GM R0B0GEISHA's Carrion Crown

Game Master R0B0GEISHA

Esta quietly lets herself into the room the men are occupying but stays out of their way, nursing a cup of tea as she finds a chair in a nearby corner, listening to them talk. She studies the newcomer— this Doctor Karras— carefully. She wonders what kind of doctor he is, if he's the kind that might have things to teach her. She wonders about his relationship with Brogol. But most importantly, she wonders if he can be trusted.

He's too well spoken, she thinks to herself, noting the air of confidence around him, but immediately realizes how unfair that is. Aduard is similarly well spoken and confident after all, if not more so, and those are things that she admires greatly about him. She takes a sip of her tea, watching the doctor from over the rim of the mug. He seems genuine when he speaks of Brogol. And Aduard appears to like him, she notices. But Radag at least seems to be somewhat suspicious. She knew she was prone to immediate mistrust, but a lifetime of unpleasant encounters taught her that trust was to be earned, and it was comforting to know she wasn't the only one not willing to accept the man outright. They had enough on their plate without unwittingly adding more.

As they continue to speak of Brogol, she slips out of her chair and approaches the group. "'Scuse me," she says, moving to stand safely, comfortably, between Aduard and Radag as she addresses the doctor. "I'm Esta. I was there when—." She stops and clears her throat, fussing with the hem of her cloak as they turn their gaze on her. "I jus' wanted you t' know tha' I..." He voice catches in her throat. "I tried," she finishes softly, looking down at her hands, now open in front of her. "An' I'm sorry I couldn't do more." Clenching her hands into fists at her sides, she stands straight, looking anywhere but the man's face.

Aduard's face fell. "I can attest to that. Esta's intervention should have saved him. The good gods know she came to us in our hour of need, and without her there's a good chance we'd have buried more than one coffin today."

Aduard looks over to the unassuming quiet young woman who has been relegated from his attention by his obsession with Brogol. "Did I ever thank you, Ms Vyrelian?"

The Doctor smiles. There was an earnestness, and a humility, to the girl, Esta, that reminded Karras of his former apprentice. "Please, feel no guilt, Ms. Vyrelian. The game was rigged before you set foot in Harrowstone."

Karras scowls, for just a moment, as he realizes he's placed his hand over the carved wood spiral holy symbol, resting under his chain shirt, against the Doctor's breast.

"There was nothing any of us could have done."

Esta stares at them for a moment before responding simply. "...Thank you." She exhales and offers them a small, shaky smile of poorly hidden relief. She wasn't sure which made her feel better: knowing they didn't blame her for not being able to save Brogol, or Aduard's support and praise.

The wizard's question confuses her, however. "Thank me? For wha'?" she asks.

"Before you had the presence of mind to pull out the badge you kept me from falling to the Splatterman." Aduard says, mouth sneering at the name "I got rather caught up destroying the book, and then Brogol... well, please accept my belated thanks. Without your healing I'd not've been able to destroy the book that was his Anchor." He gives a half grin "Also, on a more personal note, I would have been dead. I'm not used to putting myself in danger like that. I'm certainly not used to having people help me when I do."

"Ah. Well..." Esta waves a hand in front of her dismissively. "You're welcome. I think all of us were pretty distracted. I'm hones'ly jus' glad I got here in time an' was able t' help." She studies him for a moment before giving him a sly smirk. "An' I think you're gonna have t' get used t' people helpin' you, Aduard. Everyone seems sorta fond of you."

Aduard blinks in surprise.
"I can assure you, Esta, that Dashil and Radag tolerate me at best. The doctor and I met a few hours ago. Kendra dislikes that I try to control her life. As for my staff..." he grumbles something under his breath "My money may have purchased their obedience, but in no way has it purchased their affection."

Esta gives him an "if you say so" shrug and turns to Karras. "Can I ask wha' kinda doctor you are?"

Radag grumbles, I wasn't distracted... an' Aduard's overestimating 'At Best.' Then Radag recrosses his arms as though he could cross them firmer than before.

Taking a last sip of tea, the Doctor places the mug atop Kendra's mantle and smiles. "Of course! I am an anatomist, Ms. Vyrelian. Physiology is fascinating in that everyone's is slightly different, and yet, there are species-wide of course, similarities that allow for the anatomist to tell a corrupted body from a healthy one. That my work often entails an autopsy, and probably the liberation of the infected bodies from their, um, resting places, means that we are not the most well-regarded members of our profession. But we are, sadly, a necessary one, in these befouled lands."

"It is nice to speak with strangers again, after so long a term of self-imposed exile. Tell me, Ms. Vyrelian, Mssr. Irefist, what do you do, when you're not cleansing haunted prisons?"

Radag's brow furrows like he doesn't understand the question entirely, Drinking in taverns most likely, he finishes with a shrug. But its not another profession. Clearing the undead is a personnel pleasure and my calling in this world. Avenging friends where necessary, and exacting righteous might on everyone else that deserves it. Its a side effect of having a backbone.

Esta gives Radag a half smile. "Sorry. Maybe distracted wasn' th' right word."

She listens with interest as Karras describes his profession, wondering how she could make her own activities sound more impressive but coming up short. "I'm jus' a healer, I guess," she says simply. "Before I came here, I jus' traveled around an' helped people when they needed me." She shrugs. "I dunno if I'd call it a profession, though. An' I don' know anythin' about physi... physiology? I know how t' make people better, but I couldn't tell you much past tha'."

She watches as Oolong sniffs around the doctor's feet. "Your job sounds real interestin', though."

She shoots a look at Radag, realizing how little she knew about her companions. "So you jus' go around an kill undead?" She thinks of the attack on her family so many years ago and visibly shudders. "How'd you decide t' do somethin' like tha'?"

Radag looks at Esta sideways with a strange look in his eyes as he answers her question, I chose to do it when a friend and mentor was corrupted by the desire to live forever. He made several bad decisions from there and the last one cost him his life. Since then I've been trying to hunt down the horror that led him down that path so I could kill it and send it's spirit to stand judgement before the Lady Death as things are meant to be. Again, still just a side effect of having a backbone.

Ugh... How'd you decide to be what you are? Then a sudden look of shock creeps over Radag s face as he blerts out, A healer! I don't mean your breeding.

Hope everybody had a good Thanksgiving! Or just a good weekend if you're not American. :)

Esta chuckles at Radag's exclamation but continues along. "You woulda been helpful 'bout five or six years ago," she says quietly as she tries to decide how best to explain. "My parents were attacked by a group of undead. They almost died. My Da had taught me some healing, but... it wouldn'a been enough."

She picks up Oolong and scratches behind his ear as she collects her thoughts. The only people she'd ever told about her unusual circumstances were her parents. She'd always been careful with the information, never knowing how people would react, but she liked to think that she'd proven herself to these people. Plus she'd already mentioned what Oolong was to her. "Hones'ly, everythin' else is... weird." She clears her throat. "Long story short, somethin', somethin' powerful an'... an' I dunno, divine maybe? It showed up an' decided t' give me healin' magic, an' I was able to save my parents." She paused, realizing she was trembling. "I wanted t' do some good so I left an' explored Ustalav an' healed whoever needed it along th' way." She takes a deep breath to steady herself and looks pointedly at each of them, squaring her shoulders. "I dunno how you feel about witches, but I don' sacrifice babies or make pacts with evil, unholy bein's or any of tha' superstitious nonsense people cling to. So... yeah. Tha's how I started healin'." She reddens slightly at her defensive outburst.

"I dunno how you feel about witches, but I don' sacrifice babies or make pacts with evil, unholy bein's or any of tha' superstitious nonsense people cling to. " She reddens slightly at her defensive outburst.

"Never mind, girl, you'll fit in with us soon enough." Dashil stands in the doorway, looking on at the conversation; it's unclear how long she has been there, or much of it she has caught. Her face is pale, and she holds her arms clasped behind her back.

Turning her attention away from the half-elf, she looks the strange new arrival up and down: human, as far as she can tell. And she can tell a lot, these days. "And you are...?"

Karras was about to answer that as far as he was concerned, of course not - the sum of one's actions are much more important than labels - when Dashil, heretofore unnoticed, speaks first. "Ah, my apologies, miss, I didn't see you standing there. I'm Doctor Arruk Karras, of Caliphas." The Doctor's face pinches, for a second, and then he wills it back to placidity."Brogol was my apprentice."

"You have the mark of the Dawnflower, I see, around your neck. A fine goddess. No doubt you're another fine person for Stockl to have known."

Posts have tapered off. Shall I move us along?

"You should stay with us, doctor. With Kendra's permission, of course. We have much to discuss. I'll send my man to collect your things, if you like, though I warn you if you have anything you'd prefer not to be broken it might be better to carry that yourself." This last was accompanied by a sigh.
I vote yes. Excited to move on!

I'll nudge it in that direction.

Kendra eases herself into a seat. "Tell me, Dr. Karras. What do you intend to do with Brogol. The others are set to head to Lepidstadt soon, in accordance with my father's will. If he is returned, I assume he will want to join them."

Agreed, let's move on!

The Doctor closes his eyes, suddenly very tired. "There is nothing to be done with Brogol for now. He will have to rest here. I shall go to Lepidstadt at Mssr. Bookman's invitation. Perhaps there is work there. Then, when I have the means, I return for Brogol."

"Aduard, I will take you up on your offer. Please send your man to the hotel for my things. Don't worry about his clumsiness. Everything I value is already here."

Karras pats Brogol's book, and slips it into his satchel.

"Of course, doctor." Aduard walks off to find his servants.

"Ah, my apologies, miss, I didn't see you standing there. I'm Doctor Arruk Karras, of Caliphas." The Doctor's face pinches, for a second, and then he wills it back to placidity."Brogol was my apprentice."

"You have the mark of the Dawnflower, I see, around your neck. A fine goddess. No doubt you're another fine person for Stockl to have known."

Dashil tries not to visibly flinch at the well-meaning words; her face twists into a bitter smile. "I think he'd have lived longer if he hadn't known me, Doctor."

Before Aduard leaves...

Kendra clears her throat to get the group's attention. "I wanted to take a moment to thank you all. In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined that my father's death would surround me with so many people I can trust and call friend."

"Your time in Ravengro is coming to an end. Tomorrow, you make your way towards Lepidstadt to fulfill the obligations of the will and collect your reward. This could have been a goodbye, but I have news. I'm going with you. Since the funeral, and the following... disturbances, Ravengro no longer feels like my home. While you were busy saving the town, I sought escape. Starting within the week, I will be enrolling at Lepidstadt University."

Aduard perks up. "Indeed?" He coughs discretely "Yes, an excellent Academy. I'm glad to hear you are pursuing further education. I regret Ravengro has lost its charm, but if it is any consolation everyone eventually reaches that point with their childhood home. One day you will be somewhere new, and look around, and realise that that is home now."

What's one more for the road eh? Good on you Kendra, no regrets. Radag barely chimes over a grunt. What provisions should we have for the road? I'll take care of them.

"Lepidstat is nearly 100 miles from Ravengro," Kendra explains. "While no journey in this country is safe, as I'm sure you all realize, the old Mountain Road is generally thought to be the safest route. It follows the foothills of the southeastern Tusk Mountains, through the towns of Tamrivena and Courtaud, before following the Lesser Moutray River up to our destination. Quite the trek on foot, I'd imagine."

Quite the treck by any means. Radag agrees to sound like he is contributing, though he stops short of proposing the means. Might need an extra pair of boots or two in case the leathers get holes from overuse.

"We're not seriously considering walking are we?" Aduard asks "To Leipstadt? If we can't afford a carriage we should at least look at a wagon!"

The Doctor sits and sighs in contentment as he props one foot on his knee and rubs under the boot, providing some relief to his tired feet.

"Good, so we leave as soon as possible to Lepidstat. Ms. Lorrimor, I for one will be pleased for your company. Though, to be honest, the idea of walking there holds little appeal."

"I have some coin, and a horse. I'll happily buy us a carriage for the trip. It will be a snug ride for six of us, but we will manage. I fear I cannot afford both a carriage and another horse, however. Kendra, do you own a horse? I don't know why, but I picture you as someone who loves palmettos."

Carraige is 100 gp. Can't afford another horse as well. Light horse, bit and bridle = 77 gp.

Remember that you have 2,500 gp from the town.

The early part of the journey passes without event. Sightings of other people become fewer and fewer, replaced by increasing frequency of trees, marshes, and ruins. Roughly a third of the way to Lepidstat, through moorlands and darkly dismal foothills, the party encounters a caravan of nine covered wagons drawn up along the roadside.

Despite the weak light of the setting sun, the wagons carts are garishly painted bearing a legend: The Crooked Kin - Ustalav's Greatest Traveling Cabinet of Curiosities! There appears to be some sort of commotion among the carts, with people milling about.

A pair of pin-headed women cry nearby, causing a small boy covered in matted hair to howl piteously. They are consoled by a monstrously tall bearded woman and an olive-skinned, four-armed beauty with a Vudran cast.

As the carriages approach, an albino man with red eyes and white hair that falls to his knees steps into the road. Wearing a long red coat with golden buckles and striped trousers, he removes his tall, red top hat and bows graciously.

"Greetings and good evening to you, fellow travelers," he begins. "Would you be willing to help some humble performers with a crisis most dire?"

"We're not seriously considering walking are we?" Aduard asks "To Leipstadt? If we can't afford a carriage we should at least look at a wagon!"

Dashil gives an exasperated sigh, to hide the slight smile at Aduard's familiar complaint. "Nothing wrong with walking - who knows, it might help shift some of that middle-age spread you're developing." This isn't entirely fair - Aduard is, by wizarding standards, reasonably trim - but she can't resist the opportunity to tweak his nose a little.

As the carriages approach, an albino man with red eyes and white hair that falls to his knees steps into the road. Wearing a long red coat with golden buckles and striped trousers, he removes his tall, red top hat and bows graciously.

"Greetings and good evening to you, fellow travelers," he begins. "Would you be willing to help some humble performers with a crisis most dire?"

Dashil's gaze wanders from the albino to the motley assembly, her keen eyes effortlessly picking out the lettering on the carts. The Crooked Kin, huh? She looks thoughtfully at her own long, blue tresses. If this adventuring thing doesn't pan out, then maybe she can find a berth with them.

"What seems to be the problem - or crisis, perhaps I should say?"

Only one problem? Radag says with an insincere and insinuating tone as steps out of the carriage, looking over the caravan where he sees only freaks and monsters; his new bow already resting at his side and only just shy of readied at the first sight of the tall bearded man... or woman. Radag immediately regretted not watching the road along side the drivers, suddenly feeling naked and exposed with only his chain shirt on instead of his combat armor.

Swinging his leg over the side of his horse, the Doctor dismounts his horse Noleen and, straightening his beard, takes in the scene with interest.

It was just as well that Dashil and Radag take the lead; the had an ease of comfort with each other that bordered on familiarity. Karras gathered they'd been companions for a long time.

Instead, the Doctor approaches the bearded woman and her wailing charges, Karras' heart cracking a little at their keening; since learning of Brogol's passing, the man had found himself ill-equipped to deal with the unfortunate in distress.

"There, there," the Doctor said, his voice softened, yet gruff lest his compassion betray him. "What's the matter?"

Aduard, tired from having kept guard and writing through the night, awakes when the carriage jerks to a stop. The Bookman scrubs sleep from his eyes, runs his hands through his hair, and realises everyone in the carriage with him has stuck their head (or entire torso) through the left windows or disembarked.

'Should have done the driving myself' he grumps, putting Mr Boots on his seat as he waits for a chance to step out.

Instead of walking out into whatever is causing the kerfuffle, he swings up onto the Footman's step and peers over the body of the carriage. 'Just what we need' he thinks with disgust 'another circus'

Though she wouldn't have minded having to walk to their next location, Esta was content in knowing that they were leaving Ravengro behind them and moving on to new places she'd never seen. She spends most of the ride staring out of the window of the carriage with Oolong on her lap, talking with the fox in quiet whispers about what could be awaiting them at their destination.

Her brows furrow in confusion when the carriage comes to a halt in what was clearly not where they were supposed to end up. Opening the door, she lets Oolong jump to the ground outside and follows, practiced eyes taking in their surroundings, the sizable caravan in front of them, and the odd group of folks milling about it.

She clicks her tongue at Oolong, calling him back to her side, and watches the people carefully as Dashil and Radag approach the group.

"One of our girls, Aleece, is missing," the albino man explains. "Claims she heard somebody and went off into the fens to search. We've waited for her return, but it's been hours!"

An impressively ugly giant of an Ulfen man steps forward. "Prince Zar and I have been trying to organize a search party, but Hap and the clowns are too scared to go out there."

As if in grotesque asymmetry to the hulking man, a hunched dwarf with bulging, mismatched eyes approaches. "Aye, we don't see the sense in following Aleece into whatever fate she met in those swamps." The dwarf's voice is surprisingly high and nasally. "I miss the girl as much as anybody, but darkness is falling. We need to cut our losses and make camp. If she isn't back by morning, we have to leave."

The albino man gives Dashil a pleading look. "So you see our predicament. You have the appearance of a capable sort. If you can find our missing Aleece, you will earn our undying gratitude."

---

The doctor's question is met with more wailing. The four-armed woman looks up from consoling one of the pin-headed girls. "Their sister is missing," she explains, her Vudran accent clearly played up. "It has been hours since she left."

Dashil makes a face at the albino's words. "There's all sorts that use a voice in distress to lure the unwary. Like bandits." That's actually the best-case scenario, but she doesn't see any need to spread alarm.

She makes sure her scimitar is loose in its sheath. "OK. First thing is try and see where she went."

Survival, tracking: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 8 + 2 = 16

She can't see much. "Radag - second opinion?"

Sighing Aduard starts his preparations in the event his companions are convinced to intercede in this humbug. Preparation done he lowers himself to the ground, squelching into what he fervently hopes is mud, and makes his way over to Dashil.
cast mage armour

Tracking: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Looking up from the perimeter of the caravan Radag clears his throat, "Not an opinion anyone here wants to hear... Oh you mean the tracks?" He pauses a long drawn out moment considering telling the truth on the matter, but everything is much more exciting with Radag flare to it.

New book. New mood music.

Aleece's tracks are fresh in the soft loam. They run for nearly half a mile as they descend into a swampy river valley, and then into a densely vegetated, midge-infested marsh. Clusters of sickly reeds, grown to even above Radag's head, choke the area, blocking visibility.

The trail soon nearly vanishes under water as they continue for another hundred yards before emerging into a cramped clearing filled with dismal-looking grey flowers.

Somewhere, beyond the clearing, a woman shrieks. "Please, gods. Help me!"

Radag's reflexes knock his bow at the first sound of 'please' or before he can come to realizing he had already wandered this far out.

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

Clenching his teeth Radag relays a warning to the those that followed,
Nothing natural about that plea, ready yourselves.

Then he presses forward, cautious and ready for what can only be the start of a bad day.

also cast false life hp: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Aduard's feet are soaked. His shoes are covered in mud. He scratches ferociously at bites on his arm and he has a tear in his fancy trimmed cloak where a reed ripped it. Still, when Radag starts forward the wizard keeps pace.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Dashil stifles a curse. "It's never just bandits. Why is it never just bandits?" She draws her scimitar and makes sure that the strapping on her shield is secure. "OK, let's go take down whatever it is. If only to stop it making that noise. Can't decide if the damn thing sounds like several mouths talking at once, or one mouth that's overstuffed with teeth. Watcha reckon, Radag? Place a bet?"

Her tone is conversational (although her eyes are wary), as though she's done this sort of thing so often it really isn't worth remarking on. After 90 years you see pretty much everything.

Her skirt covered in insistent, muddy paw prints, Esta carries a wet, grumbling Oolong in her arms as they make their way through the gloomy mire.

She stops short in the clearing at the sound of the woman's shriek, and grimaces at Dashil's description.

"I don' like th' sound of either of those options," she says as she raises her wards, preparing for the worst based on Dashil's analysis.

Cast Mage Armor.

"I don' like th' sound of either of those options,"

"Ding. We have a winner. Welcome to Ustalav: you'll like none of your options. It says so at the border - and if it doesn't, it ought to."

Dashil takes a moment from trying to maintain a conversational tone to raise a prayer to her Goddess, seeking protection.

Casting Protection from Evil: +2 deflection to AC, +2 to saves vs Evil creatures

"I am prepared." Aduard sighs "If we're going to do this, let's do this. Does anyone else need to prepare?"

A second scream, the same voice but in a different direction, echoes from beyond the reeds. "Help! Heeeelp! It's after me!"