"Don't stay out in the rain, and make sure you dry off properly. Prestidigitation! I keep telling you to prepare it!" Agrit calls after Zove. Barnadus, the elderly squirrel familiar giving Zove a sad yes glance as she goes, before turning back to his nuts.
Maurie carefully approaches Kurst, being a little wary of Hope. "Nice horse.... good horse...."
Clearing her throat to get his attention, Maurie smiles as he looks down. "Good evening, Captain." Maurie pauses, about to make a platitude about the day, but thinks better of it. "I will get to the point as I know that calling this a 'hard day' would be underselling it by a price several platinum pieces shy of its actual value. We are continuing to investigate the so called Plague house... a lot of non murder related evil within, to be honest your brother would have probably needed to bring a patrol with him if they had ventured below. We have found some things that indicate more recent activity though, including recently constructed ladders and trap doors, and the presence of used disguise kits and lockpicking sets. Whatever secret your brother died investigating is not just something in the town's distant past." Maurie sits on a nearby hay bail.
"I had two questions for you in addition to giving you an update. First, did you get a chance to see the half-orc room in the Ramblehouse? We sent a runner to find and bring you there, as we thought the graffiti within... well, frankly it looked like attack plans." Maurie grimaces and continues. "Second, I had asked that the guards be on the lookout for a man matching the description of the note writer staying at the Ramblehouse last night. Do you know if they ended up detaining anyone matching the description provided by Cham? I know it is a long shot, but I will take any boon of fortune from Abadar right now."
Rubbing his temples Kurst takes a moment before replying, "I saw the graffiti, but it is not exactly uncommon, we have had similar Trunau's half orcs have a hard time and it is natural that many of them resent their treatment... And plans seems something of a stretch, though they are certainly concerning. I am afraid Cham's description turned up nothing, it was always to vague to be of much use I am sorry to say."
H epauses for a moment then adds, "We will be holding Rodrik's funeral tomorrow at sunset, though we may push it back a day if the rain persists. I hope you and your companions can attend."
Maurie nods. "I agree, there was a hefty amount of drunken hooligan graffiti mixed in, but sometimes people mess up with secret keeping while drunk. At any rate, having the guards be extra vigilant for the next few days and nights would probably be a good idea. Still, some good came from it... we now know the identities of your graffiti artists, as they had to have signed in with Cham before staying the evening. Small silver lining to an appropriately stormy day, I am afraid."
Maurie hops down. "I cannot speak for my companions, though I will inform them that they are invited. For my part I will be there. Your brother was a kind man and it would be wrong for me to not pay my respects. I will be armed though, as, unless we find our sneaky poisonous friend before then, it would be a perfect time for an ambush... simultaneously inflict physical wounds and psychological ones." She shakes her head. "I might be jumping at shadows, but this person likes to hide in them it seems." Smiling, Maurie bows.
"I will pass along the invitation, and when we discover more I will inform you. In the meantime I will be at the Ramblehouse, if we are not out investigating. The others had gone to the temple for further healing, I should meet up with them there. Thank you."
Kurst inclines his head, "Thank you Maurie, your efforts are deeply appreciated, please pass my regards on to your companions. I will brief the watch that we may face a greater chance of threat."
As Maurie approaches the church, she notices that services are going on still. Out of respect, she quietly joins the congregation toward the back, ensuring that she does not disturb or distract anyone.
"It might not be my faith, but Abadar has no qualms with Iomedae under normal circumstances." Sitting attentively, she listens to the sermon and watches the proceedings, keeping an eye out for anything that strikes her as out of place.
From what Maurie can hear Tyari seems to lean more towards good than law and while she speaks of courage and vigilance there is perhaps less of an emphasis on the martial than one would expect from a typical Priestess of Iomedae. Finishing with a prayer for Rodrik Grath, she speaks with a few members of the congregation, smiling and laughing with them before approaching the group and calling for them to follow her upstairs.
Once everyone is assembled she calls upon the power of Iomedae raising a wooden holy symbol shaped like a small longsword that's hilt intersects with a wheel.
"I am afraid I can only heal physical damage today, the dawn has not yet come. May I ask have you heard any word of Katrezrah? I have faith in him, but I cannot help, but be concerned."
Maurie bows her head appreciatively. "Yes, we found him. It was through his guidance that we knew to begin looking into the plaguehouse. He has taken refuge elsewhere, and asks that his location remain private for now, lest those that murdered Rodrik attempt to do likewise to him."
Maurie then describes the threats they have faced in the plaguehouse so far, and describes the statue they found on the second floor.
"My intention, if the weather and murder investigation permits, is to bring it down in a controlled way and place it in front of the entrance to the structure. Set up a shrine to the fallen, and allow those who wish to pay their respects to do so without fear of triggering the place's memories. It is rather too large to just spirit away to here without others noticing, so that is the best we can do for it, short of the town agreeing to it being enshrined here."
At Brantos's explination, Grok nods, yeah, suppose we are doing something valuable. So are you, though, it all matters. Grok eats for a moment, not really tasting the food too much, and gulping down water rapidly. He sets a bowl on the floor and fills it with water for Naurgost, patting him on the head. Wolves indeed, though of a different sort. Seems like more than not it was the same person who killed Rodrik, and we know he's sneaky, very sneaky.
Grok takes another sip of water, finished eating he looks about to stand up, then puts his hands under the table. There's some digging under the Plague House, at first I thought it might be a tunnel, go under the walls, but I don't know. That'd be quite a bit of work, especially to do in secret, next to the vigilant folk of the town. Maybe they're digging for something, buried under the old church. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?
As the group assembles, Grok sits and flexes his fingers, watching them closely and noticing blood near the joints. He is still in a great deal of pain. The healing light washes over him in a wave of ecstasy, one he had only become slightly familiar with. He cracks his knuckles, standing up and rolling his shoulders experimentally. That feels real good, thanks. Grok then steps to the side while Maurie and Tyari speak.
Mhm, might be better to set it good and far away, that's a house of malice as full of evil as any I've seen. Dangerous to go near it.
Well, I suppose we should see if we can find anything more tonight, be best to finish with our investigation before we burn Rodrik, if we can. You all good to go? Grok asks, looking around at the rest of the group.
Kurst shakes his head, "I suppose that sounds sensible enough, though I would make your meaning plain and the message enduring, it is always amazing how folk can creatively misread a gesture."
By the time the group are heading back to The Plague House it is truly night, despite the steady rain having rendered it dark hours before. The rain beats down soaking everyone to the skin by the time you reach the Plague House again.
There is no sign of Brin's sign...
Cromwin follows the group to the Sanctuary, taking Tyari up on the offer of food, snacking on cheese as the sermon concludes. As Tyari heals the group, Cromwin sighs with relief and wonder as the waves of healing wash over him and knit his scalded skin back together. He flexes his hand that had been bitten by the centipede and stares at it briefly before bowing his head slightly to Tyari. "Thank you. I've never received magical healing before. This was...this was wonderful. It makes me feel at peace."
As the group approaches the Plague House, Cromwin stares ahead at the entrance, feeling a chill pass through him caused not entirely by the soaked clothes. "Brin...your sign. Someone has been here. Someone might still be here, or could be watching us as we speak." Cromwin gulps, trying to push down the fear rising inside his stomach. "Be careful everyone. We're going to need to search this place completely, and there could be more than just a spirit rat waiting for us."
Cromwin walks Anvil up onto the first floor of the plague house, pausing to light a torch when passing under the ruins of a door frame. He protects the torch with his shield, riding slowly into the wet, dark corridor of the plague house, slowly riding past both sets of doors and towards the stairs heading to the basement.
"Hmm, it was never meant to be permanent, but the weather hasn't turned that bad.
Is someone trying to let us know they're here, trying to scare us, or do they simply hate my writing?
Brin follows Cromwin, and lights a torch off his.
"You know, it's bad luck to destroy Skaldic poetry. I almost feel sorry for the rat who did it."
Brin tenses up as they pass some bunks. He looks about the walls and ceiling, looking almost jittery.
"And Crom, let's not awaken the spirits this time..."
I really don't know why I keep coming into this ruin. Whatever happened to the good ol' heroics that go to occur out in the open, under the sun?
The battering rain renders Cromwin's torch near useless, but Zove's lantern provides light. Avoiding the haunt the group head down the stone stairwell and swiftly realize that they have a choice between announcing their presence with the light or moving forward stealthily. The pounding rain makes noise a none issue, but light in this wet slick darkness would be a dead giveaway.
Cromwin growls in frustration at his sputtering torch, as it smokes and hisses in the downpour. "Agreed, I've had my fill of those fiery screams for a lifetime. This rain, and the dark...I can't see a thing. I'll be useless down there without a light, and being trapped, in twisty passages, with the spirits of the dead...Zove, I think we'll need to use your lantern."
Grok pauses for a moment ahead of Cromwin, motioning to Zove to keep the lantern pointed away from the lower floors. His voice is a bare whisper, likely inaudible to those further back over the sounds of the storm. Just wait up a moment, I'm going to take a look below and see if the fellow tore down the sign is hiding in the dark.
Grok takes the stairs slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible despite the rain, and peaks around the corner into the room below.
Grok can just make out two humanoid forms past the lowered portcullis, what he imagines must be the half orc facing away from him, and the twisted, but powerful form of a malformed humanoid that he can only think is the same Flood Troll Rodrik was purported to have seen. Small for a troll the creature stands seven and a half feet tall and must weight in excess of three hundred pounds.
Grok sneaks back up to his companions, whispering in the same hushed tones. Three of them, two are half orcs, I think, one the flood troll. No use trying to burn them alive in here, too wet. How best to ambush them, then?
Brin nods at Grok and puts a finger up. He cups his ear with his other hand and listens for voices.
A troll? With Half-orcs here so close to town?
There is simply too much surging water for listening in to be viable from this distance, but fortunately that probably goes both ways. But Brin can just barely make out a word here and there, not enough to piece anything of the conversation together, but enough to be fairly sure the language is Giant.
Maurie whispers back, "Well we knew it was probably living hands that tore down Brin's sign... perhaps we can lure them in to the room with the rat that will not die and let those two fight it out?" The others notice that she has already drawn her kusarigama, the chain end bunched up in her right hand to avoid dragging or clanking noises. "Failing that, perhaps we just wait for the orc kin to separate from his trollish companion and deal with him separate?"
Cromwin blinks furiously, barely able to see his hand in front of his face from the darkness and driving rain seeping down through the floorboards. Two enemies, one big, but small enough to fit in the corridor. Think Cromwin, like a commander, like da tried to teach you. What are their tactical options? How are they likely to respond? They can flee back toward the rubble, hide in the room, go up the ladder or attack. Hm...
Cromwin leans close to his companions, whispering quietly as he can. "We can set up a flanking attack here. This corridor is a choke point. Grok, Maurie, if you are able to slip across the corridor undetected, Grok can shoot at them from here. If they move forward to attack him, Brin and Grok can flank whoever steps out of the corridor, and I can strike with my lance over Brin's shoulder to support him. Maurie, you can circle around through the gelatinous cube room and strike them from behind, or attack with your rope dart, as you see fit. You'll also be in position to protect Grok's flank if one of them moves through the ooze room from the other side."
Cromwin shifts, glancing up towards the slightly lighter patch of darkness where he thinks the stairs lie. "I will set Anvil to guard the exit to the plague house, so if they flee up the ladder, their escape will be blocked. They may be able to flee towards the spirit rat and climb out, but they might also have to fight it if they do that, and we can run back upstairs to cut them off if they try. If they take cover from Grok's bow inside the room, we'll hold position and try waiting them out for a few minutes, then we'll circle back up top and try shooting down through the trap door."
"Zove...I, uh. I don't really know what you can do. You can do something to fight, right? Some magic spell to help us or hurt them? We'll also need the lantern, but not until the fight starts, we don't want to give anything away."
What am I doing? I've never planned something like this before, I've barely helped da plan an attack ONCE. Brin or Grok or Maurie have to know more about this than I do, don't they?
Cromwin blushes, though the darkness hides his features from most of the group, though his voice quavers slightly, suddenly sounding unsure. "Um, I, uh...I've never really planned a battle before, but I watched my da do it a few times, and he's tried to teach me. Does this...does this sound like a good plan to everyone?"
Grok looks around at the other rooms, trying to remember the layout of the building. We have the advantage in numbers...can't try to flank them if we're on the stairs, and the high ground's not worth that much. Sounds good to me, let's go across real sneaky then.
Grok moves across the corridor quietly, staying low and fast.
Maurie nods. "I still think waiting for the half-orc to separate from his troll friend might be wisest, but this plan is sound enough I suppose. I will get into position and attack when you signal."
So saying, she heads off toward her destination as silently as a ghost.
"I will return as soon as I have Anvil in position. Hold until then, yell loudly if they stumble upon us before I get back."
Cromwin moves as silently and as quickly as he can up to where he left Anvil. He quickly gives Anvil the command to Guard, then hurries back down, feeling his way along the wall in the darkness. On the way, Cromwin stows his shield and readies his lance.
Grok readies his bow, putting a few arrows in his boot for faster drawing and knocking an arrow. He nods his head at Brin and Zove, ready when you are...
Brin tests the grip on the new masterwork longsword.
Here it is Brin, a test of your mettle you've been searching for, what you've been writing about. Time to earn your voice.
The bard turns back to Cromwin and nods that he is ready.
For the pages, for the books, and all those who told their tales before us.
The troll turns grabbing the half orc by the collar and gesturing wildly at "Othdan", raising his hand defensively the half orc backs away and turns towards the side passage. The distraction prevents either creature from noticing as Maurie slide the steel door open...
"They've seen us! Get ready!"
Cromwin grips his lance tightly, and prepares to stick it into the first enemy to come in sight.
Not the voice. Not yet.
"Come on, give me a target..." Brin murmurs to himself.
Grok draws his bow back to full and shoots at the troll, his arrow going wide and striking into the wall beside it. Damn, hope it doesn't notice.
Maurie, chain in one hand, attached kama in the other, awaits either both creatures to move down the corridor or the signal to begin engaging. "They haven't noticed me yet, but if they do I best be ready to strike. Remember the training. Remember the hours upon hours of forms."
Both troll and half orc, spin to the door, and both clearly notice Grok's shaft smash into the wall behind them. With shockingly fast reflexes both of your foes turn and bolt for the door of the statue filled room where you fought the strange ghost rats. Reaching it first the troll yanks the door open and the orc rushes past it out of sight.
Watch our right flank! Grok shouts, taking a step forward and holding his bow out to the right. He fires two arrows in rapid succession. The second is rushed, only half drawn and barely aimed, and it splashes into the floor far from the target.
Maurie blinks as the creatures run toward the undead rodent's abode. "I guess that makes sense, given I thought there was tunneling there. Perhaps they will awaken it... but somehow I don't think we will be so lucky." Waiting for the others to arrive in pursuit, Maurie looks around the former meeting room to see if anything strikes her as out of place from earlier.
What's going on? Did Grok get them? What--
"Grok, are they circling around? Zove, get behind me, now!"
Cromwin moves over to the passage where Zove is standing, and readies his lance threateningly to stab anyone who comes from that direction to try and flank the group.
Grok's arrow thumps home, but moments later pops out of the troll's side the puckered flesh writhing and healing over. Then the troll to vanishes through the door.
They moved to the rat room, best to push forward and cut off their escape! Grok struggles to make himself heard over the rain. He jogs up to the door through which the troll disappeared, holding it fast and bracing for impact. Brin, Cromwin, head up through to the other door! The rain must be healing it, my arrow caused a wound which healed straight away!
"Right! Cromwin, I'm right behind you!"
Brin spins back and turns to follow Cromwin down the hallway. He bounces off the wall to avoid Zove.
Where are those brutes going? Are there more caverns?
"Careful of those rats!"
"Wait, what? Grok, what's going on!" Cromwin sees Grok say something and run forward into the room, but the half orc's speech is lost in the rushing woosh of water. Wait, what? Why would he be running forward? Oh no, they must have discovered Maurie! Or...or he's trying to flank them somehow through the passage to the right...?
Cromwin hesitates until Brin starts moving towards the right passage. Ah, a flanking maneuver it is, I think. "Brin, take the lead, I'll back you up with my lance! What's going on, what's Grok doing? Zove, follow us, we'll need the light!"
Cromwin will follow Brin down the right hand passage.