"GAH!" Runyon jumps back from the table, knocking her chair over in the process and tripping over its laddered back, crashing to the plushly carpeted floor. Looking up between locks of leaf-green hair, she watches in horror as the...the...thing forms and unforms and tumbles over itself towards her before dissolving and spreading. that's not possible. that's not possible! that's not...THAT'S NOT... "That solution doesn't DO that! That can't happennnnnnnagh!" She scrambles back until she collides with a bookshelf, bringing a couple sizable volumes crashing down onto her head.
"Ow! Ow! Ugh." The elf sits there on the floor, looking at the horrid remains of her solution. What was haunting this place? What could do that? Could bend the very chymical laws of nature itself? Run rests her forehead in her steepled fingers and lets out a short, hysterical laugh. "Some ghost-breaker I'm going to be. I can't even keep my calm in the house of an old friend. What am I going to do in a real haunt? Ugh. So much work to do. What...what happened here, anyway?"
Unable to contain her innate scientific curiosity, she slides carefully forward on her hands and knees. She pulls out a slide and tries to collect some of the resultant goo on the floor for study. Her hands don't shake too much.
Glancing back as he begins to fall, Duron sees the window of the professor's house. It is not barred, nor the prison he thought himself in. A few seconds pass and he softly hits the ground, his boots alighting on the wet grass. He looks around, heart still racing from his imprisonment, but he is back in the town. He waits, still as can be, but nothing moves for him.
"F*!#. I don't know." Azuk'ai answers quietly, stiff as a board. "Run?"
"To where?"
"I think Kendra."
"She might be in trouble. ...and she has some protection charm."
"Kendra?"
As the scenery changes around him, Duron looks about at the familiar manor house and shakes the panic from his mind. 'How are we to sleep in this accursed house?' he thinks to himself as he finds his way back to the front door and tries the knob.
Aydan grabs a torch out of his room and runs into the hallway, a shortsword in his other hand, his eyes darting and wary, he is tightly wound as he tramps down the hall, making noise so that he cannot hear the creaks of the old house.
'Is anyone out there? Hello?' He makes his way towards the main lobby, eager to find someone else living and hopefully sane in the house.
Aydan sees Azuk'ai and Melk in the hall, looking at a painting. Some water must have gotten in a leak from the roof, as there is a bit of water running down the wall behind the painting. They look up at him and take notice of the Pathfinger, wide-eyed with fear. As they look back at the painting, Azuk'ai takes a look as well, seeing a courtyard that he recognizes from a trip to Absalom.
Duron hears Aydan's call as he tries the door. The large wooden door is well-bolted and shut. He twists the knob, finding it unyielding.
Runyon scrapes together some of the goo as she hears Aydan calling out for them. It is no longer moving. Run is both thankful and disappointed in its inertness.
Wesh thrashes around his bedroom, looking for an opponent that is not there. He lifts the bed, frame and all, completely off the floor with one hand. He finds nothing under there, though Ramon seems as agitated as ever.
Duron knocks as loudly as he can muster on the heavy door, "Hello! Aydan? This is Duron, I am outside! Can someone let me in please?"
Shivering in the rain, Duron waits for an answer and turns to look behind him lest any ghouls or ghosts sneak up through night. Pulling a small piece of leather from his spell component pouch, the elven wizard draws an arcane rune in the air and whispers, "litrix seanf wer thurkear."
Grabbing a bomb off her vest Run charges out into the hall. "Aydan! What is it? What- Oh." She stops short when she sees the warrior standing in sight of Azuk'ai and Melk. "What happened? Did you see something? I...I confess I witnessed something strange...a solution reacted in an...unnatural way. It started to come sort of alive which in itself was fascinating, of course, but...but the horror of it acting in such a way when it was not possible for it to do so still lingers with me. Something is restless in this house, that's for sure."
'I uh... Yeah. Suffice to say I'm pretty sure Kendra's protection does not extend to us. We should go-' Aydan cocks his head listening through the creaks and rain outside.
'Hold on.' He rushes down into the lobby and unlatches the door, unveiling a dripping wet Duron. Suspicion fills his eyes when he sees the elf, and he keeps his shortsword close at hand.
'Duron? Is that really you?'
Azuk'ai clutches his chain and stares everywhich way he can. Unsure what to do he looks uterly confused, a look unsuitable for anyone of orc-blood he thinks. Suddenly a look of fierce determination crossed his face and his ears flatten against his skull. Stepping forward he reaches for the paintind, taking it down, not so gently, and turning it to face the wall.
Melk looks with horror as Aydan dashes off and opens the door, "Wahnsinn! Are you mad! Duron is up in his room - this" he stammers, pointing at Duron, "- this apparition cannot be Duron. Begone! Begone!" Melk, his features looking pale and brittle, tries to push the door closed.
"Komm Azuk'ai! Aydan! We must bar this door!"
The door is slammed shut suddenly in front of him and Aydan jumps back, shocked by Melk's sudden appearance and shouting.
'Whoa, whoa. Wait for a second Melk. Give me a secodn to think,' he rubs at his temples and scrunches his eyebrows.
'Someone run up to Duron's room. Just to check?'
After this he turns back to the door. But he does not attempt to open it again. Shouting to be heard he asks 'If you are Duron, I'm sure you understand our caution. How did you get outside?'
It will end in tears and blood. Don't lose your temper boy. Keep everything under control.
"Right. Duron." Azuk'ai starts off at a trot to Durons room to see if the elf is there. Banging on the door he shouts in case the elf is asleep, "Duron!? Duron!? Are you in there Duron!?" Recieving no replie he tries the door, opening it with a crash he steps coutiously in and looks around for trouble.
Duron's room is empty, save for the furnishings and his possessions. One of the books that the elf seemed remarkably interested lays on the floor. Azuk'ai sees a red stain on the pages, one instantly recognizable as drops of blood. Looking around for their source, he sees nothing.
Haring no immediate response from Duron Aydan calls out loudly with a booming voice.
'Hoy! Azuk'ai! What do you see?'
Melk seems deeply disturbed, as the knocking on the door picks up again, he leans against it forcefully, trying to keep it shut. "Wir have nothing what you want! Go back to your grave!"
Azuk'ai runs back to the front door. "His room is empty! He's not there!" he shouts as he gets there. "That might be him out there. Open it! I'll make ready to strike if it's another zombie and you brace to shut the bloody thing if it is! Ok?" Azuk'ai adopts a fighting stance, redying his chain.
'Melk! Melk,' Aydan rests a hand on the man's shoulder.
'I'm as terrified as you are. Gods know I am. But we have to see if this is the real Duron. I won't leave him in the dark of this cursed place if theres a chance its the real him. We have him outnumbered and I've seen what you can do with your hands. Hold fast, and please, open the door.' His brave words aside, Aydan clutches his shortsword hard by the hilt. Be the elf. By the Grey Lady be the elf.
Melk is sufficiently swayed to at least try it. "Oh mein Gott - what have we gotten into here?" He cautiously abates his pressure on the door and allows it to carefully ease open - ready to press it closed again in a moment's notice.
Run makes her way to the door to join the others. Moments ago she watched Azuk'ai blast into Duron's apparently-empty room, and shout back down there. As Melk lets the door open to reveal a soaked and clearly miserable Duron, the alchemist shakes her head.
"Should we just get rooms at the inn? We'll never get any rest at this rate. How on earth did Professor Lorrimor ever get anything done in this place?" She throws her hands up in exasperation and lets them fall, clapping against her thighs.
Looking at the older elf, she asks "Duron, what happened? Why did you go outside? What -- I'm honestly afraid to ask this, but -- what did you see?" A thought seems to occur to her. "Did...we all experience 'disturbances'? I had a vial behave in a completely unnatural and impossible way, yet there it was. Duron was outside for some reason. What of the rest of you? Azuk'ai and Melk, Wesh, Aydan, what did you see? Is the house affecting us all?"
Father Harking responds to the question from the top of the stairs. "I've got a theory. I think it's pretty clear that the man in the robes was not a man at all, at least not anymore. I believe that it was a ghost. As a priest of Pharasma, I know about ghosts." He looks tired and frightened as the rest of them, but seems to be putting on a brave face. Kendra stands behind him, trying her best not to quaver in fear. "I think that the Professor's magical guard is keeping it at bay. It can't directly manifest in the house anymore, so it was trying more subtle means. Ghosts only have so much strength before going dormant. I think that it was trying to see how much it can influence us in the house before returning to a state of temporary rest. I can cast a number of rites to augment the Professor's magic, but I think that we have seen the last of that ghost for a number of days at least."
Runyon looks dubious for a moment, but in the end is too tired to muster any enthusiasm for debate, and is at the point where she's fine simply trusting the priest. "Thank you, Father, that would be...most helpful."
As he's addressed by Aydan, Duron raises a finger and opens his mouth to speak, but is immediately cut off by the door slamming in his face. A shouted question from inside is muffled by a thunderclap as the rain pours down on the now-soaked elf. Duron narrows his eyes and waits. 'It makes sense to confirm I am not an apparition. They should be checking my room right now. When they find I am not there and the window is open, it will most likely prove my innocence enough for them to let me in.'
After a few long moments, the door opens again and Duron sees his companions crowded around the doorway. Before he can draw a breath to ask entry, Runyon begins barraging him with questions and before he can answer, Father Harking makes his entrance and exposition from the top of the stairs. Once the priest is finished talking, Duron looks about to see if anyone else is going to speak up before beginning, "I am not a ghost. I believe I experienced one of these "subtle manifestations," though I can tell you there was little subtle about it. I was in my room reading, when suddenly the ceiling began dripping with blood and spelling out my name. I tried to leave, but the room tranformed before me into a prison cell. The door was bolted and the windows barred. I was able to escape by teleporting myself beyond the bars and floating to the ground. I thought that I had been transported to a foreign land, but as I left the room, the surroundings returned to their present state. May I come in now? It is rather wet out here."
"yeah. I saw somthing too. And I think Melk saw it as well. That painting over there.." he says pointing at the painting he turned around earlyer, "..it was like the man in it was standing on the floor in a pool of rain water or somthing. And that painting of the ship in a storm in the hallway? I was like the waves were in motion and a skeletal hand was reaching out from the waters. Not nice."
'I saw... I think we can all agree that we saw something. I hope the Father is right, because I don't want to experience its like again anytime soon. All the more reason for us to be prompt in our investigation I suppose. Shall we retire again and try to rest before tomorrow?' Aydan looks around at his gathered companions.
Runyon smiles when it becomes clear Duron is, in fact, actually Duron, and listens as he and the others relate what they saw. She nods wearily when it's suggested everyone get rest. She completes her work for the night; replenishing bombs and her mutagen of quickness and speed, and preparing only a curing spell, leaving some raw materials for tomorrow. She finishes out her watch when it's her turn and gladly gets some rest.
Melk looks on a bit helpless as people depart to sort out there sleeping arrangements. Something queasy in the pit of his stomach suggested that he wouldn't sleep well. He drags off the blanket from his bed and wraps it about himself, then goes along until he finally huddles down outside Kendra's door. "Gute Nacht..." he whispers, as much to the others as to himself in what feels an empty hope.
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Wesh catches the Father's words and huffs dubiously. "For a number of days? I still say we don't need to stay here, ain't no good reason. We should head away from this ill omened place to somewhere less accursed."
"But if you say there ain't to be no more hauntin's I'll believe you, for the time being. Bloody place. Wake me when I need te take a watch." He growls before stalking back to his room, leaving the bed flipped over - so nothing can lurk there and dumping himself back down in the blankets...
The night passes slowly, the six members of the group huddling in their rooms waiting for another spectral visit. When dawn breaks over Ravengro, the Professor's spell seems to have kept the ghostly attacker at bay. The morning light is hardly better than night, with the overcast sky giving a very gloomy appearance.
Kendra has prepared a simple meal in the dining room, featuring hotcakes and potatoes. After seeing the horrific image of maggots on last night's feast, perhaps it is for the best that the food is plain.
Father Harking looks exhausted, having stayed up to augment the Professor's arcane magical barrier with divine runes. Hand-drawn images of Pharasma's holy symbol emblazon most of the doors and windows, along with thin lines of salt lining every entry point.
Aydan digs into the hearty breakfast with a wide smile and a thanks to Kendra. The man has left his sword at the door, but is otherwise kitted out for adventure and exploration, and looks every inch a pathfinder, pockets, straps and items of interest and surival tools bedeck him like a livery. He taps the Harrow deck at his hip from time to time thoughtfully as he eats. After eating and washing it down with cool water, he looks around at his companions.
'Right so, to the Restlands? Unless anyone has business in the village first? I'd rather do our grim work first, and visit the steading in the evening.'
Turning to Kendara he asks 'Is there a good blacksmith in the town?'
Waking early, Duron sits at a small desk in the corner of the room and pages through his spellbook, trying to decide on what spells to prepare for the coming day. 'If we are to battle undead, sleeping spells and illusions will be of little use... Best to focus on disrupting their movement and protecting myself and my comrades... For offense, a ray of positive energy should be effective, and if we run into any more cultists, I always have my bow. Yes, this should do.'
Runyon is thankful for a good breakfast and hot coffee, anything to help dispel the blasted damp of this town, and thanks Kendra profusely for providing fare. At Aydan's suggestion she shakes her head, but in agreeance; "I've no business in town that can't wait until after we try to find this creche. I'll just need a moment to gather my things after breakfast and I'll be ready to go. I'm quite looking forward to this, actually, despite my misgivings that some...er, thing will be waiting for us. I saw a number of magical auras in the Restlands last night and it'll be interesting to see if any of them are related to this northeast crypt."
Kendra looks absolutely terrible, distracted and upset. Her hair is distractingly pulled up and uncombed. The night was not good to her, nor was the information about her father's soul. She looks up at Aydan with bloodshot eyes over her breakfast. "Yes, Jorfa is a dwarven smith in the town center. Her forge is really quite good. Mostly tools and things for the local farmers, but she supplies the sheriff and townspeople with weapons as well."
She visibly tries to pull herself together. "I need you all to help free my father. I will do what I can, but I'm not good outside of books. There's a few good places that we can do research at: the study is a great resource, but rather limited. If the Harrowstone Prison has anything to do with this, the records in the Town Hall would be most useful. They normally don't allow visitors, so it might take them getting used to you before they allow access, even one at a time. The Temple of Pharasma keeps extensive notes about the residents of the town, especially after they pass. Father Harking might be able to get you access, but Father Grimburrow is very wary of strangers. There's also the Unfurling Scroll, a small magic shop and schoolhouse. There's a lot and I don't really know where to start."
Marilwenn smiles at Kendra, and puts her hand over hers. "It's okay, my friend. There's enough of us that we can split up and get plenty done after we check the crypt. The town hall won't take kindly to elves, but I'll bet our friend Melk would be welcome. Aydan seems a likely candidate to visit the Pharasmans, and Duron and I could hit the magic shop. I know I'd like to, anyway. Azuk'ai and Wesh could maybe go with Melk or Aydan unless they'd rather check how safe the road to Harrowstone is...?"
Melk half-heartedly digs into the offered breakfast. He looks worried over to Kendra but keeps out of her hair. "Have we got any Idee what to expect in the graveyard?"
Duron nods along with Runyon's suggestions, "I agree that our efforts would be best spent at the Unfurling Scroll, but I might suggest Melk and Aydan both go to the Town Hall and leave the Pharasman temple to Wesh and Azuk'ai. This will be, of course, after we explore the crypt in the Restlands. Father Harking, you mentioned that you could put a good word in for us with the head priest - that would be most appreciated."
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Looking up from his meal Wesh speaks - potato tumbling out of his mouth as he does so, "I ain't no talker, and I don't want to leave Ramon if I can help it. Maybe I can scout," he waves a hand vaguely, "sommat. I'm a good scout. Got a good eye."
Ramon is busy giving the heap of potato and hotcakes before him a tentative lick, before wrowling in disappointment and looking to Kendra with an expression of pleading hunger - he even appears to be sucking his stomach in. Wesh glances over and sighs, "Got any meat? We can always catch sommat later, but..."
'We can decide that as we, go, I have not problem visiting the town hall with Melk though. Let's focus ont he task at hand now however.' The pathfinder stands up and goes to the door, strapping on his scabbard and gathering his backpack up. Once he has double checked himself he looks back to the others.
'I'd rather not go rooting through a haunted graveyard, but if we're gonna do it, lets get it done.'
Run nods and finishes her coffee in a gulp. She then gets up and goes to collect her things, focusing only on what she might need for a tomb dive.
"Scouting out the prison isn't a bad idea. I will go have a look, I promise not to do anything rash, I'm not going in there alone but seeing it in daylight before we think about entering is a good idea. I might see about the graveyard as well." Azuk'ai says thoughtfully between bites of bread.
Their breakfast consumed, the group exits the Lorrimor house to head to the Restlands with Kendra and Father Harking leading the way. The plan, hashed out over breakfast, is to speak to the Temple of Pharasma and request Father Grimburrow's permission to seek out the cache referred to in the Professor's journal. Kendra excuses herself before they get to the southern bridge over the river, instead taking the fork that leads to the town center. She smiles grimly, the glimmer of determined hope evident in her face. "I'll start telling the townspeople who you are. They can be quite insular to strangers." She nods and heads towards the town square, perhaps half a mile away.
The morning is grim as the night that preceded it. The sun is completely hidden by overcast clouds, giving the light a gray tint. A thick fog lingers over the town, making it difficult to see beyond more than a few hundred feet. The only sound is the caws of crows that seem to be on every fencepost and tree.
As they continue the short walk to the Pharasman temple, Father Harking seems quietly distracted. It is less than a mile, but he speaks barely a word during the walk. As the six adventurers cross the bridge, they see the outskirts of town during daylight for the first time. North of the river bank, most of the land is agrarian fields of wheat and corn. A few modest farmhouses and barns border the winding dirt road. Each of the farms has a few farmhands working the land in the morning light. Being the second day of Lamashan, the farmers are in the middle of the harvest season. The crops look anemic, barely sufficient to keep the town's stores up for the winter; turning a profit on the harvest will be impossible this year if all the fields look like these.
As they approach the Temple of Pharasma, it sticks out from the fog because of its height. Clearly the largest and most elaborate building in such a small town, it is indicative of the reverence that Pharasma holds in Ravengro and all across Ustalav. It only makes sense, considering how long the land has been plagued by undead. The southwestern facade displays an intricate stained-glass mural depicting a stern Pharasma judging a man dressed in black with a high collar. Seeing Runyon looking curiously at it, Father Harking speaks for the first time in their walk. "That would be Count Andachi, the most infamous ruler of this county. Legend speaks of his terrible deeds, saying that he quested for undeath with every method and ritual imaginable. They say that he finally slaughtered his own children and drank their blood, the vileness of the act turning him into a vampire. Our lore tells us that the horror of the act caused Pharasma herself to descend to Golarian, stripping him of both undeath and death, leaving him imprisoned for eternity to ponder his crimes."
As they approach the large wooden front door, Father Harking holds out a hand for them to enter. "Allow me just a moment to speak to Father Grimburrow. You will have to plead your own case, but I can enjoin him to listen as favorably as possible." He opens the doors, letting them follow. As he walks to the back of the Temple, the six take in the sight of the Temple's exterior. It is large, with high ceilings that end in pointed arches. The result of the use of arches and elaborate tracery is the feeling of a natural complexity and its underlying rationality. It is a truly impressive structure, though it is largely quiet and empty except for half a dozen acolytes quietly tending to various duties.
Melk looks curiously at the temple. Lepidstadt certainly had its own - but Melk had not explored Lepidstadt much: the warden in the prison he grew up in did not encourage 'running off like a street urchin'. After the great fire 15 years ago he didn't see reason to change from that habit - keeping his social contacts and business in town to a fair minimum.
When Father Harking walks into the temple to try to ease their meeting, Run takes advantage of the pause; she pulls out one of her dozen or so tiny chapbooks and begins scribbling notes, muttering to herself the whole time and pausing occasionally to push her glasses back up her nose when the constant moisture in the air causes them to slide down, which happens with annoying frequency.
"...Andachi...vampire...Grimburrow...bad crops...Pharasma's descent...punishment..." The scientist stops writing and takes a good long look around her. Angling her head quizzically, she utters a simple "Huh." then begins sketching various bits of architecture. Of particular note to her are the rather plain lancets crowning blind arcades high on the walls. The strict and grim order represented by the columns seems fitting for a temple of Pharasma, though arcading seems a little...excessive, perhaps? Upon further reflection she admits it's balanced perhaps by the utter lack of tracering anywhere at all and the very straightforward glasswork.
"Hm. Equilateral depressed arches. Hah. 'Depressed!' You're not kidding." Run is still basically just talking to herself. After finishing her sketch, she becomes engrossed in a text carved under a skeletal columnar ornament. "How perfectly grim!" she says, half in amusement and half in wonderment.
Turning to the group she asks "I don't suppose any of you are Pharasmans? Even casually?"
Looking up at the stained glass, Duron responds offhand, "I have read The Bones Land in a Spiral, but I hold no particular allegiance to the Lady of Graves. To be frank, I do not see much point in giving worship to any known deities. I respect their power and their great deeds, but the level of devotion that is given by true believers in the divine is quite baffling to me." He turns to Runyon, "What of yourself Marilwenn? I would be interested to hear your opinions on the divine."