No noise of activity comes from the northwest corner. Head nor hide of Feramin reveals itself.
"So ends the mighty Splatterman," Eloise calls out, her voice mocking. "Not with a bang, not even with a whimper or a scrawled note on a wall, but in silence, as the coward fled from the women who so terrified him in life."
"Bah!" says Talia. "Where is the ghostly, murdering fiend?"
She continues to wait, hoping for a sign of his returning presence.
If the beginning of Peredur's name hasn't been effaced by any of the channeling, he'll take the opportunity to scratch it out.
An unsettling quiet returns to the Nevermore. Dripping water marks cadence, as the party waits for Feramin to reemerge.
Iesha
Peredur for undead
Sour Heck
Talia
Eloise
Peredur can hear Feramin muttering to himself from somewhere in the northeast corner of the room.
The ranger waves a hand for attention, then points to the northeast corner of the room before drinking one of the CLW potions.
Eloise likewise chugs down a potion of healing, then firmly grips her sword - and moves to the northeast, her black blade glowing.
The Chelishwoman starts to sing quietly as she approaches:
"I met a tiny man, his trousers were wet
'Cause there was a pretty girl that he had met
He wanted to greet her, to say 'Hello, miss'
But when he approached her, his boots filled with piss.
So he resolved him to write her a poem or three
SO his fancies and his words on the paper ran free
Alas when she read them, laugh was all she did do
So the little man's trousers filled up with poo!
Alas, pretty maiden, ware the little man's ache
Your skin he did slash, your bones he did break
When I saw him on the scaffold, he said he was a poet
Because he wrote a dirty limeric with her blood
It's pathetic and we all know it."
The barred door to the northeast cell lies slightly ajar. As Elosie approaches it, she can hear the muttering of Feramin from somewhere within the room.
Eloise beckons the others without turning around, her eyes fixed on the door.
Iesha chuckles. "You know, perhaps we should just leave him? I don't see the threat. So far, all he's done is scribble names on walls. Is the once-mighty Splatterman reduced to merely a vandal?" she taunts.
Long moments pass, and the party hears Feramin's voice comes from somewhere in the cell.
"I won't be so easily stamped out... not by the likes of y-o-u, no no no. I'll paint the walls with your blood, spell your names with your guts, and I'll rip that sow's soul apart and be f-r-e-e ,yes yes yes. But first thing's f-i-r-s-t..."
there is a moment of silence before the spirit of the murderer emerges from the wall to Eloise's right, grinning madly. He swipes an incorporeal hand at her.
The magus cries out in pain as the touch of the Splatterman seems to pull at her very being. Her breath comes in clouds, and ice forms on her lips, but she manages to resist the brunt of the damage.
Heck's readied sling bullet finds no purchase, however, his surprise throwing the shot wide.
Round 6:
Peredur forgoes drinking the potion and instead takes his held shot at Feramin (cf. post #2190).
To hit with ghost salted arrow: 23
Damage: 4 (add 1 if inspire courage still active, which I believe it is due to lingering performance)
“You can’t kill that woman!” Sour Heck shouts angrily. “She owes me a drink!”
The bard gropes for another sling bullet, but hesitates--the ghost is too close to Eloise for him to get a clear shot. He swallows heavily and licks his lips. “Now, stop me if you’ve heard this one before, Splatterman...” His eyes go wide and focus only on darkness as he croaks out the syllables of the Hideous Laughter, "کتے نے میری کوئی ناک ہے. ناسیکا نہیں ہے وہ بھانپنا کیسے بہت بر ہے!"
Round 6:
Hearing Eloise's cry of pain, Talia dashes to the woman's side and lays a hand upon her shoulder, warmth spilling into the Magus.
Talia smiles, before turning to glare at the evil, undead creature.
Round 6
HP: 20/20
Status:
AC 13 (touch 12, flat-footed 11)
Spells used: lvl 1 1/3, lvl 2: 1/2
Notes: Healing Hex on Eloise)
A cry of pain wrenches itself free of Eloise's lips -- immediately followed by a snarl of rage. Even as the Magus gives way, she chants a simple spell, which causes a ray of golden light to jet from her hand at the vile ghost!
"Mors Mortis!"
Iesha channels to heal.
Status:
Channel Energy: 6/day; 1 remains
Feramin laughs once as Heck's spell seems to take hold, but the grin turns to a grimace.
"Your luck has run out, and your magic is too weak for me, you worthless Sczarni fi-!"
The hysterical insult is cut short. Peredur's arrow, straight and true, flies through the Splatterman's open mouth. The enchantment catches on the ghost's form, and there is an audible ripping sound.
Surprise widens the eyes of the ethereal murderer, and his hands grasp over his mouth.
Feramin glares hatefully at Peredur as his spirit begins to dissipate, hate, terror and rage all burning through his gaze.
Eloise's swing, haphazard as it is, is the finishing touch. The enchanted blade dissipates the dissipating ghost, and Hean Feramin, the Splatterman, the final ghost of the Five, fades away wordlessly into nothing.
"Whew. So the poor fool goes to the Lady of Graves with a curse on his lips. That should really help his chances in the judgement. But, how could he have spells? I thought wizards needed spellbooks and we had his."
“Maybe he heard them whispered from the darkness,” Heck says casually. "Or maybe he has another spellbook hidden down here somewhere."
"Is he really gone? Heck, go check. Maybe he's doing that faking-it trope all the poor ballads go on about..." She grins at the bard, before turning to the rest of the party.
"Should we have a look around, before bringing the happy news to the Lady upstairs?"
Peredur grins mirthlessly as the spirit dissipates. "N. And it's done you're being, now."
"I know a little of Wizards," Eloise says.
The Magus is breathing heavily and leans her hands on her own knees, but her voice sounds almost conversational.
"Some of them learn to memorize a handful of spells so strongly that they can study them from memory, again and again. And of course, the spellbook was still in existence before Talia burned it. Thank you for your help with that, Talia."
After she has regained a bit more self-control, Eloise stands up again and sheathes her blade. "A quick look around won't hurt, methinks. But if any more ghosts come out of the walls, I vote we run."
The ranger nods, shoulders shaking with the release of tension. "Best you not come 'tween me and th' door, were that to happen." He wanders around the Nevermore, peering into anyplace that looks interesting, obviously burning off nervous energy after the fight.
“It’s traditional for the building to collapse now,” Sour Heck says, “Though maybe it’ll wait until we tell our widow upstairs. She’ll know if the Splatterman’s gone, beyond a doubt.”
He raises an eyebrow at Talia. “Faking death to avoid getting killed? That’s a pretty good idea. I might have to try that sometime.”
He directs his dancing lights into every corner of the room, helping with Peredur’s search. “Careful where you put your feet. These slippery stones are the deadliest things I’ve seen in a long time.”
"My pleasure, Eloise. Any time," Talia says with a smile in the lady's direction.
Talia moves to the edge of the Oubliette and looks down. "Should we chance a peek at what may be below? If that's where the wretched man met his end..." She quirks her head to the side before continuing, "I could lower myself down and come back up quickly enough, if we'd like not to spend the time on climbing. I'd as soon not trust the walls to heed Heck's warning about collapse..."
The oubliette is full almost to the brim with murky, dark water.
With no sign of Feramin's body elsewhere in the room, it stands to reason that his remains rest below.
"Did anyone remember to bring a bucket of piranhas with a taste for human bones?" Eloise asks. "No? Then it looks like we're going to be taking a swim."
The Magus squats at the edge of the oubliette and picks up a pebble. A muttered Word of Power and a brief gesture, and the pebble flares with the brightness of neon. Eloise drops it into the water and sees what is to be seen...
Sour Heck sighs. "I suppose drowning would be a slightly less horrible way to die. I won't have you soaking your good dress in this gunk, Talia."
The bard strips off his armor and dips one pale, lanky foot in the murky water. "Brrr. Cold as the Graidmere in spring. Smells less like an infected wound, though. Pass me one of those swimming potions the alchemist traded us...time to find out if they're what she said, or if she didn't expect us to return from the Harrowstone with complaints."
Sour Heck throws back the potion and shudders. "Week-old raw fish. Bleah. Wouldn't want to die with that taste in my mouth...yet here I go." He jumps into the oubliette and swims to where Eloise's pebble illuminates the depths, apparently unconcerned that his hands and feet are now webbed like flippers. He ferries anything he finds below to the surface.
The soggy remains of a skeleton greet Peredur in the depths of the oubliette. Around the base of the bones, three items still glint and gleam, despite the years of filth. A long sword, a ring, and a dagger
Sour Heck bursts from the water, skeleton arms wrapped around his neck. He flounders and thrashes for a moment, gasps, then sinks beneath the surface.
A little while later he reemerges and paddles calmly to the water's edge. He tosses the bones out on the cell's stone floor, then the blades and the ring.
He frowns at whatever confusion he sees on his companions' faces. "What? I had to go back down for the ring. It slipped out of my hands." He heaves himself out of the water and pulls his armor back over his dripping clothes. "Let's be off to somewhere warm, please."
"You'd better change into a spare outfit, if you have one," Eloise says. "You'll catch your death of cold, otherwise."
As an afterthought, the Magus makes a pass over the items Sour Heck brought out and mutters an arcane Word over them.
A keen longsword, +1.
A Ring of Protection, +1
The dagger is non-magical, but is made of mithral, and is of excellent quality.
"Anything for th' laugh, Sour Heck?" Peredur pulls himself back from where he was about to jump into the oubliette, mace in hand. "Time we were away upstairs. Don't worry about him catching his death, Eloise...worry about his death catching him."
Talia chuckles at both Sour Heck's antics, and Peredur's quip.
"Yes, let's high and away upstairs. I'd like to speak to the Lady and finish this. If I never see a prison again, I'll count myself blessed."
Returning to Vesorianna is a brief and simple enough matter. The ghostly woman greets you with hope in her eyes, and a smile on her face.
"It is done, is it not? They have been all brought to heel? You have my husband's badge?"
Peredur smiles at the spirit. "Aye, aye, and aye. Feramin were trouble, he were, but he's put down and we're living yet."
Eloise whistles between her teeth.
"Very nice!" she says. "The ring and the sword are magical, and very useful. The dagger is not magic, but it is of mithral, and exquisitely well-made."
Eloise taps her own wrist for a moment, and then speaks on: "I would suggest either Peredur or Sour Heck take the longsword. It will strike more true than the ones we got from the armoury.
The dagger... Talia? It will serve well enough, even without magic. I notice you don't usually wield a weapon, so this might be a good fit for you.
As for the ring... Any one of us could benefit from it. It holds protective magic. Not a great deal of it, but every little bit helps. I would suggest one of our front-line fighters takes it, so... either Peredur or myself. Then again, perhaps it might be best reserved for one our more vulnerable comrades, and I might as well disqualify myself; I can cast Shield, when I remember to do so."
"It is done," Eloise says, nodding, her eyes slightly distant and her hand playing with the hilt of her black sword. "So. What will you do now?"
Iesha offers up the badge to Vesorianna, and she reaches a tentative hand out to take it.
She seems surprised as any when she can lift the badge, and she grips it tightly in both hands.
"His duties and responsibilities are mine now... Thanks to you. Now I put it to you to find his spirit and give him the rest I go to now..."
As she starts to fade, a cacophony of groaning echoes from deep within the prison.
"I go to meet the Lady, and I bring those lingering here as well, to meet their final judgement." she speaks with a new-found authority, and the building shakes to a crescendo, before falling silent.
"Thank you." she says as she fades from sight.
The warden's badge drops to the ground, the sound of the metal on the bare floor echoing throughout the room.
"Fare you well, Vesorianna, and may th' Lady judge you aright." Peredur traces a spiral on his chest, then bends to pick up the badge. "It's thinking I am that th' search for those who did Petros in will take us to where we can fulfill her charge to us. Come, then. Kendra's likely to be worried for us, and we have much to tell her."
"I'd love it if we could burn this blasted place down to the ground ere we go, but let's leave anyway," Eloise says. "It'll be good to be surrounded by life again, rather than the undead trying to spell us to death."
The half-elf grins, still clearly feeling the effects of released tension. "Look you, it's not so bad as that. Sour Heck had th' Lopper rolling on the floor at his jest, and that's more than we've ever done for him."
Talia chuckles in a release of tension, before turning her gaze on the place where Vesorianna disappeared. "Farewell, Lady. May your spirit rest well." Turning to the others and nodding in agreement, she says, "Yes, let's get back to Kendra with the good news. I expect the town will be pleased that the curse of the prison seems to have been lifted. They will, I am certain, decide what to do with this place. And, I think, a good meal and a night's rest will do us wonders, ere we embark on the next portion of our journey. Which, bless me, my mind is too befuddled to recall right this moment."
Kieli's wings flap and his head bobs up and down in what appears to be mirth. "Oh, hush, you! I'll get you a fish head or something, as you've been most helpful."
"Shall we? I don't believe there is much else we needs do here..."
Sour Heck draws up the bag with the warden and widow’s bones in it. “I can’t think of anything else, Talia. I had hoped we would find more clues about the Professor’s murderer and where to hunt for him. Or her.” He stares critically at the badge lying forgotten on the ground. “I can’t believe after all that work, the widow forgot to take that badge with her.”
“Peredur, you’re right, I haven’t gotten many laughs out of you. Maybe I’ll whisper the Hideous Laughter into your ear one dark night...” The bard waves his hands and grimaces in his best mad necromancer imitation.