While he remains quietly impressed at Rhianni's well-spoken explanation and appearance, Kellen covers a smirk at Shalelu's arrival. Watching her make quite the impression on the mayor, the blunt tactics more in-line with his on approach.
Still - as the details of mark are revealed by Markus, his face takes on a more intense demeanor. Once the confession is made he glances towards Praxim and Lym with a knowing glance - recalling the previous night's conversation and mouths quietly: Cattle, all of 'em.
"Lord Mayor, I regret having to tell you that the seven-pointed star is known as the Sihedron Rune," Lym says, her voice soft. "It was the mark of ancient Thassilon, and has become a sign of corrupted sin-magic. Recently, it has been used by a murder cult which seeks to harvest greed-engorged souls... The woman who ran the 'paradise' is a key member of that cult, and she is not human, but some sort of serpentine monster. The people who died on that ship... Their souls are in dreadful danger, to say the least. And I would assume the same goes for the people in this town who still bear the mark."
Even Rhianni's face is surprised by Lym's anaylsis of the mark and its import, she merely nods in accord with the magic users words.
"What did you say?" Maelin lifts his head up from his hands and asks. "How do you know this?" His voice is deep and strong, but his eyes plead with you to be wrong, or joking, anything but what you said.
"We have battled the cult in Magnimar, and before that in Sandpoint," Lym replies. "Our investigation here is spawned in part by an encounter with the leader of the Magnimar sect -- the sister of the creature who ran the 'paradise'. An item of correspondence between them provided the clues."
Lym hesitates, then very carefully reaches out a hand and squeezes the priest's shoulder. "I... am so sorry. I am sure we will do everything in our power."
Maelin looks at you incredulously. For a long moment, he stares at each of you, as if trying to work out an appropriate response to to what he has heard. "I don't if I should believe you," he begins, with some trepidation, "if I hadn't seen the mark, this 'rune' myself. It is a far-fetched tale, but I've been around too long to believe that all of these incidents around the region are coincidence. Now your tale seemingly ties them all together."
He stands up again and begins pacing. "These marks, the Paradise, ogres and giants supposedly re-appearing in the region, the fort..." He whirls quickly, as if a sudden realization has hit him.
"By Erastil, the fort! We haven't heard from them in weeks! The Paradise sank just a week after the last patrol from Rannick came to the village! Do you suppose....?" He trails off, his face searching for answers.
"I very much suspect it is all connected, yes," Lym says. "Mobilizing evil giant-kin would be a very efficient way to rustle up a quick army -- and one with overwhelming power, to boot."
The Wizard blinks.
"Oh, my," she says in a faint tone of voice. "Half the people in this town are still marked... And now the nearest defenders have fallen silent. Oh dear, oh dear..."
Without thinking, Tomaru puts his hand over his medallion hidden beneath his shirt.
"The fort and the black arrows are the next step in our investigation. With Desna's blessing, we'll solve this riddle."
"And with my axe as well." The dwarf nods emphatically.
"By Erastil, the fort! We haven't heard from them in weeks! The Paradise sank just a week after the last patrol from Rannick came to the village! Do you suppose....?" He trails off, his face searching for answers.
Kellen nods in confirmation as Lym explains what is going on and adds some dour conclusions of his own to the question asked: "Don't much believe in coincidences, Mayor. This Lucrecia done her plotting and gone to ground for now, but I think she ain't done with your townsfolk just yet." He glances at Lym, and adds:"If she's gone to that much effort, she means to collect the rest of her 'marks' somehow. My suggestion is you be vigilant while we're trying to find the Arrows - any clues she's still sneaking around might help us catch her off guard."
"Worse," Lym says, "an attack may be immanent. If the Black Arrows have been subdued by force, say, through the giant-kin, then that army may be coming here soon."
"Worse," Lym says, "an attack may be immanent. If the Black Arrows have been subdued by force, say, through the giant-kin, then that army may be coming here soon."
"Possible. But if it's been weeks, why the delay? If she has no qualms about sinking a boat full of people to satisfy her needs, attacking a town with no defenses before reinforcements arrive would be more immediate. Either they ain't as organized as we think, or someone's being lazy."
He nods at Tomaru and continues:"In any case, the priest's right - our answers are at Fort Rannick. Either we find out what's going on there, or we run into the army you suggest coming from there. No sense in waiting for the hammer to fall if we can stop it."
"Agreed," Lym says, nodding to Kellen and Tomaru before turning back to the priest. "I... appreciate the emotional turmoil you must be suffering, but time is of the essence. My advice is this: You must declare martial law and reinforce your town's defences, or else devise an evacuation plan. The marked ones need to be away from here, or else put under constant guard. Of course, I am not a strong tactician, so my thoughts may well be in error...?" Lym looks to the others.
"We definitely need to head out. If we do encounter this army, we'll either stop it, or send you advance warning. Rhianni, would your flying friend be able to send warning here if we were to fall to this force?"
"I can always use one of my 'mounts' to fly here, if the need arises. It is only trouble ahead .... let me ask the spirits for guidance. If such guidance would aid us."
"Do as you see fit." Maelin rumbles. "But understand this: there will be no 'martial law' here. As far as I can surmise from what you are telling me, these people are marked to be...ahem...harvested, not because they are members of some type of cult. We are talking about farmers, shopkeepers, their wives and even their children I suppose. There is no militia here in Turtleback Ferry. We counted on the fort to protect us, and that they did. There are no walls, no defenses to speak of."
He pauses, thinking for a moment.
"I suppose I could send word to Ilsurian for help, but let's be honest with ourselves. If I thought they could solve this, I wouldn't have sent to Magnimar. No. You are what hope we have."
He walks over to a stained glass window. The picture is one of Erastil slaying a two-headed giant with his bow. "No my friends," he says, "you must go to the fort immediately. It is still early, and it is not far. A half-days ride at most, even in this weather."
He comes over and claps his massive hands on Lym and Praxim's shoulders, taking you all in a large circle. "May Erastil guide your arrows, our fates are in your hands."
The rains have stopped for the moment, but dark clouds hang heavy over the region, threatening more. Thunder rumbles in the mountains to the north.
Gathered on the green before the temple, Maelin looks up at you astride your horses."Follow the north road out of the village," instructs Maelin, "it turns east along the river. You will come to a bridge where the road crosses over, this is your landmark that you are about halfway to the fort. The road then runs between the river and the Kreegwood, a dangerous place if there ever was. Keep to the road, there will be a sign for the turn off to Fort Rannick."
You set off, silent as you contemplate the morning's revelations. Only the sounds of your horse's hooves squishing along the muddy road disturb the quiet. Several dozen village folk turned out to watch you leave. Obviously, word has spread about the strangers in Turtleback Ferry. Their faces show signs of worry and fatigue, the faces of folk who have need of some good news for a change.
Soon the town is left behind. The road is fairly well maintained, and only the mud makes the ride somewhat dicey. Thunder continues to rumble to the north, but the rains hold off.
Shaleleu, for once, is silent as she rides. In her normal state, she is loose, observant, always humming softly to herself. This morning, she is riding tight, erect, and looking straight forward. Her knuckles are white where they grip her reigns.
During the ride, Lym casually takes out her flute and starts to play, seemingly idly. The discordant noises blend into the howl of the rain-choked breeze -- and Lym's eyes are constantly shifting around. Every now and then, Lym stops playing so she can mutter a Word of Power, renewing a cantrip.
Limmerick is fluttering around and above the group, flying to the limit of the bond tethering him to his mistress, then back to touch base with her -- and gain a charge of Detect Magic -- before going out to scout ahead and back and around again. While the bat tries to remain unobtrusive, he is also working to ensure no one sneaks up on the party.
Rhianni returns to the Inn, changes back into more suitable travelling clothes and picks up her gear.
She listens attentively to Maelin's words, before nodding and grimly sets forth following the others on their way.
Praxim is ready to head off, and prepares the ladies' horses while they are changing. He also tries to find a moment to speak with the mayor, looking for whatever spiritual guidance the man could provide to help pull himself back from that dark place where he recently found himself.
He also tries to find a moment to speak with the mayor, looking for whatever spiritual guidance the man could provide to help pull himself back from that dark place where he recently found himself.
In a short moment before you all set out, Maelin asks in response to your question. "I always have time for one of the faithful, my friend. What is it that you seek?"
Not even the rain can dampen Tomaru's spirits as they travel. His deity encourages such things so there's no wonder there. Occasionally, seemingly unconsciously, he reaches up and touch the Sihedron Medallion that he wears, though.
"This is a wonderful day to be on the road."
Kellen nods at Maelin's words and encouragement. "Thanks for your time and blessing, Mayor. We'll do what we can, but best you be wary. 'Forewarned is forearmed' me uncle used to say."
But his mild smile goes away as he waits outside in the time that Praxim speaks with the Mayor and the others are changing. He seems to be grumbling to himself, but anyone close by can hear him: "Clincher, what a mess you've gotten me into over a stupid bounty! Didn't come here to fight cultists or some snake-lady. Bleeding Cyphergate, this was supposed to a simple job."
The frustration dissipated, the man returns to a more laconic stance and remains relatively quiet on the road. Like the others, he tends to watch the surroundings to see if he spots anything unusual - but remains distracted for now.
Rhianni spirits are dampened by the thoughts of meeting giants and fighting for her life once more, wondering how others can be so cheerful at such prospects and maybe worse.
He also tries to find a moment to speak with the mayor, looking for whatever spiritual guidance the man could provide to help pull himself back from that dark place where he recently found himself.In a short moment before you all set out, Maelin asks in response to your question. "I always have time for one of the faithful, my friend. What is it that you seek?"
Praxim shrugs, suddenly unsure. "I've just been having a hard go of it of late. We lost a friend that I failed to protect, and I even had to leave his body behind to the mercies of some demon in order to protect these women who insist on traipsing about looking for adventure. I grew very dark for awhile, turned to drink, and even assaulted a town guard who was just being young and foolish. Things have started going better of late, but now I find I was taking almost too much pleasure in putting down those river trolls awhile back. I don't know what I expect you to be able to do or say to fix any of this--maybe I just needed to vent a bit."
Maelin places a large hand on Praxim's shoulder. "Turn and look here for a moment." He says, gently tuning Praxim to view the village. "This is what Erastil holds dear, a home, a hearth, placed in the middle of a beautiful setting. Now look about you, the whole vista." The area about Turtleback Ferry is beautiful, even in spite of the rains. The deep green forests, the lake so blue as to be near black, and in the distance the mountains, capped with white snows on the peaks.
"I do not pretend to understand what it is you and your companions are mixed up in, Praxim. But I can see that it is deeper than just Turtleback Ferry. You - and the others - have been chosen. It is not always the choice that those selected would have made." He chuckles, deep and full. "It can be hard for the faithful to accept the wandering away from home, the constant movement that takes away from family. Those like you struggle with their faith in Erastil. They believe that somehow their adventuring life removes them from what they should be doing: protecting their homes, their families."
His deep voice takes on a serious tone, as he turns to face you. "Understand this, paladin of Old Deadeye: you have no family, yet your friends are your family. You have no home, and yet all of Varisia is your home. It falls now to you and your companions to guard that home. Some will fall along the way, such is the nature of what you do. Honor their memory. As long as you do, such sacrifices will not be in vain.
Maelin smiles at you. "As far as those river trolls? My friend, I would be surprised if you did not take joy in their destruction. Evils such as they are an anathema to everything we hold dear as followers of Erastil. If I understand anything of what you are embroiled in, you will meet far worse than they. Laugh as your bow sings, Praxim, for you fight the fight for all of us. Remember that."
With that he turns and waves to everyone, and goes back into the temple.
The rains continue to hold off as you trudge along the road. After a couple of muddy hours, you come to the bridge over the Skull River. The structure is in good shape, and the crossing is easy.
No sooner has everyone reached the far bank, than you hear a howl of pain from the nearby woods to your left.
"That doesn't sound good," Praxim comments. "Where would you all say that came from?"
"No idea. But I'm not for waiting around to find out. Let's go." Thordak pulls out his axe and begins heading in the direction of the scream.
"If you have no idea, then where are you going?" Praxim protests, following the dwarf.
Thordak looks to the paladin curiously, wondering if that might be a trick question. Unsure, "Towards the scream," he simply answers.
"And I asked if anybody knew what direction it came from, you said no, then started...oh, never mind. I think it came from over there!" Praxim points and heads towards a distant copse of trees.
Kellen's slightly lost in thought as they cross the river, jerks his head as if wide awake now to the howl. Seeing the other two move forward, he drops down from his mount and quietly pulls his blade. He moves more slowly try to assess the where the noise came from and slides closer to any cover. He glances back at the other three to see if they follow, saying nothing for the moment.
Tomaru casts Shield of Faith and goes toward the sound. "Someone could be in trouble. Lucky for them that we are in the area.
"I am going to have to study some books on the wilderness," Lym sighs. "Rhianni...?"
Rhianni looks towards the sound, "I'm not sure...." she says her head cocked to one side as though it will make the sound easier to identify.
Moving towards the sound, you travel several dozen yards into the woods before you come upon a creature struggling against something trapping its leg.
It is a large cat, jet black with fire-red stripes along its back. It appears that its right rear leg is caught in a hunter's trap. As you approach, it reacts by dropping into a crouch, fur up and teeth bared. After a moment, it raises itself back up, losing the aggressive posture. The cat looks at you, then works at its leg, then looks back deeper into the wooods. It repeats this several times, and each time the creature gets a little more frantic.
"Poor creature," Lym says, her tone sympathetic. "We should release it; traps like these are filthy things. I... do not have any spells prepared that could set it free. Rhianni, do you have any?"
In the absence of anything else, Lym starts making shushing, soothing noises to the big cat, hopefully calming it down a little.
Kellen looks at the others and glances at the cat - weighing something in his mind. "Hope one of you rangers know how to make sure it doesn't bite me," he utters as he approaches the trap and does his best to free it.
"I don't think it will. A wild animal wouldn't stop snarling at us."
Tomaru begins to make soothing noises as he slowly moves to the captured animal. If he is allowed to, he cradles it and comforts it and holds it steady so Kellen can remove the trap.
Handle Animal
Bit of Luck
Trade Endure Elements for Cure Light Wounds
"Careful, lad. We don't want to be picking up what's left of your hand if she gets a hold of it. Or your face. Or your... well, you get my meaning," the dwarf finally finishes, realizing his probably not helping a whole lot at this point.
At the dwarf's cautionary statement, Kellen can't help but grimace a bit as he works the trap and mutters: "Wonderful."
It's a simple trap, crudely designed and built. Kellen has no trouble working the release. As the jaws of the trap come open, the large cat nuzzles Kellen hard enough to knock him sprawling on his back. Just then, the baying of a large pack of dogs can be heard, coming from the northwest, and getting louder. The cat leaps in the air, easily clearing Carter and Kellen, to land behind them. It crouches low to the ground, facing the direction of the noise, teeth bared and fur up. Accompanying the noise of the pack is a horrid singing, a high-pitched screech that grates your teeth. It seems to be about eating a cat...
"Cats is gud eatin', nice an' tuff.
Mammy Graul's waitin', to cook it an' stuff!
Mebbe eat it raw, bluddy an' chewy,
Boil it inna pot, make a....stewy! Har har har!"
The last bit is a laugh - you think - more of of a gurgle and a choke. Obviously whatever it is, it is approaching quickly, and is supremely pleased with its song-writing.