"Thanks, Witz. I'll make arrangements to have him transported to the nearest church of Iomedae. Let's check on our host."
"Yeah...I'm not taking any chances", Reynard mutters, producing rope with which he proceeds to tie the unconscios man's arms and legs behind his back.
"Not a big fan of being jumped by zombies from behind."
Wits stares at Reynard. "Would you prefer to be jumped by zombies from the front? Do you have an anatomical preference for which part of your body gets chewed on?"
"Head on, I can kill them before they get to me."
Arrangements are made to transfer Greyst to the new cathedral. Where would you like to go next?
Wits would like to head to this nobleman's home. Does anyone happen to know where it is?
Wits would like to head to this nobleman's home. Does anyone happen to know where it is?
As debate rages over what to do next and where the almost mythical misgivings may be, the man behind you wakes. He shakes his head, and stands, trying to look nonchalant. As he sees Grayst on the bed though, he demeanour breaks, and he bursts into tears.
"He's dead isn't he? I knew it, I knew he had some awful affliction, beyond my means to cure, but I couldn't help myself. His suffering was so, captivating. His curse, so novel. It must be alchemical in nature. No natural malady could work in that way. You are going to go to the police aren't you? I am ruined. My work destroyed." by this point, he is on his knees, clutching at Jerjia, and sobbing incoherently.
Looking at Jerjia, Wits asks in a somewhat nonchalant tone of voice, "How is that all the nutters focus on you? Are you exuding pheromones? May I dissect your brain? How about your liver? Spleen?"
Seeing the paladin's look, Wits pats the crying man on the head like a dog. "There, there, distraught human. I'm sure the police will allow your experiments to continue, provided of course, you agree to share your findings with the scientific community, of which I am a fixture. After all, I'm sure the nice specimen was not suffering. I mean, with all the screaming and fidgeting, how could possibly have known what he was feeling without properly dissecting his brain? What, Adonai? I am being empathetic!"
In a lower voice, "You don't happen to have any other specimens, do you? I've simply been dying to see what effect vivisection has on the mentally imbalanced..."
Wits' words seem to fall on deaf ears, and the sobbing continues unabated.
Looking at Jerjia, Wits asks in a somewhat nonchalant tone of voice, "How is that all the nutters focus on you? Are you exuding pheromones? May I dissect your brain? How about your liver? Spleen?"
"...says one of the nutters," Jerjia mutters acidly, glaring at Wits as she tries to step out of the warm, clutching pool of sobbing asylum-proprietor. "Sparky, defend!" Her lizard runs out of one of her pockets and delivers a jolt of nonlethal electricity to her assailant.
Adonai looks up in the air. O Aroden. Why o why?
Reynard shakes his head.
With a faint smell of burnt flesh, the man shuffles away from Jerjia, and begins to instead weep in the corner.
Leaving the dull, gloomy sanatorium behind, the stark daylight outside is blinding for a few moments. As before, the intensity of the sunlight seems to increase as you leave the grounds, as though the whole place were sucking the light out of the air.
The Constabulary building is a short walk from the sanetorium, and you are met at the door by the duty bobby.
"Constable says you are to be shown in, and him informed if you turn up. Has something new to tell you I think. Take a seat in here, care for a drink?"
"Oh, yes please! I'll take several!" Wits licks his lips in anticipation of imminent booze.
"Scotch, please."
"Bourbon, neat"
Jerjia glares at the non-teetotalers. "Lemon squash," she requests archly. "Lemon juice conducts electricity, you know."
The bobby looks flabbergasted, "Ah, we don't have alcohol here, it's against the rules. We have coffee, or water?" looking at Jerjia, he winks and adds, "I'm sure we can dig out some lemons."
"What sort of town are you people running here?!? No alcohol. Savages. I am surrounded by savages." Wits grumbles and hunches down in his chair. "Fine, STRONG coffee. Strong enough to fight back."
"Water's fine. What's up?"
The man looks at Adonia, "They don't tell me why you are wanted, just that you are."
He returns with drinks after a few minutes, then leaves you alone. Half and hour or so later another bobby comes in, and leads you up to the Constable's office.
Entering the office, the first obvious feature is a man, a farmer by his dress sat in the corner. He is unkempt, and covered in mud and scratches. He appears calm, but as you entre he begins babbling. After a few moments the babbling resolves itself into a child's rhyme. He begins to rck backwards and forwards to the rythm of his own words, eyes closed.
"Mumble Mumble Scarecrow,
Alone in the maize.
Sleeping in the daytime,
A stitched man he stays.
But when the moon she rises,
Up Mumble gets.
He shakes his hands at first
And moves his feet the next.
And when the dog is snoring,
And when you’re fast asleep,
Mumble Mumble Scarecrow
Will find you good to eat.
Mumble Mumble Scarecrow,
Alone in ..."
The Constable stands, and points out seats. "Please sit." he says over the noise of the farmer, but he looks distressed that his charge is now babbling....
Adonai thanks the bobby for the water, sighs, and takes a seat. "Any idea what this 'Scarecrow' is?"
"Well, I say, Constable, you certainly run an interesting town!" Wits studies the mumbling scarecrow man intently.
"And where did you find this one? And can I study him? Is it required that he be in one piece when I'm done?"
"Any idea what this 'Scarecrow' is?"
Jerjia scowls at him over her lemon squash. "A person-shaped dummy of old clothes, stuffed with straw, that farmers put in their fields to scare away birds that eat their grain," she explains. The things city folk don't know!
"And where did you find this one? And can I study him? Is it required that he be in one piece when I'm done?"
The constable stoically ignores Wits' enthusiasm. "Master Grump is a local farmer, he lives a few miles outside of the town. He wandered aimlessly into town this morning, chanting that rhyme. I have been trying to calm him, but have so far been unsuccessful. I will need to call in Habe from the sanetorium if we can't calm him soon."
"Ought to cheer him up," Jerjia remarks to Wits. "He was sobbing uncontrollably when we left," she explains to the constable.
Jerjia scowls at him over her lemon squash. "A person-shaped dummy of old clothes, stuffed with straw, that farmers put in their fields to scare away birds that eat their grain," she explains. The things city folk don't know!
Adonai smacks his forehead. "My gods, you are right! How could I be so dull?"
He then squats in front of the farmer. "Sir, sir. Calm down. You're safe. Tell us what happened."
"Why is everything here so damn wierd?" Reynard mumbles to himself.
"I don't think the sanitarium will be of much help, they've.....experienced a few setbacks.
The constable looks askance at Reynard, then shakes his head, I think I don't want to know. You lot are my only hope, and I don't think I want to know how you get done what you need to do. Just get it done. Do I need to send someone to check on Habe?"
Adonia spends a few minutes talking quietly to the farmer, and eventually calms him down. As he becomes more confident, his words carry to the rest of the room. They get stronger, but as he tells the story, he gets more and more emphatic...
"started out like folks telling children's stories. Swearing they'd seen shapes moving in the fields in the night, and then using words like "shambling" and that sort of thing. Been building for a week or so now. The the Hambelys went quiet. Didn't turn up to the usual meetings, or send word. Not seen their kids. So a few of us went over. Took pitchforks, and rakes, and what we could carry."Farmer grump stands and starts pacing, then getting even more animated "When we got to the farm it was carnage, blood everywhere, and the doors broken in. THEY EVEN ATE THE DOGS!" he eventually screams.... "I saw something stummble to wards, and I ran. Stumple, towards, me, stumble, mumble....." and he slumps back to the floor.
The constable sighs, and rings a small bell on his desk. A man enters, and the Constable nods. A couple of bobbies enter, and gently pick the farmer up, and carry him out. The Constable, finally sits. "We'll keep him here until someone can help with his mind. But I need you to investigate that farm. As far as we know, 4 or 5 good men may have died out 2/b]there. Be careful. I've detailed a handful of bobbies to go with you."
"Well let's go. Nows as good a time as any."
"Indeed! Let us see the sights of the countryside. And determine whether this man is mad or merely a witness to evil."
Reynard makes sure his crossbow is loaded.
Downstairs, you are pulled into a briefing room, along with 6, raw looking bobbies. They fidget nervously, obviously not used to being in this situation.
A higher ranking man stands by a table, and glances up as you enter. "Oh good, you are here. This is a map of the hinterlands around the farm in question. The green area in the middle is farmland, at this time of year it is mostly fields of corn, higher than a man, and easy to get lost in. Please take care! The Green parts around the edge are forests, that we hopefully will not need to investigate. The only buildings on the map, are the farm in question. You are to go and investigate. Bring anyone alive back to town for questioning, and dispose of the dead if necessary. Any questions?
"Sounds pretty cut and dried to me, shall we get on with it?"
Init:
"Let's go. Come on, bobbies."
The farm you are heading for is about 6 miles, south, on the way you pass other farms, with lights on as normal. . It's getting quite late as you approach the corn fields on your map from the North. The path is easy to find, being a dusty, 10ft wide track between the neat rows of stalks. The corn easily reaches over you head, and it's even darker in here. There is no noise, except the occasional scurry of mice, and the surrus of the wind in the leaves around you.
As you progress you come to a "crossroads" of sorts. Four paths meet, with you approaching from the North. A scarecrow stands, shifting in the breeze opposite and to your left, in a gap in the corn fields. Which way will you progress?
"Huh. Do you think that this is one of the scarecrows the poor madman was ranting about? Doesn't seem particularly frightening." Wits steps to the scarecrow and gives it a poke.
The scarecrow's inanimate form moves slowly in the breeze, and a bit more at Wits' touch.
"I say we go straight forward then loop the perimiter." Reynard says leading the way North.
As you pass south, you come to a fork in the path. At each side just before, and just after the fork there is another scarecrow, making 5 in a staggered row.
The night breeze sighs, as dusk begins to fall. The bobbies are obviously starting to get skittish.
Perception:
Perception