Between Eloise's muscle and Heck's assistance, the trap door groans and opens. A rain of debris, dust and small pebbles flows through the opening. As they push it wider, Eloise and Heck and rewarded for their efforts by larger, much more painful chunks of masonry.
A large chunk narrowly misses Peredur's head, while another glances off the Bard's temple. Eloise gets a few smaller pieces in the face, but it is no less painful.
P:
H:
damage
As if that wasn't bad enough, a loud buzzing noise sounds from above, and a stirge, roughly the size of a rather fat halfling, lands over the opening. The hideously bloated thing has two sets of wings and a wicked stinger the length of a sword.
Iesha
Peredur
Sour Heck
Talia
Eloise
Stirge of Doom:
With a strangled cry of surprise and dismay, Eloise... falls off the ladder.
Fortunately, the bard and ranger cushion her blow, and the fall wasn't that much to begin with.
Peredur sidesteps neatly as he half-catches Eloise. "Good of you to dance...er...drop...um...best I leave th' comedy to th' professional, mayhap."
"'Nice of you to drop in', would work admirably," Eloise says, her voice and expression grim as she draws her sword. "That is a mighty fat stirge. I hate to think what it's been feeding on."
Sour Heck steps forward chivalrously to catch Eloise, then immediately and visibly regrets it. Peredur, moving quickly to get there first, knocks the bard off balance and he sprawls in a tangle of limbs.
“I’d almost prefer the crowbar,” he complains. “There’s a time and a place for everything, you two.”
He scrambles up and arches an eyebrow at the stirge.
“And in the Piper’s case, it seems the place was ‘the attic’ and the time was ‘whenever he could slip away’. That is the second ugliest mistress I’ve ever seen a bard take.” Sour Heck makes kissing noises at the revolting thing, then steps back and steadies his longspear for the creature’s approach.
Iesha swaps weapons and slashes at the creature with her glaive.
Round 1:
Peredur disengages from the magus and strikes at the stirge if it comes within range.
Talia dashes over to Eloise, helping her to rise. "Are you all right? That looked like a nasty fall. Here, let me give you a hand."
She watches above for the stirge, warily....
"Thank you," Eloise says, grinning. "That did the trick. All better. Now..." She eyes the bloated stirge in an appraising manner. "Let's see what we can do about this fat bug."
The stirge's angry buzzing subsides as Peredur begins to play. It drifts down, and floats near the bard, swaying and bobbing in time with the music.
Once in range, Iesha and Peredur both lay into the creature, opening wounds in it's hideous body. It begins to buzz angrily again, and poises to attack.
“Bleagh!” Sour Heck backpedals away from the stirge, stabbing at its bloated belly with his longspear.
Stabbing a flying bug with a longspear is trickier than it looks.
"Phaw, it looks like we could have saved ourselves a fight by providing this sorry beast with a tune," Eloise mutters, but she still swings her blade at the bloated insect.
Iesha strikes at the enormous bug again, but her swing goes wild.
Eloise and Iesha hack the stirge into big, gooey chunks before it can truly shake off the influence of Heck's music.
Back up the ladder, Peredur finds a balcony that looks out over the back of the prison. To the east, night marches across the sky, chasing the fading of the sun to the west, now well below the peaks of the Tusk Mountains.
To the north, the lights of Ravengro fight back the dark.
"Time we were on our way, I'm thinking."
"I second that notion," Eloise says. "Im still feeling a bit less than my best. Careful with that haunt siphon as we go, though. Pack it in a spare shirt if you have one handy."
"Yes, let's head back.We need to rest, restock, and review what we've accomplished so far."
She looks over at Eloise with concern. "And heal up, of course."
“Go back? Does this mean we’re giving up on Eloise’s idea of making this place an inn? Holes in the walls, holes in the roof, horrible music, biting bugs in the rooms upstairs…it’s about average for an Ustalavian inn already.”
Sour Heck shrugs. “On the other hand, I’ve already paid for my room at the Wacky Wight …or was it the Goofy Ghast? Whatever. I’m ready to go."
The lights of Ravengro grow closer, the warmth of the rooms at the Lorrimor house are a comforting and welcome change from the cold stone of the prison.
Kendra is, of course, relieved at your return, and worries over the party as she prepares them a hot meal.
"How was the expedition? What did you find dear friends?"
Peredur carefully unwraps the charged haunt siphon. "This be th' power that fed th' shade of th' Piper of Ilmarsh. Though one of his pets sucked some of my blood in return." The famished ranger tucks in with a will. Between bites, he adds, "And it's rope we'll be needing, to make our way into th' cellar. How goes th' town? Any more hauntings?"
“Here’s the twenty gold I found in the desk…four each, which will make a nice downpayment on a coffin for each of us.” Sour Heck shares out the coin. “If you like, I could sell off some of the oddiments we found in the infirmary, if none of us wake with a tummy-ache tomorrow. Personally I’ve never had a stomach problem I’d drink ten gold worth of soothe syrup to get rid of, but then again, I’ve never eaten Kendra’s cooking before. Anything that tastes this good must have something wrong with it. We’ll see.”
“Besides the rope, it’d be smart to stop by the blacksmith and buy a grappling hook to carry down the hole with us. We might need to do more climbing. We should stop by the church, too—if anyone can reset those spirit siphons, it’d be that gnome priest."
“And after another helping of that squash, Kendra, I’d like a look at those books your father mentioned in his will.”
"Put paid to some bad stuff," Eloise answers Kendra's question between shovelling food into her mouth. "But not too bad yet, if you follow. Got the feeling there's worse up there, yet. Seconds. Not just on the food -- I mean I second Sour Heck. If you'll allow it, I'd like to see those books, too."
"We definately got one of the big five. And without as much trouble as we thought we'd have. I'm almost nervous now. Iesha chuckles.
"I'm going to review the records we got from the prison, to see if I can find out where the others of the big five were being kept. Hopefully, they're tied to that spot, giving us an edge."
With the dinner effectively ravaged by the hungry adventurers, Kendra retrieves the wooden trunk that contains the professor's tomes.
There are four within, that spreads on to the recently cleared table.. A jet black book, "On Verified Madness," and two others, "Serving Your Hunger" and "The Umbral Leaves."
Lastly, Kendra removes a tome bound in rich purple satin, with a jeweled scarab affixed in the center, both as a lock and an identifying symbol, it would seem, as the book is unable to be opened. The note, requesting it be delivered to Embreth Daramind of Lepidstadt still affixed.
She also removes the Professor's Journal.
"I've kept these bound and locked since you arrived, at your request."
“Thanks. I always have trouble getting to sleep after being clawed by the undead; a little nighttime reading should do the trick.”
Sour Heck flips through the pages of Serve Your Hunger a little, grimicing at the illustrations. “Bleah. Had a cousin arrested for doing that with a corpse once. A lady corpse, I hasten to add, though that doesn’t really make it better, does it?”
He puts the unholy book back, starts to pick up Umbral Leaves, then freezes. “Why does this book have a birthmark? I am not getting to sleep with that in my bed.”
"Now this one looks nicely boring,” he says, and tucks On Verified Madness beneath his arm. “Good night, all...meet at the blacksmith’s, ready to go, tomorrow after breakfast?”
"It's thinking I am to take a short walk and pay my respects to Father Grimburrow 'fore we make an evening of it. Anyone with me?"
"Sure, if we can avoid the graveyard. Bring both those used siphons."
"Hold on, hold on," Eloise says, forestalling Sour Heck. "Let me have a wee gander, the magical way. Occultum video."
After casting her spell, Eloise takes a long, hard look at each of the books, especially the one bound in purple satin.
Sour Heck holds the book he's borrowing out for Eloise to examine, observing her magic curiously.
"While Peredur and I badger the gnome, do you ladies want to stop by town hall? Iesha mentioned that they might have a copy of the prison's vault keys we could borrow."
"I'd like to go as well. If it is possible to recharge these things" she gestures at the haunt siphon "I'd like to learn how to do it as well. On the way back we can stop at the Town Hall."
Sour Heck frantically tries to give Iesha a 'No, don't!' gesture behind Peredur's back, but stops before Peredur can turn around and see what the bard is doing.
"Sure, Iesha," he sighs. "The more, the merrier."
"While we're out, we might as well have a quick look at that monument too, to see if our vandal has come back."
The books are completely non-magical themselves, simply a treatise on something called the Dark Tapestry, and the holy books of Zon-Kuthon and Urgathoa, both with copious notes and observations from the Professor in the margins.
Iesha looks oddly at Sour Heck, then says "Why don't we split the tasks, then? I'll stop at the town hall, while Peredur and Sour Heck go to the monument. Then we can meet at the church."
"Right then!" Sour Heck waves vaguely at the ladies and pulls at Peredur's sleeve as he heads out the front door.
“What a lucky coincidence! The two of us should be able to figure out the mystery of the monument. And while we’re at it, there’s some things we need to talk about.”
He pauses dramatically.
“Man things.”
"I would be delighted to join you, Iesha, if that is acceptable. I'd like to see what damage the fire there may have caused, and to ensure nothing else untoward has happened today." Talia smiles and nods to Kendra, thanking her for the fine fare.
Peredur nods at the bard, a little doubtfully. "Aye...."
Sour Heck draws Peredur away from Kendra’s house, sketching out his thoughts on the mystery of the monument.
“So there’s four more spirits we’ve got to deal with to get out of this mess. From what Iesha says, one of them, the Splatterman, has been painting the warden’s wife’s name in blood on the town memorial.”
“Maybe we don’t have to go after him in the prison at all. If he’s sneaking out here every night, maybe we can lay a trap for him!” Sour Heck pats the unused haunt siphon in his pocket.
“Or maybe it’s the Professor’s murderer doing it.”
“The killer was after the warden’s spirit. Why? Well, if the warden was keeping the other spirits trapped, maybe what the murderer was really after was freeing those spirits. Now the warden’s wife’s keeping them trapped, and for whatever reason, the spirit-stealing magic doesn’t work on her, or is used up. So instead, the murderer is helping the Splatterman get to her.”
“Either way, we should look for more clues.”
“And speaking of clues...have you really not noticed that Eloise is making a play for you? Or are you just pretending not to notice?”
"Looks like I'm with the two of you," Eloise says after Sour Heck and Peredur have left, and she rises to join Iesha and Talia.
"Stay safe, m'lady," the Chelishwoman says to Kendra in a solemn tone before she falls in with the priestess and the Witch. "And stay slert."
Peredur mulls over the bard's initial suggestions. "He did more than that. Haunted me, he did, and showed up the only time we ever tried to use th' planchette. Setting a trap for him might work, though th' signs by th' memorial suggested that his spirit were possessing another's body. Best we ask Father if th' siphon will work on a haunt doing that.
"If Petros be right, th' Warden's spirit were useful to them for its power, keeping th' malice of Harrowstone and th' five great haunts pinned in place. Whether it were of his own doing, or if it were his strength in his office organizing th' spirits of th' guards, th' Warden's will was something they desired. I know not if those who took him did so to free th' five, or if that were an unintended consequence, as it were. It's thinking I am that Vesorianna is a target for that she's th' only barrier 'twixt the great haunts and their freedom. Mayhap those that bound her husband thought so little of her that they ignored her. Too much we know not, and I fear most of th' answers lie in Harrowstone."
Lost in thought, the ranger doesn't register Sour Heck's closing question for a moment. "Wait, what? Eloise? Me? I'd not thought of such a thing, for 'twould seem neither th' time nor th' place."
A few steps later, he adds, "Though she fights well and her wits are sound (or as sound as any who'd willingly walk into mortal peril with a smile). And she's comely enough. Ah, well. Time enough to contemplate such things when our tasks are done." He shakes his head with a small smile and walks on.
“Now I know you’re new in Ustalav. If people in these parts waited for things to settle down before going courting, there’d be no romance at all.”
Sour Heck shrugs away the folly of foreigners, and considers the mystery of the monument. “The Splatterman tried to possess you through the planchette? Then there’s a trap that might snap back...if the holy gnome says the siphons will work on the possessed, we can set another seance and slurp him right up. Or vice versa, if our bad luck continues.”
“But if he’s possessing someone, then that someone should leave tracks, and we’ve got a ranger. If there’s no vandal lurking there tonight, we can lay a different trap. I saw a rake on the grounds not far from the memorial. We can smooth out the mud around there, the better to spot fresh prints, and set up a trick I learned from a court wizard who happened to be a jealous husband. Not that I’m particularly eager to go hunting for a blood-crazed ghost’s puppet, but if there’s trouble, better to find it before it finds you.”
The bard points a finger at Peredur. “Which brings us back to you and Eloise. You really didn’t notice? She keeps bursting into song around you. Plus she’s Chelish, and you know how a bit of the elf blood stirs their fancies.” Sour Heck waggles his eyebrows, then wrinkles his forehead in thought. “Hold on, now...have you been distracted by someone else, then? Blood calling to blood? I suppose Iesha might be more your type, and you just know that a preistess of Shelyn is going to be looking for love.”
The bard and the ranger find the monument unmolested. A rather bored looking guard snaps to attention at their approach, only to relax when he recognizes the ranger.
"Evening, gents. Ain't had any more problems, 'fore you ask. Been quiet since they found that Elf fellow all cut open."
The guard draws out a flask from beneath his cloak and takes a nip. He offers it out to the pair
"Bit o' the hearthfire to warm your bones?"
The women find the town hall unoccupied and dark. While it is still mostly intact it would seem that the damage from the fire has caused what records were there to have been moved to a safer location.
Sheriff Caeller strides across the town square to the group, and nods slightly, tipping his hat. It seems an overly polite and slightly awkward act for him.
"I had heard from Kendra you'd be back to the prison today. I am glad to see the three of you are well. Peredur and the bard as well, I hope?
"Hullo," Eloise says, stepping forward and seizing the sheriff's hand for a firm shake. "Eloise Tow. Invited to the funeral, but I got delayed on the way. Seeing as I'm here now, though, I'm after helping out best as I can. Pleased to meet you, mister...? And yeah, the visit went pretty well, all scrapes considered."
Sour Heck plucks the flask from the guard’s hand before his arm is fully out. “I won’t make you ask twice, friend!” He takes a healthy pull from it, and offers it on to Peredur.
“Another villager who knows his business...carrying his own corn squeezings on watch so can’t no one poison him. Professionalism, that’s what it is, professionalism.” He pulls out his blood-soaked kercheif, winces a little, then puts it back and wipes his mouth with his shirttail.
“First I’ve heard of any dead elf. What’s that about?”