"Well. Well done Ms Masozi. If that was your last resource, should we loot the rooms we've been in and head back, or press on? I believe the upstairs awaits?"
"How long do we have till the magic on this sword fades exactly?" Radag asked. "I'd say we press on if there if we have much time left.
Brogol sighs happily as the blisters on his face fade to a mere angry red burn. "Thank yer, Ms. Masozi. Aye agree wit Mr. Irefist. Wer should go upstairs as soon as possible."
"Very little time, I'm afraid. I'm a little surprised it hasn't faded already."
Radag gives a disappointed look, "Well then let's hope all the ghosts are more timid than this one was."
After cleaning up and healing, the group makes their way back to the staircase to the upper floor. After a couple of twists, the stairs empty out into a hallway. To the left you spot what looks like a guard desk behind bars. To the right is a room filled with broken benches.
Dashil squelches soggily up the stairs, shivering. She looks around the top floor. "Nothing obviously of interest." She tries to open the nearest available door.
Brogol eyes the desk warily. If this prison has taught the boy anything, it is that as soon as he makes his way around to the other side of the bars, something awful will happen. Then, he shrugs. Someone has to do it, after all.
"Hold on moving too fast - let me just see how well this building has held up to age. That's the trouble with constructions that rely on wood, you have to maintain them regularly or they start falling apart after a few decades."
Aduard points out some cracks and warped wood "Mr Stockl - what is your opinion?"
While the others observe the carpentry or masonry, Radag has a look about the northern end of the hall.
Brogol shrugs. "Aye'm afraid Aye've got no advice. Aye know nothing o' buildings and how ta built them."
Dashil and Brogol approach the bars, and notice a door off to the side of desk, hanging on rusted out hinges. A quick search of the desk and its environs turns up nothing of interest.
The area off to the east of the desk reveals a group of cells, each containing the skeleton of a single prisoner. These appear to be simply the remains of the prisoners who were housed here at the time of the fire. Based on what you've learned of the history of the prison, they all likely starved to death after the guards were caught up in the riots.
Radag makes his way to the north. Wooden benches once lined this large hall, but several are now stacked in a jumble and others are overturned in disarray. Weakened by fire, the entire east wall has collapsed away, creating an unintended entryway to a wooden deck beyond. The view of the lake beyond would be beautiful if the silence were not so eerie.
Aduard took after Radag - carefully. "No-one goes alone, Irefist! Too easy to pick us off one by one that way."
Dashil sneezes; and then shivers - not from the cold - seeing the remains of the poor sods who starved to death. She gazes out over the still, placid, lake. "Eerie."
Shrugging, she moves away, following Radag. Her boots still squelch with every step.
"So don't fall behind." Radag says turning the corner.
"For the sake of the Gods, Irefist. Have a little care. Can you not see the floor has already started falling away?"
Shrugging to the Bookman apologetically, Brogol follows after Dashil and Radag.
As Radag moves to the north, a high pitched buzzing reaches his ears.
Initiative:
Three large insectoid forms fly down from the ceiling, and engage the party!
1st: Dashil
2nd: Stirges
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol
"Bloodbugs! Holy'ells!"
"Urgh." Dashil groans as they party comes under attack. Just what they needed. Still, maybe the exercise will warm her up some.
Adopting a fighting pose that now comes almost instinctively, she waits for the right moment before cutting with her scimitar at the lead beast.
Dashil swings at the closest enemy. She connects, turning the creature into paste.
The remaining two move into to feed on the closest foes, Radag and Dashil.
They manage to grab onto their foes, jabbing their large beaks into a patch of exposed flesh.
1st: Dashil
2nd: Stirges
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol
Drawing his axe as the creatures latch onto their targets, Brogol grunts and swings at the flyer stuck to Radag, cursing under his breath as the axe slices only air. "Quit yer movin' Radag! Aye'll chop yer head sooner than the bloated gnat!"
Dashil experiments with curses on the theme of "ow" and does her best to dislodge the thing.
Her long, long hours of training and sword-drill pay off; even grappled, she is able to hit it cleanly. For just a brief moment, an expression of satisfaction flits across her face, there and then gone in the same instant.
This is what Sarenrae made her for.
Unsure if the greatsword is the best way to remove an insect from ones own person without losing something important, Radag assists Brogol in guiding the business end of his cursed weapon to the parasite.
Aduard steps backwards, a splash of acid manifesting in the air in front of him and speeding forward to... miss Radag. "Yes, I nearly hit you Irefist! Hold still!"
Radag is able to swing his body into position enough for Brogol to connect with his axe. The thing falls to the floor, a pile of twitching legs and gore.
Dashil is able to slice the remaining stirge in two with little fuss.
After re-composing yourselves, you continue your search of the floor. Other than the ruined tables and benches, there is nothing of note in this room.
The large room to the east was once a kitchen. Nothing but charred, blackened ruins remain. A small room off the kitchen appears to have been a pantry, but there is nothing left inside.
The room off to the north used to be a privy. There is nothing of interest in this room.
As the group starts moving towards the western half of the floor, the party hears the faint sound of mournful flute music.
Aduard stayed uncharacteristically quiet after the fight.
As the mournful sound of the flute music echoed eerily through the hall he held up a hand
"Wait!" he said, reluctantly "I think... I'm effected by something. For a while now."
Radag turns from Brogol and looks expectantly at Bookman waiting for him to explain in more detail.
"It could be... no - it has to be external. I've had this feeling like my ability to cast was slipping away - that I wouldn't be able to replace the spells I cast. I very nearly couldn't bring myself to cast, just now. Fighting down the fear threw my aim off." Aduard looks around uncomfortably.
"I suspect I have been the victim of a Haunt, or something. Something subtle that only effects those who can cast. Dashil, have you had a similar feeling?"
Brogol digs into his pack and pulls his formula book from it. Grunting and licking his index finger, the apprentice monster hunter turns the pages rapidly. Scanning the notes within the book, Brogol hopes they will spur a memory of a lesson or story imparted by the Doctor regarding haunts and their relationship to magic.
Dashil looks blank at Aduard's question. "No. But I get my power from the Dawnflower, not arcane studies." I've no idea why, given what I put her through, but that's another matter. She gives it some more thought. "Assuming this newfound humility of yours is...well, new, what have you done recently that's different?"
She waits patiently for perhaps a microsecond.
"Is that spellbook you took from here anything to do with it, perhaps?"
Her tone makes it clear that she thinks the answer is'yes' - and that Aduard has only himself to blame, messing with something so obviously bad news.
"While we're on the topic, does anyone else want to confess that what they took is messing with them?"
She doesn't look at anyone in particular; it's more of a generalised glare.
"I don't believe so. It only started recently. A few minutes ago, perhaps? Would you mind checking my aura?"
"As much as this is a lovely bit of discussion into the beginning of an 'I told you so,' does anyone hear that music?"
Dashil has heard it, but hasn't really paid it any mind. "Wait, flutes? That seems... odd."
She tries to remember what she can about the various criminals who were executed here.
In the meantime, she checks Aduard's aura again. Can't be too careful. A small smile: "Not that many days ago, you'd be furious at the thought of me peering into your soul. Progress. I guess."
Aduard smiles back "I didn't know you a few days ago. Most of the Dawnflower's minions tend to be... sanctimonious - but there's a refreshing amount of grey in you, Dashil."
He goes so far as to even chuckle faintly "I realise it is shared vengeance that has thrown us together, but I'm actually enjoying it. I feel alive. I haven't been through an adventure like this in a long time - not since Lorri..." he swallows the rest of the name, once more returning to his usual self.
"Who knows. At this rate I may be seeking vengeance for one of you one day."
"Speaking of which... flute music? There was the flute we found. Let's see, what did we work out from our research? Hmm - The Piper of Illmarsh. Before he snatched his victims, the Piper taunted his targets with a mournful dirge on his flute. He preferred to paralyze lone victims by dosing their meals with lich dust and then allowed his pet stirges to drink the victims dry of blood."
"Stirges. Pipes. I'd say our friend the Piper is close to hand. Form up."
Brogol pauses, his large bat-like ears swiveling. "Yep, it's tha Piper. Do yer have any ideas how ta put him down?"
Nervously, the boy pulls the haunt siphon from his pack once again. Just in case.
Brogol says nothing else, though he makes a mental note to research this 'Lorri' that the Bookman mentions. It is improper to dig into the past of companions - so the Doctor always said. And so it must be done - he also said. If you're putting your life in their hands, it is best to know everything.
Dashil blinks in astonishment as Aduard speaks: "Sanctimon- are you sure you aren't confusing us with Iomedites? Oh. Ha. The Dawnflower Cult. Yes. Most of the rest of us are waiting for the Everflame to swoop in and kick their sorry asses, but the truth about following an almost endlessly patient Goddess... She's almost endlessly patient." For which Dashil has endless cause to be thankful - Iomedae would never have allowed her to stay in service after what she did; but she's not about to tell Aduard that.
She winces as Aduard tells her she has a 'refreshing' amount of grey in her and mutters "Don't I know it;" but again, she's not about to volunteer any information so stays silent.
At his warning of the Piper, she gets ready, drawing her scimitar, for what good it will do against a haunt. "That flute we found - I've a feel for how these things go: it'll either strengthen its holder against the Piper - or make them more vulnerable."
She smiles, grimly. "Anyone feeling lucky?"
Aduard rolls his eyes "Don't get me started on the book-burning Cult of Iomedae. They do good work in the Worldwound, but Iomedae's gone off the rails without Aroden's guiding hand. No, nowhere near as bad as that. It's Sarenrae's faithful's tendency to keep preaching that bothers me. If I wanted to live like a monk, I'd live like a monk. All forgiveness, and temperance, and patience. It's nice to see she has a follower who gets drunk, loses her temper and is up for some lethal vengeance. You're not going to back down if whoever killed Lorrimor suddenly starts blubbering for redemption at the end." There's a viciousness in his voice "They're not getting a second chance."
"Anyway... pass me the pipe. I'm warded, cursed, and can probably be restrained if needed. I even used to be a passable player back in the day. Maybe some of it will come back to me. That might make a difference. Make no mistake though, I'm expecting the rest of you to do your part if this goes Abyssal."
Radag retrieves the flute from the confines of his backpack and holds it toward Bookman. "Here."
Aduard takes the flute, polishes it, looks carefully for obstructions, then blows.
When Aduard blows into the flute, the disembodied musician responds in kind, and the volume of the dirge increases. At the same time, this seems to have awakened the angry spirits of the prisoners. Every cell in the western wing contains a skeleton, which animates as the music rises. Fortunately, most of the skeletons are restrained by the intact cell doors. Four of the cell doors, however, are open, and the skeletons move to attack.
1st: Dashil
2nd: Skeletons, Piper
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol
Ominous... Don't know whether to count the bonuses.
As Aduard begins to play the flute, he is suddenly seized with a fit of performance, and plays an impressive but dolorous dirge. As he does, blood begins to run out of his eyes, ears, and fingertips.
Although the flute has suddenly seized control of Aduard, it also seems to have an effect on the skeletons. Their movements seem disjointed and uncoordinated. The music emanating from the cell block goes slightly out of tune, as if affected by Aduard's playing.
1st: Dashil
2nd: Skeletons, Piper
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol
Faced with skeletons, Dashil draws her morningstar and steps forward, swiping at the nearest one.
Unfortunately, she's distracted both by Aduard's flute music - and the fact that, when she turns to glare at him, she sees blood flowing out from his eyes. "Snap out of it!" she hisses at him.
She misses with her attack.
Dashil is able to shake off the effects of the creepy music. However, it rattled her enough that she was unable to land a blow on the nearest skeleton.
Aduard's playing has counteracted that of the Piper's, slowing the approach of the skeletons. Two of them move up to engage Dashil and Radag.
Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings fills the air. Whatever is making the noise seems to focus, and fly towards Radag.
Aduard continues to play, desperately trying to counteract the music of the Piper. As he does, blood continues to pour out of his eyes and ears.
1st: Dashil
2nd: Skeletons, Piper
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol
Unaware of exactly what's going on, Dashil focuses on the enemy she can see: the skeletons. The music doesn't really bother her, but it's annoying enough that it's putting her off focus.
The pipe music sends chills crawling up Brogol's back, but shaking his head, the apprentice monster hunter fights the dirge's effects off. Looking to Aduard for guidance, Brogol's jaw drops open at the sight of the Bookman playing the pipes, the man obviously under some sort of magical influence.
"Hold em off! Aye got the Bookman!"
Reaching out, Brogol
"Argh, horns of Erastil, skeletons! Stop playing that damn flute Bookman and do something!" Radag calls with a glance, "Bookman's bleeding from his eyes, gods help him and we need to back up."
Just as Radag begins to act the mental bombardment of evil magic tries over take him, but thanks to his aura of protection every mental attack is yelled down and out.
Though his attack is uncommitted and misses as Radag maneuvers back toward the party.
Radag is able to resist the Piper's song, but the effort of doing so causes his attack on the skeleton to miss.
Brogol, alarmed at Aduard's condition, grabs hold of the flute, ripping it from his hands. As soon as the music stops, the wizard snaps out of the trace-like state, and comes to his senses. Unfortunately, so do the skeletons.
Dashil also keeps her head, ignoring the music. But the sudden surge in energy the skeletons seem to gain causes her attack to miss.
With renewed energy, the skeletons surge forward, clawing at the party.
Neither one is able to land a blow on the group.
With Aduard's flute playing now silent, the music of the Piper swells to a crescendo. The sound of flapping wings regroups, and launches at Brogol.
1st: Dashil
2nd: Skeletons, Piper
3rd: Aduard, Radag, Brogol