"It's Lazne he's after meaning, El. And I have a few arrows made for such things as th' white man, I'm thinking. Thank you, Andrew--it's easier you've made our lives, sure as anything."
“Can you tell us anything about Garrow, Starle, and Flichte, the sisters who will be testifying against you tomorrow? Do you remember doing anything to upset them?”
"If we face some form of undead, should I perhaps speak to the local Pharasmin church for holy water?"
"It might not be a bad idea, Iesha. Anything we can do to arm ourselves, given how little time we have to prepare, could only benefit us."
When the party’s gotten all the information they can from Andrew and wished him well for the next day in court, Sour Heck unrolls his map of Lepidstadt and confers with Peredur on the quickest routes to the party’s destinations.
“First we need to get to an alchemist’s shop that will buy this wand--I heard all the ghost sounds I cared to under Harrowstone, thanks--and this Oil of Keen Edge, which should look pretty valuable to someone who might be able to duplicate it. I bet I can get a few hundred gold for them.”
“I can buy some ghost salts from the alchemist for that, and get holy water for all of us there or at a Pharasman chapel. That should leave us with a little gold to split between us."
“We might have time to grab a few other supplies on the way...”
“...but we should keep moving towards Garrow, Starle, and Flichte’s windmill, and try to get on the road to that ghost town right afterwards.”
"I wish we had the money for a wand of Magic Missile," Eloise says as she frowns at the map. "If it's ghosts we're facing, that spell would be sovereign."
"Since we're wishing, I wish I'd thought to have to hand that GhostBane ditty I had at Harrowstone. So much for leaving ghosts behind in that prizon..." Talia gives a harumph of annoyance, as if the ghosts of the world were to blame for not behaving in a courteous manner.
Andrew responds that he does not know of the three women that you mention.
The windmill where the sisters are located is about 20 minutes walk outside of Lepidstadt. Hergstag is roughly 15 miles away -- a much longer hike.
A chill wind descends unexpectedly on the town as the group shops for their items.
"It's th' sisters we should be after visiting first, I'm thinking, and then to Hergstag if need be. Perhaps we can rent horses or a cart for th' journey, as otherwise we'd not be back in time."
Peredur checks around the small city, finding a teamster who is willing to rent a medium wagon with two horses to the party for 5 gold for a day, or 5 horses for 10gp.
The wind picks up some as Peredur is locating transportation. Leaves float in small swirls as gusts blow through the city streets.
"Let us speak with these sisters, then and head out to Hergstag as quickly as possible."
"Do we still have any of those haunt siphons left? If we are facing ghosts, they might come in handy."
"I can't quite remember whether we do," Eloise replies, scratching her head. "I wasn't carrying one at the time, so... Who was, again? Peredur, wasn't it you?"
Following Gustav's directions, the group will find themselves approaching a small windmill a few minutes ride north of Lepidstadt. A small, mousy woman, perhaps in her early 40's, sits on a small bench in front of the windmill, apparently engrossed in knitting some sort of heavy wool blouse. The windmill slowly turns, and a slight grinding noise can be heard from behind a small wooden door at the front of the windmill.
The woman looks up as you approach, eyeing each of you intently (particularly Sour Heck).
Looking sorrowful, Sour Heck rides up to address the miller.
“Is this the mill of the sisters Garrow, Starle, and Flichte? The peddler who gave us directions was a lot better at haggling than she was at geography. Wouldn’t even point the way until I bought three silk scarves, all too fancy for my my wardrobe.” He produces the scarves from his cloak, wincing as if their bright, cheerful colors hurt his eyes. “You might as well have them for yourself and your sisters, along with my apologies for intruding on your work day.”
He slides off his horse and passes the scarves to the miller, bowing over her hand. “Folks call me Sour Heck, at least to my face. I’m a bard by trade.” He leans over to the bodrán hanging from his saddle and snaps out a rapid, showy drumroll with the air of a man offering credentials. “I heard of the sorrows at Hergsstag, and I think it’s a shame no one has written a proper Pharasman dirge for the children who were killed. I intend to write something to console their grieving families and memorialize them in the history of Ustalav.”
“I’m finding it hard to find anyone who can tell me details of their last days, though. Could you and your sisters tell me about events before and after the killings?” He makes great, pleading eyes at the miller. “And if one of you could use a little extra coin, would you be willing to guide us to Hergsstag? Otherwise, we’re like to lose our bones, floundering through the Dipplemere looking for the churchyard.”
Iesha tries to conceal her amusement at Sour Heck's talent for - exposition.
Talia informs her companions she is still carrying a haunt siphon, and follows them out towards the sisters, Kieli flying out of sight. At Sour Heck's introduction, she, too, tries to conceal her amusement.
At Sour Heck's offer of the scarves, the woman stands and introduces herself as "Starle". "My, you are a sweet talker, aren't you? I imagine that comes in handy for one on your line of work. Well, you've found the women you seek, so your bribe purchase seems well spent. The sorrows of Hergstag, you say? Well, it's good you found us, as we can rightly tell you what happened as we lived there all our lives (up until 7 months ago) and witnessed the horror for ourselves." She turns toward the door and shouts,"Garrow! Flicht! Come on out. We have company!"
After a moment two other woman, somewhat older than Starle but resembling her more than a bit in face and in attire, appear at the door and brush some dust from their hands and simple dresses. They immediately eye the scarves that Starle is holding, barely hiding their interest in the colorful items. "This is Sour Heck, a well known Bard by trade, and his servants, " Starle tells her sisters as she waves her hand at Sour Heck and the rest of the group. "He says he's here to record the Sorrows of Hergstag, and has asked us to tell him of what happened there."
"Oh!" the other two coo at once. One of them turns to the other two, "Starle and Garrow, why don't you tell the master of the horrors we saw while I put on some tea?" and she walks around the side of the mill to a small cooking stove and begins to prepare something.
The older sister, Garrow, begins with "Well, let's see. It started about 9 months ago. We started losing the children, you see? They would vanish one night and then return the next day as a ghost. So it went for about a month until the culprit was found: The Beast of Lipdstadt! It boldly walked into the middle of the village holding the body of poor Ellsa." Her head drops as she sighs.
Starle continues, "Yeah, the beast was big and brutish, as you may have heard. And that accursed creature was laughing as it carried the child's broken body as if to mock our pain. As soon as we saw it, some men grabbed some pitchforks and we chased it. But try as we might, we couldn't catch it, and it escaped into the swamp. The poor innocents it killed continued to haunt our village, and before long, it became to much for us, so we abandoned the cursed place."
Sour Heck listens raptly to the sister’s tale. “Can’t say I blame you for leaving. Nothing sadder than having to see a bunch of ghost children in the streets at night. Well, except being a ghost child in the streets at night, with everyone you’ve ever known gone away.”
“Were they violent? Did they try to talk to people? What were their names? Was Elsa among them?”
He squints in the general direction of Hergstag, wrinkling his brow in exaggerated reluctance and foreboding. “Well, that tears it--now I have to go to Hergstag and see these ghost children for myself. If they’re lonely, maybe I can get them to talk to me about what they want and why they’re not passing on to judgement. Of course, if they’re that lonely, they’ll probably want me to stay...forever.” Sour Heck tugs at his shirt collar and swallows fearfully.
“Of course I have my friends here to protect me--or, chances are, to die horribly with me. Well, it’ll make a better story for the next bard that comes by.”
“You ladies knew these children. Is there one among you willing to be our guide, and perhaps see their poor spirits laid to rest? We’d pay gold, of course. If not, could you perhaps help us with directions to and a map of the village?”
"Were there any other monsters about?" Eloise asks, her voice soft and pensive. "Or even just stories of them? Or stories of anything else untoward happening in the area?"
Peredur keeps quiet and tries to look appropriately servile. (This is something of a lost cause.)
Garrow responds to Sour Heck with, "Violent? The ghost children? Well, in a way. They seemed quite twisted, appearing as shadows twisted into children's bodies and wreathed in black fire. They taunted us, often appearing just out of our sight. Wasn't much left of the original children left in those hauntings, just twisted pain, seemed like", ending with a deep sigh.
"The children's names were Allen, Gaard, Karin, Rachel, Maarten, and of course, Ellsa, is now among them after that accursed Beast killed her." continues Starle. "There's no way one of us would go back there, but we'll be happy to provide you with safe directions. Mind you pay attention to them, since the place is likely to be overgrown by now."
"As for other monsters, there were no other monsters 'sides that devil Beast. Nothing else untoward happened in the area, that I know of". Garrow will shake her head in agreement as will Flicht as she returns with tea and several small cups. "Do you allow your assistants to drink tea, Master Bard?"
Garrow and Starle will begin giving Sour Heck very detailed directions. Starle will point out that they left large traps about in hopes of catching the "Beast" as they left. She is not able to pinpoint any specifically, but says there are quite a few of them about.
Peredur nods at Starle, then addresses Sour Heck. "Let me go first when we reach th' village, then, for I've an eye for such things."
Sour Heck snorts. “The heroes of Harrowstone fear no tea, madam, no matter how dark you brew it. Pour us all a cup, and in the time it takes to drink it, I’ll tell you how the Hawthorn Society came to be--how Eloise the Bold, Talia the Fair, Iesha the Wise and Peredur the Doughty put an end to the evils threatening the humble town of Ravengro.”
He quickly tells the story of four heroes who came to the aid of a warden’s ghostly widow, stopping the spectral prisoners that wanted to destroy her and escape.
“I wish I could do the story better justice, but we hope to make it to your old village before sunset.” He gulps down his tea and makes a face. “Too much talking cools the brew. Goodbye, ladies. Remember our souls in your prayers.”
Talia politely listens, sips her tea, and stays rather more quiet than usual as she hears the tale of the children.
“Peredur, don’t wait for my permission to get in front of me whenever there’s danger.”
Sour Heck broods on the back of the wagon as the party rides towards abandoned Hergstag.
“Twisted shadow children, engulfed in black flames--there’s something that sounds familiar about that. Some story I heard whispered in a dark place...”
The bard sighs.
After the wagon’s progress has taken them well away from the windmill, Sour Heck carefully pulls a wrapped bundle of cloth out of his pack, and nudges Talia.
“Pretty horrible, this matter with the children. At least at Harrowstone the tormented spirits were guilty prisoners--not that I’m saying their punishment fit their crimes, but they weren’t innocents. And Vesorianna was at least an adult, and made her own choices that led to her haunting. I think this is going to be a lot worse to witness, not to mention that we’re all probably going to die.”
“So. Here.”
He hands Talia the bundle, which turns out to be a courtier’s outfit: A beautifully sewn black dress, nearly a gown, cut from a rich brocaded cloth that a wealthy merchant’s daughter would leap at.
“Not a sun dress, but the season’s getting a little late for that anyway. I considered asking for something to match your eyes, but explaining to the seamstress why it had to match blue and green seemed a little complicated. Black’s always in style in Ustalav, and it suits your hair. You’ll fit right in with the fanciest ladies in the courtroom tomorrow.”
“I figure you deserve it...you’re the one who spotted that the boat was too small for Andrew, and I think that went further than anything else towards changing peoples’ minds. We’re probably going to watch that sorry huge bastard burn, but with your wits, I guess we can’t just give him up for lost.”
He drums his fingers in a complicated, private rhythm on the wagon’s bare planks, thinking about what to say next. “I, ah, was going to give it to you tomorrow morning, before the trial. Not like you’ll want to slip into it before we get to the village of the damned. But by tomorrow, we’ll probably be dead, or worse than dead. So I thought I should give you the dress while I still have breath to tell you.”
Eloise hums and mutters a bit as the group moves on to the abandoned village, but her heart clearly isn't in it. She appears distracted, her eyes gazing into the distance as she racks her brain for useful information about the type of undead children described by the old women.
"I think," she starts to say. "I think I remember something..."
The sisters will wave goodbye and pray for blessings as the group leaves. Anyone looking back will notice the sisters' eyes lingering long on Sour Heck's back.
What little song escapes Eloise's lips is quickly muted as the strong, chill wind increases in strength.
As the group heads toward the abandoned village, they will find the neighboring farm fields have grown untended and unchecked, and high corn now all but hides the narrow road. Peredur is able to navigate the group through the tall corn until they spy a set of 3 small buildings 20 yards ahead. The trail apparently leads straight to them and beyond, bending to the right and out of view. The sound of slowly trickling water belies the presence of a small creek 5 yards beyond the furthest house.
"Most likely, the children have become wraithspawn," Eloise says as the group walks. "Their touch will be deadly... And this clears Andrew yet again: a victim only rises as wraithspawn if slain by a wraith, NOT by a flesh golem."
"Talia, it's thinking I am that your bird should do some looking from above 'fore we get much closer."
Iesha tries to make sense of what the sisters told them, but apparently wasn't paying attention in Undead Recognition class.
Looking startled, but pleased, at Sour's gift, Talia says "Why thank you, good sir. It is lovely, and I should be delighted to wear it tomorrow, if we're not all dead in a swamp somewhere. I...I hardly know what to say. But I thank you again." She stammers on for a few seconds, then smiles and squeezes his shoulder in thanks.
...later
"Certainly, Peredur. Come, Kieli. Time to earn yourself a fish. See if you can spot anything from the air. But do try and stay safe." Kieli launches into the air, moving in the direction the boat is travelling.
While Kieli is airborne, the ranger mentions what he remembers of wraiths from his studies. "Eloise has th' right of it. They're things of spirit only, not bound to walk th' earth but rise above it, and only magic or special weapons can touch them. Our horses will know them 'fore we do--their unnatural existence troubles all beasts. Th' sun weakens them greatly."
Kieli begins a high circling loop around the group, drifting higher and father to the south and west, towards the running stream and beyond the buildings.
Talia feels ...Fear....Cold... as the bird circles over a spot perhaps 400 yards due west of the groups' position. It quickly returns, its feathers visibly shaking.
The 3 small buildings nearby look long abandoned, and the only (barely visible) trail runs straight west past them.
Talia shivers and points to the west. "That way, not quite two furlongs distant. Kieli spotted something which made him scared. And cold..." Talia shivers again, and looks to her flying companion in worry.
Eloise draws her black sword. She does not hold it aggressively, instead opting to rest it against her shoulder, but hold it she does.
"So what's our move?" she asks. "Do we try to find evidence in the village or go straight to the source of the discomfort? Because I have to tell you... I don't like it around here any better than Kieli does."
Sour Heck unties the banner of the Hawthorn Society and lets it unfurl, snapping in the chill breeze.
“It’s true, things look pretty bad, but we don’t know how much of what the sisters told us is true. Things might actually be much worse! The only way I can think of to find out what really happened to those children is to talk to their spirits, and that means finding them first...before they find us.”
“If Peredur’s right, we should be pretty safe from them as long as the sun is out, if we stay outside. Before the children come out to play at night, we could ride around town and find out if there are any other dangers. Maybe we’ll get lucky and be eaten by manticores and caimans before we can be turned into damned souls.”
“We might find other clues while we’re at it. Peredur might be able to find where they lurk by where the horses get nervous. We also might find a defensible place where we could lure the spirits, like the top of that hill, or if it’s still sanctified, the graveyard.”
The bard dips the flag, pointing into the village with the point of his spear.
“Lead on, Peredur! And, uh, look out for those traps the villagers left. Anything big enough to hurt Andrew would pound us to gruel. Pits, you think? Deadfalls?”
The sun is half past zenith, leaving you approximately 4 hours until nightfall.
As Peredur leads the group carefully around the block of 3 buildings, he is completely surprised as a loud snap is heard. Two massive, jagged, rusty steel jaws spring upward where he was standing, clamping tightly together. They narrowly miss catching his foot after he steps over the trap, initially unaware.
The ranger starts, then relaxes. "There's one."
Which way is the group going? Directly to the heart of the village or along the outer road? There's a fork there.
"It's thinking I am to go through th' village center, for it seems less likely that they'd trap th' places they walked most often."
“It’s your legs at risk, Peredur...chose your own path. Talia, could you lay a ward on him like you did when that freak spider attacked us? Maybe he’ll just lose one foot instead of both.”
The bard eyes the rusty trap with interest. “Don’t know if that great iron would stop Andrew, but it definitely wouldn’t catch a ghost. Unless...” Sour Heck’s hand falls to the pouch at his side with the ghost salts. “Peredur, do you think you could load that thing into the cart, then plant and reset it if we find a good ambush site? I’ve an idea worth trying.”
The high corn rustles loudly as the chill wind continues. The tassles bend and bob in waves across the expansive, flowing across the sea of green and yellow.
Passing over the bridge, the water below appears almost serene. Flowing ever so gently, there is little life visible on the banks or in the stream.
Approaching the first set of houses after crossing the bridge, Peredur notices a quick movement up ahead, as a small humanoid form dashes behind the house.
Eloise looks around, longsword still resting against her shoulder, and mutters a quick cantrip.