Shel sits in silence, hoping that Edrick was able to mollify the Sheriff. At least I don't have any magicks to insult anyone around this place
To all You just keep that animal on a leash, or we'll put one on ourselves.
To Gilda Lass, the structure stands two stories in some places, others have burnt. The fire caused part of the dungeon and main building to collapse. Ain't nobody crossing that fence. Bad things happen there. I ain't one to fret about superstition- but that place is bad.
You'll find the church next to the restlands- the graveyard. It's south of town.
The Sheriff and his men return to duty more somber than sober.
The sun has set, and the mists have rolled in.
Garin, for his part, seems to be at least pleased that his shirt is clean. "Well, that's over with."
He stands, not having ordered anything earlier claiming dislike for cheap brews. "I'm going to check on my horse, tell me if you're heading anywhere."
With that, the cavalier goes outside.
"Should we visit the church, or wait until the morning?" Jakira asks softly, finishing her drink before she stands. She looks around the tavern with a frown. If they didn't like his little spell, they'll really hate me, if they find out. Best to keep that to myself.
"I say we need to head to the graveyard, and find what the Professor was referencing in his journal. He was very clever. If he thought he needed them, I think we do too."
Edrik scratches shrugs, and looks at Jakira "Well, it's fairly late in the day, but we have a few hours of daylight yet. I say we go by the church."
Jakira looks curiously at Edrik, and then shrugs her shoulders. Perhaps daylight has a different meaning in this savage northern land.
"The sheriff did say that the church was by the cemetery, didn't he? We could visit it on the way."
Vachordi takes a deep breath and follows Edrik and Jakira
You reach the door of the church. After a few knocks, one of the acolytes opens the door, and ushers you in. Father Grimburrow, who previously buried your friend, greets you moments later, and invites you to sit among the pews. What can I do for you folks? You've had no more trouble from Mr. Hephnus I hope?
"Mr. Hephnus? Would that be the gentleman who interrupted the processior earlier?" Garin asks, sarcasm quite evident in his tone.
"Surely, visiting a church is a pious act?"
"How do you know Mr. Hephnus, Father?"
Please tell me that that drunk yokel doesn't have anything to do with the church!
Thank you for the welcome sir. We seek information...and as I seek Wisdom
To Gilda: All are welcome to come bask and contemplate their journey to the afterlife her in Pharasma's temple, save for those who attempt to divert the course of souls away from their destiny.
The priest turns to Shel: Gibs is a foulmouthed drunk, but relatively harmless. He's led a long and painful life- as a soldier. Now he's a lonely old curmudgeon who lives south of town. I was rather surprised to see him at the front of a mob, and am glad you were able to mollify him. I'd let him simmer down before attempting to mend any fences. Like all of my small flock, he is deserving of patience.
To Vachordi: Wisdom? Have you coin? I may have a bottle or two to sell.
"You should take him up on his offer," Garin says to Vachordi, amused. "I doubt you'll find a better price."
Yes.
Vachordi flips him a gold piece.
With good humored shrug, Edrik muses and addresses the Priest "I've always thought that stuff was called liquid courage Father, not liquid wisdom."
Growing a little more serious, Edrik answers the Priest, showing proper deference to one of his order "Aye, we've had no further problems with Mr. Hephnus. I'll be sure to afford a fellow soldier his due, as you say."
Somewhat contemplative, Edrik starts with a different subject "Actually Father, we've come to inquire about the Professor. Did he have any business with the church in the weeks preceding his accident?"
To the bard, he hands a small clay flask of holy water in exchange for the gold. It's not wisdom. Wisdom isn't something tangible that you can buy. It's not something that comes to you- you find it. One does not gain wisdom by aging. One gains it by living.
I believe your professor, sometime within the month before he died, stopped by and used our library. He was asking of Harrowstone and the fire, so it was not a shock to find that he had perished there. I'm afraid we don't just let anyone browse through our records- names and histories are valuable, and dangerous in the wrong hands.
The minister waits patiently for a response.
Garin is entertained by the exchange between the priest and Vachordi. Nonetheless, he soon turns somewhat serious though he never fully loses his grin. "I don't suppose any of us would be able to browse those records?"
"Perhaps we could convince you to allow us a quick look in the library," the halfling nods, pulling out her change purse.
Not to be a nuisance, but I would very much like to visit your chapel, then perhaps have a chat with the person most knowledgeable about your records.
Vachordi frowns at his foolishness, then thanks the priest enthusiastically.
We would appreciate it. We will return it all to the conndition we found it of course.
Diplo
The old priest inhales ready to launch into one of his customary speeches about the needs of the many outweighing the needs whatever the heck you want right now, but hears the soft clink of a coin purse. He begrudgingly changes his mind. The professor was a great patron of our church, although he less than infrequently attended services. Something about your earnestness tells me that you folks are trying to do some good here. Pharasma wills it; I will allow you to spend an hour in the records room.
The cleric takes a coin for each of you, and sends you with an acolyte to a circular set of stairs in the rear of the church. The air becomes chilly and more dank as you descend to the level of the crypts. Off of the first tunnel, the young man opens a heavy door with a key, and hands you a lantern.
Within you find the chamber lined with alcoves carved into the stone foundation. Starting nearest to the door, and arching around to the midpoint of the back wall are stacks of leatherbound ledgers filling the space of each alcove. Above each, a brass plaque reads a date range.
Pulling the first book, you find it is filled with a series of names organized by the day they died. Scattered throughout are townsfolk, who's entries list their family, their birth, and their profession before the cause of death and their burial date. However, the ledgers are predominatly prisoners: rather than birth and profession, it lists the day they were brought to Ravengro and their crimes. A vast majority end with variations of "death by execution: axe" or "hung."
The acolyte will not allow you to take any records from the room.
Rolling knowledge local checks will be modified by what your player states they ware looking for. The library will allow you to take the roll untrained.
Gilda looks around the library, looking for signs of dust being recently disturbed, books out of place, foot prints and the like.
"I have no idea what we're looking for," Garin says, but skims over the records anyway, wondering if there are any Hephnuses in them.
"Now remember everyone, the journal said the Professor was looking for a list of those who died during the night of the fire. I think that is where we need to focus our efforts."
Vachordi helps Shel search.
Two volumes stand out- from 4661, they were placed back in the wrong order and have much less dust than the other volumes in the year. In fact, it appears that from this point on, whole volumes took years to complete. After the fire, no more new prisoners were brought to Ravengro, so the only records from that point on were of regular townsfolk. The last shelf contains less than three full ledgers collected since the fire at the prison, while the decade before consumed a shelf and a half by itself. It seems that the prison did brisk trade, bringing in the most notorious criminals from distant lands.
The second volume out of order was recorded after the fire. As you flip through the pages, you see a dozen names with telltale red check marks next to them, left by a familiar hand (the professor's).
The book lists 23 guards, Warden Hawkran and his wife Vesorianna, and the full log of prisoners who died. Among the prisoners many entries that were listed "sentenced to death" have the proclamation crossed out and replaced with "perished in prison fire." Notable prisoners include: Collegen McGillickuty, Chentle Ipswitch, Ispin Onyxcudgel, Vance Saetressle, Sefick Corvin, Hean Feramin, Bael Mckgardem, and an unknown with the monicker 'the Piper of Illmarsh.'
Knowledge Local
Shel had heard some scuttlebutt about Ravengro over the years, trying to recall if anything might be of use.
Perhaps the library will yield more info on these people.
Trying hard not to look like a fish out of water, Edrik stands vigil by his companions as they do the heavy lifting with respect to research. Somewhat red faced, Edrik scratches his head "Aye, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit, but uh, books were never my thing."
Looking to Shel and Vachordi for answers, Edrik somewhat helplessly asks "So, anything of interest of value to us?" Edriks companions get the feeling that he'd rather be anywhere else than the Library.
"Huh, that's an interesting name," Garin says, looking at the one named Collegen McGillickuty. He tries to look for any other references to him, boredly flipping through the pages, the whole experience reminding him far too much of some of his academy days.
Two names stand out
Ispin Onyxcudgel:
Only 5 years before his hometown of Mosswater was
destined to be overrun and ruined by monsters from the
nearby river, Ispin Onyxcudgel was a well-liked artisan
and a doting husband. When he discovered his wife’s
infidelity, he f lew into a jealous rage and struck her dead
with his hammer, shattering her skull and his sanity with
one murderous blow. Wracked with shame and guilt, Ispin
became convinced that if he could rebuild his wife’s skull
she would come back to life—but unfortunately, he could
not find the last blade-shaped fragment from the murder
site. So instead, Ispin became the Mosswater Marauder.
Over the course of several weeks, the cunning dwarf
stalked and murdered nearly 20 people while searching for
just the right skull fragment. He was captured just before
murdering the daughter of a visiting nobleman from Varno,
and was carted off to Harrowstone that same night.
and 'the Piper of Illmarsh.'
Before he snatched his victims, the Piper taunted his
targets with a mournful dirge on his f lute. He preferred
to paralyze lone victims by dosing their meals with lich
dust and then allowed his pet stirges to drink the victims
dry of blood.
The other names may or may not be notorious, you can't recall any information about them.
A lesson in insanity and another in evil...
"Strange and terrible as the tales are, I wonder what they mean," Jakira says, thoughtfully. "If they are dead...."
"Anyone have any scrolls or paper? We should probably jot down a bit about these two, as they interested the Professor, I bet."
Your escort takes back his light after sealing the room, and brings you to the church's entryway. He tells you that you're welcome to return whenever you're in need.
While you were below ground, the sun has set. The carriage's horses paw at the ground, nervous as the mists have closed in around you. Briefly a quarter moon penetrates the thick layer of clouds above, before plunging the night back into darkness.
Gilda is inside the carriage.
perc
ini
Garin approaches his horse, letting it nicker at him softly. He strokes its flank before mounting it.
Shel will be inside the carriage, I think.
Perception
Initiative
Random