[PFS][Level 3-5] DM Ranginui runs The Midnight Mirror (Inactive)

Game Master Tangaroa

"These others look to have been here for multiple days. We'll need to dig them out and get them some good care and bed rest, but I think they'll survive having been in these pits well enough."

And with that, Chuurock starts digging one of them out . . ..

"It might be a good idea to call the Sheriff and show him this. It will exonerate the fetchlings and put an end to the rampant paranoia, don't you think?"

Though we shouldn't mention the Baron's "sponsoring" of these activities just yet, I suspect.

"Yes, he's probably the best one to tell for now. But I fear we must confront the Baron at some point, and he's probably going to be hostile..."

In short order all of the captives are freed from the vats. Exploration of the side rooms yields the source of the putrid smell: the decaying bodies of two men and three women, covered in a thin layer of wax and drained of blood. One dead woman is blonde haired and middle aged, and matches well the description of the missing baker's wife Irini. The others appear to be a mix of loggers and townsfolk.

After covering Catalina's body, the six lead the captives out of the chandler's workshop and into the chilly night air. Conveniently, Olga leads the group to a house adjacent to the city guard - where the receptive guard are more then overjoyed to see the little girl and the other missing townsfolk. The young man is identified as Delian, the butcher's son, while the older man is Zona the farmer.

A few townsfolk come to thank the group for their bravery, even Sheriff Lucian Groy comes to thank the six heroes for rescuing his daughter. In fact, the sheriff appears to have made progress in fighting the disease. The swelling in his neck seems to have receded and his pallor returned. On the whole, he seems much calmer and collected then when he was last seen in the town square.

As a sort of reward, the townsfolk gift the six travelers with the gear of those who were no so fortunate as to survive the Lurker's rituals.

Returning to the inn, the group finds themselves with adequate time to indulge in their various habits and passions before retiring for the evening.

Sarenrae once again swims through the shadows to cast the light of her face dimly upon the city of Karpad. After finishing morning exercises and devotionals, and breaking their fast, the six make their way to the manor house by way of the Kayal ghetto.

There are some differences between this journey and their last, however. Today as the six walk, farmers nod or stop to wave their calloused hands and scarred arms. Goodwives issue terse but unmistakeably friendly greetings from their windows. It would seem that news of the doings of the previous night have spread widely. The six cross the river to the ghetto, and the fetchlings there are even friendlier. They wave and shout thanks at the six, although from a respectful distance. One goes to fetch the elderly Ionela Zagrev, "mayor" of Shade Row.

The pale skinned Kayal comes greet them, sitting once again upon her log to hold a pauper's court.

Her voice is warm. "May the dark fade slowly, friends. Greetings again, elf. I understand you are the heroes of the hour, and we are in your debt for clearing our names in part. I wish you luck in your other task: finding the source of this disease and ending it."

She sighs. "Sergei and his family came home last night, and told us about the deeds that cleared their name. I dream of the day when humans and Kayal may once again stand as equals."

Leastrio shakes his head humbly. "Nay, not heroes. We are only doing what we can. The bigger obstacle still lays ahead of us. We have obtained some unsettling information and are still thrashing about for the proper course." Leastrie takes a single step back, letting someone else take over the conversation.

"Quite so, my dear woman. We've heard it from a suspect source, true, but there's a possibility that the baron may have a hand in this affair. Quite a shame really. We feel we should approach him, and I'm not one for always following formalities strictly, but we really haven't any authority here. So it makes our position quite delicate you see."

Ionela smiles. She pauses for a moment to pick up a passing black cat. The beast purrs loudly as she pets it.

"Yes, I heard it was some sort of small flying man, my dear... what was your name again?" She pauses for a moment before continuing "When you get past one-hundred and ten the memory isn't always as good."

"I wouldn't worry about talking to the Baron. The Baron's a nice, shy fellow. Well, at least he used to be. He was always good to us before this trouble started. Easy with his taxes and he gave work to my Kayal."

"One thing is for sure; he is not like his father, or his older brothers, Iozif and Henric. Those three were all strong, but cruel. They never were very good to my people, though I suppose that's always been the way with the Boroi family."

The cat leaps down from Ionela's lap and rubs itself against Kris' leg. "You know, I was thinking about this disease since I talked to your brave and diligent elf yesterday. I wonder if it has anything to do with the disease that killed Stepan's brothers ten years ago. Nobody could say what that disease was either, although it never did spread beyond his family. Not like this plague."

Kris will pet the cat, assuming disease exposure prevention is far too late at this point. She wonders if she could control shadows that were inside her, since her power emanates from herself and not some divine focus. "Where would one perhaps investigate this historical event?"

"Well, I suppose you could ask the Baron himself. Or.. " she laughs "... if you can speak with dead Stepan's family is buried over there." Her thin finger points across the river to the graveyard next to the church.

"Alas, digging nor communing with the dead are among my talents." She says, losing a little of her completely serious demeanor, "Besides, that just seems like it would be a rude thing to do as guests of the Baron."

Almost was, too. I dropped Extra Revelation (Speak With Dead for level/minutes) for Spell Focus Necromancy. Which reminds me; Would it be out of the question to have given babyshade a few of yesterday's Death's Touches for healing up his damage? Since I forgot to pass him off to the Kuthite Cleric and all that, I figured I may as well do that for him...

She starts laughing again, but it devolves into a cough. Her shirt flutters as the breeze picks up, and you notice she is wearing leggings, not a dress. Her garb is built for movement and flexibility.

"You foreigners are almost as bad as that priest, so very serious. It was a joke, dearie. The dead may not tell tales, but Fustra buried the two brothers. Might be the gravedigger saw something before the caskets were closed. Priest won't help; he's only been here a few years"

Spells prepared updated. And, yeah, we're on a path that will lead to confrontation over the Shadow . . .. I am choosing to assume Chuurock is ignorant of what Kris is doing.

Oh, he'll be gone by end of scenario or once I visit the Kuthite (if he wants him,) though a certain level of secrecy has been paramount. The "Create Spawn" bit about shadows (and PFS rules) leaves little choice and I plan to never use him for combat at any point. I can only control so many; probably only 1 at a time with my 5HD limit.

Kris nods at the suggestion, "Do you know whom that would be, ma'am?"

"Just head over to the graveyard and call out Fustra's name. She lives in a shack on the edge of the graveyard."

"Then maybe we should head there and shed some light on this. Many thanks, woman."

"The pleasure is mine, handsome." The elderly fetchling winks at the orc-featured tattooed man.

The Pathfinders delay their quest to confront the Baron Boroi once again. Crossing back over the languid and shallow river Dimar's Way, they come to the edge of the cemetery , filled with the dead of both commoners as well as Boroi family mausoleums. In proper Zon-Kuthonite fashion, the cemetery's grounds are extensive, rivaling the size of the town. Many of the headstones are moss-covered and worn down by time to illegibility. Who knows what forgotten pains lie buried in this place?

The group finds the shack empty, and start wandering the graveyard to find the gravedigger Fustra. It is nearly a quarter of an hour to track the woman down. She is leaning against her shovel, underneath the eaves of one of the older Boroi Mausoleums, taking rest from her labors. She is a well muscled, middle aged woman with a commoner's garb and streaks of grey in her brown hair.

"Aye, good day to you. Can I help you sirs, ma'am? Have a body to be buried?"

Baldwyn walks with the rest of the party, keeping his mouth shut and simply trying to enjoy the limited sun filtered through the dreary clouds. He continues to leave the talking to the more talkable folk.

"Greetings Ms. Fustra. Fortunately, we do not, though we do have other business. We are here on behalf of the Baron to help investigate the current plight of the town and we wanted to be sure the past had no clues." She nods and approaches if it's not a comfortable talking distance. "The baron's brothers, Iozif and Henric, were killed by a disease, yes? Was there anything odd about their remains when they were buried so long ago?"

It's unnecessary, you still got it

She chews her lip thoughtfully.

"Aye, I do recall that particular job. I have interred a lot of coffins, but only a couple of times have I put empty ones in the ground. Weren't no remains in those. The old Baron's death was all proper, but not those two."

"Never did actually see the bodies. Closed casket, and it was an out-of-town priest that did the last rights and dressing of the bodies.

"Strange. This priest is not here any longer, I would presume?"

"No, haven't seen that one for ten years. Stepan had him brought in special on account of his family's illness."

The gravedigger gracelessly wipes a thread of snot running down her nose. The morning is still cool.

"Really can't say much more then that. Was ten years ago, after all."

Fustra looks at the holy symbol of Chuurock bin Ausk. "It's a rare sight to see a servant o' the Lady in this part of the world. If you talk to her, you tell Fustra's been doing her best to keep skeletons and other such nuisances out of her graveyard."

She puts a cap on her head. "I have another six feet needs digging and only so many hours of daylight left. Were there anything else I can help you with?"

"Say, what can you tell me about relations between humans and fetchlings in the last few hundred years. Any special reason the town's segregated these days? A bad spat sometime long ago perhaps?"

She shrugs at Guilford. "Sorry, M'lord. I can make a solid pine box and I can dig a good hole, but I never was one for history."

"What did the brother's look like? Were they similar in appearance?"

"Do you mean did they all have the same father?" she chuckles. "Well I don't know how you elves do things, but there would of been a stink if one of them came out different. All of them black-hair, brown-eyed and bulging muscles; well, I suppose Stepan is a bit on the skinny side. Don't nobles like to paint fancy picture of themselves? Maybe you could go sneak a peek at one of those, seeing that you're working for the Baron."

Kris nods, pending a few moments for unasked questions. "Thank you for your time. Please do not let us hinder your work."

After leaving the grave keeper, Kris asks, "So, what now? Investigate the brothers or go barreling to the Baron?"

-Posted with Wayfinder

"I do not know where you wish to investigate this matter further if not at the Baron's. We'd better get there next and confront him for explanations."

"I agree. If this is a cover-up, most people will just think the brothers are six-feet under." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the graveyard for emphasis. "'Nuff beatin' 'round the bush. It's time to see what the Baron's really up do, with his brothers and these shadows."

The six stride with renewed sense of purpose towards the manor house. The wary majordomo lets them in, and Lady Boroi comes to greet them.

The Lady of the house looks tired, and she distractedly rubs the missing nubs of fingers on her right hand. Worry lines are pronounced on her face. "Greetings again. I hope your Order has made some progress in finding the cause of this disease. I'm afraid after your Order came to visit my husband became even more... agitated... and he hasn't come out of the library or his study since yesterday. He won't even answer me!" She comes over to lay a delicate hand on Baldwyn's forearm. "Laurentiu tells me you wish to speak with the Baron. Laurentiu can let you into the study. Just please... do be kind with him; he isn't himself."

Laurentiu leads the Pathfinders upstairs to the study, quietly opening the door. Candles and everburning torches brightly light the room. The baron sits at his desk, reading, pale and still eerily shadowless. The man stands upright from his desk clumsily when he sees the Pathfinders. Lord Boroi seems to grasp the back of his chair for support, and his voice wavers.

"Laurentiu, what is the..."

He pauses and breathes heavily.

"You have returned, then. Did you find a way to fight the shadows, or have you come to disturb my researches again without cause?"

"Actually," Kris asks, "I have made a little headway in initial studies, but I wanted to clarify something first. When you refer to the Shadows, you do mean the things bursting from the disease, yes? I have found those to be controllable, though have found little progress in way of ceasing their advancement in preliminary stages beyond anything that normally fights the plague. Perhaps if we knew what you know, we could skip many of these facts, as I'm sure you know many of them already...?"

-Posted with Wayfinder

"Those shadows are inconsequential. This is what I have learned: First, the disease is an magical one, somehow concocted by the Fetchlings as vengeance against my family and my subjects for quashing their rebellion years ago!" His voice rises in agitation. "Second, I believe it to be a creation of the shadow planes itself, since these lands are so closely tied to the realms of the midnight lord. Third, the Fetchlings are immune because of their ties to the shadows splane."

"Do you not see the brilliance of it? Logic dictates that if we... simply...", the Baron's breathe runs short for a moment "...find the antithesis of the shadow we can find a way to fight the source."

"I am trying to save my people and my family and holdings are clearly the victim here. I need help the can deal with issues of a planar nature, not the musings of some ineffective outsiders!"

"You have a certain logic to your research, sir, but I fear this malady need not necessarily be of a planar nature. How can an ailment spring forth from a plan of existence spontaneously? More likely it is the devious work of a creature born of the shadow plane. Something more malicious than any of your Fetchlings."

"Lord Boroi, I do not question your motives or devotion to your people, but why did you feel the need to enlist the aid fo the lurker? The creature may have an aspect of light, but it is petty and cruel in the extreme. Hardly the antithesis of shadow you seem to seek. Perhaps you need to turn to religion? The Dawnflower offers perhaps the best fit, but I fear her worhsip is severely lacking in this realm. Come now, join us outside and we'll consult with all the others who have been working to resolve this matter."

Shandor growls in barely contained anger. "You are NOT telling everything, Baron! I can't believe you're as innocent as you pretend. Now tell us everything, for we have a common goal here. We NEED to know everything if you really want us to get rid of your problem."

Baldwyn mutters behind Shandor, "Or if you even want the problem solved at all."

He falls back into his chair, visibly shaken.

"What are you talking about? What... what do you know?"

Leastrie leans in closer. "We have discovered some unsettling facts. It would behoove you to elaborate on all that you know and have been up to."

"Oh, I think you perfectly understand! You WILL help us now, and spill the beans! You have made me wroth, but you do not wish me to remain so. NOW SPEAK!"

"Sir, I really must recommend that you answer my associate here. He's not a patient sort of chap by any means. Things will go better for everyone if we lay all our cards on the table. Much more pleasant that way."

"The history here seems unclear. Someone has gone to great lengths to hide things for some reason. You keep speaking of a Fetchling rebellion, but the graveyard clearly shows that they were once your equals and that you squashed them. We know that your brothers both vanished from public sight and that you had empty coffins buried in their names, but not why. We know that the lurker thought it was working for you, even as it tortured and starved your subjects. We know that you have become obsessive and secretive enough that your wife is afraid for you, and possibly of what you might do to or about your own child. I do not know the nature of the game that you are playing, Baron, but I doubt it actually involves caring for or about your people and property. It seems far too hidden and personal for that. I'm certain your betters will be far less patient, or forgiving, about finding out what you are hiding."

"I..." He stops and grows a little pale. "I did not know that Ilquis would harm my people. When I summoned and bargained with him I told him to take any means necessary to fight the shadows. He was supposed to save them, not harm them!

Stepan hangs his head into his palms. "A poor deal, just like so many other foolish deals I have made in my life."

The man stands up and walks over to a window, staring at the forest outside. He looks distant.

"I once made a deal with a creature of shadow, a creature that calls itself Nicasor. He was brilliant and a powerful magician; he claimed to be an advisor to my family from the earliest days of its ennoblement."

He comes away from the window and walks within a few feet of Chuurock bin Ausk.

"In the basement there is a dark, broken mirror. When I was a young man I found that mirror, I looked into it, and Nicasor looked back. He is trapped there, somehow, and craves a way out. He told me that it is easy enough to enter the mirror, yet because it is broken the only way out is to willingly trade bodies with those on the outside.

"What he bargained with me... oh I do regret the terms now... was that he would help lure dear Iozif and Henric into the mirror, where his followers would act as jailers for my brothers the rest of their days. He swore that neither he nor his allies would harm my brothers, and with my brothers gone I would inherit these holdings. His price seemed cheap to me then. He wished to borrow my body one year of every ten. When the year was up, Nicasor swore to return my body to me."

He grabs at Chuurock's tunic. "That was 10 years ago, before I met Anya, before my son. I was a different man then, foolish and hungry for power. But I understand the joys of family now, the ways of fatherhood and blood.

Baron Boroi lets go of the half-orc's tunic.

"In the past few years I have have read the family histories closely, and I now understand that magnitude of my folly. Nicasor hates my family. Although he once was an adviser, as he claimed, it was he who fomented rebellion against my family, and it was my predecessors who trapped him in the mirror as punishment. Who knows what wrongs he would inflict upon my family or my people were I to give him my body? This disease is somehow his doing, vengeance for my not honoring his deal."

"For the sake of my son, my wife, and my subjects I cannot dare to fulfill the deal now. I must throw myself upon the mercy of your Order. Please help me find a way to deal with Nicasor. I am at my wits end. Anya told me your father sent you to ensure her well being. There can be no better way to do so than to help me deal with the machinations of this monster! "

"Dammit, don't you know you can't trust the images in a mirror?!" Baldwyn sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No sense shoutin' over it now. You made the deal, and I guess it's up to us to break it for ya. Take us to this mirror. Then I suggest you hole up 'til we get back."

When out of earshot of the Baron, Baldwyn leans into his group. "We may want to tell Anya to get gone for a bit if husband dearest is 'bout to get himself possessed again."

"First time. About to be possessed for the first time. I assume this Nicasor has no plans of giving him his body back afterwards."