The group appear to ignore Fawkes - as his voice was clearly audible.
Torr opens the door to see a room that is in as much disarray as the room you currently occupy. It's small and a plain oak desk stands near the back. A number of large legal text books lay strewn across the floor.
Fawkes, sensing that he's been ignored, follows Torr. He mumbles a defense, mostly to himself. "I was getting there. You're just... supposed to wave your sword around first." With a sigh, he adds a grumble. "Stupid stories..."
Pushing past Torr, who seems to be more interested in looking at the room than searching it for clues, Fawkes looks around a bit. Standing in the center, he freezes. "This doesn't look like an apartment. I think this is the wrong room." Shrugging, he goes over to the desk anyway to search it.
As Fawkes crosses the room, a number of large leather-bound law books fly from the shelves. As the tomes move about the room, you hear a mad cackling noise - clearly a deranged laugh. One book lands neatly on the desk and its pages riffle backwards and forwards until coming to rest. It immediately spins so that the writing is the right way up for Fawkes to read. Before his eyes, the text blurs, except for one passage.
[Spoiler=Fawkes reads…] “We, entrusted with justice, must be above reproach. Those who fail to serve justice blindly shall reap what they sow.”[spoiler]
A moment later you hear what can only be the door that exits the courtroom slam shut. Simultaneously, you hear a harsh staccato whisper that builds to a rasping croak that echoes through the entire courthouse.
You hear the scream of the half-orc over the horrid sound. “No! Get away from me! You’re dead! I saw you swing! No!”
What follows can only be described as the jangling of a chain and wet gurgling. Then all goes silent.
Fawkes' mind begins to puzzle over the possible meanings of the passage, but the sounds of horrible death interrupt him before he can get far. Poking his head out of the room to check on everyone, he tugs on Torr's sleeve, jerking his thumb behind him to the book.
Torr slips into the side room and examines the writing in the book, looks back at Fawkes. "Seems we are dealing perhaps with a vengeful spirit, one that was wronged by the actions taken in this very courtroom. Don't know what we can do to set things right. But I don't want to meet that poor fellow's fate just cuz we're posing as two of the jurors."
Fawkes follows Torr back into the room and whispers conspiratorially. "I think the ghost knows we're not jurors, but that's neither here nor there. If this means what I think it means, then one of them," he says, gesturing out the door, "knows a bit more than they're letting on. Could be more than one, or even all of 'em. Mark me, the real culprit's standing in this courthouse."
"You're likely right about that, my friend, but who is truly to blame here?... and how do we get him, or them, to confess?" Torr turns his gaze on the other jurors.
"I don't know...yet. But I don't think we should let them in on our suspicions, at least not yet. I suspect even the spirit may know more about this than we do. Follow my lead, for now at least."
Reappearing from The Study, Fawkes tries not to over-exaggerate his act. With a shrug, he says to Torr, "See? I told you there wasn't anything in there. It's not even the right room!"
Torr reenters the jury room after Fawkes and looks at the jurors. How I wish I could read minds right about now. Which ones are guilty of this travesty of justice, if that is truly what occurred here? He examines each of their faces as if looking for some clue there...
As you re-enter the courtroom, you see the other doors flung open and the group survey the scene beyond. Immediately you hear one of the two women scream.
Both women turn away from the doorway and, instantly sizing you both up – run straight to Fawkes and drape themselves on him, one on each shoulder.
The taller of the two is the more mature but is still beautiful. She sports bright red lipstick on a face that is framed by shoulder length blonde hair. She wears a figure-hugging gown of red silk that accentuates her considerable curves. ”Oh brave and kind sir,” she purrs in Fawke’s ear, ”Please say you will protect me.”
The other woman is equally as pretty but at least ten year’s younger and is far more athletic in build. You are both drawn to her crystal blue eyes.
At this point the dwarf also wanders across, shaking his head solemnly. ”Well boys, likes it or not, your part of this now. What’s our plan?
Fawkes puts an arm around each waist, offering a firm but comforting hold. "Fear not; no harm will come to you, as long as I stand by your side." Unless, of course, you're the culprits, in which case there's probably few places worse than where you are now.
Turning his attention on the dwarf. "I'd say the next step is to investigate the attic. What say you, d'Landry?"
You both recognise the younger woman. She’s known as Madge and is a popular street performer. From memory, she used to be one half of a father-daughter show although now she performs solo.
The dwarf nods vigorously. ”Aye laddies, I’m with ya.” His face pales a little as he adds, “That’s to say, I’m right behind ya.”
Torr smiles and turns to wink at the dwarf when he changes from 'with ya' to 'right behind ya' and then nods to Fawkes. "Aye the attic... I hope the access doesn't require that we go out that door." he nods toward the door the half-orc took. "Surely there's got to be a way up to the attic from inside the building here."
He looks around for stairs, ladder, trap door in the ceiling, anything that might be access to the attic.
Fawkes frowns as he realizes something. "Torr, I fear we've been remiss. It may behoove us to examine..." His voice trails off before he can finish, not wanting to frighten the women any more. He indicates, by inclination of the head and pointed looks, the door the half-orc was last seen exiting. "I'll go check it out if you'll defend the women in my absence. Shouldn't take more than a moment."
"Do be careful, I have a feeling leaving the building might be a fatal mistake." He smiles at the two ladies slightly, keeping his head down slightly so his hair hides the worst of his scars.
"As for keeping an eye on the ladies, I'd be honored, if they will allow me to do so."
"Well, I won't leave the building then. I'll be alright; it's just in the other room," Fawkes says, his words trailing over his shoulder as he exits through the door to the scene of the recent catastrophe.
The clock stands between a set of impressive oak doors (identical to the ones you just stepped through) and a lone oak door of equitable splendour to its right. The largest set of doors is to your left . They are barred against the night. You see more sets of thick oaken doors to your right.
Only then do you see the half-orc hanging from the rafters by his own spiked chain, quite dead, his blood pooling on the floor beneath his swinging boots.
As if on cue, the grandfather clock goes berserk, tolling and clanging dissonantly, assaulting your very sanity. Flashing through your mind are images of strangulation, death, murder by axe, and other gruesome flashes.
Torr shakes off the aftereffects of the vision and blinks to clear his eyes. With grim determination, he turns to the original jurors. "Can you describe this Mord fellow to me as he was in life? Was his wife elven?"
Perhaps knowing if he was a large hulking man, and if what I just saw was a vision of the crime, would at least give me a starting point to consider who might have done this horrid thing. Either he did it and his ghost haunts this place out of evil, or he was innocent and his ghost seeks redress for the wrong of his execution. I guess it is up to us to prove the right of one side or the other. Maybe that will end the haunting here.
The dwarf is the quickest to respond to Torr. "He was an ordinary man. A keen gardener I understand. Anyways, he was quite average to look at and 'is wife was a local lass, certainly not Elven. Why'd you ask?"
"I had a vision... of a hulking figure..." He shakes his head trying to dislodge the unpleasant vision again. "Does the name 'Sashrala' mean anything to any of you?" He watches their faces as he mentions the name for any sign of recognition.
Torr scowls slightly as he hears Rekkart's words. "So great adventurers tried to deal with Mord's spirit in the past and failed? We are out of our depth here, unless there is more to this than meets the eye. Perhaps dealing directly with Mord is not the answer, but instead it lies in ferreting out truths that have not been addressed?"
He moves off as if to follow Fawkes. "Perhaps you all should stay here in the courtroom."
Fawkes grips his head, stumbling about as the clanging rings through the depths of his mind. He slips in the blood, tumbling to the floor, rolling to a crashing stop on one of the doors. He lays there, still holding his head, until the clock ceases to ring. As the visions slowly fade, he picks himself up, glancing at the clock with a leery grimace. He tries to shake off the disquieting feeling that begins to seep into him, but can't help but shiver a little. Putting the event out of his mind, he sets to the task of investigating the dangling body.
As Torr exits the courtroom, he sees Fawkes pick himself up off the floor and also sees the body of the half-Orc swinging from a rafter.
In truth there is little to see with regards the body. It certainly hanged and the chain spikes caused the cuts that allowed the blood to flow so readily.
As frustrating as the lack of evidence is, Fawkes sweeps the room for any other clues and notices the thick dust on the floor. Clearly the current occupants had been dragged from the front door through to the courtroom as the tracks from their heels are visible. What jumps out to him is the fact that he can only count 11 tracks yet 12 people awoke in the courtroom.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Fawkes jumps, startled. Whipping around to face the intruder, he sighs at relief to see Torr. "Oh good, it's only you." Turning back to his investigation, he whips around again. "Why aren't you protecting the women?!" As soon as that, the matter of the women is forgotten again as he waves Torr over. "Never mind, come take a look at this." He points out the tracks on the floor. "What d'you make of that?"