the cunning dwarf stalked and murdered nearly 20 people while searching for just the right skull fragment. He was captured just before murdering the daughter of a visiting nobleman from Varno, and was carted off to Harrowstone that same night.
Bolting upright as if remembering something, Appario pulls Liebdaga's head out of his backpack and lays it at Chammady's feet.
"I was going to save this for a wedding present, but seems like we might have use for it now. Now that your brother's plans are mostly ruined, what can we do to find him or draw him out of hiding? Should we decorate Derek as Liebdaga to see if Eccardian will come to kill it?" Appario plans...but Appario is a poor planner.
"A.. wedding present? You shouldn't have." Chammady bends down to take a good, close look at the severed head, then rises and brushes off some imaginary dust from her dress. "When he's ready, my brother won't be difficult to find. Like I said, he wants a public showing. He will likely find another with whom to stage a fight in the same fashion as he intended with Liebdaga, such as Lictor Shokneir, or Melavengian, his advisor from Mammon."
She smiles at the idea of dressing Derek up as Liebdaga. "I doubt that plan would work. My brother will already know that those he sent weren't able to reach Liebdaga to negotiate a deal in exchange for releasing him. So, not only would he know that Liebdaga himself wouldn't have any reason to seek him out, but my brother would have no reason to trust the fiend."
An enigmatic smile blossoms on her face in response to Appario's romantic sweettalking. "Very well, I forgive you," she says, quickly planting a kiss on his cheek. "No, my brother has not yet shown himself, but it should be soon now."
Nodding to Maddok, she continues. "Westcrown must have become suitably chaotic for his game, as you so aptly called it." She glances at Xerath, shaking her head. "Destroying the city is not his goal. Far from it, actually. What he seeks is to be heralded as its savior by the people. Through publicly being seen as the one who casts out the invading forces. He had hoped to stage a battle between himself and Liebdaga, but now he must find an alternative."
The agathion's wild, soul-shattered eyes look pleadingly up at Yahirma. "A wish-elixir?" She suddenly shies away from the stone, letting it fall to the ground, instead flinging herself forward to claw into Yahirma. "Have I thrown out too much?! Please, say I haven't!" Calming down slightly at Derek's touch, she retracts her claws and readily surrenders the stone to Yahirma, the hope filling her voice competing with the tortured brokenness within it. "Can you really make it work?"
Those who meet her gaze must succeed on a DC 16 Fortitude save or suffer Strength drain:1d4 ⇒ 2, Constitution drain:1d4 ⇒ 4, and Charisma drain:1d4 ⇒ 2.
***
Once the elixir is ready, the broken agathion reverently holds out her hands to take it, vividly nodding along with Yahirma's instructions. "At last my master will be again as he once was! Thank you!"
Tormented eyes glimmering, the fox-like creature swiftly drains the contents of the potion. At first it appears that nothing has changed, but then, just as she's about to speak her wish, the agathion's entire body violently shudders. Falling to her hands and knees, she convulses for several seconds before coming to a peaceful, sobbing rest.
Breathing heavily for a while longer, Jezeletrix then finally begins to get back to her feet. Her movement seems nimbler than before, and the teary eyes that meet yours are far more lucid. The happy smile burgeoning on her face shows not a single trace of the pain and torment clearly evident within her entire being only a few moments ago. At first unable to speak through her sobs, the agathion is eventually able to produce words of gratitude. "You've.. ended my suffering! How..?" She shakes her head, realizing the how is unimportant, then bows and reaches out her hands to the three who surround her. "You have my eternal loyalty and service."
Robes flaring dramatically behind him, Mahdi starts back towards his brother, with a detour to the good priest of Nethys to inform him they are about to make the attempt, and inviting him to witness it as well if he wishes it.
He heads towards the emir after that, drawing out both the poison and his antiplague as he goes...
Father Zastoran seems slightly annoyed at the interruption when Mahdi enters, but he quickly lights up in a smile as the purpose of the mage's visit becomes clear. "Ah, you were able to procure some wolfsbane? Very good, very good indeed!" Marking his place in the tome of his current study before placing it aside, Zastoran rises to accompany Mahdi to the emir.
He continues speaking during the walk. "I don't assume you were able to find fresh leaves..? Ah, no, I see you have the concentrated form. Mmm, well," he ponders, before nodding, "yes, that's probably for the best. It will be quicker, if things don't go well."
Once the pair arrives, the Father quickly peers inside. He nods, satisfied, at seeing the emir already unconscious or asleep. Before entering, he has a few final words. "It's good that the patient is out. You'll have an easier task administering the substance." He wiggles a cautionary finger. "Remember what I told you before.. as he's already transformed in the past, this will likely not cure him. Certainly not right away. But if my theory is right - and the more I've thought about it, the more I think it must be - then with continued applications of minor amounts of the substance, he should be prevented from transforming anew. I'd say a few drops each day would do the trick."
Pausing, he lowers his voice to a whisper. "And if it doesn't seem to work, that should leave enough for a more permanent solution."
Amiamble runs over to hug Almah's leg, pleased to have done a good job. He ignores the money completely, knowing his brother to want to add it to the Brother Vault of Safekeeping.
Ami tries to whisper in Almah's ear.
"We killed many gnolls for you. They were evil and did not repent!"
Almah smiles awkwardly at Amiamble's leg-hugging, unused to that particular form of affection being shown her, but she nods at the halfling's whispers. "I'm glad you did. Repentance is not their way, and Kelmarane will be all the safer as a result of your deeds."
With a combination of skill and a bit of luck, you quickly come upon a number of records on the topic of Harrowstone. From the various records you find, you're able to piece together quite a bit of information about the place.
Built in 4594, Harrowstone was one of Ustalav's most infamous prisons. It was constructed to house the worst of the worst criminals from the many smaller jails about the country, often to await death by hanging, but always to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. In fact, the town of Ravengro itself was founded because of the prison, as a place where guards and their families could live, and to produce food and other supplies for the prison.
Harrowstone has now stood ruined for over 50 years, following a fire in 4661. The fire killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards, as well as the warden and his wife (although none of the records provide a reason for why she was there at the time). A large portion of the prison's underground eastern wing was destroyed in the fire, but most of the stone structure aboveground was left relatively intact. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months following the tragedy, and placed by the river.
At the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison, and the fire itself came about during a prison riot presumably staged by one or more of these five only a few months after their arrival. One record states that "while the commonly held belief - in fact, the story told to the public - is that the tragic fire began accidentally during the riot, in truth the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall to seal the prisoners below, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping when the few panicked guards remaining above started the fire in a desperate attempt to end the riot."
Narah nodded and smiled friendly. “Thank you.” she said and asks about other guests in the inn at the time being - she had been under the impression that their little group were the only strangers in the little backwater town for the time being.
"Well, there's Jonah and Babette Kemp, uncle and aunt to one of Ravengro's own Kemps, whose place isn't quite big enough. And Kayn Millencamp, a travelling merchant out of Chastel. He always comes by this time of year."
***
Narah wrote:
Unfortunately it seems the tavern is deserted by the locals. Fortunately however, she finds Bran again. She steps silently by his side, though the motion reminds more on a leaf carried by the wind than walking.
The tavern isn't deserted. The butcher's shop Bran went into is currently lacking in other customers, but the tavern (nearby; not the same building) is thriving :)
I'll assume Narah saw Bran in the butcher's shop on the way to the tavern, and didn't yet reach the tavern itself.
***
Narah wrote:
How late is it in-game actually? If it’s not too late to pay another visit to the father I might do just that.
Knowledge (history) or knowledge (local), with a +2 bonus for using the town records. For each additional day you can spend with those records, the bonus increases by a further +2.
When you finally return outside, you find Westcrown a changed city. Gone are the five immense, raging pillars of fire, but in their place it seems like chaos has erupted. All over the city flames and smokeplumes bear witness of burning buildings, while the streets echo with sounds of fighting. Here and there, you can see citizens running, clutching whatever they can carry, many of them apparently panicked. In the sky far above, someone rides a flaming, winged horse, almost as were he a general on a battlefield.
Awaiting your emergence is Chammady Drovenge, eyes piercing Appario. "I'm the world to you, you said, and yet you stay away all night!" She crosses her arms over her chest. "I thought you would return with all possible haste to oversee my revisions.." She lets her indignation fade away, turning the conversation to more pressing matters. "My brother hasn't been lazy tonight. By the time the pillars had all winked out, fires had begun blossoming all through Westcrown. Then devils appeared in the streets, and Lictor Shokneir came flying in with the remains of his forces."
"Your - Gardeners? - have been doing what they can all night, as have the dottari and the few hellknights. They're all exhausted by now, of course, and they were woefully shorthanded even to begin with. I don't believe this chaos will end until my brother decides it's time for his moment."
From one corner of the library, Livia timidly asks "Is it gone?"
***
The inevitable has vanished without a trace.
***
The four lamia matriarchs still sit around their table, arguing over this and that, when you come through that chamber.
***
There's still sounds of splashing from the underground sinkhole-lake.
***
Where the lich shade was slain, you find the broken agathion Jezeletrix, cradling the destroyed undead's necromantic dust in her lap while pouring another type of dust onto it from a cracked-open black stone. "Why doesn't it work?! Why doesn't it work??" she wails at you when you approach.
***
In the tiefling caves, you find six decapitated and horrible scarred tiefling bodies. Their heads are missing, as is the succubus Joriavah herself.
***
The lightning-chamber is nearly dormant, with only a few errant and easily-avoided arcs of lightning passing through it from time to time.
Almah is indeed in her chambers when Pent enters, as is Garavel. The merchant princess has a bemused look on her face when the gnome looks up from his pent-whisking, and shares a telling glance with Garavel upon being shown the bowl's contents.
"Slow down," she laughs as he finishes the report, "I can barely make out what you're saying. This is excellent news, if my ears didn't deceive me. Ogres and bugbears, you say, and the Piddlespots' sister was in the market? Was she a prisoner, like Kul?" She twines her fingers together. "It's good that the harpy held to her word." Glancing towards Amiamble, she remarks "I assume the merchants posed a threat. Do they yet remain within the market?"
She smiles gratefully as Aldebert makes his swifter, to-the-point rendition of events. "I wouldn't have thought one day sufficient to overcome the gnoll stronghold. You've all performed admirably." Almah nods to Garavel, who quickly brings forth five velvet bags, each clinging with coins. He hands one to each of you.
The bags contain 500 gp each.
Almah then continues. "I gathered you've left the former leader of the gnolls in this Haleen's captivity? With no knowledge of the woman, I must trust your judgment in this, as in so many other things. But, formidable though she may be, I would feel better if she wasn't alone in the task." She pauses, tapping the tips of her fingers together. "While the process of packing everything up and moving the caravan into Kelmarane begins, I suggest you return to the village to stand guard with her. Perhaps you should bring the other prisoner along as well. Two guardposts seems like one too many," she smiles.
"I'll leave that up to you. As for what lies beneath the church.. It concerns me that this Kardswann knew of it. The Pactmasters locked some kind of foul evil within the crypt twenty years ago, after it had assumed control over the high priest and turned the city to madness. I would have thought that evil would have waned by now, but I shudder to think of what his awareness might mean."
Unclasping a small chain around her neck, Almah pulls up another velvet bag fastened to it from beneath her dress. She opens it, and takes out a metal plate with a handle on one side, and a number of grooves and prongs on the other. Handing it to Mahdi, she says "This key opens the seal. You've proven yourselves capable, so I'll leave the details of how to proceed up to you. I'm afraid I don't know any more of the evil within than I've already described."
***
Pent:
Garavel follows you outside, one hand clasping your shoulder to halt your progress. Once the others have gone ahead, he speaks. "You've earned your freedom today, Pent Arotha. No man or woman will own you again. As such, I could not demand that you refrain from the use of such substances," he nods to the bowl, "though I will advise you not to do so while working."
His message sent, the man returns to Almah's side.
Mahdi checks in first with his brother and their captive/patient-- after all, he gave his own personal word that the man would cause no trouble-- and only if there is no problem there, does he make his way to Almah's quarters, approaching in time to hear the tail end of Pent's words, and Aldebert's after.
Mahdi finds the falcon emir tightly bound and seemingly asleep, with Hazim sitting on a stool close by. He stands as Mahdi visits, greeting him "Welcome back, brother," before apologetically reporting "I had to knock him out again; he was beginning to struggle mightily against his bonds, and even started to .. change. I'm glad he was bound, truth be told. If he wasn't, I can't say what might have happened. It pains me to say it, but many of my best efforts didn't seem to affect him at all."
Please, I beg of you, don't abandon us. I hope all is well.
I have no intention of abandoning you! This past week was both strange and very exhausting for me; I barely got to do anything at home beyond eating and sleeping. Such long periods of time with no posts from me won't be a regular thing.
Bran smiles a toothy smile to the children, all but one of them seem terrified. The lone brave girl smiles back and points to Bran's hair. "I was given that haircut by a Goblin in the wilds of Varisia.. it was the last thing that little bugger ever cut." Bran looks proudly at the little girl. The little girls eyes filled with wonder, she asks to touch his hair. Bran obliges, smiling another toothy grin, and the other children seem to have a more calm attitude toward him.
I'm afraid it will be a DC 15 Diplomacy check to make the hair-touching and such happen; even the one who spoke isn't really any braver than the others, she simply tried not to be rude.
***
Bran Grindle wrote:
Bran smiles and nods, seeing to it that Narah is taken care of before making his way to the local butcher.
Bran easily locates a small butcher's shop, situated near the river and the Laughing Demon tavern. There are no customers inside, and the butcher himself doesn't seem to be in a rush with his current work, quickly laying down his cleaver and wiping bloody hands on his apron once Bran enters.
She tries her most winning smile, knowing how delicate her request is in a backwater town like this. It is helpful that her host is a woman, though. Nonchalantly she speaks a forumala in Celestial and sways her hand along with it, as though it was some kind of greeting. Acutally she speaks a spell, enhanced diplomacy. "A wonderful day, good woman. I am Narah an'Aras from Katapesh and I am indeed looking for a room, but not just for a night, it seems I will be busy here in Ravengro for a month; actually as guest of Kendra Lorrimor, but..." Narah smirks and angles her head slightly: "As a priestess of Calistria I should prefer a lodging that would allow me to maintain some discretion over who comes and leaves. Would such a room be available here? I can assure you it will only be to your advantage." Her entire posture is an example of traditional feminine coyness and elegance. Only the somewhat sly half smile and her words relativise it.
The woman's hands momentarily stop moving. "Katapesh?! You're a long way from home, dear!" Overcoming her stunned surprise at the length of Narah's journey, she beckons her toward a nearby counter. "Come, come. I've got plenty of rooms." Shuffling behind the counter, she swiftly picks a key from one of ten small compartments on the wall behind it. "Lorrimor.. Oh, did you come for the funeral? I was sorry to hear of the Professor's passing. I couldn't make it myself," she says, mournfully, while vaguely indicating the inn. "Someone has to look after this place, you know?"
She tilts her head to one side, pondering something. "If you're a guest of Kendra's, why.." She suddenly stops talking, reddening as she realizes the implications of Calistria and discretion. I," she tries, meekly and without conviction. She turns around, replacing the key she just found, then hesitates for a few seconds before picking up another. When she turns back, she seems her confident inn-keeper's self again. "This room should be suitable for your purposes. There's a few rooms between it and the others currently occupied. Please enjoy your stay!"
maia jumps up and throws her arms around the mans neck. almost dangling though taking care not to injure the older man.
oh thank you! I just wanted to ask, why do the children here sing such a morbid, if well written, Rhyme? also, could you perchance, point me to any records involving Harrowstone? I understand it seems to be a sore subject and I apologize for bringing it up, but I fear it is of great importance.
she looks back and throws a quick wink and a smile at Daniel.
The Councilman gets a euphoric expression all over his face as Maia throws herself around him, although as soon as she relases him he quickly attempts to conjure an expression of awkward embarrassment instead. This attempt mostly falls flat, however, as he's entirely unable to wipe his smile away.
"The children's rhyme? Yes, it is fairly morbid, isn't it?" He considers the question, then shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't know its origin. They've been singing that song for as long as I can remember."
Gharen again grimaces at the mention of Harrowstone, then nods towards one of the doors they're coming up towards. "The town records are in here. Whatever information we have on the place should be there." Pulling a keychain from one pocket, he opens the door wide and steps aside, revealing a small room stacked with packed shelves, nearly void of space for anyone to move about. "Stay where I can see you, now," he says, somewhat disappointed at the lack of room.
Daniel Chelas wrote:
When the old man starts to show his improper behavior, Daniel's eyes begin to shimmer/glimmer with disgust.
I may be a rookie in age, but i know you're being a dirty old man here."
While walking with them Daniel, towards Maia casually, shares a story from his time "abroad".
"I've heard a story of a man who satisfied himself with improper conduct. He was about 70 years old and "fancied" a 24 year old girl. It seems when he died his behavior got him a ticket to Avernus, where he was judged. He was spared torture, but was sentenced to keep the soldiers "company". A sentence of 200 years before they'd release his soul again. Oh i wouldn't want to be in his, well.... her shoes."
He looks to the man, "Wouldn't you agree sir?"
Lost in his own thoughts, the Councilman doesn't immediately realize he's being addressed. He makes a noncommittal, quizzical sound, then an "Ohh!" as he replays the last several sentences in his mind. Turning to Daniel, taking his eyes off Maia with some difficulty, he defensively crosses his arms over his chest. "Why, yes. That sounds like a most dreadful fate. One wouldn't wish such a thing upon even one's worst enemy, I should think."
The man does, however, seem considerably deflated afterwards, and he gives Maia a good deal less attention than before.
