On crowned Carrion Hill,
The mound civilizations fill.
The darkest shadows lie longest,
In children’s vows, in fools jests.
In proud Carrion Hill,
Endowed to forgotten Evil,
The darkest shadows lie longest,
When crows and Crows, tend their nest.
O sore Carrion Hill,
The soar spills until
The darkest shadows lie longest,
And terror sows on your heart its crest.
Folk Song of The Tangle
Oathday - Dawn
A light drizzle and a faded morning gloom wiped the sleep from your eyes as you made your way through the still silent streets lacing up the Wart up to Crown Manor.
The summon had came before dawn. A cryptic missive from Mayor Heggry, no less, telling of great catastrophe, imminent danger and requiring your presence at once. The Crow stationed at the door would not leave without you, and wouldn’t say anything more about the matter, though his eyes were filled with pure fear...
The steep walk from the Tangle to the Crown warms up your muscles and a slight blush crawls up your cheeks. Reaching the Crown, the mist has cleared, but the rain doubled. Streets are empty, but for the running crows.
Your meandering brings you to Crown Manor, a fortified castle-like estate. Called Rag Manor by many, except perhaps when the mayor’s around, for the colorful and plentiful flags and tapestries that hang from its walls and fly from so many of its tower roofs. Crown Manor has served countless rulers of the hill as a last bastion against invasion, and rumours have it that its dungeons consist of the ruins of two dozen previous castles.
You are sped in through the Crows barracks, passing in front of groups of young men assembling and preparing for a day of patrolling. People say you can tell a real Crow from his shorter right leg, as they patrol round and round the Soar. They look at you with curiosity as you pass through them. Their sergeant comes in and start shaping them into a force of law, with the simple power os his voice. He, you can tell, is afraid...
Moving through dusty halls adorned with paintings of the Hill past, nailed between great double doors of dark woods, you reach a lavish crimson room filled with smoke. On a long oak table of rusty hue lies a great map of the city, held in place with an ashtray and a bottle of spirit. Around the table stand Mayor Heggry, a gray man with short salt and pepper hair and a short beard. His yellow eyes are just a bit too close to each other. He is dressed in purple silk pajama of questioning taste. In his hand you find a glass with a remnant of spirit. A slim cigar holds on to his lip by a shred of moisture: ”Oh good, you’re all here. Let me explain then.”
”Our enemy is already here, dwelling in the tunnels and catacombs below and surfacing to strike without warning.”
“You may have heard, an attack occurred early this very morning. Something came up from below in Slipper Market.” He points to the map to a place some of you know very well in the Tangle. ”It partially destroyed a building and killed a half dozen locals before retreating into the ruined structure. The Crows were swift to reply, led by Commander Garus, but they never came back up from the tunnels...”
He paces back and forth: “I just got a report that other buildings have suffered the same fate. From what we know, it could be same... thing, moving through the underground. Let’s hope there’s but one! It’s crushed buildings from below, slaying anyone inside...”
He looks up from the map, takes the last swig from his glass, his cigar never leaving his lips, then turns his yellow eyes to you.
"I need your help."
The Pharasmin inquisitor's habitual amiable expression frays a bit around the edges during the Mayor's speech, his eyes growing hard. "I'm at your disposal, sir. What can I do to assist?"
"You know you got me Mayor Heggry - my squad is off keeping order on the streets but I'm gonna get Commander Garus back or die tryin'".
Senior Watchman Vachkov pulled at his jaw, his bloodshot eyes angry.
"You got a lot of interesting friends Mayor", he says looking over the others. "Some familiar faces, though not familiar with the names".
Valiard stands before the mayor in his rumpled work smock and apron, his eyes round and his mouth open in shock. His satchel drops from nerveless fingers, spilling small wooden boxes and bags of fragrant herbs clattering across the flagstones.
"I-I though that I was coming to help heal someone. I am a herbalist not a guardsman!" Valiard sputters, clearly agitated.
What do they know? Something? Nothing? I would have been arrested a long time ago if anyone was aware...perhaps they just need a healer...
"I don't mean to say that I won't help. I just wanted to make plain that I will not be waving a sword around as I chase this thing around. I don't have the skill for it. I will most certainly help keep our valiant warriors clean of brain rot, flesh drop, black creepies and all the other diseases and parasites that come from the catacombs and tunnels beneath the crown. I can do that much at least." Visibly calmer, Valiard smooths back his hair and stoops to gather his lost ingredients back into his satchel.
"I know you now Valiard... you're the guy who over charges on the 'Alchemists Kindness' that we hard working watchmen sometimes buy...", he grunts, "but my wife says you do good work - we'll need you when we find the Commander."
"You others?, I think I know the Fortune Teller as well - again, also known to my wife... Also known to me as a 'Cause of the odd bit of trouble' when some fool starts up the popular game 'burn the witch' and one of 'us' ends up getting dinged up putting end to such stupidity and restorin' the peace".
You can't help thinking 'Us' has a very specific meaning the way it is said.
"I don't recall being burned," Mireza answers the Crow in a light and lilting voice. "You'd think such a thing would be memorable. But if it has, in fact, slipped my mind and you were the cause of my rescue, I'm sure I should owe you a debt of gratitude. If, on the other hand, my mere existence is so troubling to you," she shrugs, "perhaps you expect an apology."
Although her face remained placid and her gaze distant during the Mayor's briefing, beneath the surface she is annoyed. She has put a great deal of time and effort into cultivating a relationship with Commander Garus. To have to begin again with his replacement, particularly if he were to be a rough man like the Crow who just spoke, would be vexing. If Garus is still alive, she will do well to find and restore him to his position. He will be even less likely to trouble her in the future if he owes her his life....
As Iozef eyes the map, "Very well, Mayor," he responds, being purposely oblivious of the others. "The entrance the commander used to enter the tunnels ... how does it fair? This 'thing' hasn't collapsed it as well, has it?" He looks to the mayor as he asks, his face expressionless.
Heggry looks at you through the smoke of his cigar. He takes a deep breath from it, as if his life depended on it, then lets the smoke come out, slowly, closing his eyes: "Look- I mean thanks for accepting. You'll be rewarded, handsomely, if you can defeat that- thing. And it's true I don't know most of you, but it's my job to know people, and people know people... You get what I'm saying!" He seems to loose patience, like he wants to tell you a great story, but first he has to explain tedious sundries. "To be honest, looking at you, I have to trust my advisors! Merchant Myre, a great developer of the city, has spoken to me at length about the talents of some of you. We had sent for the scholar Hyve to help us, but he declined! Still, that old idiots managed to name you, Iozef, so that my Crows would leave him alone. That reminds me!" He laughs and pours another shot of spirit and as soon as it sinks in, downs it and coughs loudly. "Windle Thetra, you're no friend of Pharasmins I gather. You're the first one they pointed us to when we said we needed a hero. I guess that's a sort of compliment..."
He looks around, trying to remember the questions you had: "I'm asking you to go to Slipper Market to find out what happened there and to my men. You are to find that thing and destroy it! I'll have one of my runners lead you there."
He turns away from you, indicating it's time to leave, when the door opens on a lady of small size, her head framed by a hairs of red, split on the side by pointy ears. Her eyes of green are like emeralds on the ivory platter of her skin. She wears extensive makeup, in accordance with the latest tenets of Ustalavic fashion, he eyes colored black and red and her lips painted a plush blue. Her dress is a simple green tunic of exquisite fabric and she wears a shortsword at her side.
Heggry goes sour at the sight of concilwoman Dimyian: "Pah! The smell of my blood has drawn the sharks! What do you want!"
Councilwoman Dimyian smiles at the mayor: "My! Do you always welcome so the very people elected to support you in the daunting task of managing this city. I am merely here to offer my good service. I can see you've listened to some of my advice." She says this as she looks at you, probably implying she had dropped one of your names to him.
She steps out of the room and is a few feet away as you make your way out. She turns to Valiard: "My good Valiard: a word?"
She then as quickly disappears back in the room: [b]"So tell me Heggry: What have you been up to..."
A young lad in a black tunic waits for you. He guides you through the maze of streets to Slipper Market. The rain is but a drizzle, but the fog is thick and envelops everything in an eerie halo.
Normally a bustling market, Slipper Market is currently abandoned save for two dozen milling Crows. As you scan the area, you notice faces in the upper floor windows of nearby houses. Their faces seem frozen in shock as they watch the hole that was a house standing in front of you...
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Iozef rolls his eyes at the mention of the annoying Windle. I should say. He thinks to himself, per the mention of Windle being, 'no friend of Pharasmins'. "Mayor, I am at a loss as to why scholar Hyve would name be. I barely know the gentleman. But I assure you, I have the utmost confidence in my ability to take up the mantle in which he abandon." He says point blank. "Very good then. We shall see what may have become of Commander Garus and his men. Good day to you, Mayor."
Ignoring the weather, Iozef takes a moment to peer at all the gawkers staring out their windows. "You there," Iozef points to a random Crow, "Crow person. Now that we are here, are you the one to lead us to the tunnels? Wait, before you answer, have any of you seen the physical nature of this creature? Or is the large gaping holes that it manages to leave, the only evidence we have? And just to be clear, there hasn't been one to return from the tunnels out of the commander and his men?"
Gringor grunts sourly, If you please that's not how you address a Crow. He gives him a bit of a glare then looks to the Crow. Report, he barks to the Watchman.
"You there," Iozef points to a random Crow, "Crow person. Now that we are here, are you the one to lead us to the tunnels?
.
At that Grigors eyes start to bug out of his head and his face turns red... If steam were to pour from his ears it would not be surprising.
Wait, before you answer, have any of you seen the physical nature of this creature? Or is the large gaping holes that it manages to leave, the only evidence we have? And just to be clear, there hasn't been one to return from the tunnels out of the commander and his men?"[/b]
And then Grigor the Watchman explodes!
, he all but screams at Iozef.
He grinds his teeth, glaring at Iozef and then barks, Report! to the Crow who Iozef spoke to, all the while not breaking eye contact with Iozef.
Valiard intentionally widens his eyes at the Councilwoman's words, then barely nods his head before she turns to leave.
Pah. How utterly unsurprising. A major disruption to the city, to the point where citizens are dying, and all they think about is positioning for advantage.
Valiard eyes the pale faces in the windows and the utterly forbidding hole that once was a residence. The street seems odd without the presence of the house, as if someone ripped the structure away, like a rotted tooth in a crone's mouth.
"I, uh, hate to ask the question, but I certainly didn't go trapsing up to the mayor's office with all my equipment. I need to make a stop at my shop for my things before I go crawling around in the dark. Watchman Vachkov, do you mind if I nip off for a bit? It shouldn't take me long once I walk home."
good idea... But run, not walk. We'll wait 15 minutes., he said after checking his hour glass.
Grigor gives him a nod and a jerk of the head that seems to indicate he can be on his way.
Iozef turns to Grigor, "Very well. Then, if you would, please address him however one is suppose to address him within his line of work, and let us be on with it." Turning to the Crow, "What is your name, sir? If I offended you in any way, I apologize," he says in a tone that is difficult to tell of its sincerity. "I only meant to skip the formalites and attempt to get to the issue at hand, deeming it of greater importance. I assure you, it's nothing personal."
***
Grigor grunts and then glares at the watchman on site waiting for him to report as he looks around and sniffs
Valiard nodds at Watchman Vachkov and trots off out of the market toward his shop.
Windle's expression does not visibly change at the Mayor's words regarding his selection, though his body language suggests amusement. I suppose that means I've been here too long. At least the archivist here is knowledgeable enough.
"If I may, where were these other buildings that have collapsed? Can we get a map with the positions marked? And--how do I put this?--if its a single creature doing this, it may not have started its destructive career with buildings; have there been any unusual disappearances recently?"
As the group is led to the site of the Commander's disappearance, Windle scans the streets and the passers-by, his posture ramrod-straight as he walks. At the site, he'll look around for any noticeable trails. (He's particularly interested in getting down to the tunnels, to find any of the creature's tracks and/or the tracks of the guards.)
Word must have spread quickly through the whole of the Crown, Valiard thinks as he walks brisky down the Street of Sighs. The usual crowd of whores and roustabouts was gone, the second story balconies shuttered tight against an impending storm.
Two quick turns later and Valiard was before his shop. He unlocked the door, released the hidden deadbolt and disabled the mechanical alarm before opening the door, stepped inside and threw the bolt.
What to bring, what to bring? I need to be ready for eventualities, but I don't want the Raven to be suspicious. I do need my armor and blades however...I guess I should wear the armor and my best daggers, but keep most of the rest packed away...
He fingered his silver piece as he thought, not even noticing that he was rubbing his thumb over its surface.
Thieves tools, potions, silk rope, grappling hook, the mask and brace of daggers were rolled into some shirts and stuffed at the bottom of his pack. On top he placed a well stocked packet of healing herbs, things that could be turned into a poultice quickly, his surgeon's kit and healers kit.
He pulled on his armor, put his best daggers in forearm sheaths, and pulled a heavy cloak over all of it. He threw the now bulky pack over his shoulder and left the shop, carefully locking up and resetting all of his usual precautions as he departed and made his way back to the Slipper Market.
You have never heard or read about such events happening in Carrion Hill in the past.
Commander Garus has a very good reputation. He is known and loved in the city, and well respected by his men.
As you scan the place, you notice that though the place has collapsed, the parts attached to the other buildings are still holding up. They seem to be part of the collapsed building and may hold clues. The structure looks like it would still hold regular strain.
Commander Garus, as best you know, has a very good reputation. He is known and loved in the city, and well respected by his men.
Meanwhile, you notice that the sergeant in charge has noticed your barking and has frowned deeply. He walks fast and steady, but then obviously tries to calm himself as he approaches, turning his frown into a more neutral visage.
Behind him, you notice a tent set up by the Crows. You manage a glimpse at two bodies as a crow enters the tent.
As you all take a look at the scene, and Iozef and Grigor have some words with a crow, a sergeant almost appears beside you: "What's going on here? Oh, Vachkov! Can we talk for a sec.?" He walks off with Grigor.
He quickly understands your mandate and tones down two notches: "I see... Ok then, I'll support you. Just thread lightly. The men are stunned and worried about the Commander..."
They come back to the rest of the group. "Okay, I'm Sergeant Feldk. I understand your the detail charged with clearing and cleaning this mess. What do you want to know?"
Windle nods politely to the sergeant. "Thank you for your assistance, sergeant. When did this happen? Were there any surviving witnesses?"
Grigor salutes Feldk as he comes on scene... and gets torn a new one. He weathers it well enough, albeit with the sort of mute resentment that would be expected for the public ass chewing.
As he helps with the others in bringing the Sergeant up to speed he seems to relax some... perhaps the presence of Feldk is giving him a degree of confidence too?
Any of the men get out... alive?, he asked.
The others have their own questions and I'll let them ask em' but we got any of our boys out? I can tell that the Commander is still missin just from the way things are here... unless he's in that tent?
As Iozef waits for the others to finish, "And did any of you get a visual of this creature, sir? Any kind at all? Oh, and further more," he walks toward the collapsed building, "how did this part of the building remain intact, while the rest of it was destroyed? Shouldn't it all have been brought down? Looking closely, what's left of this building appears to remain quite sturdy and would hold under it's normal tension. Doesn't that seem a little odd?" He asks as he moves over to inspect the part of the building of which he spoke, in hopes to find some form of residue, or something left over by the unknown creature.
"Where are the dead, Sergeant?" Mireza asks Feldk demurely.
Grigor salutes Feldk as he comes on scene... and gets torn a new one. He weathers it well enough, albeit with the sort of mute resentment that would be expected for the public ass chewing.
As he helps with the others in bringing the Sergeant up to speed he seems to relax some... perhaps the presence of Feldk is giving him a degree of confidence too?
Any of the men get out... alive?, he asked.
The others have their own questions and I'll let them ask em' but we got any of our boys out? I can tell that the Commander is still missin just from the way things are here... unless he's in that tent?
Feldk's mouth twists at the mention of survivor: "No sign of survivor yet, though we have not gotten further that the surface. Two crows were found in the streets. Their bodies are in the tent over there. It's not easy to..."
"Valiard said he was a healer; when he returns, perhaps he can examine the bodies."
As Iozef waits for the others to finish, "And did any of you get a visual of this creature, sir? Any kind at all?
"No one saw anything... They heard the crash and went to the windows, but the building was crumbling all around and they couldn't see what caused it."
Oh, and further more,"[/b] he walks toward the collapsed building, "how did this part of the building remain intact, while the rest of it was destroyed? Shouldn't it all have been brought down? Looking closely, what's left of this building appears to remain quite sturdy and would hold under it's normal tension. Doesn't that seem a little odd?"
"Indeed, it seems the- thing must have erupted from the basement and perhaps followed the crows, crashing the house as it did.
He asks as he moves over to inspect the part of the building of which he spoke, in hopes to find some form of residue, or something left over by the unknown creature.
1d20 + 11
Iozef moves closer and notices blood and gore, slowly washed away by the rain. This has been a massacre.
"Valiard said he was a healer; when he returns, perhaps he can examine the bodies."
Windle says those words as he follows the other Pharasmin. He studies the area as well and notices some kind of slimy fluid, acrid and foul, also washed away by the rain and very hard to notice. He takes a few steps back. It seems the thing went after the guards, but then retreated back. An alleyway, or what's left of it, extends in front of the inquisitor.
"Where are the dead, Sergeant?" Mireza asks Feldk demurely.
Feldk looks with wonder at the Changeling. He obviously knows her, or of her, and wonders what she could be doing here, but keeps it to himself: "Follow me, but brace yourselves. It ain't pretty..."
He walks slowly, his head slowly bending forward and his shoulders slumping. He opens up the tent and orders the men out.
An oil lamp is hung between two humanoid forms under green woollen covers. Feldk lifts the first one. The man's shape is still dicernible, but the body has been crunched out of shape, and twisted until the flesh tore. What's left is a mass of remains with armour and badge. "The other's the same... This is madness, not evil."
The inquisitor murmurs a brief orison, and the head of his walking stick begins to glow. "Smell that? If that's the thing's blood, the Crows were able to damage it. I think it may have retreated, though I don't know why." He raises his voice a bit, while still maintaining a deferential tone. "Sergeant? Have you looked down this alley?"
He gagged slightly while his memory shouted obscenities as scenes from that last case in Caliphas played through his minds eye.
Grigor had seen worse before... but not by much.
Gods..., he breathed.
Brushing past the those who followed him into the tent he moved to the saner, cleaner world that lay outside its boundries and spat, before reaching for a bottle that he kept for... well... emergencies.
And if this isn't an emergency, he reasoned bloody well not sure is, but instead of downing the whole bottle like he wanted to... NEEDED to, he took a single long pull before corking it and sliding it away.
I gotta stay straight for the Commander, he resolved.
He looked around and wiped at his eyes before walking closer to the wreckage, eyes locked on it.
Mireza examines the body without the squeamishness one might expect would come naturally, as if she were examining the carapace of a beetle that has been crushed than the remains of a fellow being. Her gaze seems almost academic, as her eyes trace the twists and breaks imposed on the underlying skeleton. "Hud," she speaks in a harsh-sounding language, passing her hands in front of her eyes.
Her examination over, she stands up and addresses the sergeant again in her normal sweet voice, "Only Crows found dead? No civilians? What building was this? Who owns it?"
Sergeant Feldk points to the building: "No, we didn't go in. Our orders were to wait for a special detail for the investigation. This hallway looks like the way in. Be careful down there. That thing can crush a man in a split second. I'm glad I'm not the one hunting that beast..."
"We've asked about the building. Used to be a shop, but was run down. A man named Marshan bought it a few weeks ago. He was renovating it... Quiet man according to the neighbours."
Sergeant Feldk points to the building: "No, we didn't go in. Our orders were to wait for a special detail for the investigation. This hallway looks like the way in. Be careful down there. That thing can crush a man in a split second. I'm glad I'm not the one hunting that beast..."
"A wise decision, no doubt," Mireza concedes serenely. "The way the creature went after the uniformed men, killed them with such ... thoroughness. It must bear some particular grudge against the Crows. To wear the uniform is to be a marked man, in its eyes."
Marshan. If he is dead, she must let it be known that she had foreseen the death and warned him; if he is still alive... well, no doubt it is due to the good fortune he purchased during their session, she reasons, already adjusting her reputation to gain, whatever the outcome. She tries to remember if he mentioned what sort of shop his newly-purhased home used to be.
Windle starts slightly at the name, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Marshan? Odd. I don't remember him mentioning the shop, but he did seem rather excited about something the last few times we spoke."
Iozef looks curiously at the sergeant, then disregards his implications.
Observing Mireza while she inspects the bodies, I think she is the one I've heard about. I find her... odd. Yet intriguing. As she concludes her inspection, "Well? What were you able to ascertain, if anything?"
Mireza stares at the young priest quizzically for a moment. "That they are dead," she explains the obvious. "That whatever killed them, crushed them purposefully and left them in the street, no longer interested once it had wrung the life from their corpses. It is not a hunter; it is ... an artist of death." She turns away to gaze back at the building, humming a lilting Varisian tune under her breath.
Valiard walks up to where Mireza, Iozef and the sergeant stand, observing the bodies.
"One of the Ravens outside told me that you all had come in here and...BY ALL THE GODS! THAT IS HORRIBLE!" Gagging and decidedly green around the gills, Valiard dashes back out of the tent.
A quiet retching is heard by those inside the tent.
Iozef looks at the witch quizzically; moreso in an attempt to try an understand her. "Thank you." He responds, his mind already pondering her observation, An artist of death? That is most disturbing. Most disturbing.
As Valiard walks in, and then promptly walks out, Iozef just shakes his head at the poor man.
Grigor hears the retching, and his strides - designed to take him from the tent to the ruin, halt.
He turns and watches Valiard a moment, as the same revulsion that filled his gorge overcomes the offers the young herbalist.
He regarded Valiard silently for long moment... then wordlessly extends his bottle to the young man.
Sergeant Feldk looks at you with the cover in his hand, ready to pull it back on the body if you seem to be done with it. "So are you guys going to... go after it? I mean, seems like madness to me..."
Me too! When I saw Windle's +12, I'm like-- "Dang! That's pretty good for 1st level." And then when I checked my own, I'm like-- "Really? Did I cheat!" And then I see that were level 5. That's like the 3rd time it's happened. :P
Iozef looks to the Sergeant with a cool demeanor, "Of course, Sergeant. I cannot allow something of this nature to continue to exist. Eventually, there wouldn't be a building left standing if that were the case. Never fear, Sergeant, we will remove this 'thing.'" He then looks to the others, "Assuming the rest of you are going as well? I don't want to volunteer any of you who would rather not."
Lips compressed, Windle nods once, sharply. "Of course."