Bacarov detects no motion within the Chenowitz house as he prepares to ignite the oils that have been spread about the building's perimeter. With a crash, his container of alchemist's fire shatters against the side of the house. Immediately, flames begin to sprawl across the weary, moss-covered walls. Even as the group begins to back away, thick, oily black smoke begins to billow up in wispy tentacles toward the late afternoon sky.
Even as the fire races to consume the Chenowitz house utterly, an unexpected sound steals the attention of the three investigators outside: a muffled scream comes from inside the house. It is high-pitched, almost a squeal; it sounds very much like the scream of a child.
The blood drains from Marshes face. He fumbles as he places the offered items into his cargo pockets. His face glazes over a bit and panic creeps into his eyes. It could be a trick---
"---But what if its a real kid. Someone's child!---"
"What the?! That sounds like a kid! That sounds like my f@@~in kids in there Sebastian! I gotta go! I gotta get to em---I gotta get em out! Oh f+&~!"
Marsh charges to the back door of the now burning building his heavy flail yanked from its carrier and traveling in an arc over the big man's head.
Masher sinks its head into the door before Marshes shoulder and massive bulk is also flung against it.
Like an enraged grizzly crashes into the house set on finding the source of the screams for better or for worse.
♤
♤
♤
"No, Vinnie, Its the mutants. They mimic the voices of others! Did you not just hear the other one mimic the mayor perfectly before you killed it?" Bacarov shouts. "Get back you fool! How is it possible they're here?"
Sebastian watches as his friend crashes into the house heedless of the fire, heedless of what is reality. He raises a hand thinking on the rhythms of the magic that is at the core of his being. He considers attempting to daze him but the impetus, much like the source of that magic changes. Sebastian stops, a dread fascination in his eyes mixing with concern for his friend's sanity..
He has to learn to control his blood urges and the memories that spawn them. Perhaps the flames...or perhaps a push... Sebastian's hand comes up once more and he closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, and the twinkling of stars dances before him... Then he opens his eyes and seeks to set Vinnie's mind aright.
"Come back to the sound of my voice, Vinnie. Don't be confused by the mutant's power."
You tap into the unthinkable void between the stars and cause a single living creature within 30 feet to become confused for 1 round. A successful Will save negates the effect. This is a mind-affecting compulsion effect.
"Vinnie, get out of there. You'll be consumed if you don't turn back now!"
- - - -
The furious strength of Vincent Marsh and his deadly mauler is more than a match for the fragile wooden door, which nearly caves in upon his striking it; when he throws his weight against it, it collapses under his weight and he falls forward into the Chenowitz House.
Marsh rolls forward with the motion, but to his surprise, the floorboards beneath him are black and rotten, and several of them shatter underfoot, causing him to stumble. Luckily, the big man manages to wrap his fingers around one of the aging support columns and save himself from a nasty fall... The screaming continues, but as Marsh looks down at the fresh hole in the floorboards, he sees quite clearly into the room below. While there are no light sources inside the house, the sunlight coming in through the doorway and the bright orange light of the quickly-spreading fire gives him a fine glimpse into what lies within the Chenowitz basement:
Insects of some sort buzz about noisily, but even they are not enough to hide that the basement's own floor seems to have been carved out entirely, forming an earthy pit. The unbelievable stench hits Marsh's nostrils in the instant before the sight itself. As the sickeningly pungent odor of rotting flesh threatens to overwhelm him, he looks into the pit and sees at least a dozen cadavers in varying stages of decay, from pale skeletons to bodies whose level of decay would mark them as only a little over a month old. Some sort of statue or effigy looms over the pit, but with the smoke encroaching and the cloud of insects swarming up through the hole in the floor, making out any further details at this angle would be impossible.
Calwen your damn machismo and honour is going to get you or that damn seeker killed.
Dramin realizes he won't be able to keep up with Calwen.
He also realizes that he is alone in a field full of psychotic mutants, barely has any magic left, and is talking to himself.
He quickly switches to Draconic to make himself feel a little less unhinged.
"Dio, we'll leave them be. Elf-Lady Calwen can handle herself."
He knows time is ticking and if there is more of these in the fields, his Shields won't last for much longer. He focuses, realizing that this maze is perfect for ambushes, and those ominous webs don't help the job. While Windmane could trample them with ease, Dramin had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be as lucky.
When he smells smoke in the air though, a smile creeps across his face.
"Bacarov burned it down then? They must have stumbled across something young Drake. Let us go gloriously and help." The smile stays on to assure the drake but in reality, its because it finds him a purpose and a direction to aim for.
He carefully navigates the field again, this time toward the soon to be raging inferno.
The monk knows that Vinnie is unstoppable when something's really caught his attention. He knows that the big man with the big hammer is, in the end, going to get where he wants to go, and resolves that it is best simply to follow him there. The loose folds of his robe are cinched tightly to his body in a few quick tightenings of the ropes running through them; the elven cloak was quite well-made.
After ensuring that Marsh won't fall into the pit before him, Dalton casts about himself quickly. He, too, heard the cries of the mutant, but recognized them for what they were - bait. Something lurked in this charnel house; and Dalton would be damned if he allowed it to get the drop on his friend. His temple sword has been drawn for some time. It will taste blood tonight.
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The floor fell away below him revealing the dugout hell hole of a charnelhouse that was the Chenowitz basement. He looked for the source of the sound and tried to make out what the effigy or statue was.
"Oh f!$+. They've been killin people by the dozens. F#&@!"
vinnie trembles with rage, but has no clear target to vent it on.
- - - -
Moving through the fields is an intense and foreboding experience. There seems to be movement in the fields all around Dramin, but nothing leaps out to attack him as he swiftly- but not recklessly- makes his way toward the Chenowitz house. Finally, long after the sound of Windmane's tromping hooves has faded into an eerie silence, he bursts out of the field and finds himself in the clear. The Chenowitz house looms over him, thick smoke billowing up from Bacarov's fire. Bacarov himself stands at the back of the house, where it seems Marsh and Dalton have just smashed their way inside.
"What the?---Was that thing a kid? Who are these people? How do you do that to a kid?!"
Vinnie swaps out for his bow. The big man draws a bead studying the mutant's physiology a moment before loosing an arrow.
Not much time...better snatch what we can. It might be useful evidence later. Dalton throws open the door to his left, glancing inside for anything small enough to be carried out of the burning house. If he finds nothing, or if he can grab it quickly and easily, he will then turn his attention to the rotting rope overhead, reaching up to yank down the trapdoor. Vinnie had the mutant under control, and besides, Dalton didn't have his bow on him.
♤
♤
♤
Bacarov watches Dalton as he plunges into the burning house after Marsh. "What are you doing?" he hisses after the monk. He steps forward once but stops himself. Three of us trapped in a burning house... I need Dramin here to help me cover the outside. The fire will draw attention...
Teeth grind in frustration. Hands tighten around the haft of the spear as he imagines wringing Vinnie's neck for his impulsiveness. He'd hoped they'd have been out of the area so they could observe who comes running. Perhaps get a bearing on their enemies. Don't lie to yourself, Sebastian. You needed to see this place burnt to the ground.
"Yes." Bacarov answers aloud. He calls once more to the two inside. "Get out of there now. Leave everything to burn, some of it could be poisonous or cursed! This place is as much dark chapel as an alchemist's lab."
Marcum would have my hide for burning this without samples...
"Fly, you fools. The fire will draw in our enemies. We need to regroup!" Bacarov works his way to a spot away from the fire that allows him to keep a view on the barn. It resolves as a blurry bulk but he monitors for enemies for the moment.
Dalton hears Sebastian's voice and shouts an acknowledgement. he bellows, shouting loudly over the roaring flames and blocking his face from the worst of the omnipresent smoke.
Dalton throws open the door next to him, revealing a long room that is rapidly filling up with smoke. A workbench cluttered with pottery stills and glass alembics stands below small alcoves filled with vials and beakers. Dozens of clay vessels rest haphazardly on wooden boxes, each sprouting neatly-pruned shrubs or large, exotic mushrooms. They appear surprisingly well-tended, given the state of the rest of the building, though the roots of several have burst through their pots.
Meanwhile, Marsh takes aim at the shadowy creature moving around the outside of the pit, and his arrow finds its mark. The creature squeals in agony and tumbles into the pit, pulling several of the corpses on top of itself in its death throes. One of the corpses is a heavyset man with bright red hair.
Outside, Bacarov watches the farmhouse for movement as the fire continues to spread. In a few minutes, the entire Chenowitz house will surely be ablaze. With his strangely clouded vision, Bacarov is unable to see any motion within or around the farmhouse. He does, however, notice that Dramin comes crashing out of the tall reeds off to the left of the Chenowitz house, Dio gliding down to the ground next to him. Calwen and Warshawski are nowhere to be seen.
"Bacarov! What did you find that needed such a response?"
He knew the answer was probably related to the mutants, but he was hoping that wasn't the case. Hearing Bacarov say otherwise would ease his chest.
"Warshawski was dragged off into the reeds, Calwen swore protection to her and bounded off without even a second glance. Suffice to say Dio and I made it here as soon as we could."
When Dramin notices the blood on Bacarov, he draws the scythe.
"What else is lurking around here? And more importantly, we just set a search light for the entire town of these things. Where are Marsh and Dalton?"
"Well I'll be. Sebastian, we've found our missin tax collecter. He's deader than s+#$ and that paints the mayor a liar."
Marsh stows his bow and draws his sword leaving him an arm free. He moves to check the attic.
"It's gettin f+$@in hot in here. I'll check this, you check the kitchen and let's get the f%#~ out!"
The Chenowitz House - Dalton makes a quick move into the horticulture lab, snatching vials and tinctures by the armful. Something in the back of the room moves- the huge pile of what originally had appeared to be waste compost gives a shudder and begins to slowly slither across the floor toward Dalton, who backpedals out of the room, shutting the door behind him and ducking back into the yard, coughing as the smoke from the fire threatens to overwhelm him.
Marsh tugs the cord to pull down the trap door of the Chenowitz attic. As soon as it opens, a cloud of winged insects comes pouring out of the crawlspace, whipping past Marsh's face and out the door. Catching a glimpse of the creatures as they swarm over and past him, he sees that they are some species of butterfly; likely harmless, as they cause him no harm in their passing, but very strange-looking. The trap door comes down, but appears to be in such horrid shape that it is unthinkable how anyone could actually use these stairs to climb up into the attic, as they are so rotted that putting any weight on them would certainly destroy them. Looking up into the attic, Marsh sees what it must look like to be a fly caught in a spider's web and rolled up tight. The entire attic appears to be filled with webbing, thick and gummy, dangling in flaccid strands like vines in a jungle.
- - - -
At the Ravenmoor Festival Grounds...
In many ways, Ravenmoor is exactly as you remember it; the air still hangs thick with moisture, the afternoon sun still beats down with an uncomfortable heat, and the earth is every bit as muddy as it was when you were here as a child. The buzzing of the mosquitoes and the beating of the wings of stirges and crows might be unnerving to some, but as one who spent more than a few summers here as a child, they are more like a warm blanket, or grandmother's meat pies- a comfortable piece of nostalgia. Well, the stirges are not so comfortable- in your travels, you've come to see them as the rest of the world does: diseased, blood-sucking menaces. The people of Ravenmoor treat them like puppies, and the strangeness of this is only just now striking you.
The locals even dress the same way you remember, with the men in their sweat-stained button-up shirts and vests, the women in their conservative woven dresses and bonnets or bandanas, the boys in their overalls and the girls in their skirts- all of which were probably woven by Alizna, the very same woman who made much of your own clothing for you when you were little. You still remember the way Alizna's skirts felt on your skin- a little itchy at times, but made with care.
Alizna the Weaver was one of the first people you saw when you returned to Ravenmoor, and the old woman had not seemed to have aged a day in the years since last you saw her. She still moves with the same surprising quickness and vitality, still verbally snipes at anyone who crosses her path, still has that same inexplicably intimidating gaze... Even the overlarge silkworms in her little cabin looked exactly as you recall. She remembered you, of course- remembered the names of your sisters and parents, even. She embraced you warmly and offered to make you a dress for the upcoming Founder's Festival, complimented you on how well you have "filled out" in your adulthood, and wondered aloud "why you still haven't done anything about your hair."
The Church of Desna still lies in ruins, a sore thumb sticking up in the midst of of Ravenmoor's central square. The sight of it strikes you at your core; it is an inexcusable slight against the patron goddess of Ravenmoor, and you remember clearly that Stellan Kriegler, the mayor when you were a little girl, had promised that he would see it rebuilt and refurnished within his lifetime. Instead, people still worship at the "troll-stones" across the square, right next to the Lupescu Trading Company, a place you remember only for how crass and rude its owner, Saul Lupescu, was. The effigy of Desna that stands among the troll-stones, made of wicker and gourds, is a sorry sight, the Starsong's beautiful visage represented here by a gourd carved with a silly face with triangular teeth and slits for eyes.
Wyssal had warned you about this when you spoke those short weeks ago, but the sight of it is still revolting. How could Ravenmoor, a town devoted to Desna, represent her so disgracefully? Or was it always like this, and nostalgia had colored your memories differently? It is true that much of your understanding of the Desnan faith was gained long after your caravan had left Ravenmoor behind...
Many of the people here do not seem to know any better. They claim their worship of Desna makes more sense than praying at some altar- they worship her beneath the stars, they say, and in their deepest dreams. These ideas are... creative, but not exactly true to what you understand as proper worship. Any attempt to correct their methods you have made thus far has been met with incredulous stares and snickering; unaware that you have spent much of your life on the road as part of a Varisian caravan, they seem to have dismissed you as just another one of "them city folk."
For the last few nights, as you awaited the Founder's Festival with a combination of excitement and dread, you have been staying with the Loomis family, who you remember from your childhood as simple, hard-working folk. Their youngest daughter, Penny, is only a few years younger than you, a sweet-faced but rather dimwitted girl whose only concern seems to be winning the upcoming Queen of the Festival contest. Her competitors, the haughty and cold-eyed (but undeniably beautiful) Shel Lupescu and the quiet, secretive Marleyna Bartley, have been the target of quite a few callous and uninformed insults in your stay with the Loomises. Still, they have a soft bed and make a decent plate of bacon, so things have not been too bad.
Today is the day of the Founder's Festival, and what a day it has been! The Loomises all but kicked you out this morning as they rushed to prepare for the Festival; Ma and Pa Loomis are obsessed with grooming their prize fighting raven Clicky, and Penny has been hounding old Alizna all morning in hopes of making last-minute adjustments to her dress for the contest. Left to your own, you spent much of the morning wandering around town, observing and watching out for signs of anything unusual. As fond as your memories of Ravenmoor are, you understand now why Wyssal was so concerned that something was amiss in town. The stink of flayleaf hangs heavy in the air, particularly around the Ravenmoor Mill; you have seen for yourself the sprawling flayleaf field just north of there, on the Carmiscu family's property. You've seen the leers of Robb Bartley as he hangs around on his front porch, sneering at you and staring with a look you can only assume to be predatory, and you've seen the bruises on his daughter Marleyna's arms as she comes and goes. You've seen Andretti Kriegler, the mayor and spiritual leader of Ravenmoor, a supposed cleric of Desna, avoid you like the plague throughout your visit ("busy preparin' for the Festival," his hulking younger brother Leonard told you, implying that you should make yourself scarce).
And then the party from Magnimar arrived, and the talk of the town changed from the Festival to them. Six in number, including an elven knight, bringing with them a majestic war horse and some sort of immature dragon they kept like a pet, they were the most astonishing thing to happen in Ravenmoor in some time. You overheard complaints that there had been too many visitors lately, and watched from a distance as the group traveled to the residence of the Korzha family, then the Mayor's residence, then to the Bartley house... where the unthinkable happened. As you watched from within the gathering crowd, whispers broke out that Robb Bartley had threatened and then attacked one of the inspectors, and they had been forced to kill him. You watched as Marleyna wept into the chest of one of their party. It seemed to be true; and given Bartley's reputation as a local creep and child-abuser, something of a relief to the locals. As the excitement died down and people moved to the Festival, you kept an eye turned to the investigators' backs as they headed eastward into the woods beyond Ravenmoor's borders. The Dagwoods lived out there.
Your curiosity was piqued. What were those investigators doing here? Regardless, you had an investigation of your own to tend to, and headed with most of the rest of the town to he Festival Grounds, where you hoped things would not be as bad as Wyssal feared.
Dalton's stomach rumbles when he throws open the door, in spite of the chaos all around him - mushroom stew with steak was a rare treat, his favorite, back in the monastery of Manaket. He'd never seen any fungi that looked quite like these, however. Given the cult's afore-witnessed fascination with flesh-shaping, exotic plants like these were extremely suspect. They may be a clue, the monk thinks to himself, his mind racing. Better not let them touch my skin.
Loosing the ropes on his robe to let the cloth hang a bit lower from his wrists, his casts the material over the nearest pot that he can find that appears to still be in whole condition. Stuffing it carefully in his sack, he tries to keep it as separate as possible from the rest of his rations. If he can't get a whole pot in his robes feasibly, he'll cover his fingers with the cloth of his robe and break off as large a sample of a mushroom cap as will comfortably fit. If any beakers are nearby that have stoppers in them and fluid still inside, he will grab those, but he won't spend more than 40 precious seconds searching.
Hearing Marsh's voice over the flames confirms his worst fears. Grim news to have to deliver...if we survive... he thinks to himself, turning to the door of the room and making his way back into the main entryway to retrieve his friend.
Voyla feels ill.
How can your hometown, the place where you grew up, and played as a child, and where you had all of these great memories of you and your sisters playing together, before Rose died and she and Wyssal departed to wander, transform into this place?
How can the town she remembers so fondly be this different?
Everything is the same. But everything is changed.
Or is she, just after her 21st birthday, the one that changed?
Alizna is there, just as she remembered her. But now instead of the seamstress the children liked to play pranks on she looks like something intimidating and unnerving...
But the worst hit is Desna's temple. A ruin, an insult, an unforgivable sin. She kneels in the middle of the place, her knees hurting from the small pebbles, and pray and cry, asking the Night Butterfly for forgiveness of this offense. She won't be leaving town until this mistake has been fixed, and the construction of a new church has begun, she promises herself, tears streaming from her eyes. And she would be those "Troll Stones" to be handled with correctly... as will that abomination, that mockery, her own neighbors pretend represents the Mother of the Night.
But what really makes her sick is the anticipation and dread of the Founder's Festival. Will it be the merry celebration she remembered from her childhood years, or a grey and strange meeting of a suddenly unknown town?
Has she lost her home? Is that what Desna wants from us all, to travel and leave your origins, not only in distance but also in comforting closeness?
---
So, to distract his mind, and try and push all this conflicting emotions out of her mind she decided to check on the Magnimar's travelers. They have killed Robb Bartley, and she won't be crying for that creep, but it was better to make sure they didn't try to hurt anyone else from town. Just after the festival ends, she will go and check on them. Better safe than sorry, her mother would say.
Bacarov wasn't talking and the flames weren't getting any smaller. The detective seemed quite lost in thought. If Dramin didn't know better he would have thought him to be addled.
No matter. Its as its always been.
He looks upon the house and quickly tries to assess the strength of the structure; he works on the assumption that Dalton and Marsh are inside for some blasted reason.
The age of the house and the overall area makes it difficult for him to make an accurate estimation, so he instead looks for the nearest threshold that they may have entered through and heads over.
If its blocked off I better get a move on. The'll be expecting a way back.
He starts clearing the area and tries to keep the path out as clear and as visible as possible, knowing full well the smoke and flames will turn it into some sort of infernal labyrinth soon enough.
♤
♤
♤
There is a darkness on men's souls painted by time and vision. You look upon something - a child beaten, slaves bought and sold, shadowed figures with stitched human skin faces wandering the night - and the part of yourself sparked at the moment of creation diminishes. Sebastian Bacarov new when his soul had darkened. It'd been his 3rd year in the job. Idealism and verve for the victims fading behind the burning hatred of those who think the populace of Magnimar hid their misdeeds from the law.
"4 dead, Inspector. 2 more in the boat over there."
"Arms and legs?"
"Yes, Inspector. *Ahem* They...they got animal parts in place...bloody stitched on 'em...gods above..."
Bacarov stares past the burning house as memory burns across his mind. Dramin appears at his side and pauses for a moment, eyeing him and asking for a report.
A little obvious, isn't it mate? There's a stirring in the house, Vinnie and Dalton racing back and forth collecting information. Sebastian knew he should be in there, doing his job, but something deep in his core told him it was best to let it all burn. The man standing next to him shifts. He wants to be about the next move.
Vinnie calls from inside. He's found the red headed tax collector. Didn't need his corpse to know Mayor Kreigler's a rotten, lying, backwater snake oilman, Vinnie. But it'll help me with what comes next for him.
Dramin studies the house and sets his feet to move in and keep the entrance clear. As he does so, Sebastian spots the wand slipped into a holster at his belt. His hand darts out and snags the implement as the wizard races forward.
For the barn... for the mayor's house...for the mill... It all gets cleaned today. Abadar will see the scales balanced or I'll die trying.
As Dramin works at the debris, a cluster of those mutated butterflies bursts from the opening. Bacarov's hand comes up out of instinct and he calls forth the fire in the magic implement to burn them all as they make their escape.
He turns back to the house and calls out again. "Get out of there, gods curse you. We need to depart now!" Bacarov glances back at the tall grass surrounding the mound. "Then we burn that bloody field and make our approach back to town. We're going to pay the mayor's house a visit next."
"Rotten, meh! No ones climin up this thing!"
Marsh rips the rotten ladder off its hooks and hurls it into the pit at the dying mutant.
"There ain't no humans alive in this wreck, no altar, it's just a dumpin spot. No time to get the dead ginger out either cause this place is gonna fall in on itself. This house'll be his pyre and final restin place. Kinda disappointin for his sister, but he's dead. He won't give a s$*&."
"Come on Dalton if there's nobody in the kitchen let's go toss the barn."
Vincent will make his exit with the monk.
- - - -
At the Chenowitz House...
As Dramin clears debris to assure an easy escape from his comrades, Bacarov swipes the wand from his belt with a deft hand and turns it against the swarming butterflies. Flames jet into the midst of the swarm, and many, if not most, of the insects are immediately consumed; only a few lonely stragglers zip to safety, the cloud dispersed.
Marsh and Dalton stagger from the back door only a moment later, Dalton's cloak filled with gathered evidence. As they wipe the soot from their faces and cough the smoke from their lungs, they hear one last scream of terror from inside the cabin before the crackling fire and creaking of wood drowns it out entirely.
- - - -
At the Festival Grounds...
1.
However shocking the day's events to this point may have proven, the Founder's Festival goes off without a hitch. Mayor Andretti Kriegler, looking sharp as always, stands atop a wooden stage and addresses the assembled people of Ravenmoor with his usual, canned speech:
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, kin of Ravenmoor, children of the Dream Tender all- welcome once more to the Founder's Festival! As we go forth unto these grounds for feasting and merry-making, let us not forget that to which we owe our celebration- the toil and sacrifice of Iola Kriegler, my own ancestor, who saved this land from the blight that sucked the blood from its very veins all those generations ago. It is in her memory we gather here today, and the games and good food we shall partake of are in tribute to her. Let the anxiety of our daily struggles wash away like a passing nightmare, and let this day of revelry be like the sweetest waking dream!" He smiles and wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Whew... how about that heat, though?" A few people in the crowd cheer or chuckle, and Kriegler loosens his collar a bit. "In any case, let the Festival commence! Go, my Ravenmoor flock, and let's have a grand ol' time!" As more of the locals hoot and cheer, Kriegler steps down from the stage, leaning on his brother Leonard for support and rubbing at his temples.
The Festival is much as you remember it- the first game of the day being the three-legged race, a real bore of an event that you found tiresome even as a child. Only a few children participate, most of the other locals making a beeline for the assorted snack stands, the smell of smoky sausage filling the air. Ravenmoor sausage is an unusual treat indeed, being made of stirge thorax stuffed with pork, herbs, and spices; looking back on it, you might never have tried it if you hadn't spent so much of your youth here.
The raven fights are an all-day activity, one that you shied away from in your youth due to their brutality; the prized fighting birds are the favorite game of the older men of Ravenmoor, including your host Randall Loomis, who spend all day pitting their ravens against one another. The fights are brutal, sickening to watch, but the locals do a good job of keeping their pets from injuring one another too badly. The local physic, Alexi Eestok, never wanders too far away from the little arena just in case one of the birds catches a beak to the eye. Cheers and groans never cease coming from this little corner of the fesival grounds.
As you wander the area, eyes peeled for anything unusual, you happen by tonight's contestants for the Queen of the Festival: Penny Loomis, Marleyna Bartley, and Shel Lupescu. Shel is, for some reason, wearing some sort of strange furry cloak of elven make; you're fairly certain the elven knightess you saw accompanying the group into town was wearing it a few hours ago. A gift, perhaps? In any case, Penny and Shel seem to be looming over Marleyna, whose dress is far removed from the usual humble Ravenmoor style that Alizna traditionally makes; she is dressed instead in an elaborate and glamorous gown more like what you've seen nobles or wealthy merchant-wives in Riddleport or Magnimar wearing, deep blue with all sorts of finery. Shel grabs at one of the sleeves, and Marleyna sheepishly pulls away, red in the face.
"Worked one'a yer spells on them out-a-towners, didn'cha, Marley?" Shel says, glaring darkly at Marleyna, who seems to shrink back a bit. "You musta done 'em up real good, huh? Got 'em to whack yer daddy dead, then got 'em to cheat you up all nice so you can steal my crown t'night?"
"That ain't true," Marleyna says quietly, turning away from her. "Don't you talk about my Papa like you know what was goin' on in our house. He was a horrible man, but I didn't have nothin' to do with what happened! I didn't want him dead!"
Penny chimes in, almost muscling her way into the conversation- eager to change the topic from Marleyna's father, who was only killed a short while ago, but still more than willing to rip into the Bartley girl. "Well, this ain't no Alizna dress, that's fer sure," she says. "It ain't fair, you gettin' fancy Maggle-mar clothes when we ain't got nothin' but Alizna dresses! If you win tonight, that ain't no fair at all!"
Before the conversation can go any further, you see Viorec Korzha, one of the local men, come over and put his hands on Marleyna's shoulders. He shoots the other girls a disapproving glance. "Y'all leave Marleyna alone," he says sternly. "Don't y'all have better things to do? Go eat somethin'. Get some meat on yer bones before that contest, why don't you?" Penny backs away immediately, but Shel lingers a moment to glare at them both before leaving. As Marleyna hugs Mr. Korzha, Shel catches sight of you and approaches, an obviously-false smile on her face.
"Well, if it isn't our other visitor from out-of-town," she says, sizing you up. "Piece of advice? Don't buy into that li'l witch's act." She nods her head toward Marleyna. "She's a deceiver an' a seductress. She'll put a spell on you so you'll give 'er whatever she wants. So you jus' watch yerself." She stares down her nose at you, smirking, and then moves past- making a show of "accidentally" bumping into you as she goes.
2.
There are more games going on all at once than it is possible to observe; old Skender Cardzi, the ferryman, is stripped to the waist and more than holding his own against men half his age in a bare-knuckle boxing tournament not far away, while one of the local boys has climbed to the top of a ten-foot-high pole and is balancing on one foot just across the way. Further down, Viorec Korzha's wife Brekka, immediately noticeable for the slightly-faded Shoanti tattoos on her cheeks and forehead, is whipping Saul Lupescu in an arm-wrestling contest. At another end of the grounds, several of the hardier men are setting up a number of targets for an event you remember fondly: the Starknife Pitch. Contestants line up and throw a Starknife, the sacred weapon of Desna, at a series of progressively more distant targets. It is said that anyone who can hit all five wins a great prize, but you do not recall anyone getting past the second or third target at any point in your time here.
3.
As the afternoon drags on, you happen to notice something unusual: a plume of smoke wafting up into the air from somewhere to the southeast of your location. Strange, but perhaps one of the locals has some sausages smoking back at home... it wouldn't be unheard of.
That thought is dashed as soon as you see a man run panicking into the Festival Grounds and make a beeline for Mayor Kriegler, who is rubbing his sore elbow after losing another round of arm wrestling to Brekka Korzha. Kriegler's eyes widen at the sight of him, and he gets up and meets the man half way, waving his brother Leonard over at the same time. You are too far away to hear the whispered conversation, but you see the color drain from Andretti Kriegler's face as the panicking man finishes his report. Next to him, Leonard's eyes seem to have bugged out, cheeks red, and his meaty fists clench. Without a word, he takes off running in the direction of the smoke, ignoring his brother's cries for him to wait. Realizing there is no hope of catching Leonard, Andretti Kriegler grabs the panicking man by the shoulders and tells him something, then points toward someone in the crowd. As soon as the panicking man is dismissed, Kriegler buries his face in his hands, then furiously rubs at his temples, a dark expression in his eyes. As he smoothes his hair back, the skin on his forehead pulls tight, and for a moment his face takes on a skull-like appearance, a far cry from the charming mayor that stood there only a moment before. But then it is gone, and he resumes his calm smile, and makes his way back toward the games, though not without casting a few anxious glances toward the distant smoke.
The man Kriegler had dismissed runs past you, and you follow him with your eyes until you see who he was sent to get: none other than Alizna, the weaver, who is standing not too far from you. You again cannot hear what the man has to say, but you do hear Alizna's reply: "What do you mean it's on fire?" The old woman looks up and sees the smoke, her expression twisting into raw, animalistic fury. "Those city-slicker bastards... I'll flay their hides from their bones!" Her hands twitch as the man backs away from her, clearly intimidated. "Wretched little maggots... They never should've been allowed to come and go as they please!" Alizna glances about, deflecting any odd glances from the people around her with her icy stare, then pulls her shawl tight around her neck and ducks behind one of the nearby unattended stacks of grain barrels... and does not emerge from the other side. As soon as you lose sight of her behind the barrels, she is simply... gone. The only indication of what might have happened to her is that, a moment later, you hear a rapid shuffling of what sounds like tiny feet scampering across the grass, and something causes the fence behind the barrels to rattle... The sound of movement quickly vanishes in the direction of the smoke- to the southeast...
"Yeah that's it! Scream yer three mishapen mouths off it ain't gonna help ya. Heh heh heh, burn b!&~@."
Vinnie growls back into the house before moving past Bacarov and Dramlin.
"Well that was fun. Right?! Let's hit the barn Sebastian. I'm just gettin started tonight."
"Heh heh heh, don't forget to walk away from the house slow guys---and don't look back at the tertiary explosions. Heh, heh, heh. Makes ya look cooler that way. Where's a bard when ya need one, ya know? That's a great bar story right there."
Marsh draws his offhand knife and twirls it a few times as he strides towards the barn with his sword in the other.
1.-
Voyla approaches Marleyna Bartley and Viorec Korzha, ignoring Shel Lupescu's "bump".
"I am so sorry for your loss."
She closes to hug Marleyna, and in the process ties to Detect magic on her.
2.-
She goes to the Starknife pitch contest, and after a brief prayer to Desna, she throws the starknife.
3.-
Whatever is happening, Voyla realizes she is going to see more, and deeper, into her hometown that she ever did before.
She quickly goes behind the stacks of grain barrels where Alizna disappeared, raises a small prayer to Desna, and tries to track her, and identifies any tracks she could have leaved behind.
After it she will follow / go southwest, towards the smoke, as stealthy as possible, after asking for Desna's protection.
"Night butterfly, please hide me from those who would harm me."
♤
♤
"Cool your bravado, Marsh." Bacarov steps in front of Marsh and points towards town. "This fire will draw in the villagers. Specifically those who worship here. We need to make ourselves scarce and either observe from a distance and identify our enemies...the original plan." He looks down at the wand in his hand. "Or use this opportunity to circle back on the mayor's house and do some...digging. If we stay here, we run the risk of being overwhelmed by who...or whatever shows up to investigate this blaze."
His sky-blue eyes drift back towards the opposite end of the property past the mound. "We need to burn this field with the tall grass and webbing as we leave. But most importantly we have comrades taken by those mutants." He stares at Vinnie. "Or would you leave a fellow officer and a comrade to die while you joke away your fear? I saw your face, the memories those creatures dredged up when you foolishly plunged into the burning house. Warshawski and Calwen face the same thing."
He looks at the others, and upon seeing Dalton's collection he pulls off his satchel and opens the interior flap. There he has a series of loops in a row from where he'd pulled his jars and vials. Bacarov nods to Dalton to take advantage of the pack. "What say the rest of you? Do we attempt the barn now knowing the risk to our friends grows along with the risk of discovery? Or do we focus on putting this location down so it scars no more of Ravenmoor's own?"
"I'm with you, 'Bastian, no matter which way we go," Dalton comments as he stows away the mushrooms he looted in the Inspector's book-bag. "But I, too, fear for Calwen and Warshawski. Fierce though they both are, they are isolated and alone. I say we put this location down for good."
- - - -
At the Chenowitz house...
Even as Bacarov discusses the next course of action with the rest of the party, something comes out of the reeds to the West, in the direction Dramin and Dio had come from just a minute or two before.
Leading Windmane by the reins, Calwen slowly moves toward the Chenowitz house, but even from this distance it is clear that something is wrong. Calwen seems to be limping slightly, and there are splashes of red all over her usually-stainless armor. Windmane's flanks are criss-crossed with shallow cuts and wounds, though the warhorse appears to be in no danger of dying. He seems to have fared better than his mistress in this case.
Calwen releases Windmane's reins and takes a few more steps toward you all before collapsing onto her hands and knees.
Quietly, she mutters- just barely keeping her composure- "I lost her..." She looks up at you all, and the full extent of her injuries becomes apparent. One of her ears seems to have been savaged, its tip chewed off and bloody; her lip is busted in two places, blood dribbling down her chin in two thick lines. Her armor has been torn away in a few places, and part of her thigh lies bare, the pale flesh beneath her ripped trousers torn open and bleeding openly. The lower half of her breastplate is dripping blood from some wound on her side, near where Markham Dagwood had stuck her earlier. "I failed... I lost Warshawski. I'm so sorry..." One of her hands curls into a fist, and she slams it into the ground twice in anger as she cries out in anger and frustration.
- - - -
Back in Ravenmoor...
1.
Marleyna is too torn up to realize that you're attempting to cast a spell on her, and accepts this gesture of kindness from a stranger by taking the hug. "Don't worry about me," she says weakly. "I'm getting out of this town as soon as possible. There's nothing holding me here now..." The thought seems to pain her, and blinks back tears.
Your detect magic spell finds no trace of a magical aura on her.
2.
The Starknife-throwing contest, or the "Falling Stars" game as the locals know it, is a bit of a tragedy. When Saul Lupescu brings over a stack of the holy weapons and unceremoniously drops them onto the ground, none of the participants seems to have any idea what to do with them. Most participants can't even hold them right, and one man pricks his finger on one, drawing laughs from the audience and competitors. None of them seem terribly threatened when you pick up a starknife and confidently take aim at the first target.
Which you bull's-eye. And then the second target, ten feet further back- another bull's-eye, the starknife whipping through the air with a satisfying whistle. The third target is a little off-center, sticking into the lower left of the wicker circle, but a hit nonetheless. The fourth (and final) target? Another bull's-eye. The audience is strangely quiet, as Saul Lupescu and the other contestants stare at you, dumbstruck.
"This is dumb," one of the locals groans. "The heck are these dumb things, anyway? The Dream Tender's weapon's a spear, ain't it? I mean, this might be a star, but a spear represents a fallin' star, don't it?" Someone in the crowd objects, and a bit of an argument starts up as Saul Lupescu approaches you, eyes narrowed but a smile on his meaty face, some sort of box in his arms.
"You're somethin' special, ain't you, girl?" he says, then presents the box to you. "I had been thinkin' I wasn't never gonna give this thing away to anybody. But seein' that-" He gestures toward the targets with a nod of his head. "-Seems kinda meant to be, don't it?"
He opens the box, revealing another starknife inside- but this one is beautifully sculpted, its grip covered in interwoven blue and red cords, an elegant curve to each of its four razor-sharp points. You detect a faint magical aura coming from the weapon.
"If one'a these boys had won, I'd'a told 'em this had belonged to Iola Kriegler," Lupescu says. "But somethin' tells me you'll appreciate the truth more. A cleric o' the Dream Tender came through here with some Shoanti traders a few years ago, traded this to the Carmiscu family for as much 'leaf' as he could carry. Man had a habit, I guess. The Carmiscus are cousins of ours, an' lost this to us in a bet on the raven fights a while back. Maybe you'll give this thing a proper home, huh?"
3.
Ducking behind the barrels, you do see tracks leading toward the fence- but those tracks seem to be different with every step taken, shrinking and becoming more circular, until finally they look like nothing more than little pin-pricks as big around as a gold piece, and sinking a few inches deep into the mud. They are some of the most curious tracks you've ever seen...
Confident that you are hidden from sight, thankfully with the upcoming greased pig wrestling event about to start up drawing the attention of the nearby locals, you begin moving as quickly as you can past the fence in the direction Alizna went. You keep your eyes peeled as you begin making your way southward, seeing the odd little circular tracks pop up in spurts between buildings... A sudden rattle up ahead sounds as if someone is clambering over the rooftop of the Lupescu Trading Company, but you see nothing... other than the shoddy roof tiles shuddering before something thuds onto the ground behind it and scampers into the brush.
Dalton sprints off to where Calwen collapsed, kneeling before her with concern stamped on his features. "Where did you lose her? What happened? How badly are you hurt?"
1.-
"The world is a wonderful place, and Desna will bless you as you travel and get to know it. Find yourself a nice caravan, and travel with them. I can tell my sister Wyssal to take you with her."
Volya wish her luck in the contest, and leave her.
2.-
Voyla feels like crying at winning the contest. But the lack of reverence from the town people makes her want to cry even more.
Her hands shake at feeling the blessed Starknife.
She answers Saul Lupescu.
"Thank you Saul. Truth is always welcome, and I thank you for it. You are right, it makes me appreciate this wonderful price even more. I will never part of it."
She stands proudly in front of the townspeople, with the Starknife over her head.
"Behold the holy weapon of Desna, the night butterfly. True stars don't fall. True stars shine forever, pure and white, to guide our way and bless our dreams."
3.- She realizes she is facing some evil things here. And probably invisible ones. She keeps following as stealthy as possible.
Dramin looks at the fallen woman. He looks at the battered horse. He looks at Dalton rush over to her. He turns around and chooses to look at the blazing house instead.
I should have seen this coming.
The scythe weighs heavy on his hands, knowing full well that it may be seeking the blood of the woman it had already claimed some from.
You couldn't change a thing.
I made it clear all we had to do was stay together...
You didn't even stay with her.
Hypocrite.
His eyes look into the flames and he doesn't do much to shield them. The reflection coming off of them match his demeanor, and if one didn't feel the heat from the fire they would feel it coming from his gaze.
Now I see how you went mad lord. With only a sliver or knowledge right now and I can barely compose myself. She's still alive fool.
It wasn't about that though. Who knows what she may be carrying with her, who may have tracked her back. He doesn't know if he's using that logic as a way to rationalize the fact he left her.
While his mind thought of it, played tricks on itself, he just stood there staring into the flame. Hoping the others would think he was just keeping watch.
At the Chenowitz House...
Calwen looks into Dalton's eyes as he kneels before her. Her eyes seem distant and clouded, as if she is in shock.
"I was chasing after the mutant that took Warshawski into the fields... gaining on him..." She pauses for a moment, her face twisting as if she is about to choke, then she spits out a glob of blood onto the ground between the two of them. After a momentary pause and a pained sigh, she continues. "Two of them came from the sides... knocked me off Windmane's back. Flanked me... I fought as hard as I ever have, but..." She winces, reaching up for her ear; Dalton can tell that the damage to it is severe, several inches of its length ripped or chewed away. "I slew my foes, but... my wounds were many, and... I had not the strength to climb into my saddle, and... Warshawski was already gone, dragged away deeper into the fields..." Her head hangs in shame. "I am so sorry..."
Nearby, the burning cabin creaks wearily as its supports begin to give way.
- - - -
1.
As he leads Marleyna back to the festival, Viorec Korzha gives you a warm smile and a nod of approval at your well-wishing.
2.
Following your speech, a few of the audience members clap or cheer, and the fellow who was complaining about the starknife as a symbol of Desna glowers at his friends. Saul Lupescu backs away and claps as well, though there is a troubling look in his eye. Eventually, the crowd disperses, though your domination of the event stays on people's lips throughout the Festival.
3 and beyond...
The trail continues southeast until turning sharply east, cutting across the creek that divides Ravenmoor into two pieces. The creek is shallow enough to cross without having to look for a bridge, but you'll be getting your feet wet- up to your knees, even. Still, it's better than losing time (and the trail) looking for another path. Once you are past the creek, you can see the smoke forming a dark cloud over the distant Chenowitz house; soon, the whole village will start to take notice. The weird tracks continue onward toward the house, and childhood memories take over. You remember the stories the village children used to tell about the Night Creepers and Old Man Wrinkles and other bogeymen that crept about inside and around that house; you remember all the wild theories about just what happened to the crazy old Chenowitzes- some pretty morbid tales rattle around in your brain for a moment as you see the overgrown, unkempt fields that once stood in front of the "haunted" house and its long-abandoned farm like a veil.
Now, of course, it's not veiling anything, considering the raging fire that is consuming the Chenowitz house at this moment. The smoke rising from the fire is like a thick column of darkness. The tracks lead toward the burning cabin, then cut sharply into the wheatfields to your right; up ahead, you can just barely make out through the reeds what appears to be the investigators from Magnimar, standing in the clearing behind the Chenowitz house.
This is, you now realize, the closest you have ever been to the old spook house. Considering how many nightmares it inspired in you as a child, this moment is probably pretty surreal.
Voyla will keep hidden, closing on them, and trying to see and hear what they are doing. And she will keep an eye open towards the right wheat field too...
(+1 for each 10' distance)
"It ain't banter and it ain't bravado Sebastian. S~+$'s about to get real. You---we, whatever, sent up smoke signals. The cultists are comin. This is a frontier town, I am sure they can track and it's not like we can leave the heavy warhorse behind. Naw . . . This is it buddy. . . I don't think we got room ta run."
"They know who set this fire."
Marsh loads a big dab of chaw into his lower lip, ruminates, then spits to the side.
"You done right by Warshawski. Ya did what you could Calwen. Sometimes it ain't enough but, yer not dead. We need you to keep fightin till you or them are."
"If you got that wand heal her up."
"Now, I'm goin in that barn to clear it before settin it on fire. There could be an innocent in there, I gotta make sure first. Either one or more of you is comin along or yer not, but I don't have more time to wait."
Vinnie goes to the barn to clear it.
♤
Belligerent fool is right. Sebastian moves to Calwen's side and retrieves his Wand of Healing as he goes. "Dramin, Dalton, go with the lummox. Maintain watch on the side approaches as he enters. Calwen and I will be right behind."
At a moment of hesitation he says, "Hurry. Vinnie don't have the sense to wait for you. I'll heal up Calwen, then we'll move in for support." He looks to the elvish knight and adds, "My eyes, whatever Markham did to me, I can't see past 30 or so feet. You'll need to maintain vigil outside with me. Then Dramin and Dalton you go in and support Vinnie in the barn."
Bacarov begins using the wand...
Once done he helps Calwen to her feet. Then moves to Windmane to heal his wounds.
"Ok, mount up, Lady Knight. Time to see this through. This area needs to be purged of Ghlaunder's touch. These cultists have had free rein here long enough. We can help this town, then we go and rescue Warshawski."
Bacarov will then go to join the others at the barn, wand of burning hands out. He'll nod for Dalton and Dramin to go into the barn while he stands at the doorway and Calwen keeps watch outside.
Let's see if the "other" result of Markham's attack comes in handy... the cloak of shoes and darkness swirls about him as he searches.
Dalton glances down at Calwen's injured form with concern, but obeys Bacarov's command, making after Vinnie at an easy jog. We can't burn this place down soon enough. I feel eyes looking at me from every direction, the monk thinks to himself.
Up ahead, on the backside of the Chenowitz house, you can see the elven knightess and her warhorse being tended to by one of the investigators. Several dead stirges lie on the ground about their feet. You're sure that Leonard Kriegler had run off in this direction as well, but there seems to be no sign of him.
- - - -
While Bacarov tends to the many wounds of Calwen and Windmane, Marsh makes his way over to the barn and pokes his head inside the open barn doors. The barn is in just as poor shape as the cabin, and part of its rear wall seems to have partially collapsed. The barn seems well lived-in, however, with several piles of hay matted down from frequent use as beds; there are nine in all. The only creature occupying the barn is a fat, sleepy-looking pig tied off to a stake at the far end of the barn; it does not react in any meaningful way to Marsh's presence.
Calwen nods in thanks as Bacarov's wand heals her many wounds. As they draw closed, she winces in pain; her ear does not heal completely, its closed wounds leaving it with a stunted shape. It seems Ravenmoor has already left its mark on the knightess.
After thanking Bacarov, Marsh, and Dalton for their support, she gets to her feet and hefts her bastard sword, her shield conspicuous by its absence, and mounts Windmane. She looks strong again, but somehow less than she was before, more distant. She and Windmane begin trotting back and forth, patrolling the perimeter of the area.
Voyla slowly slip into the reeds, trying to remain undetected.
(+1 for each 10' distance)
Marsh takes aim on the sleeping pig. The last cultist they fought had a giant necromatic one. This pig was probably just food for the mutant's the cult kept here in the shed, but Marsh wasn't taking any chances. The hay was perfect tinder for setting fire to the barn, but as harsh as the big man might seem to the others, he wasn't going to put an animal through the fear and agony of being burned alive in its pen.
He will give it a second shot if needed. Then he pours a line of lamp oil across the nests before setting them ablaze.
"Barn's set. Let's clear that last out building and hit the mound."
♤
♤
♤
"Then on to pay a visit to the mayor's house." Bacarov scans the skies and then the surround, cursing under his breath at the limits of his vision. [smaller]"Keep an eye out. That last stirge may have gone to get assistance. And this fire will surely lure the villagers on it's own."
(dv, 30 ft)
While Vincent is going about his bloody work, Dalton focuses on helping to ensure the oil is spread evenly. It'll help the flames catch on and spread more quickly...he knows from unfortunate experience. As his hands grip the oil jug, he tries not to think about the last time he had to do something like this.
- - - -
Marsh looses his arrow. The sleek projectile streaks silently into the pig's skull, right between the eyes. With a lazy grunt of pain or surprise, the pig slumps forward to the ground.
With that business concluded, Marsh and Dalton finish spreading oil about the barn, and prepare to ignite it while the others wait outside, keeping watch.
Meanwhile, obscured by the tall reeds on the other side of the still-burning Chenowitz house, Voyla strains her eyes to keep watch on what the investigators are up to... and look out for any other movement in the field.
All of them hear the strange buzzing at once. It seems to come from within their own heads, an odd and low trill, like the song of a distant cicada... except originating within their own skulls. It is low at first, then rises sharply in volume.
Inside the warehouse, the body of the pig Marsh had slain shifts, then slowly begins to rise in the air, as if tugged upward by some unseen force. The arrow stuck within its skull begins to quiver as a second, then third pair of eyes drift open around the only ones the pig should have had. With a sound like an old drawer sliding open, tusks begin to push their way out from the corners of the pig's mouth, and its twitching legs begin to split and separate, four hooves becoming eight, then ten...
The sharp trilling rises to a nearly unbearable squeal inside everyone's ears, and the pig's head lowers- and its back opens up like a budding flower of flesh and teeth, huge teeth that might have once been ribs gnashing angrily as entrail-tendrils writhe through the air, tipped with little eyes or mouths, gazing curiously- and hungrily- at the occupants of the barn: Marsh and Dalton.
The air around the floating pig-thing seems to distort, and that disortion moves downward toward the earth below where its hooves dangle. The ground around it in a twenty-foot radius immediately transforms, softening into a thick slush in less than a second.
"Ah son of ah b@@@#! Yer kiddin me right!? Better smoke this thing quick while its gettin its legs."
Marsh almost charges, but noticed the muck under the things body so he snaps off another shot with his bow instead.
"Yeah! That's right, stuck ya again!"
Dramin continues to stare into the flames and as it dances he senses something. He learns to trust himself and immediately turns to his party, noticing Dalton and Marsh missing.
He hears the squeal of a pig in his head and a flash of monstrosity before him.
Surprise Round - Forewarned
Dramin prepares for battle as his training shows him a small detail of what is to come. The bow he grabbed off the dead man will be finally put to use.
Attack with Composite Longbow
Round 1
Dramin looks for a clear line on the beast... or what was once a beast.
Hesitation and lack of conviction was what caused him problems earlier. He readies another arrow and fires at the monster and ensures he is in optimal range first.
Move within 30 feet
Attack with Composite Longbow
♤
♤
♤
"Get out of the barn so we can seal it in here!" Bacarov raises the wand of burning hands and readies to use it. "Move! Now!"
He unleashes the wand's flames. "Calwen, be ready to brace the door!"
Wand
He looks on the beast and the ground at its feet. Abadar preserve the balance of your golden scales. Are these buzzing mosquitoes raising the dead? Is this Ghlaunder's power?
creature?
spell ability used?
"What? Ah! Foul creature!" Dalton cries, his sword gripped in white knuckles born of fear. With effort he steels himself. Focus on what you see, not your emotions, the voice of his sensei again.
His eyes darted to the ground beneath the abomination's feet. Slurry. No good for his sandaled feet. Adopting a defensive posture, he has the same idea as Bacarov - seal the creature inside, and let it burn. "Get back!" he cries to Vinnie, gesturing wildly at him and holding his temple sword in a warding posture against the beast's assault, if it came.