Finding nothing, Janos curses and heads out of the room towards the front where everyone else is waiting.
"Maybe he dropped his pocketwatch," Tibideau replies flippantly to Anton.
"I doubt the swamp rat has any watch. But he needs to hurry!" B'yelka's frown speaks more about her frustration than mere words. Suddenly she turns her head away, What am I saying? Name calling? Am I any better than Father? Janos desrves better.
Anton keeps his bow drawn and watches every one of Janos' steps covering him the whole way.
Once the ranger is out he puts the arrow back in his quiver and shuts the doors carefully.
I think I'll have a quiet word with Janos. I won't call him out in front of everyone but he needs to know when enough is enough. He is brave though, there's no doubting that.
Everyone ok? I think there's a few cuts and bruises. Janos' split lip looks a bit nasty but I think we got out of there relatively unscathed. Who knows whats in the upper and lower regions though, the place is altogether evil.
Let's head back to town. There's a lot to ponder here.
Hiding her embarassment, B'yelka replies to Anton, "Of course I am ok, thank you so much for asking. Janos, can you make do with a simple bandage for now?" Returning her attention to Anton the Diva continues, "Upper and lower regions of this hell cannot be any safer; I strongly suggest we do a better job of staying together in the future. Also, we should act less foolishly. Courage is one thing, but I assure you I have desire to be buried anywhere in Ustalav."
Janos comes flying out of the room at nearly a full sprint. His mouth is bloody and his pack is bouncing around. As he crosses the front door, he jumps across the threshold.
He lands awkwardly, but on his feet. "Sorry about that. I just thought the poltergeist might continue to mess with you and I could find out more. But there's nothing in two of those room. Just a stool in each."
Dantrian nods in agreement with Anton as Janos completes his rushed escape. His response to the ranger is more an observation than a question, "Ah. So I was the bait." His tone is dry and mirthless as his expression shifts from one of imperious disdain back to stoically flat. "I trust that we are now finished here for the time being? Or are there more spirits you would like me to distract whilst you open closet doors?" He wipes the blood from his own jaw with the back of his left hand then turns without waiting for an answer and begins walking back to Ravengro.
Janos looks at Dantrian when he hears the odd tone. "What? No, I didn't mean...I knew you could hold it off for a few seconds." He looks around, suddenly realizing all eyes were on him. "I just thought there might be more..." He trails off, hanging his head a bit. "I'm sorry." He spits blood on the ground and moves to follow the Alchemist back to the town.
Dantrian can sometimes be difficult to read but Anton has spent enough time with him to know when something is wrong.
As everyone is walking away, Anton hangs back and casts a long look at the prison.
He watches them move away and then after a few paces, deliberately empties the contents of his quiver onto the path.
Ah Desna take it all! he curses. Then looking up he sees the others watching him begin to pick up his arrows. I can be clumsier than a three legged dog sometimes. Janos, lend a hand?
We'll catch you up.
As the ranger kneels down beside him to help, Anton says;
Dantrians mad at you. Worse, I think he's disappointed. he picks up an arrow and pricks his finger with it to test its sharpness after the fall.
What you did is reckless that's all. We shouldn't be going off alone, especially in that place. The professor knew more about it than any of us, and had more experience and look what happened to him.
He puts his hand on Janos shoulder.
You've got nothing to prove to us, you know that right?
As Janos is jumping across the threshold....
An invisible force grabs his ankle and jerks it straight up. He lands face first with a crunch in the dirt, nose broken.
Janos looks at Anton with a mix of confusion and hurt. "I...I didn't..." He sighs. "I guess you're right. It was foolhardy. The Professor did fall to something there, didn't he? I thought I could find something else. And the spirits in there...I seemed to be able to feel them. Pain and anger. Nothing like what I'm used to hearing in the swamp." He stops abruptly.
He sighs again. "I suppose that calls for an explanation too. I can hear spirits. Could ever since I was a boy. Trust me that doesn' thelp when you're already an outcast. It's nothing firm and rarely helpful. But it's been louder here and more clear. Like I could almost make them out if I tried really hard."
He looks up at Dantrian walking ahead of them. "You think he'll forgive me?"
He's arrogant and dismissive sometimes. But he's not stupid, that's for sure. Trust me, I'm sure a time will come, probably in there, where you'll have his back.
As they trudge along Anton continues;
Spirits? he cocks an eyebrow. When you hear them what do they say?
He thinks for a moment, seemingly deciding whether to speak up further and, in the end, deciding he should.
You seem to think everything that makes you who you are is a weakness, Janos. The fact you're a half elf, you see being raised in a swamp by a witch as making you an outcast and now the spirits.
He listened to the sound of his boots on the road, a great sound, a liberating sound.
when Dros and I were in the orphanage, we used to get up to all sorts. One day, he was trying to get a jar of honey from one of the kitchen shelves. Sweets were only ever a reward but when Drosil had his mind set on it he was going to get that honey one way or another and he knew I'd help him - I love honey. he says with a smile.
Anyway. I managed to snag a small stepladder from the janitor's cupboard and Drosil clambored up while I held it in place. Even then he couldn't quite reach, over-stretched and slipped, landing on top of me in a great heap. I swear, that guy is made of rubber the way he bounces back. I wasn't so fortunate though. Look.
Anton holds up his left arm and shows Janos a disturbing lump of bone at the joint. The ranger hadn't noticed before, but Anton cannot fully straighten his left arm.
I broke my elbow badly. Of course, the orphanage couldn't afford a real doctor or priest so they set it as best they could and that was that. In the months that followed, the bone healed in this odd way, there's a spur of bone in there that grew back against the joint. I was devastated - never thought I'd be able to fire another arrow in my life. One of the last things I have of my father is the knowledge to shoot and then it was gone. he shakes his head.
Slowly he takes his bow from his back, strings it and nocks an arrow. Drawing it he stands in a firing position, his left arm bent slightly in that awkward way.
Archers have to keep a bend in the elbow, Janos. You know that, or else the strain introduces a quiver and the shot can sail a yard wide. The break in my elbow means it is solid. I cannot hyper-extend it and the strain is distributed throughout my whole arm, not just at the joint. I could keep this aim for maybe half an hourr if I needed to and the arrow would still fly true.
He releases the string and watches the arrow sail gracefully back toward the prison. Turning back to Janos he continues;
My point is that sometimes what we perceive as our weaknesses, can sometimes be our greatest strengths. he smiles warmly at the ranger.
Come on, we better catch them up or they'll think we've gone back in for round 2!
Janos walks with Anton. "So my being a half-breed outcast is a good thing? My mother dying and leaving me with a stern Nauczycielka living in the swamp?" He takes a deep breath.
"Petros was the one who figured out what I was hearing was spirits. It's also why I couldn't become a witch. Alicia said no Patron could claim me. I was already claimed. Not that I think I would have really enjoyed being a witch. Wading around in the swamp might not be glamorous, but it beats the constant lessons and potion making she had me doing before. But the spirits have only been whispers before. Sometimes they're distracting, but never harmful or helpful. They just seem...stronger here." He looks back at the old prison. "Though maybe I don't want them to be stronger here."
He glances down at Anton's arm. "Broken, huh? Hurt like the devil, I bet." He considers the arrow shot for a second, then looks at him with a bit of a smirk. "You could be right. If those hadn't happened, I wouldn't know how awful frog stew can be. Or not to pour out a spoiled potion of Enlarge near a gator nest."
Anton detects a hint of sarcasm in Janos but he is ever the optimist.
Exactly! All I'm saying is that we are the sum of our experiences and we can make of that whatever we choose. For me, Desna shows hundreds of paths every day. The one I choose to walk down is up to me.
Those spirits must be trying to communicate for some reason. Maybe that planchette will help us. Well, help you anyway.
The walk back to Kendra's is relatively short, and uneventful. When you all come streaming into the living room she sits up expectantly from where she'd been waiting on the couch. "Thank the gods, you have all returned. What news? How did you fare in Harrowstone?"
"It's definitely haunted. There are all manner of spirits tied to the place. A few of them we were able to destroy or release, depending on your viewpoint. Others have proven more stubborn. We did find some of the prison's supplies though."
Janos pulls out the bloody handaxe and several of the other prisoner items. "Oh and these too. They belonged to some of the prisoners. Still not sure what we should do with them."
Dantrian nods at Janos' telling, "And there yet remains much of the structure for us to explore. We had nearly finished the ground floor when our investigation was stymied by one particularly elusive spirit, identified by Mister LeClerc as a poltergeist." He casts Janos a brief but dark glance out of the corner of his eye before producing the recovered spellbook. "And in addition to those items we also found this, a book once the property of the murderer known colloquially as 'The Splatterman'. Perhaps I can glean something useful from its pages before we return to the derelict prison tomorrow."
"I don't think a simple word like haunted quite covers what is going on in Harrowstone. Madness Manifest; Malleus Malificient. It seems the dead inmates want us to join them. Dear Tibideau lost his coat and most of his shirt to a, if you can believe this, a furnace spitting it's anger from across the room." B'yelka delivers the words with all of her presence, assuring her audience that it was all too real, and more horrifying than one could imagine. "Kendra, we also found some arcane works written around the base of the prison's foundation. It seemed to be a mix of necormancy and other aspects of the dark arts!"[/b] With a smirk, she addds, "And it seems Mister Almaeus wants extra home work. He brought reams of records here with him."
B'yelka turns to Anton, "Do you think we should talk with the old priest about our findings?"
Dantrian assumes a dry, corrective tone as he repsonds to his former pupil, "Your penchant for exaggerating not withstanding, B'yelka, I have but one book. A book which somehow bears my name, written in what appears to blood, upon the inside cover."
Chagrined at Dantrian's correction, B'yelka offers up a wan smile and spreads her hands as if there is nothing else she could have done.
He notes Dantrian's reaction to his former pupil and seeks to deflect away from the tension.
It can't hurt to speak to the Father. I don't know if he can tell us any more than we already know but we can get more supplies from the church, holy water seemed to be particularly effective. He might be able to give us some tips on dealing with that poltergeist though.
I'd also like to ask around to see if anything else has happened in town today. Things seemed to be escalating before we went to the prison.
Tibideau giggles at B'yelka's gesture to Dantrian. He spread his hands too in affectionate mimicry, but follows the gesture with another, pointing to his exposed upper body. "Yes, Kendra, it seems I will require another coat. Though I'd love to go on a shopping spree, we have neither the time nor the funds." He gives Kendra a once-over, then glances down at his own frame. "We seem about the same size. May I borrow a coat if you have one to spare, for the time being?" It's not as if this will be the first time I've worn women's clothing!
"Of course Mr. LeClerc, I'd be happy to let you have something of my father's. I'm afraid I only own a couple of dresses and a cloak myself. You can go look through his closet and pick out anything you'd like."
Dantrian pauses for a moment after he opens the recovered spellbook, a look of discomfort washing over his normally stoic face. "This... is rather unsettling to say the least. It appears my name is not just written within the cover, but upon every single page I turn to as well. If it truly was this 'Splatterman's' habit to write his victims' names in blood prior to their deaths, then I believe he has been preparing for mine for quite some time. Here, see for yourself." He extends the book gingerly to anyone interested.
In a whisper,
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'"
When B'yelka finishes the verse she stops, her silence lending an ominous tone to the foreshadowing in an old poem and to the new threat before Dantrian.
Tibideau looks slightly relieved that he won't have to wear Kendra's coat after all. "Thank you so much! Who could have thought I'd be raiding Professor Petros Lorrimor's closet?" And wearing a zombie's clothes! Scandalous!
He heads upstairs and pokes around in the bedrooms until he finds the closet. He sighs when he sees the bland options, but manages to find a suitable coat. Then, he goes to his room and takes out his shaving kit. Pouting, he uses his scissors to cut off the singed ends of his braids and tosses them uselessly to the floor. He gives himself a low ponytail and returns downstairs shortly after with a new look.
"Well, I can go about town and visit the shops to see what sort of supplies we can get. Let me know what you may need for supplies or for making potions, Dantrian. I'll also be happy to see if the stores will buy anything from us. I may not tell them it comes from Harrowstone, though."
Anton makes his way toward the church, making sure to say hello to several people he sees on the way.
Once he gets there he quietly puts his head around the door to make sure the Father isn't in the middle of a service and, upon seeing that all is quiet, enters.
Father Grimburrow? he calls.
He likes the sound of his voice echoing off the old walls. He had to admit there was a majesty to these old buildings that the roadside shrines to Desna lacked but, having said that, how can it compare to having the horizon as your pulpit?
He waits patiently for the Father.
Tibideau will accompany Anton to the church.
"If you are going to go to church, then I will go with Janos to see what we can find." B'yelka smiles at Janos, and continues, Nothing too shocking, I think.
Drosil accompanies Anton to visit Father Grimburrow, but stays fairly quiet while walking to the temple. Had I known what we were going to face in there, I'd have tried to better prepare. Still, even now, how can I prepare for this? Haunts, poltergeists, and all manner of other things I can't fight, much less explain...
Temple of Pharasma
An acolyte runs off at Anton's call and after a few moments the elderly cleric comes hobbling into view. "Yes sonny, what can I do for you?"
Anton gives a full account of the events so far.
Janos has a look of surprise when B'yelka offers to join him. Me? She's coming with me? Oh this will go well...
"Ah, somehow, I doubt Ravengro will have anything shocking, B'yelka. Unless you mean ragged and worn."
The diva smiles brightly at Janos and answers, "Then your first lesson in presenting your self is to understand that your attitude about your clothes will tell everyone around you who you think you are. The way you wear your clothes tells everyone of your value as a person. Ragged or no, if you present you will be respected. Good clothing just makes that easier to do."
B'yelka takes some time to freshen up before leaving. She fixes her hair, straightens her ill fitting, shirt and trousers to accent her form and then waits for Janos in the front room. When he arrives, she says, "Your second lesson in presentation is that you are always exactly where you mean to be, and you can never look lost." Seeing Janos' face, she smiles again and tells him, "You will look marvelous escorting me to the stores. You are certainly a cut above the peasants in this village. Remember that." Silently she continues in thought, I hope you do try to stand straight and not hunch your back like you are lurking
Temple
"Sounds like you're doing your jobs. I repeat, what can I do for ya?" Grimburrow says after hearing Anton's account of their expedition so far.
Janos' eyebrows raise as B'yelka delivers her advice. It seems everyone has a high opinion of me. But she may have a point. She does know how to captivate an audience.
He reluctantly nods at her lessons. "Well, now those seem right, though I'll need practice, I suppose. In my world, you gain more by being out of sight most of the time." He smiles at her with some false bravado. "But, while escorting you, I'll make every attempt to look the part. Perhaps, uh, you can help me find a new cloak too. And I'd like to visit their blacksmith as well."
With a curtsy, "Of course, m'Lord" The diva winks, letting Janos know that she is setting into a role. "We can visit the tailor and then the blacksmith. What are you looking for at the smithy?" She waits, an amused expression on her face, I hope I am not overdoing the vapid noblewoman.
Janos extends his arm like he has seen others do before. While still uncertain of himself, B'yelka's confidence is infectious and the half-elf finds himself smiling. With her there, it's likely no one will even take a second glance at me.
"Excellent idea. I believe Tibideau wanted us to ask about scrolls as well. At the smithy, I mostly want to see their inventory. Some new armor might do well, though against most of what we've seen in Harrowstone, armor isn't really of much use."
He opens the door. "Shall we?" They begin making their way across the town to find some new clothing.