Vrilli uses the haunt siphon if the haunt is still present when he gets to act.
Just turn the lid Asenath!
Leeoli quick as a shot opens the lid of the haunt siphon.
The mists within the siphon swirl in agitation and flashes of light can be seen within them, like lightning concealed in thunderclouds. The disembodied hands seem to blur slightly, their form becoming less substantial.
Anyi loads her bow and aims it towards the mist, in case it becomes corporeal.
Vrilli uses the haunt siphon as soon as he gets the opportunity...
Vrilli opens his haunt syphon, and the mists within begin to swirl just as Leeoli’s had. The disembodied hands around Hearthmount’s neck seem to shimmer slightly, then grow less substantial. Within a few seconds of the syphon’s opening, the mists within swirl and draw in the misty choking hands. After the hands enter the syphon, the swirling mists glow a bright but sickly green color.
Towards the front of the room, Hearthmount has since collapsed, either from the traumatic experience or the damage wrought on him from the ghostlike hands. His throat shows violent purple bruises.
Let the dead be dead, says the Maleye
Turning to the crumpled form of Hearthmount.
He may need healing.
Pausing to consider, and with a slight snicker
Well as bellicose and obnoxious is the good Councilman, he's probably above our suspicion now.
Then the practical side of Leeoli took over
We used two of the haunt siphons to the service of the town, and these are somewhat costly. We will need to be reimbursed.
Zazaria bustles over to Hearthmount, grumbling, for the most part, under her breath, although occasional words like Prank and Fool can be heard by the perceptive.
Then she lays her hands on Hearthmount's bruised neck - ignoring his flinch - and calls down a flowing river of blue light that spreads around the Councilman, soothing and eradicating his bruises.
Watching Zazaria heal the Councilman, Anyi lowers her bow and looks around at the anxious faces of the rest of the assembled group. She sheaths the arrow in her quiver and slings the bow over her shoulder.
I think we can all agree that this is not a prank.
Did this extinguish this spirit for good, or may it rise again?
Leeoli moves over to the two used haunt siphons, glowing with sickly light, and quickly inserts them into his pouches.
Sheriff Caeller merely nods at Leeoli, his more pressing concern obviously being the well-being of the councilman. Hearthmount sputters awake after Zazaria’s attentions, and he looks about wildly for his unseen assailant. What…what was that thing?!
Councilman Hearthmount, it is an undead spirit, and I suspect it is a spirit of one of the more nasty prisoners that died in your town's prison.....and I say is instead of was.
Pausing for emphasis
We only temporarily extinguished this spirit. It will likely rise again...and continue to do so until it is forced to find rest....
Leeolie Maleye sighed, wondering whether he would ever get to live without worrying about undead.
The ill that likely haunts the ruins of the prison must be dealt with.
Zazaria looks anxious, but in her eyes there is a gleam of something that suggests both a readiness and a willingness to combat the ill forces that assail Ravengro.
It must be done she sighs. We must attempt Harrowstone and lay whatever it is that causes this evil to final rest. Otherwise Ravengro - and Kendra - will never be safe.
Hearthmount swallows hard as he looks towards the blinds that conceal the prison on the outskirts of town. He shakes his head and allows the sheriff to help him up.
This thing...this spirit as you called it...is this an isolated incident? Or is this somehow tied to the odd events we've been having about town?
Have there been other odd events other than zombies assaulting the town and this ill spirit this evening, Councilman Hearthmount? Already, at least two encounters with the restless dead; isolated events these are not.
Leeoli turns to face the Sheriff and Councilman directly. He may be a fool
This town is clearly in danger, and this town must mobilize. May I suggest the following?
1. Institute a night time curfew, except for those on official duties, for their protection.
2. Deputize any able person with the courage to wield a weapon.
3. Finally, the head priest in your temple. A cleric of Pharasma can be a potent enemy of the undead.
Leeoli looks over to Zazaria. He should aid us going forward.
Hearthmount draws himself up to his considerable, albeit mostly wide, stature. He appears to not like being ordered about in such a manner. We shall see. First, we must have a meeting with the council. Tomorrow night, and I'd ask that you attend. We must have solidarity in this cause...the people pay attention to the council not just one member.
He takes a moment to realize what his claim meant for him personally, and grimaces. Please...take the time to meet with us tomorrow. If the entire council is behind us, then the full weight of the Church will be as well.
Sheriff Caeller speaks up. Been more...mostly stories like we might've though this one was. Maybe shouldn't have discounted 'em, but we can't chase everything that goes bump in the night.
Zazaria smiles wearily: Perhaps that must change now, Sheriff. I am deeply sorry that this ill is being visited upon you and your town. But we shall attempt to seek out this evil at its source and do what we can to end it. She turns to Hearthmount, eyes glittering with relish.
Call your meeting, Councilman. But do not delay. It is apparent that this evil is not waiting upon any schedule of the living.
We will attend the council meeting.
Looking at Zazaria.
Shall we spend the eve at the dancing or was it laughing demon whatever alehouse or inn? An ale is needed, and a few words from the townsfolk might be informative.
I could use a drink. Well, perhaps just one, anyhow. Zazaria smiles a bit embarrassedly.
Hearthmount and the Sheriff both give their thanks and then leave as well, to inform Councilwoman Favran about the state of affairs, and presumably to inform the councilmemvers about the meeting tomorrow.
The Laughing Demon is a large wooden structure with an extensive open air read deck that overlooks the river. If affords one a view of the farms on the otherside of the river, as well as the Temple of Pharasma and the prison far beyond.
A large' jovial man named Zokar greets you at the door. Come in, come in - welcome to the Laughing Demon! I've heard much of you in town, though the rumors of your red skin and curling horns I fear is greatly exaggerated! Ha ha ha!
Zazaria gives a throaty chuckle. We're in disguise she murmurs. Then she takes a seat on the deck, staring thoughtfully at the prison, looming in the distance.
Don't stray into the night. Keep your loved ones close. The dead are walking. Leeoli replies grimly.
Tell me, have there been strange going ons in Ravengro lately?
Looking to the view of the prison. Do you ever see strange lights at night from the pridon?
Anyi sits beside Zazaria, looking thoughtfully towards the prison. Or have there been any strange comings and goings from it?
Zokar laughs at Zazaria’s comment, and nods sagely. Of course, of course…I’ll not break your cover! Ha! He sobers at Leeoli’s comment, but only slightly. A wide grin still fills his face. Strange lights, no; the only strange lights I see are those in my mysterious Liquid Ghosts! Would you like to try a mug? A finer pale ale you’ll not find!
He shakes his head at Anyi, and looks to the prison. No…nothing there for a long time, except for the late professor of course. He was a good man, and a smart one…a shame for such a wasted mind. He always had a laugh for my jokes, and was partial to the Corpse Chowder. The prison…nothing there anymore but stories…though I like a good tale as well as any.
As for rumors…why, there are always rumors here in a town of such superstitious lot! Now, since you seem to be interested in the old prison, let me tell you two I’ve heard from the folk here in town. First, they say that if you visit Harrowstone near sundown, you can hear the ghost of the warden’s wife wailing and sobbing from somewhere within the ruins. She haunts the prison now, forever mourning her husband and attempting to frighten anyone who intrudes on the prison.
Another one I’ve heard is that Harrowstone’s executioner still guards the execution balcony on the western side of the prison, and that on some nights, his scythe can be seen patrolling the balcony on its own, as if carried by an invisible spirit.
I don't have much gold left in my purse...and per my family's tradition, I cannot rely on my family's wealth for 10 probational years or until I can pay from my own exploits, the Maleye Dowry, as we've called it. Great grandmother was ever one to let the tares wither.
There is often naught in tales, but I'll remember them when I go to ferret out the evil that haunts that prison. My thanks to you Zokar.I will take an ale that didn't spare the hops in its brewing. I need something more bitter than my fate the evening.
Have a little faith, Mr. Maleye, Zazaria chides gently, then smiles up at Zokar. I shall pay for this round, Master Zokar.
The warden's wife, the warden's wife...she is at the heart of this somehow, I feel it. And that tale of the scythe could well be true, in a place where ghostly hands throttle the soft necks of the rich and self-important.
In my opinion the depressed man is the man most in touch with the reality of his existence.
Leeoli lifts his mug in toast Friend Zazaria. Faiths fades as knowledge invades.
Vrilli shifts his gaze from Zazaria to Leeoli with a puzzled frown on his face. He quietly orders a mug of ale and gets to work sipping it quietly.
Zokar nods happily, seemingly in great contrast with the remainder of the citizens in Ravengro. He returns with several mugs of an amber brew, each aglow with a mysterious pale green light. The liquid ghosts will protect you in the future, of that I have no doubt.
The next 24 hours proceed without any dire events that further affect the beleaguered town, but the silence of restless spirits doesn’t diminish the will of the council, led by Hearthmount, who now wears a thick brace about his neck. The town hall is fairly crowded, as concerned citizens have gathered to hear what the council plans to do about these recent events that have frightened the peaceful, hard working folk of Ravengro.
The meeting begins at sunset, and by then it’s standing room only, with over 60 villagers inside the building’s central meeting room, and many more gathered outside. The meeting is adjourned and begins in a professional manner, but soon everyone within the room is demanding solutions and sharing reports of their own eerie encounters. Councilman Hearthmount clears his throat at the podium and even pounds on it in order to get the attention of the commoners.
Please, please…calm down everyone; this isn’t helping. Now, we’ve dispatched riders to Caliphas to get further help, but in the meantime I’d like to present these few hearty men and women – strangers to our town, yes I know…but not strangers to what evil we apparently face. They saved my very life last night…and I don’t embellish this tale in the least. He proceeds to tell the townsfolk of the spectral hands that they faced, and their very real danger. Councilwoman Favran also stands soon after and attests to her own experience with this dark force.
As they “prep” the crowd, the Sheriff ushers you up to stand on the “stage” which is just a platform about a foot higher than the rest of the floor. After Favran’s accounting, Hearthmount returns. Now, so that you can hear it for your own ears; I’d ask that these strangers to our town describe what it is they think we face and how we could possibly defeat it.
Leeoli stands up nods to the crowd, then lightly pushes Zazaria forward
whispering to her You're up!
Grinning, Leeoli adds Hurry! Before Asenath Drăgoi says something creepy.
Zazaria mouths "me?" at Leeoli, then gets up hesitantly and surveys the mix of friendly, indifferent and hostile faces.
Zazaria clears her throat uncomfortably and shifts nervously from one foot to the other, an odd swaying stance that takes on an oddly hypnotic rhythm as she begins to speak in a low, but firm voice.
People of Ravengro, I have heard it said by some among you that Petros Lorrimor was a heathen necromancer. He was not. He was a wise man and a brave man, who sought to learn of a peril that threatens your town. He died attempting to learn more of this threat. He died, ultimately, for you.
She pauses, eyes glittering as she draws strength from talking about Lorrimor, then after sweeping the room with her sharp gaze, she raises her hands high and speaks more loudly.
We - my newfound friends and I - came to Ravengro to honour our friend and comfort his daughter. We have stayed because we have found evil at work here, and have come to understand somewhat of its nature. we know that servants of Tar-Baphon - yes, the accursed one himself! - have been seen in the ruins of Harrowstone. We believe that they have stirred up some evil there. We suspect that they have murdered Petros Lorrimor to cover their tracks. The Zombies we faced and fought - she inclines her head towards the Sheriff and his deputy - and defeated in the heart of this village are the result of their work. We know this, and suspect more. We believe that this evil springs from Harrowstone, and that it must be dealt with, root and branch, at its source. You know the names...
She lowers her voice again.
You know the names: the Lopper. Father Charlatan. The Piper of Illmarsh. The Mosswater Marauder. The Splatter Man. Your little ones sing about them in nursery rhymes. These inimical souls, we believe, have somehow survived, and awakened in some manner by the vile servants of Tar-Baphon, are spreading their blight out from the ruins. We go to oppose them, with all the skill and courage at our command. I have no guarantees for you, only my pledge: I shall not rest until this evil is ended, or I am. And I ask that you give us your blessing and the benefit of your prayers - for some reason, she turns and glares at Grimburrow - and if you know anything - be it farfetched tale or long-held secret to do with the prison or its inmates, to come forward and share it with us. The piece of the puzzle - however trivial - you bring to us may save our lives. And your own.
She raises her hands again, and calls out in a great voice her closing peroration: O Pharasma, bless this company and this town. Grant us all your protection, your strength and guidance, now and in the days of darkness to come!
And guard and guide me, too: I am weak and afraid.
Anyi looks at the assembled townsfolk, with a musing look. Is anyone hiding anything?
bravo!! Zaz!
Leeoli looks to the crowd's mix of faces.
Leeoli clears his throat to say something to support Zazarias passionate plea, but only a dusty, unpleasant cackle emerged.
oh my
Leeoli tries to shrink.
Actually, I do have shrink extract!
The room is mostly quiet after Zazaria's speech, quite possibly due to Leeoli's ill timed laughter. Father Grimburrow, notably, nods his approval of thr prayer at least, or perhaps the speech as a whole. Several townsfold seem to think the latter, and soon find themselves nodding to agree with Zazaria, as if they alone were responsible for bringing this great evil to light.
Others, naysayers as there always are, shout out their questions and accusations. And who's to say it isn't the professor come to haunts us who done him wrong? And what do you get outta us for helping? Ya brought the spirits with ya and we all know it!
Hearthmount comes forward to stand by Zazaria and with a placating gesture quiets down the crowd. These adventurers have asked nothing of us, and have only offered to help. If what they say is true then we cannot let this go unchecked...out town will join the prison on the hill as nothing more than a haven for ghosts and troubled spirits.
Father Grimburrow stands then, and glances about the room. Such spirits as the young lady has described are quite often borne of some ill in an area, and stay in that area. It's very unlikely that these adventurers brought any spirits with them. I think we should give them a chance, and with any help that our humble temple can give.
This sways several, but still a few call out accusations, or even insults. Hearthmount looks to Zazaria, who seems to have appointed herself as spokeswoman. What tools may you need from us, to expunge the prison of this evil?
Holy water...and brave arms to cast it. without a hint of cackle about him.
Zazaria surveys the naysayers with a flinty look.
My friends, we ask nothing of you that you are unwilling to give...I was born in a town like Ravengro, I understand your fear and uncertainty. I understand that you wish to apportion blame, but we should not be the target of your accusations. Did we not fight for you, two days ago? Did we not save the life of one of your council? Would a dealer in dark arts call upon Pharasma, as I have done?
Councilman Hearthmount looks stricken, and his hands involuntarily go to the brace around his neck. Of...of course, you shall have it...though I don't know who os brave enough to go with you into the prison. The people of this town have avoided that place for years, and that's before this madness began.
A commoner shouts. Why are you still here? Thought you were coming for the funeral and leaving. The tone isn't accusatory, merely curious. However, others of the more volatile folk jump on it as a chance to accuse the strangers for bringing these dangers to their homes.
Zazaria looks at the commoner. We chose to stay a few days to comfort and support our friend Kendra. Is that so unusual? she says quietly but firmly.
Then she looks to Hearthmount and Grimburrow. This is achieving nothing, she murmurs so that the crowd do not hear. We will go to Harrowstone tomorrow, with or without the blessing of the townsfolk.