"I be wit' ya." Harry says softly, an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice. "Be careful 'ere. Somethin' be verra wrong 'ere."
yeah,I'm gettin that same feelin
He says as he unholsters Onyx and begins to slowly move towards the man on the docks
"Charming town..." Lorne says as he looks around warily. "Seems our friend back there wasn't kidding regarding the state of the place." He turns to Robert. "Careful, lad. Keep that weapon hidden a moment, lest we alarm him. Let me hail the fellow. If he proves hostile for some reason, perhaps then we'll have a use for the thing."
The rest of us should hang back. We don't want to spook him. Marcus stays back but keeps his crossbow handy.
Descending safely into the village, the group find themselves amongst a row of single storey buildings built – almost as if retreating from the sea – up against the cliff-face. Fishing nets, lobster barrels and other fishing gear, none of which is in good repair, is piled up against those homes which show evidence of being lived in… although, as Lorne leads them through the village and closer to the pier, it becomes obvious that the vast majority of the buildings here are derelict. Visibility, as the rain intensifies to grey sheets of frozen misery, drops right down and, for a minute or so, even the sea becomes shrouded from view… following the ruined hovels to the east, Lorne leads the group to the start of the ramshackle pier.
…but out there, along the rain-slick wood of the pier, there is no sign of the person that was previously there…
"This is somewhat eerie..." she mutters under her breath
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"Aye...that be as good a word as any..." Harry replies. He squints his eyes against the biting wind blowing off the ocean. "Ye said ye saw someone 'ere? Looks like he must have jumped into th' water." Hurrying over to the pier he lloks around for any sign of them.
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Moving out onto the pier, the group have to walk cautiously... the rain, the rotten and missing planks and the occasional wave crashing into the weak structure make the pier a treacherous place. Of the man, there is still no sign - although at the very end of the pier, where he was last seen, there is a small heap of bloodied fish scales...
...and the entire time, the pier creaks and moves, ropes attached to anchor points either side lead below the opaque surface of the water... and those ropes loosen and tighten with the tide, amplifying the movement of the pier as it is hit by waves.
"Lookit 'here!" Harry motions excitedly to the end of the pier. "It looks like he may 'ave jumped ovahboard 'ere! Not sure what these scales mean though..." As the pier shakes with all of the bodies tramping around. "Don't worry 'bout th' pier. Should be safe fer now."
Looks like he fell through. See the broken pieces of wood floating there. Everyone be careful. Marcus points to the broken wood floating in the water.
I figured. But i had to put in a reminder =^^=
She was holding her nose
"This place REEKS! But the fish smells good"
She tries to grin from behind her paw
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With the pier lurching and swaying with each and every movement of the water below it, the group watch vigilantly for any sign of the person who apparently fell into the swell below… but, after five minutes without any sign, it becomes clear that they are gone.
Harry shakes his head. "Aye, whoever it be decided ta take a swim. He dinnae want to be sociable methinks!" He shrugs helplessly. "I sure dinnae wanna swin after him, mebbbe we should find that constable. He may know who that was!"
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"Over there! Boats... with what looks like... yes... people!" she exclaims, a bit too excitedly
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"Quiet down, Kit. Your ever-present enthusiasm may be endearing, but deploy it in moderation. We don't want to alarm them. Indeed, I fear we may have given our mystery man quite a fright. If our man Marcus is right and he took a fall, it could be due to our sudden appearance. We should be cautious. Something tells me they don't get many visitors here in Blackcove. And look how many there are! What could they be doing, cramming so many people into those boats? That seems quite unsafe."
He cups his grizzled chin between his forefinger and his thumb, an eerie thought blooming in his mind. "Unless somehow they feel safer out there than here on the land. An unsettling notion, yes?"
She huffs and crosses her arms
"Party pooper...."
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Aella glances out to sea, nodding at the catfolk's words and obviously not seeing a thing, nor thinking to perhaps take off her helmet...
"While your caution is laudable, Mr. Richter, I do not think we have much choice. These... people? Yes, people. They seem to be the only ones about, unless I'm missing something. What's the worst that can happen?"
The paladin draws a lantern from where it was hanging from her backpack, and makes to light it and use it as a signal should no one stop her in the process.
Well we need to get those people back here so that we can figure out what plagues this town
Aella’s lantern, once lit, is raised aloft and, in an attempt to get the attention of the folks crowded in the boats, is waved through the obscuring rain… whether anyone on the boats actually sees the paladin’s attempt to get their attention is impossible to tell – regardless, the boats stay out there beyond the waves…
…and, as Marcus remarks about the need to bring the people ashore, there is a sudden commotion from behind them – from within the village, screeching and complaining above the noise of the rain, a flock of tattered seagulls – numbering thirty or more – lazily take to the air. Circling and swooping, they crowd above one of the less derelict houses built against the cliff…
Harry shakes the droplets of water from his scraggly beard and turns to face Marcus with a look of disgust on his face. "'N how ye propose of gettin' them back 'ere? Swimming out 'n towin' their boats by hand?" He spits onto the pier, the spittle soon washed away. "Let's keep movin'. Them gulls be spooked by somethin'...and I be feelin' it too..."
"I'll go have a look see" she drops down, as she begins to move over to where they heard the commotion
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Robert turns towards the town at the seagulls. Ay, Harry is right. Those gulls are damned annoying,and the worst thing is that they never leave. Whatever is in the town ain't good. Not by my definition of it at least.
After a good length of being ignored, Aella stamps her foot and yells out an obscenity at the faceless grey blobs that vexed her. She snuffs the flame of her lantern and returns it to its resting place. Arms crossed, she mutters something under her breath, but otherwise follows the lead of her companions.
"What fool would turn away those trying to help them?"
Seeing a chance to ingratiate himself with one of his captors, Harry lays a hand on Aella's shoulder. "Easy thar Aella. Lookit from thar perspective. They 'ave no idear who we are. Fer all they know we be th' reason thar village be troubled." He gives her a gruff, reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We be unravellin' this mystery afer too long."
The paladin lets out a decidedly loud "harrumph", before visibly relaxing.
"I s'pose you have the right of it, my friend. I think it is just a constant frustration of a paladin - to offer aid and have it spat back in your face. It's a hard line between respecting the liberties of freefolk, and doing what's good for them despite what they say. Some people just need a good, hard smack on the noggin' to set them straight." She turns and gives a sly wink at the dwarf, though he may not be able to see it. "Or would you prefer a paddling?"
"Speaking of people in need of a paddling; where did that cat run off to?"
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Leaving the unstable pier behind, the group have solid ground beneath their feet once more – keeping a keen eye for signs of other people but seeing none – they cautiously approach the house above which the seagulls are circling.
Kit’Arr scouts ahead and so is the first to see that the house has shifted upon its foundations… the entire western end of the building appears to have sunk by two feet or so and the eastern wall, standing erect in stark contrast to the rest of the angled building, has separated from the adjoining walls. The gap in the wall means it is possible to see, without entering the structure, that the remnants of an alchemical laboratory are scattered around the building… on tables, benches and even hanging from the rafters, there are alembics, stills, flasks and glass tubes.
The chemical smell coming from the cottage, overpowering even the stink of rotten fish that hangs over the village, is unpleasant with an apparently high sulphur content…
She heads back to group, to inform them about the condition of the house
On hearing the report from the scout, Harry's brow furrows in thought. "But ye dinnae see anyone? Aye 'tis odd. Somethin' must've happened dere." He turns to face the other members in the group. "I say we check it out. Gotta be some clues in dere right?"
She bits her thumb
"Not so sure, from what I could see, that place is on it's last legs. Might just give in from under us. Maybe when we reach it, I should look at it first before we all go waltzing in?"
Let us go and see what is causing the gulls to scream so. Animals often sense wrongness before humans. perhaps there is something over there that is upsetting them. Marcus begins walking toward the building.
As the group approach the badly subsiding cottage, the seagulls that have been circling overhead complain and, with wings beating hard against the rain, fly a little higher in the air – but, cawing occasionally, they continue wheel overhead. The structure is clearly unstable and it must surely collapse to rubble or be swallowed by the ground at some point… but not now, an examination of the ground upon which the cottage is built suggests that it is, for now at least, safe… for no more than one person.
- Feeling for signs of chaotic influence, Marcus feels nothing.
Clambering through an open window rather than opening a door and risking further structural collapse, Kit’Arr enters the building – the stench of rotten eggs is quite repulsive and, for the briefest of moments, Kit’Arr feels dizzy… but, composing herself, she looks around. There is only one room in this cottage and the alchemist, for surely that would have been the profession of the inhabitant, worked, cooked, ate and slept in this single room… there are numerous scrolls and tomes scattered around and, even without examining them, Kit’Arr can tell they have been ravaged and ruined by rain… there is nothing to be gained here, nothing to be discovered…
…and then, from a large earthenware urn with an iron lid, comes a noise… and then again… drawing closer, Kit’Arr can see it rocking slightly…
Kit will sneak closer. Slowly. Not wanting to alarm what ever is inside the container
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Harry keeps an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, though to his practiced eye everything here is quite out of the ordinary.
Och...this place be better washed out ta sea wit' th' rest of the flotsam...
As Kit'Arr moves closer to the urn, it rocks more and more until, with the catfolk standing next to it, the iron lid comes clattering to the floor... and a tiny leathery hand reaches over the rim of the urn. The hand grips the side and pulls a chemical stained humanoid - no more than eight inches in height - to a sitting position... wheezing, it gasps for air...
- above the sound of the seagulls and the rain against the buildings, the sound of someone - or something - walking along the shingle between the rows of ruined homes can be heard. It is drawing closer...
Harry moves closer to the wall of the cottage as he grips the handle of his club tightly. "Hey. Hurry up in 'thar. Someone be comin'!" He hisses to the catfolk in warning.
"Are you okay? " she asks a bit hesitantly
She didnt want to respond to those outside. She didnt want to startle the creature
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Though she couldn't hear it herself, Harry's insistence had Aella drawing her sword in preparation. She kept watched silently, greatsword resting point first towards the ground in a posture that is half preparation and half trying to hide her nervousness.
"Whose idea was it to come here?"
Marcus takes up a covering position in case the roof runner turns out to be hostile. Kit we are not alone. You need to get back to us.
The tiny creature, apparently surprised by Kit’Arr despite the soft voice, turns to face the catfok… its eyes, inky black and disproportionately large for its face, open even wider. A tiny hand reaches towards Kit’Arr – almost pleading for help - as the occupant of the urn’s gasps become ever more desperate…
Outside of the building, the noise of footsteps upon shingle becomes ever closer… and is now accompanied by the whistling of a tune that, despite the ineptitude of the whistler, is disconcertingly jolly…
"Worry not, Aella, except about the patronizing comment I am about to offer: I'll protect you if anything terrible comes out of there." He says this as a jest, but the eerie atmosphere and strange sounds are getting to be a bit much even for him. Be careful in there, Kit, he thinks.
"Is anyone else not liking the sound of that damned whistling?"
"Easy thar Lor-ne" Harry's voice sounds unnerved yet he tries to sound reassuring nevertheless. "No need ta fly off th' deep---" He stops suddenly and cocks his head as the sound of...something else catches his ear.
What that be? Crabs? Somethin' else? Gotta keep it tagether...fear be as deadly as th' sea...
Whoever it is is comic closer. So I'm going to go find him first. No point in letting him scare us half to death first,it'll put us at a disadvantage. So,even id he is a friendly,we find want him leaving without answering some question. Anyone coming or are you just going to stanf there?
Alright everyone into the building being out here with unknown entities and one of our number inside dealing with Asmodeous knows what. Leaves us vulnerable and divided. Better to be in one spot dealing with one problem at a time. Marcus begins moving to the house keeping an eye one the roof and an ear out for the scuttling sound.
"Protect ME?" She scoffs, looking the man up and down. "Forgive me, Mr. Richter, but I have an inkling the roles may be reversed in this situation. But..." She grins.
"I appreciate the notion."
As Marcus moves towards the subsiding cottage, he sees Kit’Arr seemingly transfixed by an earthenware urn sat atop a wooden table in the centre of the building… and then, looking in more detail, he sees the tiny humanoid figure within the urn. With Marcus’ prisoner watching, the little creature tries to stand… but, clutching at its throat, it falls after a second – toppling from the urn and lying still on the table. Kit’Arr reaches out and, ever so tentatively, touches it… turning to Marcus, with a mixture of sadness and puzzlement in her voice, she tells the Asmodean that it, whatever ‘it’ is, has died…
…meanwhile, outside the cottage, Robert attempts to marshal the other members of the group in readiness for whatever it is crunching along the shingle between the houses – the whistling grows ever louder and then, abruptly, it stops…
”Hellloooo!!! Is there somebody there? Is that you Gerlach?”, a squat man, wrapped up in weather-proof skins to the point of being nigh on unrecognisable as human, comes around the corner... ”You there!!! Yes, you!!! What you doing in that house… that be private property!!! Explain yourselves”