This is the DotZone.
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It is a typical grey, rainy day in Lepidstadt when the group is brought together. The meeting is held in the lavish townhouse of Judge Embreth Daramid, the main financier of your quest. One of the local justices on the Vieland Council, Judge Daramid has a keen interest in the fate of the county's people. Also present is a mousy young woman with hay-colored hair, square glasses and ink-blackened thumbs. Her name is Jeminda Anikee, a local bookkeeper.
The Judge bids everyone sit down in her lounging room. In her townhouse, the walls are maroon, and decorated with dozens of paintings of an extended family, as well as old drawings of the town at different stages of its development. The living room's fireplace has naught but smoldering embers inside, although it is nice and toasty in the house. A maid brings a few trays of dry crackers, tea, sliced fruit and cheese. A single square of dark chocolate sits on each person's plate. Her couches are very comfortable, if perhaps a little bit too soft. "Thank you for coming," says the Judge. "Ms. Anikee here has a job for you, if we could give her a moment to explain it."
Jeminda nods gratefully to Judge Daramid and begins to talk, her voice a little high and too fast. "Um, so, a couple of weeks ago, I was looking through the tax records for this year, and I noticed that Ravenmoor hasn't paid. Well, I looked through the records for the past few years, and I realized they hadn't paid then either. The problem goes back fifteen years! Normally, such a small village wouldn't have to pay much taxes, but after such a long time, what with the late fees and penalties and such... well, the price is pretty high," she says with a huff. "I didn't want my bosses coming and seeing that before I had the money accounted for... y'know, I didn't want to be blamed or nothin'," she bumbles. "So I got in touch with my brother, Elias Kyle. Offered him a job to go out and get that money for me. He's a tough guy, I figured he could handle it... but... it's been a couple weeks now, and Ravenmoor isn't that far. I'm sure you all know how dangerous Ustalav is..." she hesitates, scratching her chin. "I know he's probably been eaten by something really big and horrible, but I have to know. And I still have to get those taxes..."
The Judge cuts in, adding, "So, I'm offering a fee of five hundred platinum for the return of the taxes and of Elias Kyle. Three hundred platinum for the return of the taxes and proof of the fate of Elias Kyle."
"And," she adds, "An additional two hundred platinum either way for the slaying of whatever monster may have killed Mr. Kyle, in the event of his death."
She crosses her hands over her lap. "Agreed?"
Henry absently straightened his cravat as he say around the fireplace with the others. He recognized a few of them for certain, one girl from the university and another he'd seen around the fine arts department, though he didn't quite remember her name off the top of his head. Though he isn't quite sure what they want with him, especially considering they also seem to have gathered a few of the burly warrior types that he'd occasionally hired as guards. Not that he actually recognized any of the warriors gathered today. However, as the young woman explains the situation, his own role becomes significantly more clear. "Ah. A mysterious disappearance and the possibility of a strange or rare creature haunting the region. That makes significantly more sense. I admit, I wasn't sure what to think when I was asked to take a job for the Council, but I won't turn down a chance to get a look at an unusual creature."
Standing at an imposing 6'5", 'Khar paces impatiently as the Judge explains the situation. He wasn't exactly convinced this was worth the time. Some tax collector gone missing hardly seemed like the best way to find something challenging to fight. To top it off, he had bought slightly nicer clothes at the urging of Urick. It was all tiresome, but greying half-elf had earned 'Khar's respect, and seemed to have good instincts about this sort of thing.
He glances around at the others in the room, not certain why they needed so many. Still, even split among them the money would be sufficient to pay for more than a few nights worth of drinking. 'Khar then turns his attention to the other greying man in the room, his curiosity piqued as he concurs that there might be some sort of rare creature involved in the disappearance. It would certainly be far more interesting than the more probable case that the people simply weren't interested in paying their taxes. Back on Jalmeray the tax collectors had usually been heavily escorted for precisely that reason.
The others who had arrived were... not what he expected. It seemed more like a group of teachers from the university had shown up than a group of people intending to hunt some kind of monster. Of the group, however, one of them set him off. He sniffs at the air, trying to determine what it is about the Varisian girl that rubs him the wrong way. Unable to put a finger on it, he turns his attention back to the Judge.
"S'we hunt'm down and bring'm back one way or another. Taxes to boot, yeah?" he says in a gravelly baritone. "Sounds easy enough."
Perdita nibbled on a cracker while listening to the speakers. Her gaze wandered the room apathetically. Noting who was there and their likely utility.
She might have seen the other girl in the room, or not? Perdita didn't really socialize with her fellow students, or pay them much attention. Preferring to haunt the libraries.
She recognized Professor Lainor from the university, nodding politely when their gazes did meet. Some of the staff were rather prickly regarding their rank and expected the students to always be respectful.
She had had little experience with Professor Lainor and didn't know if he were one of the prickly, or one of the more relaxed academics?
Placing her cup back on the table she crossed her hands demurely and addressed the judge and the bookkeeper
If we do return with Mr Kyle, slay the possible creature and gather the missing taxes that would be 700 platinum remuneration. A considerable sum of coin. Just what amount is the tax we are supposed to collect?"
She listens carefully to the responses.
Urick is stone-faced as he listens to Jeminda's tale, his arms crossed. He patiently picks out the pertinent details amid her bumbling speech, a task that requires a tad more concentration than the mere act of listening usually should. His chest heaves with a small sigh when she finishes; he simply does not have the heart to tell her that her brother is more than likely dead at the hands of some terrible creature. Nor does he have so little tact as to suggest that his fate might be even worse than that. With this being Ustalav, of course, everyone in the room is probably already well aware of those possibilities.
He looks to 'Khar, not terribly surprised to hear that he is on board with the mission. If there were no monster involved, he doubted that the skinwalker would be at all interested. Not that he could say otherwise about himself. He did not doubt that if there were no money at stake, Judge Daramid would not be offering such a generous reward. Urick looks to everyone else in turn, wondering what might motivate them to take part. The Lepidstadt professor certainly did not keep it much of a secret.
"We are no taxmasters, but I would say that we are more than suited for the task," he says to the Judge with a firm but otherwise polite tone. Asides from himself, he could only speak for 'Khar in that regard. He still had the scars to prove it. "And if there is some manner of beast that was responsible, then it stands to reason that it is a threat to Ravenmoor as a whole. We shall see to it that it never harms anyone again."
After a slight pause, he looks to Jeminda and calmly adds, "If your brother lives, then we will bring him back to you."
Ms. Anikee begins to speak up, but Judge Daramid speaks over her instead, motioning with a placating hand to allow her to speak. "The sum in taxes is approximately one thousand gold, which will be returned to the city. Your payout will be from me, to prevent Ms. Anikee here from losing her job and to investigate a possible threat to our people."
Henry nodded back when the younger of the ladies met his gaze. Well, younger of the ladies from the university. He had never seen the woman in black before either, but she had the look of someone a bit roguish. And those roguish types were often a great asset. He tapped his fingers absently for a moment before her could remember the name: Gallowglass. He distantly remembered loaning a book on anatomy to her through one of her professors, but he hadn't had the chance to teach her himself. Given that she'd attracted the attention of the local council, it seemed she was making a name for herself quite nicely anyway.
"I can respect being willing to pay out of pocket to ensure people can travel the roads in safety," Henry says earnestly, turning back to the matter at hand. Going into the situation without any place to start could be a disaster though, especially if there was a creature of some danger lurking around. He takes a moment to wet his throat from the tea cup and dabs his lips dry on his napkin. "Have you heard anything from the area at all? Any signs of what's going on, or just absolute silence?"
Daramid shrugs. "Ravenmoor is a very insular place. Sometimes traders pass through, but we never hear much about goings-on there. It's just a small Desnan farming community."
She holds up a finger. "Well, we hear that there's a bunyip that hunts in nearby waterways, but that's a known danger. And, of course, it's near enough to the Shudderwood for werewolves to be the culprit."
"Ohh? Interestin'..." 'Khar says when werewolves are mentioned. He grins and clenches his hand into not-quite-a-fist, the fingers curled in towards the open palm. While Ustalav had plenty of monsters to come by, the werewolves had always interested him most due to his own heritage. The possibility that they were involved made him eager to get moving. No longer pacing, he turns completely towards Daramid and Anikee. "Anythin' left t'cover? Sooner we get movin', sooner it's done."
Urick raises a brow when he hears the sizable difference in amount between the missing taxes and the reward being offered, but does not comment. At the mention of werewolves, he glances at 'Khar again, recalling that he had once mistaken him for one of the beasts. But as he had made perfectly clear, he was something else entirely.
"I imagine that we can learn anything else we need to know from the townsfolk," he remarks as he raises his teacup to his mouth. Just before taking his sip, he adds, "Assuming that they are cooperative."
"Well, I do believe that personal introductions are in order," Henry says with a chuckle. "I would like to know who I'm going to be traveling. And I only recognize one or two faces here. My name is Doctor Henry Lainor, from the department of medicine and alchemy at the university."
"'Khar here," he replies to the old man's question. After replying he takes another look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Seems odd t'have a bookworm along to hunt monsters, no? You some kind of wizard?" he says, trying to gauge whether he was some sort of magic user. His grandmother had quite a bit of magic at her disposal, but she was also a terror in her own right. He had heard stories of wizards and the such, but none of them had been involved in the fights at the Arena, nor had any of them been traipsing about the jungles during his time living in the wilderness.
"Urick here's a stick," he says, pointing at the half-elf, "but he knows how t'shoot at least," 'Khar says with a laugh, pulling open his shirt to reveal a scar on his chest likely caused by an arrow or bolt of some kind.
"Alchemist," Henry corrects. "A bit of a mix between science and magic where mixing potions takes priority over wiggling fingers and chanting. Though I do have a few spells at my disposal when push comes to shove. And as for my reasons... well I have a bit of a knack for field work. And it's very hard to examine a beast's anatomy until you've killed it. Dissections are far safer when the subject isn't moving."
"Urick Tirrell," the half-elf elaborates, feeling obliged to clarify his identity. He does not comment further on 'Khar's flattering remark, but he does pat on his weapon of choice, a large-bodied crossbow with an ivory stock, darkwood arms... and a hair trigger.
"So this is not your first hunt, then," Urick presumes, not sounding terribly surprised. As he had learned over years, there were few people better to consult than a Lepidstadt professor. The university's reputation was entirely deserved. Still, he did not know how to feel about cutting up a creature after it was already dead.
Tassa listens and watches the strangers around her. She pulls her black kapenia down to eat a large slice of cheese on a cracker but then pulls it back up, making sure it still covers her mouth. With her scarf up, all that can be seen within her black darkleaf armor are sea green eyes and a scarred cheek on a rather plain Varisian face, framed by thick black hair that's pulled back in a long braid.
Her eyes land first on the man-cat and she stares at him until he appears to notice. What kind of monster is he? Seems akin to the werewolf of the Shudderwood, I suspect. She feels the hungry tentacles begin to itch under her skin, and wills them away. Glancing down she sighs, He seems to be controlling his taint, for now. If so, who am I to judge? Still, I should be ready to strike first if it comes to that...
Her thoughts are interrupted by the description of the job. She listens as the others introduce themselves and then takes a breath and nods to the group.
"I'm Tassa Bokrugscu. I've never been to Ravenmoore but I've grown up in and around the Shudderwood, and have slain my share of horrors. I'll help kill this one too." She glances briefly at 'Khar when she says the word horrors.
Looking for somewhere else to focus and finding the older man's presence somewhat soothing, she turns and adds "Doctor, I'll do my best to keep you safe on the journey."
Henry nods as the elf speaks up again. He seems like a fairly level-headed sort, perhaps a bit more than his companion. But they both seem at least to be capable. "Hardly the first, and hopefully not the last," he says.
His eyes narrow momentarily as the woman in black finally introduces herself, but he says nothing as he schools his expression. Less roguish and more cultish then. Not... necessarily a bad thing, but perhaps something to be cautious of. Still, she seems rational enough, if a bit quiet. Always best to at least give people a chance. "You must have had interesting parents," he says calmly. "But if you're experienced in dealing with monsters, it's a pleasure to have you along. Just don't get yourself in over your head watching my back. I'm may be getting on in years, but I'm still a fair hand with a sword."
Perdita's eyes study each of the group as they speak, her face revealing little of her thoughts. She did have a certain amount of interest in just why such a sum was being offered to cover a minor failure in tax collection? But she doubted any questions would receive an answer from the Judge or the Bookkeeper.
"Perdita Gallowglass." She offered politely. "I have some healing magic, and am practiced at gathering information.".
She sits calmly, having said all she was going to.
'Khar tenses up and sniffs again towards Tassa, his face wrinkled in a look of displeasure as she seems to react to something unseen. When the professor interjects about her parentage, he seems to relax a bit. "Monsters for parents?" he says tactlessly, paying little attention to the fact that they are still in the presence of their patrons. Even though something about her was unnerving, if she was a scion of monsters, it was likely she could fight. Hopefully seeing whatever it was she was hiding would be... entertaining. "Grandmother's a Rakshasa." he says, pointing a finger at his chest and grinning. "Sounds like y'have 'bout as much fun at family reunions."
Turning to Perdita, he sizes her up, not sure what to make of a female in a dress coming along as well. Tassa at least had some sort of heritage that guaranteed something interesting, but this one?
"'nother magic user? Suppose it can't hurt, You and th'Doc there best keep up." he says. For the moment there was no harm in others coming along. So long as they didn't get in the way of the hunt, and didn't need protecting, they weren't really his problem. Given that he'd experienced some fairly strange things, not least of which was being picked up bodily by his tiny grandmother and watching her change shape into a blue-skinned tiger-headed beast before she nearly killed him, he was willing to concede that magic users might be able to impress him.
"You must have had interesting parents," he says calmly. "But if you're experienced in dealing with monsters, it's a pleasure to have you along. Just don't get yourself in over your head watching my back. I'm may be getting on in years, but I'm still a fair hand with a sword."
Tassa flinches a bit at the interest in her parentage. Stupid, Tassa. You're not at home anymore. Best to be just 'Tassa' for now. You have no idea who these people are, but the aren't Rasnovers.
"Interesting? Aren't all families?" Tassa attempts to smile naturally.
Tassa is about to change the subject when 'Khar presses on.
"Monsters for parents?" he says tactlessly, paying little attention to the fact that they are still in the presence of their patrons. Even though something about her was unnerving, if she was a scion of monsters, it was likely she could fight. Hopefully seeing whatever it was she was hiding would be... entertaining. "Grandmother's a Rakshasa." he says, pointing a finger at his chest and grinning. "Sounds like y'have 'bout as much fun at family reunions."
Tassa blinks at the brazen ease with which 'Khar admitted to descending from a Rakshasa. "Being touched by something monstrous isn't something to joke about. The monstrous should work hard to control their natures. I'm sure."
Then she turns to Perdita. "Life is brutal. If you are a gifted healer, I'm glad that you're coming. Are you a cleric, then? Who do you serve?" She glances the other woman over for holy symbols or other clues.
As she talks, she finishes off the last of the cheese and crackers on the nearest serving platter, and starts eyeing the next one over.
Henry shrugs. "I don't know. I always thought my father was rather dull. But I suppose everyone feels like that when they're young." He chuckles at his own joke.
With introductions (awkwardly) completed and the snacks mostly consumed, the Judge bids the group to get going. Time is of the essence in a missing persons' case, after all. The group is ushered out into the drizzle and the dreary grey sky, and after whatever preparations you need to make for the road, you head out on the road. Lepidstadt has lots of well-maintained roads in its immediate area, though the path to the southeast will eventually go into less-traveled and less-maintained zones. As was mentioned, it's about two days' walk, or about 25 miles from Lepidstadt to Ravenmoor, though the smaller village is across a small river and inside a relatively inhospitable swamp area and so is not exactly convenient to reach.
There are a number of things that could have happened to Mr. Elias Kyle. He could have been ambushed by bandits, killed by a swamp monster, hunted by lycanthropes, killed by the villagers of Ravenmoor, or any number of other things. First things first... might there be signs of him on the road?
Henry pulls his heavy cloak around himself as the somewhat unusual group makes its way out of the city. He never liked traveling in rain, but it was hardly avoidable given the situation. He absently made a mental note to pick up a recipe for an extract to ward off the chill of the constant drizzle in the near future. Still, he keeps his eyes open for any signs of trouble along the road. It wouldn't do to get ambushed or miss a clue by accident.
Perdita is thankful she is wearing stout, sensible boots for traveling, she draws her cloak about herself and eyes the surrounding terrain with some disfavor.
"Did we ever find out if Mr Kyle went with some guards, or by himself? I do believe that a taxman traveling alone is regarded as a very tempting target by many people."
"Miss Anikee suggested that her brother is a formidable individual," Urick says, his eyes searching for any telltale signs of Kyle's passing. "He might have not have felt the need to travel with company. A foolish prospect in these parts, but even so, there is no shortage of lone travelers."
Once they are out of the city, 'Khar takes a deep breath. "Finally," he says, sounding relieved. While there was no doubt the visit had been worth it, he much preferred the wilderness to the city.
'Khar looks displeased, knowing that the recent rain would interfere with tracking by scent, and obscure tracks on the road. It was likely they wouldn't find much evidence on the road given that it had been a while since the man had passed. At least it gave him an opportunity to hunt down some dinner, however.
"Sounded t'me like he came alone. Sister seemed pretty sure of'im. Maybe was lookin' for a fight on th'way. Done it myself," he says with a grin.
From the information you received, Mr. Kyle did indeed travel alone. While the road is muddy and gross, there is only one set of tracks ahead of you going to Ravenmoor after you leave the immediate Lepidstadt area. A set of horse hooves in the dirt road, they were probably used by Mr. Kyle and don't deviate from the path as you travel onward. Eventually, you lose them as the road turns to slurry near the end of the first day of traveling.
"Well, this has been a thoroughly unpleasant day to travel," Henry grumbles as the sun begins to fall and they begin slowing down for the evening. "Let's see if we can find someplace that's at least comparatively dry to set-up camp for the evening. I'd like to not sleep in a mud puddle if I can help it."
Tassa seems quite preoccupied as they walk toward Ravenmoor. As the day goes on she seems to grow progressively more stressed and physically agitated. That all changes when 'Khar comes back with freshly some killed squirrels and opossum. She glances at the jerky she was chewing on and put it back in her pocket. "Nice work. You, uh, planning to share that around?"
She shrugs to the professor's grumblings, "Hopefully waking up damp will be the worst of our worries tonight."
"Sure," he says, tossing the he'd caught at Tassa. The animal's skin is tinted crimson around a series of vicious claw marks. "Best eatin'm fresh, 'fore they go cold," he says with a grin. He tosses the remaining two squirrels over near where the campfire is being set up. His fancy clothes seem worse for the wear after returning from hunting, torn in several places, and several red stains on the edge of his sleeves as if he had used them to wipe away blood. Additionally, the simple moccasins he'd been wearing are gone, leaving him barefoot.
"Second shift's mine, more fun at night" he says as he walks towards one of the nearby trees. As he gets close, he takes off in a brief run before jumping up high enough to get the lowest branch to near waist height. Scrambling for a sec he pulls himself onto it, crouching and looking about for any better branches. Settling on the best one, he lays back against the tree trunk with his legs dangling and begins eating one of the squirrels.
Henry raises an eyebrow as the hunter comes back with some fresh kills. He had never tried squirrel before, and after a moment he decides that he isn't going to try it tonight. He can manage one day on trail rations. Once they're a bit off the road and have a place to camp, he busies himself setting up his tent so he has some shelter from the drizzle. "I'll take first watch then, if that's no trouble. I'm used to late nights at the university after all." He takes a few moments to find a decently soft rock to sit on while he munches on the dried rations from his pack.
Tassa's hand quivers slightly as she looks at and smells the fresh kills. She catches the thrown opossum out of the air. She takes a moment to scrape the fur back with her knife but then begins to bite into it raw, licking the animal's blood from her lip and chin.
She's mostly done with it when she puts two-and-two together and starts to wonder about the claw marks. "Your grandmother really is a Rakshasa, eh? What exactly does that make you?" She looks up at 'Khar on the branch, arching an eyebrow. Her physical and mental state seems much more at ease after she's eaten.
"As far as watch goes, I'll take third shift. I've always been a bit of an early riser anyway."
"Don't take after her, else I probably wouldn't be here," he says calling down from the tree. "goshta is what she called me. Food in their tongue. Grandfather was darshaka, a servant. Least 'til my father failed to inherit anythin' from either. Then she killed'm. I got'is blood somehow."
Adjusting his position and leaning back more with his arms crossed behind his head, he continues. "As for what I am, ਫੈਂਗ ਸੁਆਮੀ, like your witchwolves here, 'cept from better stock. Gets me in trouble sometimes, like with Urick over there. Thought I was some mangy mutt causin' trouble. Keeps things interestin' though" He grins down at Tassa before looking forward again and closing his eyes to rest.
Witchwolves are skin-walkers, i.e. descendants of lycanthropes and werewolves specifically. Given Ustalav deals with werewolves quite frequently, tales of lycanthropes in general are common. Tales of were-tigers in the jungles across the sea are recited as a reminder that the entire world is just as terrible as Ustalav. It is likely he is the descendant of one, a Fanglord.
"A lycanthrope? Or a bloodline of one I suppose. How curious. I've have the chance to chat with one or two people like you before, but never in-depth. It's less common than you'd expect." He turns to the half-elf with a curious look. "But you two met trying to fight each other? That must have been an interesting day."
"It was an honest mistake," Urick says exasperatedly, not recalling the memory quite as fondly as 'Khar. He takes a bite out of a bland biscuit, perfectly content to eat his rations over the skinwalker's fresh kills. The half-elf watches Tassa closely, observant but otherwise unfazed by her eating habits. "Most folks out here don't know the difference. Probably wouldn't care to learn it, either."
He looks to the professor with a grimace. "Interesting is not the word I'd use, but I suppose it fits. Some villagers swore to high heaven that they saw some werebeast lurking about. Took some convincing to get them to tell me that much. So I stuck around overnight, to keep watch." He pauses to take a sip from his waterskin. "Well, let's just say that I shot first and asked questions later. As in, after I got patched up."
Eyes closed, 'Khan chuckles. The fight had been quite entertaining from his point of view. Ironically, he had been on the hunt for some form of werecreature as well at the time, and much to his surprise hadn't been expecting to have a bolt put through his chest. If he hadn't already been transformed, he likely wouldn't have been able to spot his assailant, as Urick had chosen to attack him from downwind. Unlike a werewolf, however, 'Khar's ability to see at night was unmatched, meaning the darkness did nothing to cloak his attacker. The fight that had ensued was brutal, and each of the two gave as good as they got. "By the end I was only standin' from the rush of it all. Passed out not long after. Weren't in any shape to fight when we woke, so talkin's what we did. Had a laugh that we'd been huntin' th'same thing. Least I did anyways, Urick not so much, Hah! Been huntin' together since then. Keeps me outta trouble, and I keep monsters outta'is face."
At the end of the first day of travel, the group finds a dry spot sheletered by a few trees on the edge of the Shudderwood. Setting up bedrolls and a fire for Khar's catches, they bed down for some rest.
After eating a light meal of her rations Perdita finds a dry spot, curls up in her bedroll and goes to sleep.
Seeing Perdita, Urick, and the Doctor declining their squirrels, Tassa says, "You're not going to eat that fresh meat? Well, I don't want it to go to waste. Pass it to me if you're not interested."
She shrugs at 'Khar on his branch as if to ask What's wrong with them?, and then asks, "You want me to toss one or two up to you?"
She'll happily pass any to 'Khar. Any he doesn't want, she skins and eats raw before curling up in her bedroll.
Henry just chuckles. It seems that he's managed to get attached to a very unusual group. But they seemed confident and fairly skilled. There wasn't much more that he could ask for. He just hoped that it didn't give way to overconfidence. "I see."
He nods in Tassa's direction as she collects more of the fresh kills. "By all means. I'm perfectly satisfied with my own meal." He can't help noticing Perdita's stony silence, but it's late and he doesn't want to push quite yet. Perhaps she'll open up a bit once they've reached the town. He absently wipes his hands on a handkerchief and settles in to take the first watch.
Urick hands over his dead squirrel with a shrug, as though to say, Knock yourself out. He'd eaten much worse things in his time and had no opposition to hunting, but he'd be hard-pressed to consider the sad little creatures game.
Taking up first watch, he unslings his heavy crossbow and finds a spot in camp where he has clear line of sight in multiple directions. From there he just watches, evidently accustomed to doing nothing over long stretches of time.
"Ate my fill already, that was extra," he says with a yawn, eyes still closed.
The night passes by without horrifying monsters leaping out from the underbrush to scrape the flesh from your bones... this time. Though during Khar's watch he can see more than a few beady eyes and lurking creatures around the camp. Whenever he swoops down to confront them, they flee into the gathering darkness and distance, putting trees in between he and they.
The morning is fine, just a grey day. No rain today, though it is foggy and cool. The group gets back on the road after a lean breakfast and heads towards Ravenmoor. Luckily, the group got a good distance on day one and is able to cross the distance in just a few hours. Ravenmoor is situated inside of a small bowl in the land, and the group comes around a bend to see it. It's a farming village of perhaps 150, with an estuary of the Moutray River dividing it in two. Situated in what is essentially a bog, the houses on the edges of the village are up on on stilts, but the majority of the village is on solid ground. A few roads wend here and there through the village, just simple foot-worn paths. Most of the buildings are simple and small, maybe two rooms, with an exterior pit for voiding one's bowels. There are a few larger buildings in town - a two-story manor house up on a small rise, a trading post with a few graying men sitting on its stoop, and a few more buildings that are less obvious. Several farmhouses sit around the border of the village, about a third of which seem abandoned and in disrepair.
The village is surrounded by a ring of crops, mostly corn at the moment. The path from Lepidstadt passes directly through the cornfields, from which you can hear the sounds of a distressed young boy crying. Every so often, he calls out, "Applesauce! C'mere boy!"
While it's a bit larger than Râșnov, otherwise arriving at Ravenmoor feels a lot like going home. After recent events, it feels more disquieting than comforting.
When she hears the boy, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Images of Yoska's sundered body flash unbidden in her memory. It could be nothing serious...but it never is in Ustalav, is it?
Tassa nods her head toward the boy's voice and starts walking quickly toward it.
Henry can't help feeling a bit thankful that the rain at least stopped. It might have been damp and cool, but at least it wasn't actively soaking them. He takes in the sight of the small village as they approach through the fields. It doesn't seem particularly interesting for a small peasant village. "Perhaps they never paid their taxes because everyone forgot they were here," he wonders with a bit of snark.
He turns as the odd woman in black heads off toward the sound of the child wandering in the fields. "I believe it might be wise to not have anyone wander off alone. If someone would like to go with her, that would be appreciated. I believe I would like to see if any of those gentlemen at the trading post have seen anyone else passing through recently. If they're around regularly, they must have seen Mr. Kyle coming to town." If the group agrees, he waves a hand and links himself to Tassa and whoever else goes with her with a quick message spell. They may end up out of range fairly quickly, but at least it's easier than shouting until then.
Perdita ignores Tassa wandering off and follows the Professor. She does wonder why anyone would be concerned over a missing pig?