I listened to Marsh try to make nice. He had time to cool off. Maybe realized a few things. I don't know. I wasn't sure how much of it I bought but I believed he tried to do right by the students. I nodded my thanks but kept my mouth shut. I didn't trust myself not to make the situation worse again. The True Spark willing, those kid were already on their way to a better place.
- - - -
The road north is much the same as what came before- a long march sandwiched between the Churlwood to the west and the Lampblack River to the east. As the day goes on and the distance to Ravenmoor grows shorter and shorter, the Churlwood begins to slowly peel away and the Lampblack curves eastward. This does not, however, prove to be welcome, as just because you have left the Churlwood's bandit-infested expanse behind does not mean the rest of the trip will be smooth sailing. The path becomes hillier for a short time, and soon you find that the earth begins to soften and grow muddy in patches. The neaby foliage appears soggy and degenerate, and hanging moss and thick, greasy vines dangle from branches and form bridges between the trees.
Worse, despite being farther north than ever, the air here has become thick with heat and moisture. Mosquitoes flit about, biting at your necks from time to time. Even the Lampblack Trail itself begins to become overrun with muck, which sucks diligently at your boots with every step.
Eventually, as night begins to fall, you see a fork in the road ahead. An old, withered signpost juts up out of the greenery, signaling that the Lampblack Trail continues on northward. A wooden board jutting off to the east bears the word "Ravenmoor" with an arrow indicating that direction. The trail branching off that way looks to be in a fairly sorry state, patches of tall grass poking up through the pathway at irregular invervals. You press on down this trail for a while, moving onward for another hour before the sun completely sets and night washes over you. There are clouds overhead, but through the occasional gap in their cover, you can see that the moon is nearly full.
"Great, perfect weather and timin for mosquitos and were-creatures. What? Don't look at me like that. Wolf's Ear usta be the main place for those afflicted to live. They got moved out a while back. Maybe they came here. Had to move someplace. kinda like lepers."
Marsh slaps the back of his neck.
"Damn it Sebastian, you shoulda invested in a couple of traveler caravans with all that money. Woulda been nice to not have to sleep in the muck and hard wooden walls around you feels a lot safer than canvas."
He swats the buzzing insects away from his ears.
"<<<Sigh>>> Well, where do you wanna pitch our tents? . . . Oh and what are we gonna tell the towns people about the drake?"
Calwen raises an eyebrow as Dramin speaks of a 'cult of old'. It can't really be that old, she thinks, but then humans probably have a different perspective on what is old and what is not.
She takes the two bundles with money without comment; that Bacarov did not take a share eludes her, she did not pay much attention to what the total was anyway. Supporting the families of the victims may be a good idea once all of this is over, but first they must finish it and money can be helpful at that.
“That cult is not known to me. I doubt there is much more we can conclude from what we know without our reasoning becoming all too inductive. There was no flayleaf or blue whinnis poison among possessions of the bandits. It did not seem exactly like Armand's death, but it is possible that there were organs taken from him as well. I am afraid I am not sure whether that was the work of the same cult, but it certainly was the work of some cult as well. It did not occur to me that Brackenwell was somehow connected to stirges, though. I wish I knew a way to”... she paused for two heartbeats, and even though her face remained calm and her eyes moved patiently, it was clear how little trust in her environment she had. “... to communicate what we have come to learn and guess on that matter before we enter the village.” She did not want to put further emphasize on it, but she was afraid that what she learned from the humans as well as their findings at the estuary might get lost if was killed after visiting Ravenmoor. That their little group failed was possible, so there better was someone who knew what happened if they did.
----
She smiles as Marsh asks what they are going to say about the drake. “We tell them the truth: he needs our help and is a friend. I am sure they will have objections, but I am also quite sure that they will consider carefully if and how they vocalize them.” She could not help herself. She was fond of Dio and everyone who tried to harm him would have to face the unveiled wrath of a knight of the White Rose and a river drake. She certainly did not want to hide him, that would only raise the impression that she was ashamed for him, which she was not. He was what he was, and what he was needed no excuses. Of course he still was a river drake and the temptation to succumb to evil would be great in him. Watching over him would be a tough task, but failure was not an option.
She looks around and considers the environment. “I need to go hunting again. Now that we have a net it might be easier to catch some fish as well. I would like to talk this through with Dio, though, he could be of outstanding help if he is well enough for it. Dramin, could you teach me a few words Draconic and help us agree on signs, so we can coordinate while hunting?” She gestured too him, tried to ask him whether he wanted more food and how his wounds were, primarily with gestures, but also with what few draconic words she heard through.
EDIT: Striked rubbish
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"Travel caravans? And I suppose a team of mules would be needed to get them thru the mud." Sebastian chuckles. "Dont worry, thats why I bought us mosquito nets."
(boom)
Bacarov gestures to a spot off the trail. "This looks good. I'm spying some spider webs so hopefully the blood suckers will he discouraged. And Vinnie," He grins towards the big man. "Let's you n' me take a watch together this time. Alone in liable to come back with a unicorn or an owlbear...heh heh."
On the topic of Dionysus, he shrugs. "They've got giant bugs for pets and call it normal."
"Eh, I woulda gone with some oxen, they're better eatin when things go to shit."
Bacarov, with a stroke of inspiration, is able to fashion a very fine campsite in the little clearing off the trail, even doing a little rearranging with the shrubbery so that the tents are nearly invisible to the naked eye if anyone were to pass. While setting up the campsite, Bacarov notes what appears to be a wooden shack a little ways away, deeper into the foliage- perhaps a few hundred yards from the campsite.
Calwen, meanwhile, goes hunting to find some fresh game for Dio (and, perhaps, the rest of the party). Dio at one point rushes off into the brush, returning a few moments later with a rather large cane rat, which it happily tears into. It seems well enough to hunt for its own food now. While the net is hardly meant for fishing, with Dio rounding up the fish and driving them toward her, Calwen regardless is able to wade out knee-deep into the water and snatch up a few passing fishies using it. The fish are brown and slimy-looking, but meaty enough.
Dramin sees the tent setup and grins. I knew what I was getting into. No matter it will suffice for magic. He goes toward one of the canvases and puts his stuff down inside.
"Calwen, I would do my best to teach you but it is not an easy language to grasp; if you have some time later feel free to stop inside." He doesn't really notice the implication of a comment like that and he just continues, "However if you see a small light from the tent, do not disturb me though, I would need my alone time for study."
In Draconic to Dio
"Find a place anywhere friend, we shall find those monsters soon."
Before he retires, Dramin speaks up to Marsh and Bacarov.
"Those marks we saw before and the text, I forgot to explain what they may have been." His talk drops down to a lower whisper.
@Marsh and Bacarov
He turns pensive for a moment, his head debating whether or not to continue. After a small hesitation, he continues.
"As for that book. The Whispers were mentioned everywhere, and I mean everywhere. It was if they were written between the lines themselves. Every way possible, every manner and permutation.This is not a normal book or phrase and I recommend we do not speak it out loud in future." His brows furrow, "If there are more texts, give them to me. There is no need for many of us to risk such a thing."
He waves his hand to fake dismissing a spell and keeps onward.
"I have much to get done. You will find me in the tent there studying and writing."
On his way over he decides to survey the scene for anything that can act as a good ink for a spellbook.
He turns to go search near the drake instead on a whim.
He believes he finds some stuff to help him scribe but he does not know for sure. He adds the foliage, webs and muck berries to his pouch and goes toward his tent to study and write.
"Oh, don't worry, a few basic will do. 'Game', 'Fish', 'Enemy', 'Flee', 'Danger', 'Tasty', 'fresh water' ... we shall communicate using gestures first and foremost. I think it should be easy finding out the numbers directly from him as far as he can count."
She sighs as she sits down by the fire. This time she left building the camp to the others. "Here, I think we have enough for Dio." She smiles to him, careful to not show teeth so she will not be misunderstood and caresses his neck. "He is a natural born hunter and works well in a team. I have a big fish, elder, hazel nuts and a few porcinis for us. I get it prepared."
She feels a little guilty for hunting an excess of food. It's disgraceful to kill more prey than one may consume. But she wants to avoid ending up with too little food to feed their dragon. Whether she likes it or not she will have to do a lot of hunting in future.
As she starts preparing the fish she pays great attention whether it is somehow affected by the environment. And she looks to Dio every now and then to see whether there is anything he doesn't like to eat.
"Warshawski, would you like to hold a watch with me tonight?"
We'd been out of Magnimar for only a few days and we'd already visited two towns, discovered a poaching/organ harvesting plot as well as multiple murders and picked up a drake as a mascot.
"Watch, yeah. We should do it in pairs. I need time under the moon at some point with you looking the other way. I'm not trying to be an ass about things but my religious devotions require some privacy. But beyond that, sure. I'd like that."
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Bacarov listens to Dramin carefully, thankful for the magical expertise. It's been too long since I've had Phedron's crazy theories bending my ear. But for what this kid says is true, he just offered up some good advice.
..
"Let's do this, buddy system for the watches...buddy system for reading this infernal book. For now, get your spell set worked out, Marsh can keep an eye in the book for now." Bacarov grins and stretches his back. Gods he could use a rest! "When it comes time to research the Professor's scribbles, you have either Marsh or me with you. But as babysitters, more like a safety net. We've some experience with how the words of a page can twist the mind of even the most powerful."
He looks wistfully at his tent then over at Marsh hen back to the young knowledge seeker. "Good work, Dramin."
He turns to prepare for some rest, but the shack in the distance looms with it's shadowed bulk. Over at Marsh, "I hate having unknown quantities lurking around. Makes sleep difficult. Should we give it a look?"
Marsh watches Dramin while he answers Bacarov.
"Yeah, let's take a look. Best not to get seen sneakin up to it. I'll walk up nice and neighbor like an knock. If no ones home then I'll peak inside. If it looks abandoned, I'll go inside and snoop around."
Vinnie carefully searches the inside.
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Bacarov strings has shortbow and slips to the edge of the clearing leading to the shack, staying tucked away in cover to keep an eye on his friend's back.
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The two of you patrol the perimeter of the shack and explore it as thoroughly as you can- not difficult, considering it is only a single empty room and a musty cupboard. Aside from a few spiders, there is not a thing to be found in the old shack. Examining the state of the place, it doesn't look like a soul has stepped foot in this shack in a long time.
"F@@$ sleepin in a tent. This place is a lot safer. We need to make sure there aren't any other nearby residences. How far outta town are we?"
Marsh checks the strength of the walls.
"So what's the game plan anyway? We walk into town with our ragtag fugitive fleet of mismatched merry persons an a man satin drake an say---Yo where's the tax money at? Oh-an uh, you seen our missin ginger!?"
"Heh heh, I mean come on Sebastian it's gonna be awkward."
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Bacarov finds a reason strong crate to park his rear end and begins fixing his pipe for smoking. At the point he readies to strike the spark he glances up long enough to ensure Marsh has averted his eyes. Then he closes his eyes to strike the tender alight, the better to preserve the night vision.
He puffs the tobacco to life and passes it to Vinnie for sharing. They both had a love for the halfling leaf grown south of the city. And this batch is among the best.
"To be honest, chumeroo, this whole business went east of comfort yesterday. Now possibilities?" He scratches at the stubble on his chin. "Have Calwen and Dalton outside the village along with our new friend Dio. They observe Ravenmoor at a distance and watch comings and goings. If there's cult activity, chances are the crazies take their business out of town and activity reward from prying eyes." He takes the pipe back. "You, me, Warshawski and Dramin, we go into town and stay official. 'Good afternoon, we've been dispatched by Magnimar to collect on taxes, may we speak to the mayor and conclude our business.'."
He glances at the surrounding shack and how the softly burning embers cast whisps of shadow. It makes him think of the spirits Warshawski sees. He shakes his head and continues. "I say we don't make a single mention of Elias. We let them bring it up."
He looks Marsh's way. "What do you think?"
"<<<inhales>>> Damn! That's some good shit. Where'd you pick up that weed? <<<exhales>>>"
Marsh passes the pipe back to it's owner.
"That plan sounds as good as any."
"You know it ain't gonna go smooth right?"
"You know what's flippin weird the government hasn't even bothered with findin out about this blight thing? Gotta love it, the beards sittin pretty up in the tax countin house want their 50gp a year, will spend a couple hundred to get it, but the towns on its own to fend for itself."
"What does Ravenmoor get out of the deal?"
"It's a cool name for a town though. Sounds like a small town outta one of those novelettes your mom reads. Like ah . . . A settin for a crime drama or horror story or somethin."
"I guess we get to be the main characters in this game. Set upon by powers beyond our control, like pawns in a greater universe bein played and manipulated by bein's beyond our comprehension. In turn those bein's dance as part of the twisted dreams of a slumbering creature known as Chudthulu! Our fortunes cast by the toss of a dice roller or some shit."
"<<<cough>>> Damn, what's in that shit? That pipe weed is makin me freak out."
"You pick up any snacks in Wolfs Ear? I'm gettin kinda peckish."
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Bacarov laughs. "Vinnie, you're the only guy I know who gets this way from tobacco." He stands from the crate and heads for the door. "It's a wonder you can drink without seeing pink elephants."
Outside the world is humid and threatens to gag him with the uncertainty of the road ahead. But he's got a job to do and Abadar has seen fit to give Bacarov a set of cards no gambler in their right mind would play.
"Let's see it thru the night, see if we can greet the dawn. Then let's run the plan by the others."
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Bacarov sees to prepping the food stuffs as to be palatable, thankful for the elf's efforts to provide food for Dionysus. When the drake catches his eye, the Inspector sees the sated belly and smiles. "You'll have to learn to hunt, my friend. But I'm glad you're alright. It didn't look too good for either of us when we found each other."
With food prep done he drifts over to his gear and opens his vihuela case. At the least, the previous day's activities had not seen it damaged. He plucks idly at the strings until the others are fully roused for the day.
"He had 3 whole coppers
A worn out horse
And a wife who was
Leaving for good
LIfe's made of trouble
Worry pain and struggle
She wrote good bye in
The dust on the mantle
They found a map of the 'Cleft
Lipstick on the mug
They must of left
In the middle of the night"
"And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How’s it going to end?"
"The barn leaned over
The vultures dried their wings
The moon climbed up an empty sky
The sun sank down behind the tree
On the hill
There's a killer and he's coming
Thru the rye
But maybe he's the father
Of that lost little girl
It's hard to tell in this light"
"And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How’s it going to end?"
"I need to get impressions and suggestions on a plan I've got," Bacarov says as he lowers the vihuela into its case. "With a town full of unkindness towards strangers, it might not be best to show up as we are...and with our latest party member to boot." He knuckles a salute towards the drake. "All things being equal and seeking all of your input, here's what I've got so far; Vinnie, Warshawski, Dramin and myself go into Ravenmoor. Our job is to be the officials. Warshawski n' I are the badges, Vinnie is our armsman, and Dramin is our magical support. I can walk you thru the official jargon, Dramin. Vinnie's already been on the job so he can make the tunic fit again."
Over to Calwen and Dalton, "You two and Dionysus set up shop outside of town. The more inconspicuous the better. If there's cult activity down by the bayou, they most likely will take their business out of town. You three will be in a good position to monitor the comings and goings for the townfolk. If you're found, you tell them you're with us, setting up camp outside town because we knew they didn't like visitors."
"Those of us going in, we make nice with friendly official business and seek an audience with the mayor." Bacarov works his left hand knuckles "My twist on the tale? We don't even mention Elias for the time being. We're there for the taxes. Somewhere along the way, if these guys disappeared the red-headed idiot, maybe they slip up." He shrugs as if to say, 'maybe they don't.' "But we'll have two inspectors, an old copper with an eye for human nature, and a spell-slinger with eyes wide open. On the outside, we've got an elven knight who knows the wilds, a capable monk with a patient mind, and a bloody river drake with keen senses."
He sits down next to his pack and pulls out his vihuela again, this time to wipe down the wood and the strings. Bacarov looks to all present. "This is where we work as a team. What can we change in the plan. What works, what doesn't? Help me make it better."
- - - -
The incident comes during the sleep, as it happens.
You are in the woods. No idea where exactly- some dead, black forest, cracked and naked branches reaching out at bizarre angles.
Something buzzes around you- some kind of insect, but they move too quickly for you to make out their features. The effect of them flying about you is disorienting, leaving you unable to move.
In the clearing ahead of you, you can see a humanoid figure- a woman, with pale skin and long, black hair. Naked, she dances among the blackened trees, slowly drawing nearer to you.
"Seven days and seven nights," she says, her cool voice cutting through the buzzing din of the insects as if she were whispering in your ear. "Come and lay with me, boy. I will open your mind. You will hear the whispers... you will know the way." She draws closer, and you see that she is beautiful- an elf, superficially similar in appearance to Calwen, but with deep, black eyes. She smiles sweetly and reaches out to embrace you.
You awaken sometime later, well-rested but curiously sore. Either side of your neck stings.
- - - -
With that task completed, you begin to consort with the spirits on the mysterious book that once belonged to the late Professor. The wandering souls seem reluctant to gather at first, but finally, you feel as if they are ready to talk. One particular specter approaches and cautiously speaks:
The book... the words written within it were never meant for the eyes of men. They crack minds open and let dark things crawl inside.
The hands that carried that book were no doubt stained with blood. And the hands before those, as well. No good can come of keeping that abomination. You should throw it into the river and be rid of it before it drives you all mad.
And believe me, there is enough in this world already capable of doing that. The book must be destroyed, spirit-speaker, or I fear some terrible shadow will fall over you and your companions.
- - - -
The sun rises more or less uneventfully, the mosquito nets purchased in Galduria protecting you from the ravenous bugs- who have helpfully waited until you leave your tents to greet you. As you all prepare for the final leg of your journey to Ravenmoor, Bacarov gathers the entire party and begins to speak of his plans.
If you leave soon, you will arrive in Ravenmoor about an hour before noon. The weather is every bit as uncomfortably warm as yesterday, partly cloudy, and seems to be holding steady.
Let's say I've had better evenings. I'm just glad Marsh was asleep and not able to make a crack about my dancing and mud. The visit with the spirits after made the rest of the evening... well, let's just say I had interesting dreams.
In the morning I munched on breakfast and listened to Bacarov's song. Then his plan. It was a solid plan. All except one point.
"First, we destroy the book." I took my time saying each and every word. Making sure everyone heard.
"I spoke to spirits last night. Learned a bit about it. The words in that book break mortal minds open. Crawl inside like earworms until they hatch murder and insanity. Just having the book is like handing an addict a packet of refined pesh. They might say they won't smoke it but how long before they're blissed out of their minds? We're all addicts and we don't even know it. We need to destroy the book. NOW."
Dalton nods to Bacarov's plan. "I will wait outside town with Calwen. Hopefully you will not have need of me while inside Ravenmoor. If something goes wrong while you are there, how will Calwen and I know?"
When Warshawski comments on the book, Dalton's face is a picture of disgust. "Such an artifact does not need to exist. If you wish, I will aid you in destroying it. It can be destroyed conventionally, yes?" Dalton had heard stories of artifacts that resisted blades and blunt impacts.
Dramin awoke to write whatever he could down before his knowledge left him, leaving the tent in time to only the tail end of the conversation. Coming out hearing Warshawski talk about the book had him recollect what had happened during the night and think on it before he stepped into the limelight. She is correct of course. Though I doubt such an artifact can be struck so easily. Perhaps if I can get a hold of it I can figure out a way---
He blinked a few times.
And again.
And again.
This is foolish.
Dramin heard the voice again echoing, "Seven days and seven nights", though there was a single one that pierced through it suddenly before getting dropped out, he wasn't able to focus on who it was but it was a faint glimmer.
He strode out and toward them all.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible." His face gave a wry smile. "That book is definitely evil, but I doubt its destruction would come from any mortal means." He takes out his papers and hands them to Marsh, "I keep track of this journey for my research, and as we discussed yesterday I will maintain my part in this all. I request them back when you and Bacarov are done. Though unfortunately they are in my shorthand so..." He takes them back swiftly and grins, perhaps trying to lighten the mood however he can.
"Though enough games." His voice gets extremely grim. "I wanted to confirm what I saw last night was more than just mad hallucination, and Warshawski solidifies my suspicions. I had a dream last night, and this is not my usual foreseeing. This was something much more sinister. He doesn't realize it, but he unconsciously backs away from Calwen as he paces.
"There was this... lady; though I doubt she was anything close to and she kept trying to draw me in while these bugs flew about. This bugs in a corrupted, dead forest." His eyes close as he tries to envision what he saw, his hand twitching slightly at the memory. "But that was not the important part. She mentioned the phrase. That same phrase that was written in the book." He avoids making eye contact with Marsh and emphasizes the fact the did not mention the phrase about the whispers.
"Though, knowledge and madness is a double edged blade." He smiles. "Unnatural or not, outsider or demon, she was foolish and gave me more than she intended." He slowly opens his eyes again. "She mentioned that there was seven days and seven nights. Perhaps that is the time I have left, or the time she requires; but regardless we have a clock it seems."
What seems like moments later he speaks to Bacarov. "I also have this pain on my neck, far too similar in location to that depiction. Before we go I would like you to examine it, at the very least I can get some information for myself."
He nods and stays quiet for a little more.
As Dramin emerges from the tent and says his piece, the marks on his neck are plain to see. It looks very much as if he has experienced a night of passionate loving; even the depression of tooth marks on his reddened neck are visible. These are far more fresh than those seen on the gnome before; bright red, vivid. You can almost see the shape of the lips.
As you attempt to understand the nature of the being from your dream, you reflect on some of the creatures from your studies: demons, devils, and fiends of all sort, from succubi to pairaka to night hags. The fact that you appear to have been physically affected by this invasion of your dreamscape leads you to lean toward the lattermost of those, though the woman in your vision was certainly no hag.
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Bacarov listens intently to the group. Dalton makes an excellent suggestion; communication will be key. And without a messenger of some sort... He glances Warshawski's way... I wonder what sort of 'bargain' she can strike with spirits? She's no hedge-witch...but I wonder...
But his thought process is interrupted as she speaks on just what the spirits thought of Nettleby's journal. Yeah, we're going to have to destroy this thing sooner than I'd thought...
Then Dramin alerts them to a new level of concern. Bacarov lays his instrument aside and grabs up his healer's kit. "Let's have a look kid," he pulls a few options from the pouch; a poultice, some soothing balm, and most importantly, a gift from his mother he'd received weeks before. The metal vial, engraved with the Scales of Abadar, would be the most important test.
First he attempts to ascertain the markings on his neck. His first thought when he sees the teeth is of the Rook. Though the underworld fixer made every effort to downplay his heritage, Bacarov had been forced to seek his counsel in the past. A murder in the Dockaways where the victim had been attacked, bite marks upon the neck, blood drained. Bacarov shakes his head loose of the memory and goes back to Dramin. He focuses his abilities and runs down the list of things he knows...
Okay, what sort of bite am I dealing with? Is he right, could this be a succubus? Or is it vampiric in nature?
His hands press along the edges of the wound...checking the puncture marks carefully.
Is it a sign of poisoning? Something being inserted? Or is it draining?
He thinks on what it could mean, the connection to the journal. Could it be this creature has bonded Dramin to the book? If they destroy it, do they harm him as well?
"Dramin, I need your permission for this last part," Bacarov holds up the vial with the sigil of the Scales of Abadar. "This is holy water. I'd like to apply as dab to your neck to see if there's any sort of reaction. To be honest, I seek to discern if this is arcane or does it smack of an unholy influence."
》Cast Detect Magic to aid in the Investigation
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"It seems to be a physical affliction, not just something in a dream. It makes me wonder what had manifested, or where I had went that night. If I may make a suggestion, if someone wishes to observe me at night it would be appreciated; though I fear we can't slow down now that I have heard the seven day warning."
He tilts his head to Bacarov, "Nothing to stop the pursuit of knowledge friend. Go on, I don't see anything wrong with your blessing or method. My back also should be looked at if you do not mind, I feel like I had been raked by a large cat." His tone is nonchalant now and less grim, it is apparent he is taking interest in the whole process.
"A lot of nasty things can operate through dreams." I said as I watched Bacarov go through the steps, being as methodical in his medicine as he was in his investigations. "Make sure nothing laid any eggs in those bites."
I had a brief vision of giant bugs bursting out from Dramin's flesh. Suddenly my breakfast wasn't sitting so well in my stomach anymore.
While Bacarov tried his medical tests, I worked from a more spiritual side of things. I whispered to the spirits and let them whisper back to me, staring at Dramin's neck with the intensity of a starving mountain lion watching a rabbit.
"Well shit, I for one slept like a friggin baby in a swing last night."
"I'll get a fire goin."
"Was this chick hot at least? Exotic lookin? Come on we need some details here.---You know for investigative purposes."
Dramin sighs and rolls his eyes at Marsh. He closes his eyes to get a better sense of the image in his head.
"She looked like an elf, no different than Calwen though she oozed much more sexuality. Eyes as black and as empty as night and void itself." He coughs for a moment, "Completely without any clothing. Skin pale as porcelain and ivory."
He lets his eyes linger for a second longer than the description lasts then shakes his head.
"Make what you will of it. It could be anything from a succubi, pairaka or even a night hag or something much worse. It was probably using another face or form though, makes it difficult to pin down."
"I am... highly uncomfortable with destroying a book." she looks suspiciously at the bound item as though she fears it might take a jump on her. "Destroying knowledge and thoughts of another, no matter how dark and misguided, is an act of deliberate ignorance. It is easy to destroy what one does not like to hear, but to judge a thought unworthy of existence is subject to once own bias and it strips one of the chance to understand one's opponent. However, the danger that comes from this book may go beyond the sentiment of the words inside it itself." She sighs. If she had that option she would prefer to hand it over to an angel, for she fears that a mere mortal's mind may be too vulnerable to handle something that sprang from the mind of a creature that may have existed for eons, if not since the beginning of time.
"Regarding the plan... I am not particularly comfortable with being left on the outside, either. I would very much prefer to have an own impression of Andretti Kriegler. My order does have an interest in what transpires around this village and I am the only one who may represent it." She ponders for a moment. "I will go with the plan for now. My own intentions must not be disclosed at this point, if they have not already been. Be careful. You might very well be walking into a trap. Do not hesitate to signal us if you feel threatened. And don't trust Kriegler."
Before she readied Windmane she took a closer look at the webbing Bacarov mentioned the night before. She is carefully not to touch it or set it into vibration in any way, but she compares it with the sample she took from the webbing in which she found Armand. She compares it to the webbing in which she found Armand. Should Dio follow her she gestures to him to stay a bit behind. "Danger" she says in Draconic pointing at it.
She is a bit surprised when she sees Dramin's strange mark, but does not bother him beyond giving him an asking look. This may be a threat, but as an elf she is fiercely aware of another one's privacy.
"Marsh stepped in during that fight with an amazing spirit. Had he fought with any less spirit, with any less heat he would most certainly be dead, and the outcome of the fight might have been entirely different. That is the dark side of what heroism is about, the side that will consume us if we loose whatever compassion we have, but also the side that keeps heroes alive. What happens, once blade's are crossed is not murder. I will not glorify the choice he made, he caused the death of another and that, in itself, is not heroic at all and averse the very principles of what I believe in, the teachings of your deity, Shelyn, who never looses faith in the redemption of Zon Kuthon himself. But it was his choice to make, as far as I am concerned. Pray for him that he will not loose his compassion for his enemies."
She says and adds a curious, if weary smile to the amazing human woman. "I realize that you will likely not share my view, but I would ask you to think about it, as will I think about yours." She makes a gesture inviting her to respond and gives Dio and Windmane a brief glance to see whether they noticed anything in the environment.
"Pale skin, so, so..." She shook her head. "Spiders are usually connected to dark elves, and they are most sensual in their often wicked ways.... but they are not usually pale."
She nods carefully. "While this is none of my business I strongly recommend following Warshawski's suggestion. This may be tied to what we know about Armand's death; or it may have nothing to do with it all, just the circumstances of how I found him were not easy to forget. Dio noticed that Brackenweld was sick..." she glances over to the drake and watches how he reacts to Dramin.
Even though she acknowledges the notion that the woman was more attractive, and more actively so, than Calwen was herself with an awkward grin, she seems rather amused than offended.
Bacarov dabs a bit of the holy water with a handkerchief then applies it to Dramin's neck.
I just hope I'm wrong...
He glances briefly over his shoulder but Warshawski is already ahead of his thought process. She's got the thousand yard stare she gets when in communion.
Dalton looks revolted when Warshawski mentions eggs in wounds, for a moment, before he regains his normally smooth composure.
The holy water- perhaps thankfully- seems to have no effect on the wound. At least it's not vampiric in nature. The bites do not seem to have pierced the skin so much as pinched or sucked enough to burst some blood vessels beneath it. And, on further review, it does not appear that anything- eggs, for instance- has been inserted into Dramin's body.
But that still leaves an awful lot of possibilities as to the nature of the thing.
Now, it is impossible to be sure, but between Sebastian's knowledge of the arcane and Warshawski's prodding of the spirits for clues, they are able to determine this much:
There are a number of arcane spells that would allow a mortal being- such as a human or an elf- to enter the dreams of another, though typically it could not be done to a stranger, and Dramin certainly has no memory of this woman prior to this dream (her curious resemblance to Calwen notwithstanding). The book, then, must be the proxy that connected the mind of the woman in the dream with Dramin when he read (and more importantly understood) the bizarre text. What, then, of the fact that she seems to have left her "mark" on him in the real world...? That, it seems, is the one thing that you have no answer to, as any proper magical aura remaining on Dramin's person has faded away to near-nothingness. It is there, however, if very faint.
In other words, by reading and comprehending parts of the book, Dramin seems to have opened a back door into his mind that someone, either the woman herself or some being wearing her guise, has used to get in.
For now, even with Bacarov and Warshawski working together, that is all that can be determined.
- - - -
Calwen brings out the sample of the webbing she collected from the scene of the druid Armand's murder and shows it to the others. When examining it, it proves to have a very faint magical aura of its own. It is no ordinary spiderweb.
Not suited for justice.
"You've made your point. Said it well. If we were in a war or in some underground warren I'd even agree with you. But we're not. We're in the middle of Magnimar territory. I've got rules to follow. Oaths to obey. You get that, right? Your order required oaths of you? I made similar ones when I was empowered as an officer of the law. Is Marsh innocent or guilty? That's not for me to decide. But he doesn't get a free pass for his behavior. The law exists for a reason. And for Marsh? It might be the only thing that stops him from making the transition from pulping heads in a fight against bandits to pulping heads in a bar brawl to pulping heads just because someone looked at him funny."
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"Human laws mean little to me and it neither means a lot to most other creatures of this forest. But if that is what your heart tells you, then it is what you must do and I would not want to raise the impression I was criticising your choice in that matter; I am not human and not of your people after all. As for my oath:"
She manages a smile, if with undercurrent of bitterness: "By the brothers and sisters before me and beside me my heart lives, my songs dwell, my hope blooms. I shall pass on that blossom with sword or kiss, for the touch of that White Rose is mends every wound, so that any being capable of love shall be free to behold it."
"That is my oath - the best translation I can offer anyway - and intend to keep that oath as well. Of course it may sound hollow to someone who does not realize what flowers our order has made grow in the past. An oath that ties me to our constitution, what we were and what we hope to be. An understanding. To put the most important underlying principle in human terms: 'One for all and all for one.' I wish I could offer you to live with us for a few decades, to see what that means, but that is beyond the capabilities of a human. I am willing to learn of your law, though, and more importantly, the intend and history in which it roots."
"Creatures don't need to worry about the law and self-defense is a viable defense. I just don't buy that Marsh's beserker rage was that."
I had to smile as I heard Calwen recite her oath. One part struck me as funny.
"With sword OR kiss, huh?" I couldn't help teasing Calwen a little. "I bet a few of the boys with us would like you to pass on a blossom to them with a kiss or two."
Before bedtime, Dalton will approach Dramin where the wizard is seated. Without sitting down himself, the monk will comment, "Your earlier comments about the nature of this book, coupled with your wounds, have me concerned for your continued safety this night. Might it be safer with the book in my possession? My mind has been disciplined against intrusions such as the sort this book represents, and I can fortify myself against its temptations until you fully recover." Beneath his hood, which is not drawn fully down over his face, Dalton's eyes are narrowed with concern for his injured friend.
Dramin grins.
"Already ahead of you Dalton." He reveals an empty pack. "Marsh or Bacarov has it, I don't know which, nor do I feel its necessary. Though your concern for me is appreciated, I would like if you could let me know what occurs later on." He pulls out an empty piece of paper. "This is important for myself and for everyone."