Alana spends several moments searching the floor and walls of the chamber near the altar. Despite her best efforts, she is unable to find any clues that might reveal some secret cache... that is, until the tip of her rapier catches by chance in a barely perceivable indent in the wall, just behind the edge of the banner. Pulling it back and examining it, it appears to be rather deep, possibly a keyhole? Checking the wall around it, you find the barely perceptible seam of what could be a door.
Alana lets out a low whistle when she finds the seams that reveals a door. Even though the others surmise that they may be in the wrong tomb, her curiosity is piqued. "This might not be the same one the professor visited, but I think we've found something anyway. This'll only take a second."
She pulls out her tools and begins to work the small hole, hoping to find the triggering mechanism.
You have previously found quite a few locks relatively easy to get through, and had been proud of the skill you had demonstrated. Yet this lock - if so simple a word could do it justice - is unlike anything you have ever encountered in your explorations. Despite your detailed attention to the mechanism within, you are unable to even begin to unravel the irrational logic of the lock. Either your skills will need to vastly improve... or you will need to find the key.
A second turns into a minute, and then turns into several. Finally, she lets out a groan of frustration and kicks at the wall in a decidedly unladylike gesture. "What in all the hells!" she swears.
"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "I don't know. It's not a normal lock, that's for sure." Alana folds her arms, frustrated.
Your mind is wracked by barely understandable horrors, staring into the depths of the dark side of the universe. Pain, burning, cold, tears through your limbs. The imagines twist and morph as soon as your mind tries to draw them into reality. You feel the essence of your soul being torn asunder and drawn deep into another realm, a realm of nothingness. Falling away, you see the radiant light of Sarenrae, yet rising behind it an utter darkness. The darkness looms up behind the Dawnflower and you try to cry out in warning, yet only silence escapes. The darkness envelopes Sarenrae and her Everlight dwindles. Just as the last vistage of light is about to disappear-
- "Nesrin, wake up! It's only a dream!" Kendra cries out, a note of fear in her voice, as hands roughly shaking you. Your eyes cracking open, you find yourself on the ground amidst Kendra's bedroom doorway, your body shivering yet drenched in sweat. Noticing the shocked look on your face, Kendra shouts out, elated, "By the gods, you are okay! Nesrin, what happened?"
It seems we're missing a key, then. - said the alchemist, a little frustrated, but recognizing Alana's effort - Nevertheless, a good finding. There's definitely something here, even though it gives me the impression we stumped into something bigger than what we were bargaining for.
"'Am alrrahma! I'm fine!" Nasrin coughs, trying to clear her head from the remnants of her "dream". The Professor was studying this thing?
"Keh! I was supposed to stand guard over you, not the contrary. Thank you. You may have saved my life from my own arrogance, I am again in your debt."
Trying to suppress the shivers, she half-rises to a sitting position, wiping sweat from her face. I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright...
"My hubris happened. I thought that a mundane book could not harm me, and I was sorely wrong, whatever knowledge is written in there is... dangerous, for lack of a better word. It's madness beyond understanding. I believe that we are even more in trouble than we thought. That was not just a dream, there are dark forces, things I couldn't- I didn't dare recognize. And... Mother of Mercy, I saw the Dawnflower swallowed by darkness. Gods be willing, it was no foretelling, yet..."
Drawing a deep breath, she conjures the image of a flame in her inner eye, trying to find her center. Her lips whisper a fast prayer.
"Yet, be as it may, we are all in danger. I suggest you have an escape plan to some safe haven ready, Pharasma's church could do. But for the time being, try to rest. Be sure that I won't touch those books again. Thank you again, Kendra."
Sitting in a kneeled position, Nasrin stands guard, lightly meditating, trying to keep the horrible vision at bay.
"If this is the place Petros wrote of, then it would seem he was a man of more talents than I gave him credit for." Ishara briefly scans the remaining alcoves for anything of note before giving a rather defeated-sounding sigh. "Was there nothing else that seemed to beg further investigation up above? If not, I would suggest that we had back to the Lorrimor House lest we press our luck too far this night."
"There was that other mausoleum I noticed. You know; the one that had that symbol of a scarab with an eye in it? We could check that out before we go back," Alana says, her defeat by the lock having her somewhat subdued.
" Do you want to give the lock a few more tries or should we move on to the Mausoleum you found? "
Alana rolls her shoulders and flexes her fingers, prepping herself for another go at it. Several minutes go by as she attacks the lock in every way she knows how, hoping to find the triggering mechanism.
Daviana looks around the chamber and alter, not noting much from the others. Only stopping her browsing once Alana's frustration with the lock manifests.
"I suppose it is possible the professor has a key that we just missed somewhere. Wait, did you say scarab? Didn't one of the books in the chest have a scarab too? That's not an insect usually found around these parts."
Despite Alana's best efforts, the lock continues to present her with a confusing puzzle. Likewise, Arthorius' attempts at using brute force to move what you believe could be a door prove without merit, as the stone does not give in the slightest.
Just as Daviana finishes her comment regarding the scarab, she feels the hair on her neck stand up, just as a subtle but distinct sound reaches her ears - the sound of a low, cautious growl from Nicodemus up at the top of the tomb's stairs.
------
[spoiler=back at Lorrimor Place]
Kendra smiles kindly at Nasrin, "I am glad you are okay, but please, be careful. My father's work delved into many dark, and dangerous, matters. You really think something, or someone, is after us? I know the way to the temple of Pharasma well, I have frequented their library throughout the years. Though I do not know how secure the building would be - it is a small, country church, not a great temple as is found in the large cities. Still, the priests there could provide support. As for now, I will be back to sleep." She gives Nasrin another hug before returning to bed.
"Someone's here. Cover the light."" Daviana says quietly.
-Posted with Wayfinder
It's a simple matter to close the hood on her bullseye lantern, but her torch is a trickier matter. She looks around quickly in the crypt, then stuffs it in the back of an alcove.
Alana's lantern shuttered and torch tossed into the back of one of the burial alcoves, the tomb becomes preternaturally dark, which only adds to the feeling of tension. Up above, Nicodemus continues his low, quiet growl, but never does it escalate...
Dragomir stands stock still in the near total darkness of the tomb, the seconds tick busy as he listens to the low rumble of Nicodemus's growl. After a minute, he cautiously begins making his way up the stairs to see what's happening.
Slowly climbing the stairs Drago comes up behind Nicodemus, and keeping low, peers over the wolf's shoulder. The night is dark, and though the rain has lessened, the clouds in the sky still obscure any natural light, leaving only silhouettes of mausoleums, gravestones, and the like. Staring out into the bleakness of night, your eyes can't find any movement. Nicodemus continues to lowly growl, though you realize that the wolf's eyes are likewise searching the darkness, clearly uncertain as to what was setting him ill at ease.
Daviana will slowly make her way towards the wolf, unhampered by the dark, if for nothing else then to calm him.
Speaking low only to him, What is it old friend? What do you sense?
Feeling a shiver run up and down her spine, Alana begins breathing again. She cracks open the lantern to let a small amount of light out, since the Lady Soldavaso made enough noise that stealth may be a lost cause.
"Maybe we should get out of here?" she whispers under her breath.
Ishara watches from the foot of the stairs, peering up at the barely discernable figures of her companions and waiting for some sort of signal. "Yes, I think we ought to," she says in response to Alana's suggestion. Although her voice is pitched low, it seems more out of respect for the corpses around them and less an effort to be secretive. "As exhilarating as this has been, I think it's time we cut our losses."
@Daviana: Despite your focus, you are unable to determine any movement or source of Nicodemus' concern. As you come alongside him, his tension decreases slightly.
While trying to keep her voice stong, like a proper noble, it is easy to catch trepidation and concern in it. "We need to get back, something has happened. Not sure where, but blood has been spilt. We need to check on Kendra. If she is OK, we may need the alibi." Daviana will make her way out of the crypt. "We can search for the stash somewhere else next time, or maybe find that key."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Something happened with Kendra? - Arthorius seems alarmed as the other Dhampir shows her concern - Not sure how do you know about the blood being split, but I agree - we are to check on her with haste.
The alchemist is genuinely worried now; if he was already unset on their current investigations, hearing that something might have happened, especially back with the Professor's daughter, puts him closer to his edge, and it's clear he's ready to go back to the house.
"The wolf told me." Is all Daviana seems to say regarding her knowledge. After a pause, "Kendra may be fine, but I find the timing suspicious."
Drago gives Daviana a look, then nods, "Let's go then, I'll scout ahead a little, make sure that we don't run into townsfolk that might get the wrong idea..."
He slips out into the restlands, heading back towards the town and keeping a look out for anyone who might see the group exiting the large graveyard.
Exiting the tomb, an air of foreboding hangs over you all. As Drago slips ahead into the darkness of night, you all stare out into the shadows beyond, seeking the force that silently awaits you... like a creature, stalking its prey...
Despite the deep sense of dread, you see neither witnesses nor monsters, and as you quietly make your way back across town toward Lorrimor Place, you notice not a soul.
On your hurried journey back, you come to the realization that you don't even hear the subtle sounds of animals, the night is utterly silent
Reaching Lorrimor Place, you find the building intact and the front door locked. Knocking, you are greeted by your new acquaintance Nasrin at the door.
As you enter the room, Nasrin is sitting on the floor, embroidering scimitars in black and silver on a bright orange robe, her weapon ready at her side.
"Welcome back. Did you find anything? Here, I was almost killed by one of the Professor's books, a careless mistake on my side. Other than that, the night was uneventful."
Putting thread and needle away, she stretches and rises to her feet. "We'll likely need to get Kendra to a safe place. The local church might not be a fortress, but it's likely the best protection against evil this town has."
" Killed by a book? Must be a powerful tome. We feared there'd been an attack here, Daviana's wolf smelt blood on the air. There must be something else happening in the town, though we didn't notice anything on the way back. " Dragomir says hanging his hat up and putting his pack by the door.
" We found a tomb that had a secret door in the restlands, but it doesn't seem to be the right one... and we couldn't get the door open. "
Alana opens her mouth to defend herself, but then realizes Dragomir didn't call her by name for failing to pick the lock. She shuts it quickly and pushes her way inside. Despite feeling like mentioning the old mausoleum she had noticed that went unexplored, she remained silent on that as well. If none of the others felt like exploring that tomb later, she'd venture out when it was convenient and check it out herself.
She didn't really know what to think of the lady and her wolf, and her assertion that blood had been spilled somewhere. Nor did she know what sort of danger Nasrin encountered with the book. Was it the one she failed to open?
Lastly, she wondered if she should mention the fact that the night was unnaturally silent. She had noticed there was not the usual sounds of nocturnal wildlife as they returned to the estate, but stayed quiet herself to avoid unnecessary noise.
Now that they were back in relative safety, Alana wonders if mentioning that fact would make her seem more nervous than she was -- since she wasn't. She'd explored creepier and more ancient tombs and mausoleums, and some of the old decrepit mansions of Ardeal were far more ominous. She'd bravely spelunked far worse, and survived by her wits and her luck. So nothing here in quiet Canterwall would cause her to feel fear, she resolved.
She unloads her exploring gear and gets ready to warm herself up by the fading fire of the late evening. She sticks her hand in a pocket and it closes around the medallion that the professor had bequeathed her. She draws it out and steps away from the others quietly, and then softly incants the words to bring up her arcane sight. She studies it for magical auras.
"That is what irks me, actually. There was no magic coming from that tome. What was written was enough to knock me out, just the knowledge it contained. And I had a vision..." Nasrin shivers at the memory. "Darkness, darkness consuming everything. What the Professor was studying was even more dangerous than we thought."
At the mention of blood, she furrows her brow. "I heard nothing here after Kendra went to sleep. Does he smell blood here as well?" Speak of blood in front of vampireborns, tactful as ever, Nasrin.
Daviana has been standing at a window, staring pensively into the darkness since their return, aimlessly scratching Nico's head. It so silent. No birds, no bugs, none of the usual nighttume friends. They only go silent when more dangerous predators are around.
At Nasrin's question she gives a little start, almost like she forgot the rest of them were even in the room.
"It's a scent in the air. The rest of the night creatures sense it too. No birds, no bugs, they are all silent, hiding."
She will turn to face the rest of them. "We could probably track it to the source, but after the encou ter this morning with the townsfolf, I worry about their reactions. We get to leave after all this is over. Kendra has to live here. I do not want to bring her any further ill will from them."
-Posted with Wayfinder
After hanging her cloak up to dry and leaning her scythe in an empty corner, Ishara takes a seat at the sitting room table, her eyes going over the various tomes laid out as the conversation goes on around her. "You bring up a valid point, Daviana. I may have been a bit rash earlier, suggesting we sneak into the Restlands." And I clearly underestimated the Professor's ability. You were just full of surprises, weren't you, Old Man? Continuing on, she explains, "I may not care much of the opinion the townsfolk hold of me, but the same may not be able to be said of Kendra. ...Perhaps next time we should seek permission from the Church to explore their crypt," she suggests, sounding very nearly pained at the very thought.
Her piece spoken, Ishara turns her attention to the book that had drawn her attention earlier, Serving Your Hunger, and begins to thumb through it.
I'm glad you're safe, Nasrin. It pains me to wake Kendra up, but we should probably check on her sleep.
The alchemist crossed both arms behind his back. The whole conversation about dread, night and blood was something he was used to - and, yet, not comfortable, especially considering his upbringing.
"Honestly Ishara, I think it was probably more prudent to sneak out there tonight. The storm will hide our tracks. I don't think anyone will be the wiser. If we'd been seen, someone would have gone for the authorities. Asking around would have only arisen questions we don't have answers to, yet. Ustalavians are a very superstitious lot, mostly for good reasons to be, but they are nonetheless and will be hard to talk to, even to other natives. It's frustrating, to want to know everything immediately, but we will probably need to take time to find all our answers. Either because we need to take caution in to whom or how we are asking, or because we need to do somethings more covertly."
Daviana sighs. "We should also see what we can dig up on Harrowstone. The professor said he wasn't sure what the Whispering Way was after, maybe we can piece that together first. I must admit I've haven't traveled this far north much, so other than hearing the name maybe once or twice, I don't know anything about the place or it's history. And if we are discrete enough, we can inquire about that without too much unwanted attention. The place is likely to have rumors, which would be a good place to start. Kendra may even know something herself in the morning."
Daviana growls in frustration, when she realizes she had began pacing in front of the window. "Everything I think of is just more questions. Perhaps sleep for us all would be the best action, start fresh in the morning and all that." She stops moving and realizes something. "Does anyone know where our accommodations are?" Although Daviana is certain she won't be able to sleep anytime soon, her mind is churning too many questions.
"Yes, Arthorius, let's check on her, then go to sleep. Would it be paranoid to suggest keeping watch?"
She rises, listening to Daviana speaking. "I agree with Ishara in that we should try and get the support of the church. Those who follow Pharasma are staunch enemies of necromancers like those we are hunting. And they may have information about the Harrowstone. As for beds... Uhm. I am used to sleeping on a rug, I could lend you my bedroll. Or you may try an inn, but it's quite late."
As if on cue, the sound of a door opening upstairs can be heard. Rounding the top of the stairs is a sleepy-eyed Kendra, who leans down on the bannister and offers a soft smile. "I am glad to see you all back safe and sound. The hour is late, please, there are more than enough guest rooms upstairs to accommodate you all. Father often had visitors, and acquired this house specifically to be a refuge for researchers needing a quite place removed from the bustle of the city. They may lack the finery of a high class inn, but the beds are at least comfortable."
With a smile she returns to her room and closes the door.
Daviana smiles up at the now empty banister. Almost imperceptibly she whispers, "So much like her father." As Daviana remembers the professors uncanny knack for timely answers.
She retrieves her bag from near the door and speaking (normally) to Nicodemus, "Well you heard her. Upstairs, go find us a room." Watching as the wolf trots on upstairs.
She will then give a nod to those in the room, "Well, at the very least, that's one question answered. Let's us find rooms and settle, then we can work out any watch schedule or the like?"
Arthorius smiles, at the sight of Kendra, and thanks her - but then quickly goes back to his more "serious" persona.
I'm glad Kendra's safe. - he says after she closes the door - While the need for a watch schedule seems a little overzealous to me, I'll help if necessary. I just need to rest some hours to be able to recompose my extracts and brew a new mutagen. I'll take the last watch on the early morning - please feel free to knock my door.
With that said, the alchemist - visibly tired - moved up to find a room for the night. He'd brew the mutagen before sleeping.
" Maybe talking to the clergy would help... but remember Lorrimor suspected that the current clergy were unaware of the hidden cashe, so if we do seek their permission we might have some explaining to do. " Drago says, checking a few windows before taking off his muddy boots and sitting down in a chair.
" I'll take the first watch. "
Good to see that Kendra is unscathed.
"I'll take the last one, if it's alright with you. I usually pray at dawn."
Alana shakes her head when she fails to decipher the faint aura on the medallion. She drops it back in her pocket and decides to head upstairs to find a room. The talk of setting watches seemed overly paranoid in her mind, so she slips quietly upstairs lest one of them deliberately assign her a watch.
Picking a guest room at random, she uses her own light spell to illuminate it rather than fuss with candles or lamps. The events of the day catch up to her quickly, and within the cantrip's duration she had undressed, crawled into bed and was fast asleep.
Alana walked barefoot through the gravestones, the grass cool and wet on her feet. A low fog clung to the ground and made everything hazy, and the fat moon hung low in the sky bathing everything in a silvery glow and casting long, black shadows.
She didn't recognize the graveyard, though she had explored numerous cemeteries. She vaguely remembered being in one recently, and wondered if that was where she was. She looked at the headstones but couldn't make out any of the names through the fog and in the soft light.
The faint stirrings of nervousness crept in Alana, but she reminded herself that she always came prepared. She reached for her rapier on her hip, but found nothing. Glancing down at herself, she saw she was in a slip of a gown made of a diaphanous material and cut to emphasize her curves.
"This has to be a dream," she said aloud.
"Bravo! She gets it!" a smooth, masculine voice responded. Stepping from around a large tombstone, a tall, handsome devil appeared, clad in an elegantly tailored suit.
She recognized him immediately and the slight nervousness from before turned into a icy river of fear. "Go away. You can't have me," she said, taking several steps back.
The devil smiled as he approached her. "I am merely here to offer my condolences. Such a shame that the professor has passed, leaving you so soon, and without hope."
Alana said nothing, but still shuddered as she remembered the funeral and the gaping loss of hope that his passing meant. The devil circled her where she stood and stopped behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "It's been a few months now, so I wanted to see how you like it?"
Her flesh crawled where he touched her, and an intense feeling of revulsion passed through her as his unspoken implications struck her. Seething with disgust and hatred, she wrenched herself from his hands and took several steps back. "I like it fine. It's nothing I can't handle," she said defiantly through gritted teeth.
A brief flicker of anger passed across the devil's face, but then his fake smile reappeared. "That's so good to hear. This calls for a celebration, then." He waved a hand and a quartet of lesser fiends bearing musical instruments stepped out of the fog. They began playing a haunting melody. "Dance with me," he said.
"No thank you--" Alana began.
"It's not a request," the devil said and he was on her in an instant, holding her right hand with his left and with his right arm around her waist. "Remember, the man leads," he said through a humorless smile.
Alana tried, but the music took hold of her and she was suddenly dancing in step with the devil. He guided her among the tombstones, spinning her out and back and lowering her into dips as if they had practiced the elegant and refined ballroom dance for months. The music continued on and on and they danced and danced...
Alana wakes the next morning with a tune she cannot get out of her head.
The morning comes, bringing muted sunlight and the smell of a recently started fire stretching through the house. The intensity of emotions experienced the day before seems to have faded a bit, and as you rise you realize the previous night's were not a dream, but rather a vivid reality. Still, the beds were comfortable and you are rather well rested. Coming downstairs you find Kendra moving about the kitchen, heating a pot for coffee and snacking on some of the bread and cheese from the prior day's spread.
"Good morning, all. I want to thank you again for coming from distant points for Father's services. It would seem you will all be staying with me for the next month while I attend to affairs. I ask only that you find the truth of Father's passing, so that I may let him rest knowing the truth of it all. Now, who is hungry?"
As the first rays of daylight pierce the clouds, Nasrin kneels eastward, facing dawn. "Healing Flame, Mother of Mercy, Dawnflower. I welcome this day as your gift to us, and offer all of myself as my gift to you. Let what is hidden by darkness come to light, lend me the strength to defend those in need, lend me the wit to pierce mysteries. Let there be water in the heat and flame in the frost, let there be shade in burning sunshine and light in obscurity. So prays your faithful servant, for the good of mortals and for your imperishable glory."
---
"Good morning, Kendra." Nasrin chirps, entering the room. "Thank you for your food. Should you ever be under my roof there will always be shade and water for you."
She grabs a cup of coffee and takes a sip. Mother of Mercy! This is what passes as coffee in this part of the world? It's barely bitter water!
She suppresses a grimace before speaking again. "I suspect we'll be hunting for information today, could you tell us which are the best places in town to start?"
Alana skulks into the kitchen quietly and slips into her seat without a word. She accepts a cup of coffee with a small smile that rapidly fades away. She raises head when Kendra asks who's hungry, and nods at the chance to break her fast.
When Nasrin speaks, she clears her throat. "That's easy. If there's a town hall with some records stashed away somewhere, we go there. Or the Church of Pharasma. Any sort of sage, or library."
She grabs a chunk of cheese and pops in in her mouth. "There's also the blood from last night. We should check that out, too. Maybe the Lady's wolf can sniff it out," she says while chewing.
"Good morning," Ishara greets those present as she takes her seat at the table, warm though not particularly enthusiastic. She favors Kendra with a small smile and a sedate Yes, please at the mention of breakfast, but her face falls a little on seeing the breakfast spread. Where is the rest of it? Bread and cheese can't be all she means to feed us. I'll be dead before the month is over. As she thinks about whether she ought to take her meals at the inn or perhaps even offer to cook meals herself, Ishara helps herself to a healthy portion of the fare laid out as only a follower of Urgathoa can.
As the conversation turns toward their plans for the day, Ishara gives a derisive snort at Alana's suggestion of finding a library. "I think we would have encountered a different class of people in the Restlands yesterday if this town had a library." As if realizing that her comments about Petros' funeral might sound callous, the witch clears her throat before adding, "Meaning no offense, Kendra. What I mean to say is that I wouldn't be surprised if that-" she points to the sitting room "-was the closest this town had to a proper library."
Her criticism of the townsfolk out of her system for the time being, Ishara returns to her meal, only to mention some moments later, "Once everyone else has joined us, I think we ought to decide on whether or not to divulge our findings to Father Grimburrow and seek his permission to enter the crypt."
When Ishara points to the Professor's study and his collection of books, Alana offers a grin. "Why don't we start here, then?"
Well, as an avid reader, it would be an welcome task to explore our... House library. - says Arthorius, coming down the stairs and hearing the conversation between the four women.
His slow steps took him to a chair and, after greeting each one with a turn of his head, he comfortably sit.
Alana might have a point. What exactly do we expect to find on these books, though? As a Pharasman myself, I imagine we should try to bring our current findings already to Grimburrow.
Ishara answers Alana's grin with a smirk over her own, flashed over the rim of her coffee cup. "That was the point I was trying to make. After all, what better way to learn what the Professor knew than to look at what books he's been reading." As an afterthought, she turns to Kendra and adds, "That is, if you are amenable to that idea, Kendra. No one here would blame you if you would rather not have us strangers going through your father's effects."
"The books that the Professor gave us to deliver may also contain clues, but..." Nasrin shivers at the recollection "But I'm not too keen on repeating yesterday's experience."
"Anyway, I believe that we should pay a visit to Father Grimburrow at the Church, explain the situation to him. No god despises necromancers as much as Pharasma, he could be willing to entrust the contents of the crypt to us, provided we put them to good use. That is, of courses, provided he's not a xenophobic bigot like other villagers, but he didn't strike me as such yesterday."