Megan's Carrion Crown

Game Master Megan Robertson

"It may be something the man cannot control. Spirits can do horrific things."

"Oh, yes, you're right about that. I have heard terrible tales of that sort of thing from the swamp. I definitely should have considered that option."

Merian offers the sheriff a respectful nod. "My name is Merian Benvalla, late of the Fourth Mendevian Crusade, and this is my companion, Tre," she begins. "We came to Ravengro a few days ago to remember the life of our friend, Professor Petros Lorrimor. Since we arrived, though, honoring the last wishes of our fallen friend has turned into something far stranger - we think we've found evidence that someone is performing the pre-murder ritual of the vicious killer they used to call 'the Splatter Man' when he was imprisoned at Harrowstone. According to a history of the place, the Splatter Man would arrange for his victims to find their names spelled out somewhere in blood before he killed them. Of course, you already know that someone painted a 'V' in blood on the monument to the fallen of Harrowstone the same day we buried Petros, but you might not have heard yet that someone added an 'E' to the monument, also in blood, last night. Two friends of ours, suspecting something like this might happen, were on watch last night near the monument when it happened; the dark kept them from seeing who it was, but they were able to follow the culprit to a nearby house, and this morning we found a bloody knife and rags there. We're not accusing anyone, but we thought the matter should be brought to your attention, sir. Our friends are waiting at the house, guarding the evidence and awaiting any questions you might have for them."

Diplomacy check, in case it's needed: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

EDIT: (sigh) I really have about the worst luck with this dice roller...

"Indeed, that is true Sheriff, we thought it best to bring it to your notice, as this is a decision for your jurisdiction." says Tre softly and respectfully to the sheriff, concluding with a slight bow.

Diplomacy 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

"Thank you," said the Sheriff, looking worried, "You say that there was a further desecreation last night? That's dreadful. Jolan, skip the directions I just gave you about today's patrol and head up there, take some cleaning materials with you - see my wife if you don't know where to find any."

One of the young men loped off with a "Yes, Sheriff!".

"A good lad, if needing to be given detailed instructions. Now then, you said that you could not tell who it was but followed him to a nearby residence, and found materials likely to have been involved there. Which house, pray? I had better pay a visit... Damol, you're with me. Perhaps you would be good enough to show me the way."

The Sheriff locks the gaolhouse door, hanging the key on his belt.

"So what are you two saying?" Dillan asks, "Are you trying to say that the ghost lives here and is doing this?"

Merian, pleased that the sheriff is taking the matter seriously, leads the man back toward the house where the others are waiting.

"I do not know. It might be possible. I have heard tales of stranger things."

"I think it is less likely that the spirit lives here and more likely that this man serves it or is being influenced or possessed."

"Posssessed?" The rogue asks, "You mean this splatter man is controlling the old bugger? Did he control him at the professors funeral as well?"

"Would not rule it out, though I do not know what happened at the funeral."

"O." Dillan pauses then remembers he and Sorin were not there, "Well the old bugger lead a group of villagers to the cemetary and demanded we not entomb the professor there. He accused him of witchcraft and deviltry and such things." The rogue smiles, "Wouldn't it be poetic if the accuser was the user?"

"The professor was a wise and honorable man. Why would someone say such things about him then?"

"Yes, I agree. And what happened next Dillan?"

Tre engages the sheriff in conversation on the way back to the shack. He asks "So sheriff, how was Professor Lorrimor viewed in the village? At his funeral, we were shaken by the anger shown by some of the villagers towards him. Yet as a friend of ours, and one who has been able to pass on his knowledge when he was engaged by the university. He was seen in Liepstadt as a respectable and learned man, but here his relationship is more complex. As the man who is responsible for upholding the law, I thought your wisdom on this matter might help our understanding?"

Tre answers the sheriffs questions regarding their discoveries last night, explaining that his friends would know more as he was "Nice and comfy, in Kendra's house."

"Well really it didn't last that long; we had a strange group then too that didn't stay long after the funeral. But more to the point some of them were good with words and convinced the man to leave us be." The rogue looks at the shack, "The old bugger was clearly the ring leader of the group and once they were confronted the masses backed down. I believe he simply gave up because he was alone."

"Dillan, were there villagers that stayed for the funereal? The sheriff perhaps? Or was it only Kendra and the other mourners like yourself and Tre that knew him from before?"

"Yea, cowards do that when you get in their face."

"Well," says the Sheriff, "The Professor was regarded as a bit of an odd bird. But bear in mind we do not have many scholars here, we are a rural community. He was generally respected, though, and not just for his learning. He was not the sort to set himself up as anything special just because of being a professor... To be honest, I was surprised to hear that there was trouble at the funeral. Quite unexpected. That the majority of folks were indifferent, I could have understood, but the hostility? That was strange."

"No." The rogue thinks for a moment, "I don't recall anyone else there really."

Thoughtfully Tre scratches his chin, "That is very interesting Sheriff, for it seems that there are several strange occurrences happening. The reaction to the Professor's burial and the markings on the monument. I mean, all that coming after the Professor's unfortunate death, do you think there is something at work behind all this?" he looks earnestly at the sheriff, waiting on his reply.

Once the town party return to the shack, Tre introduces the sheriff more formally to Dillan, and explains Dillan's excellent work in following the tracks last night and let's Dillan explain his further discoveries.

"The Professor's death was an unfortunate accident, surely..." says the Sheriff, sounding a bit uncertain. "I had warned him to take care, but he would persist in rooting around in the ruins of Harrowstone Gaol... lots of unsafe bits up there."

Tre', Merian and the Sheriff reach the shack. The curtains are now open, the chimney emitting a thin stream of smoke, and the smell of bacon is on the air. There's even the sound of someone whistling inside.

Where are the others? Round back?

I believe so.

Barret sees the rest of the group come back with the sheriff in tow. When they close in proximity, he will ask. "So what now?"

"Well they've got the sheriff; so lets see what will happen." The rogue moves around the front to intercept their returning companions, "Well the rag and weapon are still in the back and haven't been moved save for when I removed them from the wood pile. Care to take a look Sheriff?"

Sorin stays back by the wood pile waiting for the others to come around with the Sheriff.

"Yes, please," says the Sheriff. "You claim that you found a bloodstained rag and weapon in the woodpile, according to your associates, yes?

He comes with you and takes a thorough look before picking up the war razor.

"Hmm. Not been cleaned. Unlike Gibs, he was a soldier for years and knows how to take care of his equipment! So, what do you have to say for yourselves? Who was it who tracked the vandal who desecrated the monument back here? Did you see them put the war razor in the woodpile?"

"It was dark so I couldn't see the individual." Dillan pauses, "Barrett and I were at the monument last night in hopes to catch whoever had been desecrating it. We heard movement then I could see a shape, humanoid, I heard the sounds of the cat being killed. I followed the shape down to this shack; it entered and no lights came on or conversation was heard. I assume after his deathly deed he simply went to sleep. At light we gathered up, went to the monument and found the remains of the cat, the new markings, then came down here. In searching this area I saw the bundle stuffed into the wood pile and removed it with my blade not wanting to touch what ever it could be." The rogue pauses again, "And the rest you know."

Tre quietly smiles at Dillan's full account of the day's story.

"Right, so anyone could have placed the items here... Have you spoken with Gibs yet? He can be grumpy of a morning," says the Sheriff.

Dillan gestures to Tre', "They spoke with him while we looked around. I understand that anyone could've put the items there; however who would want to implicate the man then?"

Tre continues, "Well Gibs, if that's his name, complains of being very sleepy and having an unsettled night, but cannot recall hearing anything untoward last night. Why would he be so tired, yet not hear anything? Is he telling the truth? But as you said, he is quite surly in the morning." Tre puzzled by his behavior and his manner, asks the sheriff's opinion. "So what would be the next move do you think? For we could try and apprehend whoever did it, but it might result in violence. We don't want to end up in trouble with the village authorities whilst trying to help them?" he continues in a serious vein.

Sorin waits for the Sheriff to respond, but thinks Hopefully the sheriff will decide to confront him. Otherwise we will have to. We can't afford to keep setting a watch every night. We need to get back to the prison.

"I had better speak with Gibs myself. What did he say to you?" says the Sheriff.

Merian recounts the conversation as accurately as she can.

Tre nods as Merian recalls the words, before adding "And he had the audacity to blame the recently buried Professor Lorrimor's spirit. I'm pretty sure he was leading the rabble we encountered on the way to laying the professor to rest, just ask the priest....Yes, father Grimburrow."

The Sheriff nods.

"Yes, I heard about that... I was busy out of town, else I would have put a stop to it. Not the kind of behaviour that is acceptable here."

He strides off towards the front door of the shack and bangs on the door with that purposeful bang that law enforcement personnel the world over contrive.

Sorin waits off to the side listening to see what the man's reaction will be and trying to stay out of sight.
Stealth (hopefully helped by the side of the building) 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13
Perception 1d20 ⇒ 1

As the sheriff bangs on the door, Tre asks politely, "Would you prefer us to make ourselves scarce, or stay here as you question the man?" He then takes a step back awaiting the answer, keeping a dignified silence.

"You are welcome to stay," says the Sheriff.

Eventually the door opens and the old man peers out. He's dressed now, even brushed his hair, and his jaws are moving as he finishes off a mouthfull. Still looks grumpy, though.

"Whaddya want now?" he demands. "Oh! Benjan. It's you. What's up? Is it about these strangers that have been poking around lately? The ones who showed up after Professor Larrrimore died?"

"Sort of, Gibs," the Sheriff replies. "Seems there was some more vandalism at the Monument last night, and the perpetrator was seen skulking round here, and a blood-stained war razor was found concealed in your woodpile." He holds out the item in question.

Gibs looks at it, surprise evident on his face.

"That's mine!" he exclaims. "But it ought to be in the chest along with my war belt and mail shirt, not left outside in such a state. Them strangers were around earlier, but I say the same to you as I did to them, didn't hear nothing last night, even though I didn't sleep too well. Nightmares I reckon, not that I remember what I was dreaming about."

"With so much blood splattered at the monument surely blood would have covered the perpetrator's clothes. If Gibs would you allow you the opportunity to perhaps confirm his innocence, by taking a look in his rooms. For then surely Gibs would not then be a suspect and no stain will cloud his reputation." Tre offers to the sheriff, as he talks lowly in the sheriffs ear.

Diplomacy 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Merian frowns, not liking the direction the conversation has gone. Would an innocent man have a bloody war razor in his woodpile, one he admits is his? Would a guilty man have such a flimsy defense? she wonders.

Dillan stands back blending into the shadows/his companions best he can.

Stealth 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

And trying to observe anything from within the house/shack.

Perception 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18 +4= 22 hearing conversations, finding traps, concealed or secret objects.

Barret will stand quietly unless told otherwise. He will be ready for if the man decides to run or something equally foolish.

Sorin remains back by the corner, waiting to hear how the situation will be resolved.

The Sheriff listens to Tre'dunne's comments.

"Good point," he says. "Gibs, may we come in?"

Gibs says something that I won't repeat here, the gist of it being 'No, I'd rather not be disturbed!'

The Sheriff bristles.

"Gibs, I'm going to have to insist. If you were involved it's likely whatever you were wearing last night would also be bloodstained..." is as far as he gets before Gibs interrupts.

"Lookit here, Benjan! 'Course I weren't involved! Why the heck would I want to desecrate the Monument, fer Pete's sake? Someone must've nicked me war razor - haven't needed the blasted thing for years...." (Well, that's the gist of what he says, it's a bit more pithy, if you get my drift.)

Ahh; feeling a little cheated with the dialogue, gotta love old crotchy men!

Dillan watches the exchange and oddly enough is thankful his larger companions haven't forced their way in yet. Only a guilty man fights the law this much. The rogue thinks to himself.

Sorin continues to wait back while the others negotiate a look at the man's clothes. Come on, let's see the clothes and we'll see.

"Now, now, Gibs," says the Sheriff. "You know I have to check stuff out, however unlikely...."

Somewhat placated, Gibs opens the door. He still looks cross.

"Come in, then. It's not as if I have anything to hide," he says.

Inside, the house is spare and neat, quite belying the tumbledown exterior. There's a bed to one side with a chest underneath, a table and three chairs, a fireplace, a few shelves, some clothes hanging on hooks, a wicker hamper, a few tools. The table contains the remains of Gibs's breakfast.

Gibs hauls the chest out from under the bed.

"This is where my war razor did ought to be." He opens it, inside there is a chain shirt, a neatly-folded dark red tabard and a wide leather belt with pouches, a scabbarded dagger, and loops to attach a sword scabbard. He points to an empty shaped leather piece on the belt, saying that it's where the war razor belongs.

Not overstepping his bounds Dillan looks about the room, just lightly strolling, not actually picking through items unless something catches his interest...

Perception 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22 +4= 26 vs hearing conversations, finding traps, concealed or secret objects.

Breakfast on the table, clothing hanging on wall hooks - might be something concealed underneath the obvious cloaks on top, some more stuff (tunics, smallclothes, shirts, hose) on shelves, hamper...

Gibs is glowering a bit at the invasion. He waves a hand.

"See. No master plan for desecrations... no dead critters apart from the side of bacon... Now, are you gonna clear off and let me finish my breakfast in peace?"