Leeoli watches as the others battle, little more he could do at the moment.
Dura winces in sympathetic pain as she watches the battle from below. With a series of growls that Daniel clearly understands, she casts a spell the others have come to know as a blessing.
The creature continues to weep its flaming orange tears as it slithers out from the adhesive, it's body merely passing through the sticky substance. Rufus swings and connects, but his blade passes through the body, seeming not to cause it harm.
Gur slashes away at the creature, but it slips inside his tremendous swing and grasps again at its massive living opponent.
Rufus leaps down from the loft to make room for Leeoli...
...landing on his feet. "Use your magical weapon."
Leeoli leaps up to replace Rufus, thrusting his magical rapier at the not-child. He spins, preparing to parry and riposte any attack.
More of Gur's life force is eroded as he enters into a life or death struggle with the creature.
Gur slashes away at the creature, his axe tearing away tendrils of the thing's being as it passes through. Leeoli springs up to attack as well, and the attacks of the pair cause the girl to become less and less substantial with each swipe.
Still, it has enough of its form left to swat at Gur once again, trying desperately to take the warm, living form with it into its final rest.
Rufus watches, helpless, as the apparition drains Gur's life force. "Foolish me, believing we had left the spirit world behind at Harrowstone." That mistake is about to cost them the life of their commpanion, it seems.
He unbuttons a multi-compartmental belt pouch, selecting from its belly a tiny, narrow flask of silver fluid.
His thoughts turn to Kendra, and how she would remember him if he died here today. That simply wouldn't do. There are still things he must do for her, things he must say to her.
He uses his thumbnail to pierce the vial's wax seal and raises it to his lips. Even as the cool liquid touches his tongue, his mouth goes dry, his pupils dilate, his heart begins to pound in his chest.
But he doesn't flee, not yet. He has to see.
Leeoli again thrusts his rapier into the youthful apparition.
Leeoli's attack slashes in, separating more of the barely substantial creature's form. It seems more wispy, as if no longer held together by more than a fierce will.
Still, it stands, red tears streaking down as it looks up at Leeoli, pleading. No more, please...
Dura practically howls at Gur.
The last one we faced made similar pleas..but each case is its own.
One last strike... let it be true.
Even as Dura, frustrated, tries to find a way to get into the fray, Gur wisely ignores the pleas of the creature, and slams down into and through its form. The form splits apart, and the separate parts separate and then vanish into the air.
Gur stares at where his foe was just a moment before... he stares at where his axe has driven into the floor, and at his companions... and begins to roar. It takes a few beats to realize he is not screaming... he is laughing... and he doesn't stop as he collapses there and curls into a large ball of pain and frustration.
His only comfort, the dove and axe symbol he clutches to his breast.
Rufus, still under the performance enhancing effects of his extract, vaults up the ladder with lightning speed. He examines Gur. From a distance.
"I thought for certain your bell had tolled! It was a near thing. The ghost seemed drawn to you. Fortunate for us, and for the defense! Dura, my dear, do you have the restorative wand?"
Dura rummages through her pack and pulls out the wand. "Hold still, Gur. I think this will help."
Rufus sees that Gur has withered in his person - he's lost some of his imposing nature. Though he sounds quite mad, Rufus sees through the laughter and realizes its just Gur's ways of dealing with what just happened. though Rufus can identify the loss of Gur's physical stature, he can do little to help.
"Gur, you need to rest. We'll get you healed as soon as we can. But we can't have you jumping into any more battles."
Gur looks at Dura... no, he looks through her. His mind watching the shadows in the corners of his eye, trying to catch them as they dart about.
"What use am I if I can't fight?"
Sunlight filters in through the front door, seemingly forgotten in the haste of the battle, or perhaps diminished by the swirling shadows that made up the creature of darkness. The house is silent, save for those who worry over Gur...including himself.
I suppose we better search the house.
\
If Gur weren't in obvious distress, Dura might have slapped him. As it is, she kneels down next to him. "Gur, you aren't useless, nor are you out of the fight. Everyone needs to rest from time to time. This is like an illness. Once we have the cure, you'll be right as rain." She smiles at him as she stands back up. "Besides, the Gur I know doesn't give up. And we still have a job to do."
"The ability of the body to recover from even the most grievous maltreatment is astounding," Rufus agrees. "With... appropriate modifications..." He flexes and cracks the gloved fingers of his free hand.
"Leeoli, have you found anything?"
Gur stares Dura in the eyes for a long moment, and starts to drag himself up. His frame barely supporting itself and the exhaustion in his eyes is evident. "ok...thank you."
Dura touches Gur with a wand healing him slightly. Sighing after the slight amount of healing, she touches him with a spell of her own.
Leeoli finds nothing in this house but dust and moldy scraps of clothes and blankets in this house. Looking out from the house, you see a lake to the south, with a thick tangle of bushes surrounding a small hut that looks to have been abandoned far before the happenings with the Beast.
To the west and north are more small homes, presumably as empty...or not, as any of these.
"Houses first, or check out that hut?"
"I'm loathe to encounter any more of these spirits. We may not survive." Rufus looks as dour as usual.
"The hut first, then."
You head to the south, and come upon what you had seen as a hut from a distance. However, this is actually a tangle of willow trees, many of them scarred by fire, whose tops are woven together to create an odd dwelling. Some are intact trees, while others seem to be large sticks arrange to obtain a bit more privacy. Still, its far from perfect, and you can see a lair inside that shows more fire damage. You see the remains of some spent torches on the ground, and assume this was the beast's lair, purposefully ransacked and set ablaze by the mourning villagers.
What's this? A book of Taldan Poetry? Leeoli holds up the burnt remains of leather bound volume.Leeoli was about to inspect it more close, but he suddenly catches the sound of children playing drifting across field. He freezes. Do you hear that, Rufus? Children playing?
Dura didn't notice any children at all.
"All things considered, this seems relatively cozy. I wonder how long he lived here."
"Long enough to make friends..."
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She slogs on, tired but fixed upon her destination. Lepidstadt. They were heading for Lepidstadt. Not far, now, she sighs inwardly. You should never have stayed behind. No matter how scared you were. No matter if your...emotions were confounded by what you witnessed. You were the last of the first - all the others had fallen away - and then you did too.
Zazaria grimaces, stooping with weariness in the saddle. Kendra had actually counselled her to stay, and rest, but she hadn't been able to rest. Her sleep was confounded with dreams of the horrors she had seen in Harrowstone and worry for what awaited the others. She knew, knowledge from the depths of the soul, not some fox-fast figment of a weary mind, not some self-satisfied trick of logic or reason, she knew that worse awaited them. They'd need her.
And she needed to regain some self-respect.
Not far now.
The route to the north is not a terribly long one, but under the gloomy skies and nearly constant drizzle, it seems like forever. Perhaps the apprehension felt by Zazaria affected that as well, though she was loathe to admit it.
Upon reaching the city, she seeks out Judge Daramid, just as the late professor's will had requested. Ushered into a fine townhouse surrounded by a vibrant art district in the city center, Zazaria soon sits with the aristrocatic older woman - one Embreth Daramid. Renowned for an even temper and fairness, Judge Daramid was always respected by the Professor, even when the two disagreed. Now in her sixties, with gray hair pulled back tightly into a bun and icy blue eyes, the stern woman watches Zazaria over the lip of her mug as she gently blows away the steam of her tea.
Well, Miss Rooke, I am sorry that you missed them, but your friends are hard at work. They are on a certain task that I've entrusted to them - one perhaps not so savory but also more than necessary. I've seen your name in Petros's will, so you are of course also welcome to the payment promised in the will...but I feel you are here for something....more, yes?
Money doesn't matter to me, much...Zazaria frowns defensively. Rufus and Mr. Maleye are friends and comrades. I'm worried for them. What's this 'unsavoury' task, if I may ask?
Leeoli looks out the door, hoping to see if there were children, or just more apparitions.
Rufus's blood grows chill. "We would be wise not to face these apparations again, wounded as Gur is. We should leave immediately."
"We are certainly down. But it would be useful for us to find out what actually happened here. We still don't have proof of Charlie's guilt or innocence. Perhaps if we could discover what happened to the children. There is definitely something we're missing." Dura would like to see the children's ghosts put to rest, even if it means burning the place to the ground.
Daramid leans in, her tea forgotten in her hands as she describes her distress. I believe there is a cancer in lepdistadt, a darkness lurking behind the shadow of a scapegoat. For many years the people of Lepidstadt have laid all their ills at the door of a creature known as the Beast of Lepidstadt - murders, thefts, and terror have been attributed to it. I feel that many of these are exaggerations, or perhaps are wholly untrue.
I've also heard stories about the kindness of the creature, though such stories are only whispered away from those who mete out justice. As a Judge, I believe in a fair trial, and I don't think the Beast is getting it. I've asked your friends to help get to the bottom of these claims about the beast's crimes, so that we can properly judge the soul of this Beast. To that end, I can double Petros's offering - 200 platinum pieces each for your assistance. Of course, this agreement would have to be kept quiet, for my impartiality could be at risk.
Right now, the four defense witnesses are to the north, in an abandoned village called Hergstag, where the Beast has been accused of the murder of six children. What say you, Miss Rooke?
Zazaria doesn't hesitate. Why else am I here?
My friends are there? In this Hergstag? Please, tell me how to get there. she says quietly - and to her surprise, without fear. Then, to quell any misgivings this impressive woman should have. I believe also that evil blooms in the shadows of injustice. I will help in any way I can.
Judge Daramid narrows her eyes as if taking measure, then nods. Well said. They are, indeed - Hergstag is roughly ten miles to the north, though I fear you'll be getting there closer to evening. If you've need of a strong horse, I can lend one from my personal stables.
Things progress quickly from there, as Daramid has one of her assistants draw you a crude map to Hergstag while her stableman prepares a proper steed. Within minutes, you're on the road and headed north. Zazaria's weight does very little to hold down the horse, who seems more than eager to be out of his stable and stretching his legs. You make it less than two hours, and arrive just before the day turns to evening. Sun on its descent, you see the remains of an old village beyond. With a quick survey, you find some fresh tracks along the old paths, leading to a small copse of trees...maybe a hut - near the lake on the south end of the village.
Meanwhile...
Gur takes a short rest as everyone regains their composure. Though a quick search outside didn't show the anticipated children playing among the tall grasses, more sounds of children can be heard over the next few minutes, seeming to come from several places to the north. As you rest, you hear the sounds of someone approaching to the north...with a horse apparently.
Wondering who might be approaching on horse, Dura goes to check it out. Seeing Zazaria on the mount, she turns back to the others. "Things might be looking brighter, guys. We've got back-up!"
What's this? Leeoli looks out and sees a familiar woman approach the village on a particularly rambunctious horse. The lack of context obscured her identity for but a moment, then he breaks out in a grin. Zaz!
Zazaria suppresses a surge of guilt when she sees her friends - how could I have abandoned them? - but cannot suppress a smile at Leeoli's obvious pleasure.
Well met, she eases herself off the horse - with some relief - and stands wearily leaning against the beast's neck. Sorry it took me so long to catch up. I had some...matters of conscience...to attend to.
"We have much to tell you. I assume your presence here means you spoke with Daramid. Hopefully she's given you some details. Meanwhile, we've had a problem with some spectres here. I'm afraid they've left Gur in quite a state." The last part is whispered so as not to make the poor fellow feel worse. "Whatever killed the children of this village seems to have them trapped in a state of undeath." She shakes her head sadly. "We're here to help Charlie, the name we've given the Beast, but it's hard to leave these spirits in such a state."
Gur drags himself out to witness the reunion. "Going to introduce us, or am I going to have to do it?" The act of moving is almost more than the large man can take, and he breaks out in a sweat at the exertion.
Zazaria bristles at the mention of spectres then looks at the struggling Orc. A brief glimpse of consternation passes across her face as she notes his pallor and weakness, before she favours the unknown Orc with a wry smile. Master...Gur, is it? You seem sorely afflicted. I am Zazaria Rooke. Perhaps Mr Maleye and Rufus have spoken of me? We were together in Harrowstone...
She trails off, remembering. A dark look of fear flickers across her face, like a wisp of smoke, briefly challenging the daylight. Then she favours him with a look grim and somehow broken, that oddly evokes the thought of a quiet graveyard desecrated by a pointless war.
I am not unskilled in matters of healing...or of the Undead. I will help you, if I may.
She pauses, and her eyes darken further.
If I can.