"Can't say I'm looking forward to another haunted house or village."
Arval says as he shoulders his pack.
"Aye, well if'n it's off t' tangle wit' ghosties we be, then I best be preparin' some spells t' help out. Give me a bit, an' I'll be ready."
Whiskeyjack will take some time to fill the gaps in his spell repertoire with ones that would be most effective against ghosts and other undead.
Freshly armed with their information, the group take off towards Hergstag! Iozif begs off, wanting to investigate what happened to his colleague at the University. The march is another two hours of being eaten alive by insects before they finally spy the small village.
Having avoided the trap, the group get a good look at the village from atop a small hill. The area around the village is completely overgrown, with high corn and grass everywhere. With the party approaching from the west, a stream surrounds the village, but a handy bridge crosses it.
As the group finishes crossing the bridge...
SNAP!
Letting out a dignified shriek, Eldon leaps to the side as a bear trap suddenly snaps up from the grasses, clanging shut!
The bear trap lies unpleasantly in the grass, having been totally hidden. A house lies a hundred feet away to the southwest.
Kawrock clicks his tongue twice in concern. "That was a close one Eldon, that thing could have cut you in half." The Tengu keeps an eye out for further surprises as he makes his way to the house.
"Lets get to the house and see what else is close by, hopefully this whole town isn't full of traps."
Arval looks worriedly at Eldon as the trap misses him by an inch.
"Let me walk up front."
He offers at him whilst walking carefully towards him.
With Kawrock and Arval leading the way the group move towards the farmhouse. Arval and Kawrock spot a bear trap which they manage to avoid. The house itself looks like a one-room affair and is boarded up. A sinister-looking scarecrow stands further on to the southwest.
"Aye, looks t' be all abandoned an' all. Mebbe we ken be findin' some clues in these houses. Bu' watch ou' fer ghouls and ghosties!" Whiskeyjack followed the others, his bloodshot eyes peered to see signs of more traps or ghostly apparitions.
"I saw that trap," Eldon mutters quietly and unconvincingly, "that's why I dodged..."
As the party heads toward the house Eldon's very careful, and checks every patch of grass they're about to step in at least twice.
The group find a bear trap right in front of the boarded up doors of the house. However, the scarecrow to the southwest actually appears to be a human body - horribly withered rather than rotted.
Arval grabs his sword and looks around nervously.
"I don't think we are welcome here..."
"Like as not, th' villagers left 'em behind when they fled this place. Look a' i'. Th' perfect thing t' dissuade scavengers an' such." Whiskeyjack moved closer to inspect the "scarecrow", searching carefully for traps as he went.
Kawrock notices the scarecrow for the first time and ruffles his feathers and gives off some soft nervous kaws. "I do not know what it is about that thing, but I do not like it."
"I speak from past experiences when I say that it's likely to animate," Eldon says from a safe distance.
"That, or it carries some horrible disease."
It appears to be neither. Whiskeyjack's healer's mind immediately sees a horrid death here. This person did not rot, it's like he was withered or drained - his essence sucked right out of him while he was trapped in the bear trap. He does not animate or do much at all. He does, however, have some valuables on him despite his clothes having rotted away to rags.
He wears a turqouise on a thong around his neck, and carries a money pouch with 12 gp and 22 sp. As well, in his boot is a silver pocket knife, and at his side a set of masterwork thieves' tools.
"I am not getting close to that thing."
Arval says as he carefully opens the door to the house.
"Damn me fer a gnome. This 'ere fella weren't killed by weapons. more like somethin' drained the life essence from 'im. Sucked i' ou', like ale through a straw. Still, 'e had some shinies on 'im, an' they ain't doin' 'im any good any more."
Whiskeyjack pocketed the loot, then turned to the house. "Time fer another dwarven key?"
"help me... help me..."
A child's voice, muffled, calls out from the boarded-up shack.
Whiskeyjack hears the faint voice from inside the house. He paused for a moment to wonder what a child is doing in this abandoned place, then shakes his head. "Outta th' way, lad. There be a child in there an' I ain't waitin' fer a polite knock." Whiskeyjack charged the door, his shield up and his hammer held in line with where the latch or locking bar might be.
"If that body is drained, who says that the child isn't the one who will suck me dry?"
Arval says as he approaches the house.
"Do we have anything to shield us?"
He hesitates in front of the door.
"Helloooo? Where are you?"
He calls inside.
The door's boards are fairly weak and Whiskeyjack throws up a huge dwarven boot and smashes his way in! Inside is a dilapidated one-room shack. And a pair of dark red eyes staring at the group. They lunge and a shadowy, black-robed figure leaps at Whiskeyjack!
Whiskeyjack feels a horrible chill shoot through his body as the shadowy figure claws through his arm!
This appears to be a wraith spawn, a notoriously dangerous incorporeal spawn of undead. For every 5 you exceed this check, you can ask a question.
Whiskeyjack clutches his chest as he feels the life force being sucked out of him. He stepped back to give himself some breathing room and muttered, "All right ye evil spawn of hell's underpanties. If'n tha's th' way ye want t' play i', then tha's th' way we'll play!" The warpriest raised his shield, the symbol of Angmar held high, and began to chant a prayer in an eerie sonorous voice.
HP 32/40(35). Current AC: 22/10/22
Active conditions: con drain -2
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 5/5
Blessings remaining: 6/6
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/3
Arval jumps as the figure leaps at Whiskey. He immediately strikes with his sword.
"Do not! Attack us!"
He yells as he swings.
Eldon looks a bit shocked at the sight of the red eyes, because he didn't expect anything evil inside the house at all.
He immediately starts giving the others some courage inspiring advice on how to deal with the threat, while reminding them of the reason they came to the village. "Good swing, Arval! Hit it even harder next time, 'cause hitting it harder hurts it more! And don't forget to interview it while you hit it!"
Whiskeyjack immediately knows that wraithspawn are powerless in the sunlight.
The wraithspawn hisses as it becomes more substantial, just in time for Arval to hammer it with his sword, which gets some proper purchase on the creature! Lena's missiles then zip in, slamming into it.
Feeling a little more at ease now that he is away from the scare crow. Kawrock focuses on the task and hand and sends a bolt of fire at the creature.
Kawrock's bolt of fire slams into the wraith, sizzling it nicely.
With Whiskeyjack having backed off, the wraith instead swipes at Arval.
Arval feels a cold chill pass through his body as the wraith's hand goes right through the wall, and his armour to drain some of his life!
Wraithspawn (24 dmg)
---
Kawrock
Arval (1 dmg, 1 con)
Whiskeyjack (3 dmg, 2 con)
Eldon
Lena
Shaking mad, Whiskeyjack reached forward and touched Arval's weapon. The sword burst into flames, which flickered eerily along the apparition's semi-solid body. "Swing away, laddie!"
HP 32/40(35). Current AC: 22/10/22
Active conditions: con drain -2
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 5/5
Blessings remaining: 5/6
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 2/3
Eldon keeps running his mouth, trying to inspire the others with an over the top story of how he once beat the bogeyman. Meanwhile, he goes full defense.
Kawrock will continue to keep his distance and throw another fire bolt. "Nasty little thing isn't it. Don't get to close unless you have to." Kawrock adds after throwing some fire at the thing.
Arval blinks and then grins as his sword catches fire. He stabs the sword towards the creature trying to finish it in one blow.
"Already close. Nothing stopping me from chopping it apart now!"
Kawrock flings another bolt of fire which nails the semi-corporeal creature. Arval lets out a brutal swing with his newly flaming sword, and that seems to do it! Despite only partially hitting the wraith spawn, it lets out a ghastly shriek and vanishes from existence. All that is left is a dilapidated shack with a hearth, some crude furniture, and a rusty scythe.
End of Combat
For a city famed for its University the population here isn't too bright.
For days the cries of BURN THE BEAST BURN THE BEAST have rocked the town centre, the enormous Punishing Man wicker statue standing ominously in front of the courthouse. At last, The Beast of Lepidstadt has been captured and everything will be all right. If you speak to a celebratory drunk on the street, you'll be sure to hear that The Beast is personally to blame for at least forty-six different murders and disappearances, a failure in the crop last year, the alarmingly large mosquitoes that keep floating in from the Dippelmere Swamp, and any number of disgusting human social diseases.
You, however, know better and have for a while. The legend of The Beast has drawn your attention for a while now, bringing you northwards from your home near Ravengro with the blessing of your friend Petros Lorrimor. While the smallfolk continually blamed everything on The Beast you heard different stories. Of a creature which was gentle, curious, and kind to children and the birds. You've spent months attempting to sort the fact from the fiction in an attempt to get to know The Beast better. During this time you received the tragic news that Petros passed away in a freak accident, and a funeral invitation two weeks too late.
And then this. Captured during a truly bizarre and apparently purposeless break-in to the University, The Beast now lies in shackles beneath the Lepidstadt Courthouse and barred from speaking to the public. You were present for the first day of the trial and saw a strange group which included a tengu give an impassioned defence that may have cleared The Beast of its first crime. They were gone before you could speak to a one of them, but as you left the courthouse, a page approached you, somewhat awkwardly, and passed you a note before hurrying off. The note was written in a beautiful, spidery script.
308 Caliphvaso Way in one hour. We have a mutual friend. I know you want to help.
"Plume! Plumie!! We have to go!" Wren screeches, looking for her parrot, a frantic bustle of packing. "I have a note. From someone! And it's about Stitches!!" Wren hopes that her enthusiam her golem friend induces the bird to come out of hiding.
Sadly, it does not. Plume, Wren's longtime companion does not come. She is alone and has to the meeting alone. This makes her nervous, but she thinks about poor Stitches and the sad way the golem had been treated and makes her way out the door.
She considers going back to the inn to find her avian companion, but instead preens her feathered 'armor' and keeps walking to the meeting site.
She raps thrice on the door with her wand when she arrives, already missing Plume and wondering who sent the note.
Wren offers her biggest yellow smile to whomever opens the door.
Arval seems to calm down again, the crazy look leaving his eyes. He seems to slump a bit as the adrenaline leaves his body.
"What in the ... was that? And Whiskey what did you do to my sword?! That was amazing!"
Kawrock takes a look at Whiskey. "This is beyond my abilities to heal. We will have to get someone more skilled to give back what was taken from you."
"Aye, lass, I be fine. Been better fer sure, bu' I be fine now. Mebbe Angradd'll have sommat in th' magic department for t' heal me up later. Fer now...well, nothin' a fortitudinal beverage won't fix up!"
Whiskeyjack took a swig from his ever present flask. Then he looked into it, then turned it upside down. A bare drop fell to the ground. Sighing, he mumbled a few words and touched the flask to his shield. Then, he shook the flask, smiling at the sloshing sounds coming from inside.
"Tha', Arval lad, were th' blessing o' Angradd, him I been followin'. I' ain't a lot, bu' i' ken be comin' in handy now an' again."
He looked about the dilapidated house and harumphed. "Anyone got any clue wha' i' is we be lookin' for?"
After the astonishing turnaround on the first day of the trial, the street party is somewhat more muted. Just as many people are extremely drunk, but a little more morose. A few half-hearted chants of BURN THE BEAST strike up, but nobody is really that enthused.
You make your way to the University district and finally find yourself in front of a nice town house. Whoever owns this must be doing fairly well.
To your surprise, one of the three judges from the trial opens the door! You recognize her as Embreth Daramid, who has a reputation for great integrity and respect. She has long grey hair and a sharp face, obviously in her later years for a human.
"Come in dearie, come in. You must be Wren."
She bustles you into the room, closing the door. She leads you to a lovely parlour and gestures to a comfortable chair.
"My name is Embreth, but you probably saw me at the trial. Now. We share a mutual friend in dearly departed Petros Lorrimor, and he had given me a list of trustworthy names to call upon when I needed help. This relates to the trial, but before I begin I must have your assurance this meeting is confidential. Tea?"
Wren smiles, stepping into the home.
"Oh, thank you, dearie," Wren replies to the human who is likely half her age. "Tea would be lovely. And what a lovely house you have!" Wren states, looking around. She reaches to pet the parrot on her shoulder, but it is not there. She frowns briefly forgetting.
She looks around the parlor, admiring the decor.
"Oh, I do remember my good friend Professor Lorrimor, I do miss him," Wren says. "He taught me so much when I was so lost. He was a good bird, he was."
Wren assents to the confidentiality.
"Oh, of course, dearie, you can trust me with anything," Wren says with complete conviction...forgetting entirely that she is a gossip. Thankfully, very few people choose to willingly talk to her so the gossip only goes as far as her pet bird, Plume...and that bird is gone.
Soon a cup of hot, minty-tasting nettle tea is set in front of you as Embreth gingerly sits herself in an austere, straight-backed chair.
"Straight to business. I have employed several friends of dear Petros to clear the name of The Beast, whom they have taken to naming and calling Brodur. This trial is a sham, but the complete lack of evidence and weak defense almost ensures a guilty verdict. We'll see after today, but there is much work to be done. You understand the personal risk I take by talking to you."
She blow on her tea and sips at it, her long, bony fingers clutching the delicate little porcelain cup.
"My friend Dr. Iozif is investigating a matter at the University and has bowed out of this quest and I need a skilled mage to replace him. Your reputation precedes you. The group, two halflings named Eldon and Lena, a tengu by the name of Kawrock, and a burly man named Arval have proven quite remarkable. They proved that Petros was murdered by the Whispering Way, cleansed Harrowstone of its haunt, and uncovered a potential serial killer while investigating the Trial."
Flexing her hand and wincing, she sets the tea aside.
"I would like you to join up with them, and I will pay you a hundred platinum for your work. The Beast has been charged with two more crimes that need to be investigated. You can sign up as a public defender which gives you the right to present in trial, and also interview The Beast itself. My understanding is the company are currently investigating Hergstag, where The Beast is accused of murdering several children and turning them "into ghosts". What say you?"
Kawrock will search the small dwelling for any signs to what may have lured....or created such a creature here.
"Might as well see if we can find anything unusual here." He says clicking his tongue twice as the gloom of this place takes it's toll on his mood. "Lots of unusual things seem to be round here."
There are no valuables in the house. It appears as if it was completely abandoned and boarded up. The interior is covered in a layer of dust, at least months old.