"Dr. Montagnie Cowl is a professor at the University of Lepidstadt. He was one of Professor Lorrimor's friends."
"And the one we have to deliver some tomes to," Eldon adds in a whisper.
"Dear sheriff, please focus on the safety of the people. The people are more important than the memorial. We'll go after this person, and attempt to catch him. Or take him down, if he's dangerous."
Eldon turns to Arval after he's addressed the sheriff. "I'm not good at tracking, but I can try."
"Well at least I recognized it as a boot print."
He turns to the whole group again.
"Shall we head to the prison then, as Vladlena suggested?"
Eldon appears to be somewhat confused. "Huh, which boot?"
"Yes, I think we're as ready as we can be. Unless anyone thinks otherwise."
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Norna doesn't want to say anything in particular, but she doesn't feel very ready, never having faced a haunt or a ghost ... or well, not one that she can recently remember. But, "There is a first time for anything, and I'm sure it will all come back to me if it isn't."
She adjusts her pack on her shoulders, straightens her hold symbol, twirls her shillelagh, and gives Eldon an amiable shrug and a smile.
The Sheriff stops as Eldon calls out him. "I heard ya. I'm going to the town registry to look up people with 'VE' in their name. There's something awful peculiar going on. This is going to alarm the townsfolk, no two bits about it. We'll keep an watch out."
"And if you can't figure out them tracks, check the Laughing Demon. Some of the outdoorsmen 'round these parts settle there for a drinka dn there may be a tracker among them."
"I don't look forward to trusting people who pass their time in a place named the Laughing Demon," Eldon says with a worried expression, "What if the culprit also settles for a drink there?"
"Still, we could really use the help. I say we go to the Laughing Demon, hire a tracker, and see if he can lead us to the culprit. If that doesn't work, I suggest we go to Harrowstone tomorrow morning."
And I'm pretty sure another letter will have appeared on the memorial by then...
"Although I don't like to hire someone for a job like this I agree with Eldon, Let's go to the Laughing Demon. Everything will go faster if we track the person who did this instead of going to random locations in hope of finding something."
With the group deciding to head to the Laughing Demon, they make their way back into town from the memorial, careful to avoid what tracks Burlee has identified.
You make your way into the popular tavern. An enormous, moustachioed man stands behind the bar, speaking in a thick Varisian accent. A few drunken locals lean in as he finishes a tall tale about monster slaying.
"And thenen - my friends - and then zis horrible, cruel, depraved wampeer reared up..." he pauses for dramatic effect. "And I stab him through zee heart!"
With that, he slams a thick wooden skewer down into a bit of grilled meat. He proceeds to stab another dozen so pieces of meat.
"Not only deed I save Ravengro, I also came up with an idea for a tasty dish. Please enjoy my vampire skewers."
He looks up as the group enters and shows an enormous smile. The patrons of the bar look at the party with expressions ranging from friendliness to hostility. "Visitors from far away lands! Please be welcome to the Laughing Demon! All of our food and drink here ees haunted and thus ensured to be delicious." He turns to holler over his shoulder at the kitchen. "'EY MARTA! SOME WEREWOLF BALLS FOR ZE GUESTS! So how can I help you?"
"Good day, sir," Eldon says and walks up to the moustachioed man, "My name's Eldon Appleton. I'm a storyteller who travels the lands to tell about his epic adventures."
"My comrades and I have come here, hoping to find someone who's willing to help us. You may have heard about what's happened at Harrowstone's memorial? We intend to find the person who did it. Can you help us?"
You catch an unmistakeable odor of rank sweat and alcohol. A few sidesteps over away from Burlee and you just smell alcohol and grilled meats. You see a sign for a variety of undead-themed snacks - corpse chowder, vampire steaks, werewolf balls, zombie broth, and wraith crackers. The beer here is served in glasses, a rarity in a small town like this, and has a greenish tint to it that makes it look a little eerie.
"Hello to you, small one. I am Zokar and I will help you. Bad feelings are bad for business! Zat man dere," he jabs a finger at a heavyset, bearded man in a corner hunched over a bowl of corpse chowder. "He can track anything. Buy him a drink and mebbe he talk."
Taking a silver from his purse, Eldon sits himself down next to the man. He places the silver coin on the bar in front of him. "Buy this man what he wants," he says to the bartender, before turning his friendly smile to the man next to him.
"I heard you're a capable tracker! We need a man like you to find whoever desecrated Harrowstone's memorial. You up for it? We offer you good food and drinks, to make it worth your while."
The man slowly, very slowly, turns to regard Eldon. He takes a while to consider his answer before he speaks.
"Blow it out your ass, half-pint."
"In that case, forget about the offer." Eldon takes the silver before the barkeeper can take it, and walks to the tavern's exit. "We could've paid you, sir. Shame you declined my offer in such a rude manner."
Eldon exits the tavern, and waits for the others outside. He shrugs once they join him. "I'm not going to cooperate with someone like that. Let's go, and see what we can on our own."
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"I think I am at least 9 or 10 ounces." Norna thinks obscurely, then says a short prayer to Desna for Guidance and patience. Trying to give Eldon - though he has left - some support, she brings out a gold piece (one of five she has left) and offers to buy more drinks.
"Well, we heard you were the person to talk to. Something about 'able to save the whole town' and all." At the risk of causing Eldon's ears to burn, she quietly adds that, "Between you and me, I think most of his best work comes 'out of his ass', so to speak," hoping to form a bond of deprecation between herself and the surly man.
Arval walks up to the man and holds up another two gold coins. "This will get you quite far with the drinking. Might even get some other stuff with it. Still not interested?"
He places the coins in front of the man and looks him direct in the eyes waiting for a response.
He pointedly ignores Arval, but does look at the money and finally at Norna. A low grunt of a chuckle escapes his lips.
"Fine. I could use the money. Three gold will do. Show me where your tracks are. M'name's Daenar."
Daenar calls over his shoulder. "Zokar, save your damn balls for when we get back. They'll be good visitors to our town and spend some coin once business is concluded."
He rises to his feet, towering over the diminutive party and even Arval. A huge, black-bearded man with bloodshot beady eyes and an alcoholic reek. He lets out a groan, drains the rest of his drink and motions for Arval and Norna to lead the way.
"Three gold per day, and you pay food and drink if this goes overnight. Should we get in trouble, I will fight for ten gold unless it's to defend myself. Don't walk in front of me and foul up the trail, and don't give me orders. Let's go."
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They have 'werewolf balls' and 'damn balls', too? This is a scary place!
"Sounds like a deal," Norna affirms.
She follows a bit behind and collects the affronted bard on the way, quietly confiding (or prattling), "He's big and rude and a bit disgusting, but he'll get the job done, I think. He reminds me of that time - or one of the times? - I saved the Professor's life. I was a good seven-feet tall then, big and hairy and bad-smelling. I may have been a bugbear then ... or perhaps a Kellid cleric of Gorum ... or maybe just a dwarf who was standing on something tall... Hmm. It is a little unclear. Maybe you remember the story better than I? Anyway, deep down, I meant well - a real 'heart of the stars', as a cleric of Desna might say. ... Like me. Because I am a cleric of Desna. Yes..."
Heto grimly stalks behind the rest of the group, having remained largely in the background for the past day. He finally speaks up over Norna's chatter.
"This is not for me. My respect for the Professor knows no bounds, but the request in his will is a contract I may enter or leave. My path does not lie here in this town. I will return to the Lorrimor Place to bid my farewell."
With that, he abruptly turns and stalks off into the town.
Daenar proves to be nothing if competent, upon arriving at Harrowstone Memorial he curls his lip at the blood-smeared graffiti, and then takes a good, long while to find the tracks. The tracks lead northwards along the river bank. He mutters as he goes.
"Human or half-elf, medium build. Walking all funny like he's injured or drunk or something. Still - someone tried to hide these tracks. No wonder you couldn't follow these."
He loses the trail once or twice, but diligently comes back to his. Thankfully the trail does not lead very far whatsoever. Even moving slowly it's only a half hour before he follows the footprints to a shack at the side of the river. He frowns, looks at the footprints, and back up at the shack.
"That ain't right. That's Gibs Hephenus' shack! He's a good man!" Daenar shakes his head rapidly, obviously disturbed. "None'a this is right, but those tracks lead right there, plain as day. I... I don't want no part of this! This one'a those necromancer tricks?!"
You stand with the river to your backs, overlooking a ramshackle hut that's likely a one-room affair. Well-worn paths lead from the hut to the river and behind it to town. A small garden plot looks well-cared for, and against the side of the hut is a large log pile for firewood. Nobody looks to be home.
"Well here we are. Let's look around for clues."
He walks around the place to look for some kind of evidence.
"Can you guys find anything? Daenar could you look around a bit too, maybe you can find something that excludes your friend from the suspect list."
Arval looks to be thinking.
Doesn't really look like a place for a psycho to live.
Eldon has been quiet most of the time, glaring at the rude tracker. When Daenar shakes his head, stating Gibs to be a good man, Eldon steps up. "If you hadn't been so rude I'd have filled you in earlier. Yes, we're tracking a person that has ties to necromancy. You look scared. Are you? I've certainly faced worse, big man."
"Now tell us who this Gibs Haphenus is. Now don't get me wrong, because I don't directly suspect him to have done anything evil. But do understand the evil may have gotten to him, and his life may be in danger if we don't move fast."
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Well, the fact that the trail led here is good evidence, but enough to accost him at his home? The vandalism has happened every night thus far. We could lay a trap and capture him in the act. Or we could storm in and look for proof.
Lena thinks about the options for a second and says This guy said nasty things about the prof. To hells with him, let's storm in[. But, catching him in the act might be fun too. What do you all think?
Daenar groans at Eldon's words and throw shis hands in the air.
"Look, Gibs obviously ain't home. He's an old man and although a right bastard, he's always looked out for this town. He's probably just about town talking to folks or having a drink or something. Sometimes he plays the pipes down t'market for ale money. I don't know where he is and if there's evil spirits, I'm done helping ya folks! I earned my money."
With that, Daenar turns to take off.
Arval does a quick inspection of the area around the hut but doesn't turn anything up.
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After Daenar leaves, Norine thinks hard for few moments as a calm befalls the group, then attempts to summarize the available options: "So, are we going to camp out at the memorial tonight? Maybe get a little more research in before then? Or are we going to get a good night's rest and just see what turns up tomorrow morning before going to Harrowstone?"
"Or, we could come back and see Gibs here, when and if he comes back later tonight. In my 'halfling days' - no offense intended - I would have gone in and had a look-see, made myself homey with a nice pot of tea and a biscuit. But, those were different days and places..." Norna looks a bit wistful for a time before continuing. "Then again, maybe we could meet him at the market, and look to buy him a pint of ale."
"'Tis odd that we have another piper in our little story, though. Or maybe not... Look - a butterfly!"
"I don't think that camping near the memorial in the middle of the night is a very good idea in these parts. Gathering information tonight and tomorrow to Harrowstone doesn't sound bad though."
He turns to the cottage and thinks a while. It looks like a very nice and secluded place to plan these acts from. Run down cottage, a river to wash everything that is used, a good supply of wood and a garden to supply for the winter. It isn't suspicious in itself but if you want to see it it's there.
"Although we might want to find the killer first. Let's head to the market today and see if we can find Gibs. If not let's study and visit Harrowstone on the morrow."
He looks around the group to see if anyone objects the ideas, or if anyone has a better idea on what to do.
"Eldon, where is your big mouth when we need it?"
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Being bored , Norna decides to use her new trick of casting Detect Magic, then scanning the grounds, knowing that she will see and resolve auras all the way through the little shack and a good bit of the dirt in just a few moments. "My, we have become a fancy britches, haven't we, Knorrin, Old Fella, with all that new book-learnin'."
She then hands an unusual whistle to Eldon, saying, "Funny this petite musical instrument that I've been meaning to show you: it can only be heard by gnomes, badgers, and dogs - so you shouldn't blow it too strongly thinking it ain't doing anything."
Twirling her shillelagh by its hand cord, she looks to either side, up, down, and behind her, before 'accidentally' letting the walking stick fly off her finger and into Mr. Haphenus' yard. "Oh my, did anyone see where that went? I should really go get that back."
She then slips into the yard under the cover of the Big Folk's shadows, trusting her brown and green cloak, clothes and hat to help her blend in, despite the distinctly-un-gardenly scale mail.
Norna proceeds to look all around the garden and the shack for that troublesome stick, often on all fours, with finally with a listen and then a peek through the windows, all the while keeping an eye out for animals who might be especially knowledgeable - a nice rat ("worldly but cynical") or a garden thrush ("great conversationalists, especially about worms and berries"), perhaps.
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When arval says guarding the memorial was not a good idea, she spluttered. Not a good idea! Of course it is. Unless you're scared of the dark. Which...thinking aboit it is not a bad idea...but even so, it would net us the vandal.
Seeing norna distracted by a butterfly, she says norna, focus
Thinking a bit, we still have the afternoon. Let's look at the prof's note.
After Norna's stick goes "accidentally" flying into the yard, Norna creeps off to follow it and gives the place a thorough going over. By all respects this is a very normal little shack in a rural area and there is no real sign of anything untoward.
However, after some wiggling, Norna manages to squeeze behind the wood pile where she finds a bag.
The bag is gory and reeks of flesh. Within are two objects, a waterskin covered with, and holding some blood, and a bloodstained war razor.
Eldon's about to whistle a tune on the whistle Norna gave him when he realizes its true purpose. He positions himself so that he has a good view of the area, and will be able to warn Norna if Gibs or anyone else approaches the hut.
Remarkably, Eldon does all this without speaking. For Once.
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Norna comes back to the group a little paler - almost forgetting her 'troublesome stick' - and relates to the group what she found: "Hidden behind the woodpile is a gory bag, reeking of flesh, containing a bloody water skin holding some blood, and a bloodstained 'war razor'. Given the trail, I don't think he was just cleaning fish from the river."
Despite finding FeFe's apparent murderer, Norna is unsatisfied and unconvinced. "Why, though? I think we should tell the sheriff and then stake out the shack, here, so we have proof it is him (and not us planting evidence) and maybe get a reason why."
"Vladlena there are bandints and whatnot in this region and you want to sleep in a excluded place? Not wise at all. Visiting the sheriff as Norna suggested though is a good idea. Let's visit him first and based on the results decide what to do next."
He walks over to the woodpile and peers at the bag. "This was hidden really well and assuming what Daenar said about the tracks being erased, I think the person who lives here is a big suspect. This was probably not planted. A search might find us more evidence."
He walks back to the group and waits for their responses.
Harrowstone Memorial is mostly well known for its beautiful view of the river, and a favorite spot for young people to be romantic. It is not known to be dangerous and the only major dangers Ravengro has faced in recent history are some orcs crossing over from the Hold of Belkzen and a werewolf attack some twenty years ago. The relative peacefulness of the memorial has made the gory vandalism all the more shocking to the townsfolk.
You clear your mind of outside distractions and concentrate for a moment to watch for anyone approaching the shack. It's a beautiful day with greenery all around you and a pleasant little garden Gibs works hard to maintain. The river flows softly behind you to the west, and to the east a trail leads through the sparse woodland to a farmhouse.
However, your patience is rewarded. A distant scream rings out, from the direction of the farm - probably a five minute walk. You barely heard it.
"Our tracker concerns me... What if he tells Gibs he lead us here?"
With a shrug Eldon replies to Arval. "Mwa... dangerous... Did you know Harrowstone Memorial is mostly well known for its beautiful view of the river, and a favorite spot for young people to be romantic? It is not known to be dangerous and the only major dangers Ravengro has faced in recent history are some orcs crossing over from the Hold of Belkzen and a werewolf attack some twenty years ago. My guess is the relative peacefulness of the memorial has made the gory vandalism all the more shocking to the townsfolk."
Eldon turns his head into the direction of a trail to east, which leads to a farmhouse. "I heard a scream from yonder!" Eldon says, and starts moving toward the farm. "Hurry up! It's about 5 minutes from here, but we may make it in time!"
"Wait for me!"
And Arval sprints after the halflings, which he soon catched up to being way taller then they are.
Whilst running he yells back to the others.
"Hurry up! We don't have time to lose!"
Burlee trundles along behind the group as they charge towards the source of the scream, following Eldon's precise hearing. They come up behind a farmhouse and discover a grisly scene. What appears to be the family plot has had several dead relations dig themselves up and attack the family! A fresh corpse lies on the ground of a young man, the apparent work of four walking dead who are beating on a barricaded farm house. You spy two skeletons, and two zombies.
The walking dead have not noticed you. You all have a surprise action before round one of combat.
Skeletons and zombies are the most common type of undead, and thankfully amongst the weakest. It should be noted that they are both resistance to different types of damage. Skeletons are best handled with blunt weapons, while the tough hides of zombies part easily under slashing weapons. They are often indicative of greater necromantic forces at work, and have no free will. When left to their own devices, they just try to eat whoever is nearby.
"Zombies! Together with skeletons they're among the weakest undead, meaning we're rather lucky nothing worse showed up!" Eldon quickens his pace as he continues to run. One might wonder how the little guy got the stamina to keep up with the others while his mouth moves so fast.
"Listen, there's a great difference between handling a skeleton or a zombie. Skeletons are defeated with blunt weapons, but to defeat a zombie fast you'll want a slashing weapon. They're resistant to most other weapons."
"Also, zombies are dumb! They attack the nearest target. So if you're wounded, retreat some distance. And be on your guard, there's most likely a greater necromantic force controlling them, and it might be nearby!"
Eldon stops in his tracks and points a finger toward the farm as he grabs inside his spell component pouch. He mumbles some words and casts silent image to create the image of a massive snake that's besides allmost all of the zombies. "Don't fret, it's fake and not really there! As I said, they attack the nearest target. Get moving, before they realize it's fake! We have to close the distance."
Burlee stomps alongside the rest of the group, bellowing incoherently as he gets ready for battle. Eldon triumphantly creates his masterpiece, a somewhat wobbly and ridiculously over-sized snake. It undulates and moves somewhat convincingly thanks to the bard's impeccable sense of timing and good taste. The zombies and the skeletons mindlessly turn towards it.
Arval moves forward and calls to the others.
"I will go for the zombies since I have only a sword. Let's save these people!"
Round One
Done
Green Skeleton
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Up
Arval
Eldon
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Yellow Skeleton (flat-footed)
Yellow Zombie (flat-footed)
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Lena (mage armour)
Norna
Burlee
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Green Zombie (flat-footed)
One of the skeletons quickly turns, and slashes out at the illusion with its claws. Although its claws pass through, it still seems convinced by the illusion and continues to attack.
Arval moves towards the enemies and grabs his shield.
"Hey! Over here!"