Mortimer grimaces at the mention of the Priests of Pharasma. "I'd rather leave the Church out of this. The Professor deemed it expedient to not mention it to them and I'd rather emulate his example than let the Church interfere. In my experience they are not interested in upsetting the status quo." he says, crossing his arms. "I think we should go to the Restlands and retrieve this cache. But we should also look more into the prison. What the Whispering Way is after at Harrowstone we need to discover. But the place seems to have its own complement of hauntings that a little more research could prove useful in illuminating."
"I know the professor could be... unorthodox at times, but I can't go along with his plan in this case. The cache belongs to the church of Pharasma. We can leave them out of this if you really want to, Mortimer, but that means giving up on those resources." Gregorius looks to the others, asking for their input. "Personally, I trust Petros in his assessment that the hidden items would help us, and that is why I propose we visit the priest right now and explain the situation."
Looking back and forth between Mortimer and Gregorius, Stefan adds, "Hmmm... While I'm personally inclined to follow Petros' lead on this matter, and leave the Pharasmins out of the loop, Gregorius does have a point. Perhaps Father Grimburrow would be more inclined to loan us this equipment after the incident at the burial yesterday."
The doctor pauses, stands, and walks over to a window. "We should also spend some time this morning in town-- perhaps patronizing the local businesses, and talking with the townsfolk. If we are to stay here for a while, we should make ourselves known, so that the good people of this town can see we're on their side. Especially if the Whispering Way sends more agents here."
He turns back to his friends. "I would pose this: First, let's spend an hour or so in town this morning, checking out the sights. At, say, an hour before noon, let's pay Father Grimburrow a friendly call. Our pretense can be following up on what needs to be done with the remains of yesterday's walking dead. From there, we can ask about the items Petros was looking for, and hopefully get Grimburrow's blessing on that. If not... well, we'll have to see what plays out and take it from there."
Mortimer slumps back into his chair, defeated for the time being. "Fine, we'll do it your way." he says. "Understand this, though, if the Church wants to get in our way on this, I will not hesitate to break into that vault without their permission if it means arming us against the Whispering Way." he says angrily.
An hour past noon, you meet at local Church of Pharasma, where you ask to speak to Father Grimburrow. After a few minutes of waiting, the elderly priest comes out, reading glasses perched on his forehead. "My, young ones, I did not expect to see you so soon. How may I help you? By the looks on your faces, this appears serious."
"Good afternoon, father. We wanted to enquire about the, er... interuption in Petros Lorrimor's burial yesterday. Are the corpses that attacked the ceremony still restful? We were concerned that they might have become ambulatory again."
"Ah, that. No, thankfully, there have been no further reports of the dead walking. You should have seen those families yesterday when I informed them that their relatives' corpses had been...disturbed. Dreadful matter! Glad that's behind us. Was there anything else, Doctor?"
Mortimer seriously considered not joining Stefan and the others in visiting the temple should he be unable to restrain his opinions, but with a good breakfast in his belly and his convictions reinforced by a little reading and rumination on his purpose and the necessity of his cause, he swallowed his pride and descended from his room dressed respectably in blue and grey with his heraldic pin displayed prominently. He bid Kendra farewell, belted his scimitar to his waist and donned his hat before walking out into the misty morning air.
At the temple, he stood behind Stefan, looking around him in seemingly aloof interest.
|
Anselm studies the priest in front of him, trying to gauge how he's been coping with the events of the past few days.
He decides to address the matter directly. What about you, Father? This can't have been an easy time for you. How have you been holding up with what's been going on? I guess it seems that there's trouble following us... and I apologize if we've given that impression, but we too are being swept along with what's happening just as much as everyone else. We're going to be staying here for some time, and if there's anything I at least can do to help out I would be glad to. I may not have the same knowledge of the Church as you do, but I'm sure that two members of the clergy can help one another, regardless of how we approach our work.
The offer is completely genuine. He feels that the month he'll spend in Ravengro will not be entirely occupied by either his current investigations or helping Kendra cope, so perhaps he can help out here and maybe learn a thing or two about the town at the same time.
Drake waits patiently as the conversation progresses, studying Grimburrow and their surroundings for anything they may have missed yesterday.
Looking to Anselm, "No, my son, this has not been easy. I am not oblivious to undeath and those who practice in the necromantic arts, but this is the first ever incident in Ravengro, so it was a shock for me, to say the least. However, no other reports of the walking dead have come in, so perhaps the calamity has passed. Now, how exactly may I help you? And why are you talking about the inter-cooperation of faiths?"
"Father, let me be frank. The undead creature that spoke yesterday knew Petros by name, which we found suspicious. In going through the late professor's papers, we have reason to suspect that he was murdered-- probably by the same people who sent that abomination to interrupt his funeral and scare us away. I fear that whoever those people are may pose a danger to the people of this town. We are here to offer what service we may, and to ask a boon from the Church."
The doctor pauses for the clergyman's reaction.
"Murder? The coroner who examined his body saw no physical injuries, other than his crushed head. No poisons, nothing. Why do you suspect murder? I appreciate the offers and what is this boon you speak of?" Father Grimburrow appears to be a little skeptical of the murder charge but is willing to give you the floor..for now.
"Father, the professor has left a journal in which he expresses fear for his and his daughter's safety. So, if there is any indication of foul play, we would like to look into it. We intend to visit Harrowstone to appease our suspicions, but it looks like the place might be haunted and, well... would you be willing to lend us a few items that could help keep the dangers at bay? The professor seemed to believe you had such items stashed somewhere."
Mortimer retains his composure for just so long, before speaking up. "Don't be so blind. There are forces moving beneath the surface of Ustalavian society and they wish to return to the blighted days of the Whispering Tyrant. I know that sometimes the Church prefers to cover such things up, but think of the safety of the people in your charge. We have strong arms and strong minds, and we are in a position to potentially strike a blow against evil. Don't turn your backs on us." he says quickly and passionately.
But it seems his haughtiness and forcefulness are not his friends in this attempt.
Too late Drake realizes he's been glaring at Grimburrow over the shoulder of each man as they spoke, putting a damper on the conversation. Relaxing with a deep breath, Drake approaches Grimburrow with courtesy. "Good man, forgive our lack of congeniality, the travel, the undead fright, and the death of our friend has placed stress on us all. We've found cause to suspect that the Professor may have been a victim of foul play. The Professor had his concerns as well and communicated to us that you could be of help in the event of trouble. Please, Father, of all the people in this town you are the one we can trust. Help us bring justice if a crime has been committed and help the people of Ravengro stay safe if evil does lurk in this very town."
"Please forgive our zeal. We are still very upset at the loss of our friend and mentor. Learning that he may have been murdered is pressing us to act more quickly and forcefully than is decorous.
Petros' letters indicate that he knew of the existence of certain tools that can be used against spirits that had been secreted here in the Restlands years ago by the Church of Pharasma. We ask that you let us borrow these tools so that we can continue Petros' investigation-- which we presume is why he was murdered."
Father Grimburrow throws his hand up in exasperation. "Bah, you young folk have active imaginations. You have provided me with no proof that the Professor's death was anything but a tragic accident or anything to refute the coroner's report. You speak of stashed or hidden caches. I certainly know of no such caches. Sure, it's certainly plausible that members of a previous hierarchy hid several resources here and there, but I can't let you go traipsing around tombs or any other of our holy sites, searching for them! I've had enough troubles for one day, explaining to members of the church why the bodies of their loved ones had to be re-buried and I will tolerate no more grave defilement! I will send a few acolytes to look into the possibility that the Professor kept a hidden cache and will report any findings to you. That's the best I can do, young fellas. Now, if you'd like to help the town, I am sure the Sheriff and Ravengro will appreciate your help. Pharasma thanks you for your visit, or was there something else you needed?"
Mortimer shakes his head as they walk away. "I told you this was a bad idea. Now he'll require a lot more convincing, and he may set guards on the Restlands." he says, looking off into the distance, his eyes tight. "So, do we start doing chores around town and holding bake sales to raise the money we'd need to acquire the weapons we'd need to investigate the prison?"
Stefan's face falls as it becomes apparent that the Pharasmin priest isn't buying their story, despite its truth. With a disappointed frown, he signs in acquiescence.
"Well, Father, thank you for hearing us out. I'm sorry we weren't more convincing, but I do understand that we have made some extrordinary claims with nothing but our word to back them. I do stand by our assertions, yet were I in your position, I'm not sure I would have believed us, either."
He paused a moment, then added, "In his will, Petros asked us to stay in town for a few weeks and offer what help we could in town. I have some skill as a physician, and I am looking to possibly set up shop here for a while. Are there any others in town in that line of work with whom I could offer my assistance?"
"Father Grimburrow, we already know where the stash is. I can guarantee we do not plan to take anything without your permission, but would you be willing to share some of its content with us? We ashall visit Harrowstone anyway, but it looks like the place is haunted. I thought the church of Pharasma would be eager to help us in cleaning the place of ghosts and other unnatural undead. Who knows, maybe the ones we fought earlier came from there. Help us, please, and we'll save you the trouble of looking for that hidden cache."
Father Grimburrow's eyebrows furrow at Gregorius' comments. "You know where a stash lies? I doubt that, but I tell you what, as long as it does not require grave defilement, we'd be happy to share its contents with you. Harrowstone haunted you say? What evidence do you have of that? Yes, that fire that consumed all those people was tragic but that was years ago. Don't tell me you're believing little children's tales, are you?"
"Other than the coroner young man and our healers here at the Church, we don't have any doctors in town. People come to us or to the local alchemist/witch doctor for their remedies. I am proud you have taken up such a noble profession."
The doctor thanks the priest for his time, and the party takes its leave from his office.
"Hmmm... Well, let's take a look at the place that Petros said the cache of tools were stored. I think we should keep our word-- we shouldn't disturb any graves, but let's at least take a look."
"As for the what we should do in town... Well, I don't know about bake sales, but I think we should settle in for a while. Once the townsfolk gets to know us, and hopefully trust us, we'll be better able to protect them from whatever the Whispering Way has in store for them. After we're done at the Restlands, I'd like to meet the alchemist and the coroner that Grimburrow mentioned. Hopefully, I'll be extended some professional courtesy."
As you leave the Church of Pharasma, a few blocks down, you see a strange scene unfolding before you. A group of five little Varisian girls dressed in shawls and dresses are playing a skipping rope game on the side of the street. Each of the girls takes turns jumping in the rope while singing two lines of a rather disturbing song, then skips out of the rope to let the next girl take up the next two lines. The way in which the girls switch from skipping to passing the ends of the rope to each other to keep the whole thing going is strikingly well timed and well choreographed—and the verse itself, which the girls sing in Varisian, is rather disturbing.
The five repeating verses are as follows:
Put her body on the bed.
Take a knife and lop her head.
Watch the blood come out the pipe.
Feeds the stirge, so nice and ripe.
Drops of red so sparkly bright.
Splatters spell her name just right.
With a hammer killed his wife.
Now he wants to claim your life.
Tricksy father tells a lie.
Listen close or you will die.
Thanks to his childhood in Mediogalti Island, the eerie song is disturbingly familiar to Gregorius, resembling the kind of games he would play with few children that grew up by his side. Hi heart races as the memory strikes him, and the ever present shadow of Ashaekek clouds his mind for a moment. His first instinct is to furiously yell at the girls and repress their game, but he supresses that impulse and approaches them instead, trying to remain calm. He kneels by their side and asks "Why, you girls sing so well! Do you know any other songs?"
At Gregorius' interruption, the girls abruptly stop their playing and stand quietly and nervously before the party.
"What's wrong?"
Mortimer walks from the church in frosty silence, but as they walk towards the heart of the town, he begins to look around him at the farms and homes that surround him.
A pleasant enough place, when you get down to it. Like many places on my family's estates.
The little girls playing draws the barest of glances from him at first. There is little in his own childhood to relate to their games. He looks away from them towards the gazebo at the center of town, looking for something, until Gregorius stops to speak to the girls. Mortimer turns and looks at him curiously to see what has caught his interest.
"What's wrong?"
The girls bashfully look down at the floor and nod their heads "No" but remain quiet.
Anselm's sweet and gentle demeanor relaxes the little girls and one of them speaks, "Such a nice man, I guess we can speak to you, even though our parents tell us not to speak to strangers. I'm Fara and I'm seven years old. Our song is just something kids have sung around here forever. It's quite catchy even if it's not that pretty. If it bothers you, we'll stop singing it." The little girl smiles at Anselm and then she and others stop playing and head home.
Gregorius looks at Anselm. "It looks like something evil has got its roots deep into Ravengro. Kids should not be singing these words, and parents should not let them, I suppose. This town is... strange, to say the least. Well, we can leave that for later. Let's get the Professor's cache and then head to Harrowstone."
You head to the Restlands during the day, since it is about 2:00 pm. You easily find that the false crypt false crypt mentioned in the professor’s journal is located in the northeast corner of the Restlands, near the junction of the paths known as the Eversleep and the Black Path. The crypt itself is a freestanding granite mausoleum, the roof of which is decorated with a pair of leering gargoyle statues. A single stone door with a rusty looking lock sits in the mausoleum’s south facade. As you look around, you see other villagers visiting the Restlands as well as Restlands gravediggers walking around.
"Hmmm... now that we know where the false crypt is, perhaps opening this up in broad daylight isn't the most prudent thing to do. While Father Grimburrow more or less gave up permission to retrieve the items as long as we don't disturb any graves, it would not be seemly to break into a crypt. I'd suggest a visit to Petros' grave to pay our respects, and then return to town. I would like to introduce myself to that 'witch doctor' and alchemist the good priest mentioned. We can return to the crypt tonight."
As you leave the Restlands and head back to Ravengro, you pass by the hamlet's most distinctive landmark: a 25-foot-tall, moss-covered stone statue that overlooks the river. The statue depicts a proud, muscular human man dressed in leathers and wielding a truncheon. The statue is dated 4661 and you count a total of 25 names are chiseled into the statue’s stone base.
You head to Jominda's Apothecary, where you see a local female with red hair in her late 30s runs the shop. When she sees you, she remarks, "You must be the new folk in town I've been hearin' things about. About your run-in with the Sheriff and the sort, ya know. How can I help you?"
Mortimer walks with the others through the town, and into the Restlands. Noting where the crypt is, under the pretext of examining the engravings on the door, he checks the ground for signs and tracks.
"I concur, Stefan." he says when he stands, brushing dirt from his hands. "Let's continue our tour of the town and come back when we won't be observed." He stands and walks to the Professor's grave where he stands in silence.
Forgive me. I did not know how deeply you were involved and how much danger you were in. I wish you had confided in me. I could have helped.
Passing the statue, he looks to the others quizzically. "Do any of you know what this is in relation to?" he asks? "The prison fire perhaps?"
At the Apothecary, he smiles at Jominda, but lets Stefan take the lead.
Any local on the street, even kids, that you ask look at you as if you're crazy and can tell you that the statue is that of Warden Hawkran, who perished with his wife in a fire at the prison some 50 years ago. The names on the base also serve as a memorial to the prison guards who bravely gave their lives. Kids tell you it's a good place for teenagers to make out at night too.
"You go ahead and talk to the apothecary, doctor. I will have lunch and then take a walk around town. We can meet back at the memorial at sunset and head back to the Restlands."
"Good afternoon! It would appear that our reputation has preceeded us. I still regret that our conversation with the Sheriff went poorly. Our nerves were a bit ragged after Professor Lorrimor's funeral and the unfortunate... event that occurred there. Anyway, enough of that! Where are my manners?" Stefan extends his hand in greeting. "I am Dr. Stefan von Herzog, recently of Lepidstadt, and these are my friends, Mortimer Valdebridge, Gregorius Valerii, and Anselm Burtold. We came to town to pay our respects to the family of our dear friend and mentor. We are planning to stay here in Ravengro for a while to help settle our departed friend's affairs." He pauses a moment as the emotion of the past days catches up with him.
He continues, "Since we're planning to stay in town for a while, I thought it would be best if we made ourselves useful. I am a physician by training, and had a medical practice back in Lepidstadt. Your name came up in a conversation with Father Grimburrow as one of the people in town who tends to the ill and injured. I was wondering if you would be willing to let me assist?"
Jominda smiles, "Welcome all to my shop. I keep a well-stocked supply of pharmacological provisions, both herbal and alchemical remedies to assist you for sale, as well as most types of components for any apellcasters. Unfortunately, Dr. Stefan, I treat people most via my remedies and concoctions, though if you listen to the gossip in town, I am the local drug and poison dealer. Bah! Hardly! Anyway, my point was I have no need of a healer. And you all being outsiders, I doubt any patients would run to you, unless their lives depended on it. Sorry to say, but there's no accounting for ignorance. I can relate."
If you care to visit the elderly coroner, Simon Medley, he begrudgingly agrees to meet with you, upon Kendra's request. He is in his early 70s but still maintains a sharp mind. "You believe the Professor was murdered? Frankly, young gents, I see no evidence of that in my examination of the late Professor's body. His head was crushed by a falling gargoyle statue. I saw no wounds, be it natural or weapon on his body at all. No poisons, no toxins, though he may suffered from heart problems. Nothing to indicate foul play in my opinion. Now, could someone have dropped a statue on him? It may be unlikely, but how could he have not seen such a thing or avoided it? Medically speaking, I feel pretty confident about my conclusion."
You wait till dark, with nothing else noteworthy taking place in the rather creepy village on this day. With the cover of darkness, you find it very easy to sneak into the mausoleum. As you approach the lock, you discover that it is actually broken, its clasp melted by acid and then put back into place so that to casual observation the lock appears intact.You walk down the stairs into darkness.
A flight of stone steps leads down into the cold earth to a large crypt lined with empty niches.
"Let me go first."
Worried about the broken lock, Gregorius takes the lead, walking down the staris holding the sabretooth swords with the blade down. Despite the limping, his careful movements resemble a preying mantis ready to pounce.
The paladin squints his eyes trying to see what lies below the stairs, but his elven senses are not enough to pierce the darkness.
"Doctor, can you take care of the lights?", Gregorius asks without looking back.
"Of course."
Stefan makes a few brief yet complex and precise gestures with his hands while speaking strange words. You notice that the large onyx ring on his left hand glows faintly. Four globes materialize in the doctor's hands and rise into the air. Each glows as bright as a torch, casting an errie greenish-yellow light. The globes float in midair, bobbing slighty. Stefan points forward, and one moves in that direction.
After illuninating the stairwell, Stefan casts a different spell. At the conclusion of that spell, the air seems to shimmer slightly around Stefan's body.
Mortimer, having returned to the house and retrieved his gear, is now dressed in worn studded leather armor with a buckler strapped to his left arm. His hat has been doffed for this excursion and his dark brown hair is speckled with silver. At his waist is a heavy mace with its head moulded to look like a Wolf's, a well-used dagger and a Scimitar in its sheath. Strapped to his back is a heavy, powerful-looking crossbow filigreed with silver and a case of bolts.
Peering into the gloom, Mortimer falls in behind Gregorius, loosening the mace in its loop on his belt. "We may face any number of different vermin or even Undead in such a place. Be vigilant." he says.
"In such a place as this, vigilance behooves us all!" He glances around the gloom. "And, I wonder who-- or what-- dissolved that lock?"