Elidals eyes narrow dangerously.
The old letch, she thinks furiously. Normally worthy of respect, and receiving it, from her colleges and allies before, the manner of this bawd is cloying and insulting.
A fool! Still - A necessary one.
I'll get what I need but I'm not playing the part of the nervous maiden in this play!, she decides.
She walks up the stairs, left hand steadying her sword belt and her sword arm swinging free. The atmosphere becoming perceptibly tense.
You've trouble in your little town... thats the bad news. And as long as its just us talking and not the common folk? We think there's a good chance you have necromancers here... Thats worse news. That we had to dispatch a man that we buried a few days ago? Thats even worse news.
She mounts the balcony and stands within arms reach of the pair of councilmen, inner fury whipping her onwards, not giving her time to consider a softer more diplomatic course.
But the WORST news?, her voice a terse angry whisper that she spits at the men, The worst news is how incredibly angry I am about it - and in Lastwall? Surrounded by Orcish hordes and undead terrors? We are very very skilled at using our anger - to DEADLY effect... and its your choice if I direct that anger at the source of your problems or somewhere closer to home.
Intimidate
The councilmen sit back in their chairs deeply disturbed and shocked by the power emanating from the Inquisitor.
Now. I need the access to your town records - and I want it now. Not tomorrow, not an hour from now. I mean Right Now.
Heathmount gulps, multiple chins trembling.
As you wish.
The councilman leads you to the townhall, unlocking it and then leading to the raised stage... underneath it are cupboards, these he unlocks as well, revealing boxes upon boxes of records.
I'm looking for records of the time of the Harrowstone fire... specifically prisoner records.
He points her to the second cupboard and leaves.
She has no real knowledge of the history of the place or on how best to look for local events that may help her pin down times.
Its a frustrating time, made more so by the lack of proper seating to work from. She spends the morning getting nowhere and decides to pack away the records and get some air.
A stern faced woman awaits her outside with the air of someone who has been impatiently waiting for some time.
I am Councilwoman Shanda Faravan, if you remember from the Faire, she states a matter of factly. I've no idea what you said to Hearthmount to get you access to these records but from now it ends. If you want access to these, you'll make a FORMAL petition to the Town Council and then we'll see. She secures the door with the large lock.
During the day Lament was able to glean a few rumours and bits of gossip that may or may not be valuable. She keeps the topics on the town rather than more 'supernatural issues'
"Oh, your tight with Zokar are you? Fine fellow, fine beer! But the food at the Laughing Demon isn’t all fun and games — and it’s no coincidence that Zokar serves more corpse chowder after unpopular merchants “leave town,” never to be seen again. If Zokar invites you into the Demon’s back room for a complimentary taste of that evening’s chowder, watch out! It may be that cranky old bastard Hans the Tinker, we've not seen him in a week or more and he was drinking at 'The Demon' the night he 'left' ".
"We saw you over at Jorminda's. I'll have you know that Jominda Fallenbridge does more than brew herbal remedies and such — she brews potions, drugs and poisons as well and sells them through agents in other towns. Why else would the sheriff be so interested in her business?" It was interesting that the deputy was out of earshot for that tidbit.
"We've got a pretty decent set of Councilmen. Muricar is a bit of a 'ladies man' - or thinks he is! Really! For a man of his age? The old Goat! Hearthmount - good man. His wife passes ten years ago or more but he seems happy enough and hasn't remarried. He and Muricar keep each other company. Mirta Straelock? She's one of our own and she's our girl in office. She keeps the men honest and she's got a good heart and level head. Old 'Don't Lie to me' Faravan? Well. She's the real deal. Originally one of us but she hied off to Caliphas! Spend years as a Royal Accuser. Shes one woman you do not want to make angry... cold as ice and deliberate as a butchers blade". She helped bring many a villain to the gallows".
She feels a night of deliberate rumour seeking at the local tavern, in the right mood, may open up discussions on Harrowstone.
Lament follows the workers to the pub. "How about some music to ease those tired bones?!"
She begins playing and singing as the workers/townsfolk settle in.
Though she is a bit fatigued, she puts on a splendid performance.
"The night is spent my companions
The dawn is on her way
Though darkness spreads the evening sky
She's but a blanket for the day
Rest tight in peaceful beds my friends
Only for a time
For morning draws nigh for you
And future days sublime
Pull back your sheets oh Ravengro
Open your tired eye
Help comes for Pharasma's chosen
She has heard your prayerful cry
Upon a yonder hill oh men
Tis a battle for your souls
In victory with thee we stand
In Pharasma sovereign hold
Pain breaks forth before the birth
But the Midwife's hand doth sooth
Glorious and joyful praise flows forth
Her faithfulness to prove
Tis momentary struggle flock
To carry that dear child
Bursting forth in gladness will soon be
A new life glorious and mild
The night is spent my companions
The dawn is on her way
Though darkness spreads the evening sky
She's but a blanket for the day"
Over taken by Pharasma's power, Lament prophetically proclaims the victory her diety has provided. Her words burst forth to sooth the townsfolk.
After her performance, she orders wine and mingles with the people.
At present? No one you can see... Wait? You stare at a window which you could swear had its curtains move strangely. Yet this is a small settlement of humans, strange even to you who has lived so long among them. Did the person at that window react due to embarrassment at your stare? Were they adjusting the drapes anyway? Were they spying or merely curious? Did they hear your exchange with the priest?
Even if there was no one now, would you be seen by a local leaving town or a by a farmer at a distance? Without stealth being on your side you could not guarantee it.
Baradlon will stop at the temple on his way to the Restlands. He tells one of the acolytes, "I am going to lock the crypt in the Restlands as the Father requested. Please inform him the deed will be done shortly."
We'll manage that - there's a ceremony for it, the acolyte holding his hand out for it.
Her apologies do much to smooth ruffled feathers and the council woman's bearing relaxes and she gives you a somewhat gracious incline to the head without saying more.
Walking through town Elidal spots Simeon and Lament return from work. A drink is suggested and you are all gathered at The Laughing Demon. Events and information are shared.
Uneasy as to what may happen with Nighteyes, the priest comes out to see the Elf talking to one of the Acolytes...
Weary beyond measure, especially by the tediously mundane task of trying to explain elementary building techniques to the farmers, Simeon nurses a tea and tries to ignore the hubub around him.
He rouses briefly when Lament sings her song, one eyebrow arched in surprise before he once agains slouches back into his chair.
Elial's report on her failure to find any information from the town records makes him scowl "We must tap that source of information again, Elial! Did the councilwoman say how we go about petitioning the council?"
We'll manage that - there's a ceremony for it, the acolyte holding his hand out for it.
"Can I watch?"
We'll manage that - there's a ceremony for it, the acolyte holding his hand out for it."Can I watch?"
Surely. We have no issues with that. Our ceremonies are sacred, not secret, for the most part. Come - we will go now.
The Junior most of the Acolytes leads the way, asking that Nighteyes fall in behind him and to not talk.
The walk in absolute silence.
A few villages take note but it seems more in the way of curiosity than anything else.
.
Jaru continues to fret and finally decides to return to the temple to make sure the elf does not make an ass of himself once again. Fortunately, he is just in time and smiles to the acolytes, 'If you don't mind another, I'd like to see how your rituals differ from our own."
He frowns a warning to Nighteyes as he follows behind.
The priest and the two town visitors in town, walk in absolute silence, familiar to Jaru symbolising the silence of the approach of death and is typical for all Clergy when traveling to burial grounds on official duties.
The crypt lies where specified by the Professor - 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 is secured by a length of thin rope instead of a lock.
The acolyte unties the rope and then opens the crypt door wide.
Something of a novelty to Jaru.
The Acolyte prays for Pharasma's peace to lay on all those who may lay here or who will lay here and reconsecrates the crypt to Pharasma. The prayer is a common one that has been done hundreds of times by Jaru.
Looking past the praying acolyte, there is, within, a flight of stone steps leads down into a stone floor painstakingly inscribed with some sort of symbol. You can see in the waning light of day dust covers the floors except for a few foot tracks. A set of closed doors lies within the crypt itself.
Jaru raises a hand, "A thousand pardons Brethren, but do you seal the inner doors as well? and what is that symbol upon the floor?"
Baradlon steps as close as possible and memorizes the symbol.
Not at all Visiting Father Toth. We have searched the inner chamber as well as this chamber already. None lie within. It is enough that the outer doors are closed, and the site re consecrated.
Statues of Pharasma stand on both sides of the room.
The design itself, as the acolyte points out, is a large Whippoorwill that has been etched into the floor. It's hard to make some of the details until he points it out and the picture comes into focus.
"Certainly, certainly. I'm just wondering why no one appears to be interred here? Do you have records on who it might belong to? Again I ask merely because our own research has shown that it is false crypt that was meant to hold tools to use against those that might threaten this sacred graveyard."
"Odd perhaps, but in light of the recent desecration, I'd like to make the best of every lead. Surely, a quick check of an empty crypt will do no harm? The sharp-eyed elf may find something that has been missed."
Baradlon looks at the uppity acolyte and his hand twitches a hair towards the hilt of his sword. Then he sighs heavily and closes his eyes, reassuming his still silence.
Unfortunely it is not mine to say, the young acolyte says with some degree of satisfaction.
He breaks the key from the seal binding it to the lock, closes the door and locks it.
Nighteyes sees something to the side of the crypt... A new grave, recently tended.
The tombstone reads Baradlon Vontarfonel. Born 14 Gozah 4584 - Died 4714. "May Pharasma heal his tortured soul in the peace of Her bosom.
The tombstone reads Baradlon Vontarfonel. Born 14 Gozah 4584 - Died 4714. "May Pharasma heal his tortured soul in the peace of Her bosom.
Assuming he's hallucinating, Baradlon asks the acolyte, "Excuse me, but who is buried there?" He points at where he sees the grave.
Lament mingles with the locals and listens to their stories. She actually loosens up a little after some wine and enjoys herself. These people aren't too bad.
Simeon was about to accept Elidal's answer of "No", but she kept talking to him! Each word caused him more and more discomfort, leaving him nodding spasmodically, smiling weakly and muttering a succinct "Thank you" before returning to the sipping of his tea.
Oh, to be in the sweet centre of Petros' library.. that is where I'm meant to be, discovering the secrets to our mysteries...not surrounded by these idiotic townsfolk...and Elidal...so beautiful, so frightening...ah, Simeon, the undead phases you naught, but a bright, intelligent woman...
With a jerky motion, Simeon raises his cup to his lips, only to spill the hot tea over his narrow chest.
Cursing, he shoots to his feet, patting at his very damp shirt "Forgive me" he croaks "I'll return to the manor to change. I'll remain there in the library, if you need me."
Unfortunely it is not mine to say, the young acolyte says with some degree of satisfaction.
Jaru bows his head to the judgement, "I understand." He turns to look at the grave pointed out by Nighteyes.
The grave is an old one. The writing on the tombstone starting to erode from the passage of years.
Marius Gottspiel - Honored friend, stout commrade. Died in flames 4661
A cruel wind whips up and cold spring rain pours down heralded only by a stroke of lightning and a single booming crack of thunder.
The savage rain hurts exposed skin with its intensity.
Come!, the young Acolyte yells if the fury of the weather, as he picks up the hem of his robes and runs.
He's been careful to take the key with him.
Jaru gives Nighteyes a strange look and follows the acolytes running for shelter.
Cursing, he shoots to his feet, patting at his very damp shirt "Forgive me" he croaks "I'll return to the manor to change. I'll remain there in the library, if you need me."
It's at that point rain begins hammering on the roof of The Laughing Demon, creating a cacophony that makes it difficult to hear. The water pours from the darkening sky in a great curtain that obscures visibility beyond a few feet.
Lament skillfully turns conversation to Harrowstone and under the influence of comradeship for a shared job well done, beer and song dredges up some pearls from the mudflats of local ignorance and faded suspicion.
"Now and then, if you visit Harrowstone near sundown, you can hear the ghost of the warden’s wife wailing and sobbing from somewhere within the ruins. She haunts the prison now, forever mourning her husband and attempting to frighten anyone who intrudes on the prison".
"They say that Harrowstone’s executioner still guards the execution balcony on the western side of the prison, and that on some nights, his headsmans axe can be seen patrolling the balcony on its own, as if carried by an invisible spirit"...
"Bah! You were drunk cries out another. "Stories that Harrowstone is haunted are just that—stories. The ruins are still dangerous, but what folks think are ghosts is naught but the nasty vermin that live there"
Lament finally drawn to a group of men playing Towers, a game of chance widely spread through the inner sea, that uses Harrow cards.
"Originally, Harrowstone housed only local criminals, but as the prison’s fame spread, other counties and distant lands began paying to have more dangerous criminals housed within this prison’s walls. My Da tole me that at the time of the great Harrowstone Fire, the number of particularly violent or dangerous criminals imprisoned within the dungeons below was at an all-time high."
"The five most notorious prisoners in Harrowstone at the time of the great fire were Father Charlatan, The Lopper, the Mosswater Marauder, the Piper of Illlmarsh, and the Splatter Man".
Ha! I win, cries out Pietr, slamming down his cards in triumph...
WHICH THEN BURST INTO FLAMES!
Men fall back from the table in fear, shock and confusion.
Nighteyes shakes his head rapidly back and forth for a second before rubbing his eyes. As the rain start, he begins laughing maniacally. He joins the others as they run back to the town. He cackles the whole way...it seems he can't help himself.
The flames shoot two feet into the air, some men reel back covering their eyes. Lament, who was closely interested in the game is blinded by the flare of light and heat.
fail
She hears the faint, muffled sound of numerous people screaming below, as if there were burning victims in a basement. The cries are piteous and terrified.
Cursing, he shoots to his feet, patting at his very damp shirt "Forgive me" he croaks "I'll return to the manor to change. I'll remain there in the library, if you need me."
It's at that point rain begins hammering on the roof of The Laughing Demon, creating a cacophony that makes it difficult to hear. The water pours from the darkening sky in a great curtain that obscures visibility beyond a few feet.
About to step out into the street, foot actually in the air, Simeon is surprised by the vehemence of the sudden downpour. Snatching his foot back out of the deluge, he scowls at the ominous clouds and returns to the loud taproom.
He returns to the table where Elidal says, offering a sheepish "Raining." as explanation of why he was back.
Simeon returns in time for him to see flames shoot into the air, men reeling back from the card table cursing and shouting in panic. Lament falls back from the table, covering her eyes in pain.
Jaru and Nighteyes are well on the way to being saturated in short order. The way to the temple lies past the Lorrimor home... Warmth and comfort await or you can follow the acolyte through the sheeting rain and to the Temple - a course that will have you soaked to the skin.
Jaru shouts a farewell to the acolytes though he is unsure if it is heard over the deluge. Feeling somewhat neglectful, he returns to the house to check on Kendra.
Unable to stand the sight of the sanctimonious cocksuckers any longer, Baradlon follows Jaru, still laughing disturbingly to himself.
Jaru stops at the doorstep to address the laughing elf with a pitying look, "Quiet please, Nighteyes. You'll disturb Kendra."
Simeon's head snaps around at the eruption of flame at the card table and the subsequent reaction of the players.
He walks over and grabbing Lament by the collar , hauls her to her feet.
Pushing past one of the players, he leans over the table...does any of the playing cards remain?
"Nighteyes is dead," Baradlon says, shutting up.