Distracted - partly by a general malaise at being back somewhere she never wanted to be, partly by memories of the day gone past, partly by thoughts of the Professor and his daughter - Dashil somehow fails to miss entirely the sight of a ghostly manifestation...
She jumps as Aduard starts talking, and peers in his direction. Her eyes pierce the darkness as easily as if it were daylight, but she can't quite see what it is.
Brogol moves through the darkness of the graveyard with a confidence not often displayed - his steps are perfect, boots finding a patch of moss here, and some leafless grass there. The young man uses his dark purple cloak to great effect, staying to the shadows and using nearby crypts, tombstones and trees to block any potential curious eyes.
Once at the mausoleum, Brogol doesn't stop to consider that the lock wouldn't be locked - they always are. Stooping, the half-man pulls a long pick from his belt pouch and sets to work, whistling a soft if somber tune, and diligently working to pick the lock, sure that he can hear the tumblers turning.
Dmitri grips his holy symbol as the spirit of the little girl appears, his lips pressing into a hard line as Aduard moves to approach her. The cleric of the Drunken Hero says a soft prayer under his breath, worried and anxious.
When they arrive, Wakati takes a seat on the edge of the one of the pools. He settles in to wait, lost in his thoughts.
When Aduard speaks, it takes Wakati a moment to focus back in on the present. He looks around, but does not see anything.
You see her, yes, Aduard? What does she look like? What is she doing? Describe her please.
Aduard speaks in a low aside to his sight-impaired companion
"She's pale. Small - perhaps 9 or 10? Wearing a white dress and with a bouquet of white flowers - ah, a shared colour might have some significance. She's walking to the fountain, and I think she might be praying. Sadly, I'd say she's left it a little too late."
Stung by not having seen what was so unnaturally obvious, Dashil rolls her eyes at Aduard's comments. "Perhaps she's not praying for herself, then?"
To Brogol's surprise, the lock clatters to the ground, its mechanism having been destroyed by acid. Within, a flight of stairs leads down into the cold earth. The stairs end in a small antechamber containing a pair of statues. The sculptures depict opposite sides of Pharasma: one loving and gentle, the other harsh and judging. There are a pair of doors on the far side of the chamber.
"Who are you?" she asks, her voice frightened.
Dashil blinks in surprise and whispers to her companions "She's not undead"
Thinking (hoping, really) that the girl might react better to her than to one of the men, she steps forward, using as soothing a voice as she can. "We saw you out late and were wondering if you are alright - is there anything we can do for you? I'm Dashil; what's your name?"
She does her best to gauge the girl's mood and thoughts.
Dmitri rubs his eyes and gives the little girl another once over. Surely enough, she's just pale and spooky. He relaxes a bit, nodding when Dashil addresses her.
Brogol swings the door back closed and crouching, begins canvassing the area around the crypt's door, looking for signs of recent passage.
Grunting, he gets back up, and looks to Radag. "Tha lock were tampered with. Somebody may have come an gone. Or, have come an be down there. Yer a tracker, right? Aye don't see anything, but Aye'm no tracker."
While Brogol waits for Radag to take a look around, the apprentice starts casing the area for something really heavy, figuring a tombstone would do in a pinch...
Leaving Dashil to deal with the little girl for now, Aduard murmurs a few words and opens his third eye.
"The late professors trail most likely." Radag states quietly, "What are you doing now, let get this over with before someone notices our morbid curiosity."
Dashil smiles. "Hello, Lereia. Who is Eronel? What happened to your friend?"
Wakati hangs back with the others as Dashil approaches the girl. He listens intently to their conversation.
Directing his comment in a low voice to the aasimar, Wakati says: Dashil, ask her why they are holding the funeral near the fountain, and not up in the Restlands.
As Radag pokes his head out the crypt door, Brogol looks up from the monument he has wrapped his arms around, just about ready to lift and drag the obelisk to block the crypt's door. Letting go and standing straight, head bowed somewhat sheepishly, Brogol follows the half-elf into the crypt. "One trail in an' out. Hrrn. Meybe Aye were getting ahead of myself."
Brogol follows Radag into the crypt, and checks the door that the tracks lead into, before swinging the door open, one hand on the hilt of his sword...
Dashil is nonplussed as Lereia starts sobbing. Her normal way of dealing with crying is not to be there when it happens, or to offer them a sip from her flask. Neither approach seems appropriate here.
She looks helplessly at her companions, shrugging What do I do now?
"I bet the professor was in here for that. Hope he left something for us."
Lighting a torch within the dusty tomb Radag motions Brogol to keep close. Radag makes his way to the sarcophagus making sure his feet land where the trail of the most recent intruder had been already and keeping a keen eye out for trouble.
Brogol follows Radag, mimicking the half-elf's moves as they move towards the sarcophagus. Once they get there, the apprentice moves slowly around the sarcophagus, taking his falchion and tapping the floor before he steps. Next, Brogol crouches, and runs his finger along the sarcophagus's lid-edge and seam, and then examines the rest of the lid and base of the structure, looking for anything out of place. Absentmindedly, the young man mutters as he works. "Yer a pretty perceptive guy under all tha' gruffness..." The apprentice would never damn anyone with such faint praise, were he not completely engrossed in his examination of the tomb's contents...
Nodding to Radag, Brogol grabs one edge of the sarcophagus lid, and lifts, sliding the lid over to see what is underneath...
She looks helplessly at her companions, shrugging What do I do now?
Aduard looks back at Dashil, equally taken aback, then shrugs in reply and speaks.
How to proceed... Thank you Mr Stockl for your excellent information. I shall assume you only publicly reported what you did for an equally excellent reason and keep your confidence."
"Ah. My friend Brogol mentioned he'd talked to you earlier. Terrible business. I remember I had a companion once that went missing. I know all too well the worry that becomes fear, the fear that becomes sorrow, the sorrow that becomes anger - first hot, then cold."
"As it happens my other friend - Ms Dashil here - questioned Antrellus today on other matters. Ms Dashil, do you think this man Antrellus might have done this terrible thing?"
"Ive been called pretty by many before you," Radag starts, his attention still fixed on finding trouble if there is any to be found, "but never has it meant so little." Radag's eyes give Brogol a quick darting look for a brief moment revealing gruff humor in his meaning.
Why would that old man kill your bird? When did you last see Eronel? Perhaps we can trace him back to his resting place, and offer him a proper burial.
Dmitri coughs into his hand, looking ashamed. "Uh, he's a crazy ol' coot. Who knows?" the man asks, but the look on his face says that he clearly knows more than he's actually saying. Whether it's for the girl's sake or just because he feels bad is hard to determine.
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- a dozen silver arrows
- four sunrods
- six flasks of holy water
- 10 +1 arrows
- five +1 ghost touch arrows
- two +1 undead bane arrows
- five potions of cure light wounds
- two potions of lesser restoration
- a scroll of detect undead
- two scrolls of hide from undead
[i]- a scroll of protection from evil
Finally, there is a thin darkwood case decorated with an image of a scarab with a single eye glaring from its back. Brogol immediately recognizes it as the same design on the face of the curious locked book found in Professor Lorrimor's chest.
"I hope we agree this is what we came here for." Radag scoops up half of each vial, and then the arrows leaving Brogol to stow away the remainder. "I'll check to make sure the way back is clear. Give me a moment and don't bring your light."
Radag leaves his torch with Brogol and moves to the front of the crypt, peering out into the evening to see if the way is clear.
The blue-haired woman blinks in surprise, caught unawares by the girl's remarks: it's a long, long, time since she was called (much less thought of herself as) a hero.
She kneels down to look Lereia straight in the eyes. "I don't know if this will make you feel better, but I caught up with Antrellus today. He shot at me, but I thumped him to the floor and made him cry. I let him live, but he has been punished - I promise you that. Dmitri here saw it, he knows I'm telling you the truth."
Dashil does her best to smile at the girl.
Brogol stands, slackjawed, staring at the goods inside the sarcophagus. Where's the corpse? What did he do with it? Shaking his head as Radag starts to grab the goods, Brogol gets to work stashing the rest.
"O' course, Master Irefist. My eyes aren't so good - please let us know if tha way is clear." Taking one last look around the room, Brogol shudders, for the first time since they've been in the crypt, tingles of fear creeping up his spine . "Looks like he were building a war chest, eh? What did tha perfesser get himself into?"
Aduard takes his cue from Dashil, and kneels next to the girl.
He's also keen to get the kid onside by offering her what she wants.
Reasoning: Aduard remembers that Brogol implied he thought Eronel's owner might be heading down the dark roads. If she's dressed up like this at the closest thing he had to a grave, after dark, when there are murderers...
He doesn't actually mind her going down these paths, but she's about a foot from a witch-hunter-esque crazy person. She has to be steered to safety, and can be taught necromancy and curses later
Then he stops, looks into her eyes... and his tone changes.
"We have to 'stop him'? A man you say is mad? You're young, girl, but you know what that means. We can't cure him. Or imprison him. I think you know what you're asking."
In a quiet, hissing tone
"I think you want revenge."
"I'm tempted. A man who kills pets is inches from killing children, as experience has shown me all too well. Perhaps better for all if he were 'stopped' before that."
"But this is not some wilderness hamlet. You can go to the Sheriff. Call on the the Law."
He pauses, as if to allow the start of a rejoinder
"Oh, they won't listen to you because you're a child? Or Dashil because she's an outsider? Then you make them listen. If they deny you your justice, you make them give it to you."
"It won't be easy. But I can teach you, if you have what it takes. If you're smart enough. If you're determined enough. If you're willing to change how you see the world, and how the world sees you. I can teach you the words you'll need to get your justice."
"My name is Aduard Bookman. Attorney at Law."
One latches its venomous mandibles onto Brogol's boot, piercing the leather and drawing blood. The other has less luck with Radag's armored sleeve.
A cold wind blows through Ravengro causing the leaves in the trees around the Murmuring Fountain to shift and quiver. Lereia wraps her arms around herself and shivers.
Brogol stumbles backwards, wincing in pain before he even realizes what bit him. Drawing his sword, he brings it down at the centipede, one word, a simple croaking warning, escaping his mouth. "Irefist!"
Dmitri turns as the fountain behind him begins to make a strange noise. "D'ya hear that?" he asks, before he notices feathers begin to appear in the water. His brow knits together as he tries to figure out what's going on.
"Listen then: the first rule is 'Always get it in writing'. The second... hear what, Zorya?"
Dashil tries out a smile on the girl; it feels unfamiliar. "You're not really dressed for the weather, are you?" The blue-haired woman unfastens her cloak and wraps it around Lereia. "There you go, little one. This cloak once belonged to a mighty Paladin of the Dawnflower. It's a bit threadbare, but it should keep you warm enough. What do you want to do now?"
Distracted by old memories and her conversation with Lereia, Dashil doesn't notice anything amiss until Dmitri starts talking.
Radag turns at Brogols call, accidentally avoiding a second centipede's ravenous hungry bite, it brushing against Radag's worn, and tarnished scale armor. Radag, out of reflex, draws his weapon and swings it at the centipede that attacked him, kicking up dirt and sparking his blade on along crypt stone.
The cleric of the Lucky Drunk points at the fountain. "What d'ya s'pose is goin' on with that?"
Wakati frowns as he listens to Aduard speak to the girl.
Revenge is a dark road. Consider carefully before you start down it, for there is often no turning back.
At Dmitri's words, he turns and observes the feathers in the fountain.
What is this? I think we are dealing with more than the disappearance of a simple pet.
The other continues snapping at Brogol, but the investigator is able to jump back.
Ducking out of the way as Radag loops his greatsword around the room, Brogol slices low with his falchion, cursing as it hits the floor and then bounces upwards over the vermin and clanging off the sarcophagi.
Dmitri looks around, not sure where the squawking came from.
Radag strikes at the centipede that is biting at Brogol, but there is too much caution in his attack, too much unfamiliarity with Brogol's methods of combat to be sure of his own aim.
What The hell is Nahodha playing at?
Aduard once more attunes his sixth sense, spinning around in an attempt to find where the noise was being generated from.
Dashil spins around at the noise, looking in every direction to see where it came from, but to no avail. Keeping her voice calm, she speaks to Lereia "Keep down, little one - I think something is coming." Drawing her scimitar, she places herself in a position to protect the girl.
Wakati suddenly looks up, and points above the girl's head: Ware! Demon birds from the sky!
Three enormous, scarlet-feathered ravens swoop out of the darkness, scratching at Aduard, Wakati, and Dashil. One of their talons scrapes across Aduard's brow. The cut begins to bleed, dripping into his eyes. Lereia shrieks and clings to the back of Dashil's legs.
Dashil is brisk, but not unkind as she disentangles herself from the shrieking girl. "Hide under the cloak, little one - I'll let you know when it's safe to come out." The blue-haired woman does her best to get a look at her foe.
Unfortunately she has no idea what they are. However, she has a pretty good idea what to do. Her face sets in grim satisfaction: she wasn't permitted to kill Antrellus earlier, but this - this, right here, right now - is where she lets out her frustrations. With a blood-curdling cry that is barely recognisable as her voice, she slashes at the flying monstrosities with her holy weapon.