"If you go there, promise me you'll be careful." Kendra says, distracted by something out the window. "That stranger is out there in this dreadful weather. The woman...the crusader, from last night. I worry that I may have made a poor impression, for she did not take me up on my offer of room and board. Will one of you go to her and remind her that she is welcome here?"
The woman seems saddened by your mention of the professor, nothing more. She smiles at your blessing, seemingly unsure of what to say.
You step out into the beating rain. You boots sink in the mud as you make your way north through town.
"Soooooo...we're going to a prison." Oorin announces cheerfully. "Why would that be again?"
It seems to be the source of the town's troubles, Oorin.
"Ah, she has gone." Kendra says, looking away from the window. "I hope she does not catch cold in this dreadful weather."
She brings a tea tray with her as she comes into the main sitting room, offering each of you a cup. "She spoke as if she wished to investigate the prison herself, in any case. See if you can find her before you go. I have an ominous feeling, and I would hope that no more ventured there alone."
You reach the graveyard, called the Restlands by the folk of Ravengro. It is deserted. The mud climbs high on your boots as you inspect the grave markers. At last, you find that of Professor Petros Lorrimor. There is no inscription, just his name. A shame considering his accomplishments.
Rosanna makes her way down the stairs to the sitting-room. Streaching her arms widely and yawning as she does so. Graciously she accepts a cup of tea from Kendra, breathing in the steamy fumes and taking a small sip. At mention of Cathran she glances up interested.
"We can't let her go by herself! We must hurry!"
Iovanna nods in agreement. "No one should venture near that place alone with all the strange goings on happening around town. I agree we should catch up to her and then maybe we could ask if she'd like to join us as we investigate the prison."
"Certainly, if the prison is a place of danger we don't want her going there alone but," Oorin scratches his head in puzzlement here, "isn't the prison run by the local constabulary? What makes this one special?"
Jaxus returns upstairs and grabs his bow and other combat gear and returns. "Alright lets go and try to catch her." he says as he starts for the door.
Kendra peers at Oorin strangely, but does not answer him. "The woman went north, but the prison is to the south. Perhaps she does not know the direction. If you hurry, you may catch up with her, provided she has not gone indoors." Kendra sips from her tea. "I would not fault her if she did."
Cathran places her fingertips on the headstone and offers a prayer in the language of her grandsire, a transmuter that dearly loved his family. It was he who inspired Cathran's life of service, and whom Cathran saw in the professor when they traveled together.
"May my Lady go with you, sir," she breathes in Common. "Yours was the path of Truth, your Light banishing ignorance and promoting Good."
Cathran looks to the skies for a moment, hoping for a sign of blessing from her Lady, the sun, and sighs at the mud burying her boots.
Ultimately each of us return to it, very few can aspire to glimpse your grace, Lady.
Having dispensed with her duties to the Professor, Cathran begins the slow walk back to Ravengro.
As you step out into the muddy street, the rain beats down on you. It is hardly a pleasant day. There is nobody out of doors, save a lone figure walking through town in your direction.
As you reenter the town, you notice that a small group of people has gathered in the previously empty street.
Jaxus sees the lone women walking down the street. "Nice to see you again. We are headed out to take a look at the old prison if you want to come along."
Cathran's brow raises, then she tilts her head and studies the man for a moment. "This prison... you believe it is the source of the evil here?" she inquires. "If that is so, it is my duty to cleanse it, so that the hearts and minds of the residents may be healed."
The group trudges down the muddy streets, pelted by the rain. There does not appear to be any break in the grey storm-clouds above. It is likely that the weather will persist. You are the only souls that stir this morning. The only ones that you can see, anyway.
You travel south to the outskirts of town, and pass the Harrowstone monument Kendra pointed out to you two days past. Strangely, at its base, you clearly make out a red "V", untouched by the pouring rain. It does not appear to be paint. It appears to be blood.
Hrolf grimaces.
That won't be good fer morale...
You continue onward, in the direction of the prison. It rains harder. The mud reaches higher and higher on your boots. Finally, Harrowstone appears over the crest of the next hill.
You come nearer and begin to make out features of the crumbling collection of buildings. The stark, sagging roof of its central structure is visible through a large gap in the surrounding wall. You know from your research that the complex below ground sprawls far beyond the worn wall in front of you.
Jaxus looks at the bloody letter and then at the ground to see if there are any tracks.
Oorin trudges through the rain in miserable silence.
Gods above and below, what lousy weather.
Upon reaching the fork, Oorin looks down at bloody "V" and how it resists the rain.
"Tacky," he declares without preamble. "though the fact that it is unaffected by the weather suggests that whoever placed it here considered at least the possibility that someone would be coming this way. Does the symbol mean anything to anyone?"
Cathran narrows her eyes at the sight of the blood, and in such a strange shape... The letter V? and finds it curious that the rain has not marred or washed away the substance.
"Might someone tell me what the significance of this place is?" Cathran inquires as she begins looking at the base for some sort of clue to support what the others may say.
Jaxus looks up from the tracks, "Well it looks like some one from town put this here but with the rain I don't think I will be able to follow the tracks to the specific person. Maybe we can come back later to see if they have returned."
"Wait," Cathran says, raising a hand to emphasize her treaty in the appropriate gesture. "This blood is not touched by the rain. Why?" she inquires.
Cathran casts and studies the bloody "V."
Oorin bends back up from examining the "V".
"Necromancy of some type; powerful too. An indicator or cornerstone of a larger ritual or effect would be my guess. No way to know exactly what it's an indicator of though. Probably a ward; that would be the most likely."
Oorin shakes his head and let's out an exaggerated sigh. "If magic were a family then necromancers would be the child they didn't mean to have."
The statue itself is not of particular note, though it is an imposing 25 feet in height. On it are listed the names of all those that died in the prison fire of 4661.
"Hmmmm,.. I wonder," says Rosanna quietly from the back of the group, "Could it be an arrow and not a letter? Perhaps a sign that something's buried?" Rosanna moves forward to examine the ground for signs of disturbance, as she does so Aranca leaps from her shoulder and beggins sniffing at the ground.
Perception (Rosanna):
Perception (Aranca): - has scent
Neither you nor Aranca find any sign that there is anything buried.
Jaxus looks back up the road, "I think we have learned all we can here. We see it anything changed tomorrow maybe." "If you live, hahahaha." Jaxus scowled at the voice in his head, Don't you mean if we live?. That shut up the dark chuckle pretty quick.
Cathran nods. "My lady's light, scant though it be today, wastes," she agrees.
Harrowstone lies before you, imposing despite its ruin. As you stand at look at the abandoned prison, you feel an ominous presence that seems to seep up from the earth itself.
The rain beats harder. Harrowstone seems to creep closer. The wind blows sharply, and the rusty gates open as if reaching for you.
The rain beats yet harder. You feel water dripping down your legs, into your boots. Something seems to stir within the ruined buildings.
The rain stops suddenly.
Jaxus looks up at the clouds when the rain stops. He quick looks around and then starts toward the gate.
Iovanna looks around the building as she cautiously enters.
A large gate surrounds the prison grounds, and as you step inside the metal gates, you realize that the eastern wall has collapsed and is submerged in water. Two watch stations still perch atop the wall. If there were others, they have since toppled over. Immediately in front of you stands a smaller structure. Iovanna, you can tell that this building could collapse at any moment. It's a wonder the rain does not knock it over.
That is hardly the central feature of the courtyard, however. A two-story stone building looms in the center of the prison grounds. Ivy and moss cling tenaciously to the walls, while above the wooden shingles of the roof are often missing entirely, exposing the wooden rafters of the upper structure to the sky. Here and there, leering stone gargoyles perch on the eaves, once functioning as drainspouts and decorations but now seeming almost to serve a more ominous role of sentinels. Many of these stone decorations have crumbled away and lie in ruined piles on the soggy ground below. Windows in the building’s facade are narrow and blocked by grills of rusty iron bars. Stone columns support a slumping wooden balcony over the building’s wooden front doors, both of which hang askew and reveal dark glimpses of chambers within.
Strapping his shield on and hefting his mace, Hrolf eyes the prison critically.
Right... I propose we do a slow walk around the grounds, see what we can see. No splitting up, if someone sees something suspicious, we all investigate. Sound alright to all of you?
To Oorin, the house looks like it could use some work, but certainly salvageable. If it was going to collapse, wouldn't it have done so by now?
It is Hrolf who notices the first signs of movement. Small, dark shapes move within the ruined tower on the outer wall.
Movement on the outer wall... Hrolf mutters.