The group makes its way to the door off the entrance hall. Several moldy cots lay strewn around this room, while doors to smaller, more private sleeping cells hang askew to the west. Judging from the rest of this room’s decor, this must have once been the prison’s infirmary.
The group starts to explore the room, when suddenly, a loud, piercing wail arises from the center of the room. A twisted, nearly skeletal ghost of a broken prisoner rises up from the rubble.
Initiative:
1st:Radag, Brogol
2nd: Entity
3rd: Dashil, Aduard
The cries of the broken prison pierce into Brogol's very being. He's ready to turn and run, but he wills himself to stay - forcing his fear down, the apprentice won't be abandoning his companions today. Moving next to the apparition, Brogol clears a path for Radag.
"It wer a poltergeist! Wer need magic ta defeat it!"
"Irefist's sword should do the job for now, then."
Dashil merely raises a weary eyebrow at the poltergeist's cry. "Screaming. Why is it always with the screaming? Who exactly are they trying to impress? I've heard scarier in my bedroom."
"It wer a poltergeist! Wer need magic ta defeat it!"
At Brogol's remark, she gives Radag her very best I-told-you-so look. "And what's the one thing I'm fresh out of? This is all yours. Assuming you survive, drinks are on you."
"Damnable Withelm." Radag barely steps into the room before he turns and shoves his way through his companions heading straight for the exit.
Their magic weapon being run towards the exit, Brogol turns and follows. This unsettled spirit would have to wait. It had all the time in the world, at least.
Various expressions flit across Dashil's face as she searches for the right words. Nothing seems appropriate. Oh, yes.
"Ok, now you're DEFINITELY buying the drinks."
With that, she turns and follows Brogol out the door.
Aduard - reluctant to ever enter the room - is more than happy to leave. He takes to his heels with a speed that suggests long practice at self-preservation.
The shriek turns to laughter as the half-elf bolts for the door. The poltergeist throws a few bits of debris at the group as you flee, but does not seem interested in chasing you outside of the infirmary.
Radag makes it to just outside the gates to the prison before regaining his composure.
"I don't mind a strategic retreat, Irefist, but I do appreciate some warning! Now, before we head back I want to look at that book."
"You were just waiting for an excuse to bolt Bookman. Convenient for you I know that thing and knew we best be well prepared before facing it especially if it is to be one on one by the tails you all turned."
"Of course we need to be prepared. If I'd still been prepared I could have put that thing down in five seconds." Bookman's reply is ascerbic.
Brogol fidgits a bit uncomfortably, pulling at his purple cloak. "Hnng. Well, wer can all agree tha wer not prepared now, yes? Back ta tha Lorrimor Manor, an' we tackle tha prison again tomorrow?"
Dashil sighs, feeling a familiar pain behind her eyes at Radag's attempts at 'logic'.
"OK, new rule; when I say we've done enough and need to go rest and re-prepare, that's it, OK? No ifs, ands or buts."
She scowls at them; She feels grubby and horrible and is looking forward to the comforts of a warm bath and sweet, sweet, solitude.
"Right. We're done here for the day. Let's move out."
"And the book?" enquires Aduard
Radag mimics a yawn at the mention of the book. "Let's gather up the cursed things if you must. If these objects have some power over their previous owners it would be foolish to leave them here to be lost to chance."
Radag starts toward the secret room to help Bookman gather the items cautiously as one might be with cursed items.
Dashil grumbles at the prospect of bringing the book into town, and especially into the Lorrimor home, but doesn't actually stop them from doing it.
The party has no problem in returning to the prison, and retrieving the items from the vault.
Aduard carefully took the book, touching it only with his gloves, and slipped it into a bag.
"Trust me in this. My caution will know no bounds."
Being careful not to touch the book, and about where mold spores might go. Would like to store/study it on consecrated ground, which means the church.
Is this something that will need interaction?
Brogol grabs the handaxe and stuffs it into his pack. "Just in case Aye need a smaller weapon."
The party is able to make its way back to the Lorrimor manor without further complication.
Aduard stops by the church.
Argument is simple honesty.
"Lorrimor believed something had been disturbed at the prison. He was right, and now he is dead. The spirits of the dead lie uneasy at Harrowstone, and one of the worst of these spreads its influence outside those cursed walls."
"This book may hold the key, but it could also call the attention of this wraith. I seek leave to keep it secured here while I am not present - I cannot imagine any spirit would willingly risk Pharasma's wrath by trespassing on this hallowed ground."
The rest of the party makes their way back to the Lorrimor manor. Kendra has been spending the day cataloging and organizing the clutter in the basement of the house. She is eager to take a break, and hear all about what the group has found in the prison.
Turning up to the house somewhat late, Aduard harumphs.
"We will need to organise a watch on the book. I'll rest now, and then study it early tomorrow morning. Two people on watch please, last thing we need is someone becoming influenced." he turns to Kendra "Ideally I'd keep it in another house, but I'm sure your father had provision for storing some of the truly dangerous books securely."
Brogol shrugs. "Wer found much a tha prison. Haunts an restless spirits an tha like. There's a angry group o ghosts tha tha warden were keeping an eye on. Oh, an tha warden were dead fer many years himself, but now he's missing, an his ghost wife's upset."
Steeping some tea in what Brogol has begun to think of as his mug, the young man sits at the table. "Aye'll take first watch on tha book, and tha other things wer found as well. Put em all here on tha table."
In Kendra's presence, Dashil is uncomfortably aware of the mess and muck covering her, and is uncharacteristically silent, allowing the others to narrate the day's events.
She nods at Brogol. "You do that, kid. Anything happens, don't be shy in letting us know. Kendra, could I borrow Cornelius' services for a bit? Goddess, I need a long, hot bath - and no weirdness. Ha. One out of two's not bad."
Running both hands tiredly through her long, blue hair, Dashil slinks away.
Kendra contemplates Aduard's request. As small crease crosses her forehead as she answers: "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure my father was ever the most....careful... of people. Still, I think the chest that holds those volumes he asked you to take up to Leipstadt has some room in it. That's probably as safe a place as any."
She has Cornelius bring the chest down to the main room. Aduard is easily able to fit the book in with the others.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully. Each party member takes their turn at watch, with nothing out of the ordinary occurring.
"Any funny dreams last night?" Radag greets the first of the household to join him downstairs marking the conclusion his watch.
Brogol rises late from the first good night's sleep the apprentice can remember in quite a while. Taking his usual seat at the Lorrimor's table, the half-man begins steeping his morning tea, his voice still thick with sleep. "Nothing. Aye don't even remember dreaming at all. A quick breakfast then, and off to tha prison?"
The sun was still down when Aduard's eyes opened. He carefully probed his aura, confirming the residue from the expended spells had faded overnight. Without even stopping to embed new spell-constructs in his aura he donned his coat and slippers and proceeded downstairs to Brogol.
"Any problems? Good" he asked, dismissing the young man to get some sleep. Carefully he opened the box, pulled out the book, prepared his journal and ink, summoned light, and began to study in earnest."Alright Fean. Let's see what you thought was worth recording."
Aduard was awake when the others came down, voraciously making his way through the decaying spellbook, a plate of half eaten pancakes lying carelessly next to an empty teapot.
Dashil slept horribly, but at least it was the old nightmares rather than interesting and Harrowstone-inspired new ones.
She stalks grumpily into the kitchen. "Coffee. Point me at the coffee. Black as my soul and sweeter than sin."
After two cups she feels marginally better, although still on edge. "OK, today we take out that damn poltergeist, finish that floor and take a trip down below to see what we can."
She looks seriously at them. "When we're done for the day, we're done; and we leave. No more 'just one more door' - agreed?"
She is fairly sure Brogol and Aduard will be OK with this. She looks at Radag, for his agreement.
Right, when we're done we're done. Radag nods, looking away as he settles.
Brogol shrugs. Ms. Masozi was one to make the decisions, not him. "Poltergeist it is then. Same plan as before Aye reckon?"
Dashil scowls. The coffee has only partly helped her mood. "Same plan as before - WITHOUT the whole 'running away' bit, this time. Please."
Brogol laughs, the smallest bubble of snot appearing at - and then popping from - his left nostril. "Snrk!"
"Should I let you go first and get that unnatural spirit to not generate an unholy will-bending scream then?" Radag gives back the attitude as he stands up to his full height thumbing himself in the chest, "You want my help, you'll need to understand its my help under my conditions, whatever those conditions may be at that particular moment. Otherwise, deal with it yourself."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Radag shoots Brogol a look, "What are you laughing about? Did you forget your pants again?"
The spellbook has not weathered the years very well. However, there are several spells that are still legible.
Every few pages, as you flip through the book, the name 'Jonas' is inscribed in the margin in random places.
As the group gathers in the main room, Kendra bustles in, followed by a floating tray with hot tea and coffee and breakfast for the group. After everyone has had their fill, she asks: "So I assume you are headed back up to the prison, yes? Do be careful. From the sound of things, it could get dangerous up there." She fusses around with the dishes, clearing plates and cups, loading them back on the tray.
"Oh, by the way, tomorrow the town is celebrating the harvest festival. There will be tables set up in the town square with food and crafts, and a band will be playing near the gazebo in the town square. Maybe it would be good to take a break from all this poking around in the prison. It would take our minds off recent events, allow us to enjoy ourselves a little bit. What do you say?" She looks around at the group expectantly.
"That depends on how urgent this situation is." Aduard explains, securing the book in the chest once more.
"I noted a name appearing in" he makes quote marks in the air "'blood' while I was reading the book. I believe this means that Fean's influence is growing, and perhaps attached to the book. As for the book itself, I was able to discover very little. There doesn't appear to be a code, but decades of decay have left it fragile and almost unusable. I did recognise some spells, but for insight into our target we shall have to look elsewhere - all I can determine is that he was a wizard of significant power."
"And that you're likely under the effects of some curse now that you've read it."
"Certainly a possibility. I took every precaution while reading it, but there are no guarantees. Would someone mind checking my aura?" Bookman is sanguine about the possibility.
"You want my help, you'll need to understand its my help under my conditions, whatever those conditions may be at that particular moment. Otherwise, deal with it yourself."
Dashil rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything. Men. All ego. And then they wonder why I prefer women...
"Oh, by the way, tomorrow the town is celebrating the harvest festival. There will be tables set up in the town square with food and crafts, and a band will be playing near the gazebo in the town square. Maybe it would be good to take a break from all this poking around in the prison. It would take our minds off recent events, allow us to enjoy ourselves a little bit. What do you say?" She looks around at the group expectantly.
Suddenly tongue-tied, Dashil looks at the rest of the group for an answer. Idiot! She's not asking you on a ! She's just trying to get you all involved in the community so they don't get suspicious of us! "Uh... sure thing, I guess. We should do our best to..." She trails off; the words 'fit in and make a good impression' die on her lips as she looks at the motley group.
"Certainly a possibility. I took every precaution while reading it, but there are no guarantees. Would someone mind checking my aura?" Bookman is sanguine about the possibility.
Glad of the distraction, Dashil turns her gaze on Bookman. "Thought you'd never ask." For good measure, she looks the rest of the party over - and the new-found possessions taken from the prison.
"Harvest festival? Right." Radag folds his arms, "Seeing as the sheriff is strapped for men, it would be a good idea for us to attend."
Turning back to Bookman and Dashil, "I think you failed to abide one caution. Simply not reading it. Isn't that how spellbooks and scrolls work? The moment they are read they explode or compel you with gluttony or something?" Radag waves his hands in mimicking the general somatic portion of a spell.
Brogol secures the axe in his pack, and then noticing that the Bookman is leaving some of his pancakes untouched. Gingerly, the apprentice points to the plate, and receiving no condemnation, pulls a half-eaten pancake from the pile and stuffs it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Plus, if there are any cultists, wer can probably count on them being there."
Brogol swallows, washing the pancake down with the dregs of his tea. "Not really, Master Irefist. Yer see, first yer..."
If Radag was joking, it is lost on young Brogol.
"Stuff that noise, he's cursed just as much as you are for carrying that axe and myself for carrying these holy symbols and hammer."
"Let's get moving before we turn to goats for our carelessness. Maybe we can put the prison to rest and avenge the professor before that happens."
Kendra smiles at the responses. "Excellent. The past few days have been so stressful. It will be nice to relax a little."
After gathering your gear and making your goodbyes, Radag leads the group back up to the prison on the hill.
"Alright. Tactically it makes sense to ensure something cannot remove us by cutting a rope. I suggest we deal with the room from yesterday, then start clearing upstairs. Once we are confident these areas are, if not exorcised, at least secure then we can descend."