1d20+10
D'witt is not entangled. The area does count as difficult terrain, and each turn ended inside the affected area, a new save is required.
Reflex: 1d20+8
Conner stands and fires two arrows at Father Caller.
Doom this!
LB Att: 1d20+11+2-2
LB Dam: 1d8+4+2LB Att 2: 1d20+11+2-2
LB Dam 2: 1d8+4+2
Conner is entangled, throwing off his aim as he fires a pair of arrows at the evil priest taunting the group. The man, moving to attempt to mount Jaroo's horse, sneers, Doomed indeed
[dice=Reflex save]1d20+6
[dice=Flurry shot 1]1d20+7
[dice=Damage]1d8+7
[dice=Flurry shot 2]1d20+7
[dice=Damage]1d8+7
Yep, entangled, but still a darn fine marksman, Carlson sinks two arrows into the neck and shoulder of the half orc struggling to rise to his feet. The beastman's eyes glaze over, his body still struggling as the life drains away, feebly raging against the grasses and his own demise.
I sincerely apologize Sir Gareth, I meant to include the remark for a Will Save, which may mitigate the damage from the negative energy bolt. I had it in my draft, but failed to copy it into the final post. I did previously when a similar bolt was cast at Angel, though the bolt missed. Please do so now.
Thanks. I'm not used to hero points either. Maybe Kalizar will advise which option is best.
Sorry for the delay in posting. I had some personal issues to deal with this morning and did not get the chance to post before work. We are under MOT at least for this week, so I am more stressed than I care to be with work etc. That is no excuse, but it is what it is.
Sir Gareth has two options here, he can take the +4 bonus to turn his roll into an 18 to apply to the save, or take the reroll option and take a second swing at it. A successful save reduces the damage from the negative energy by 1/2. I will let you decide which option better appeals to you.
If I get the chance, I will post the results of Sir Gareth's choice in the morning and the start of round 3 actions before work tomorrow.
Players can post their actions as they wish, and I will add them accordingly.
[dice=Will]1d20+8+2
Uses a hero point for +4 for 18 will save.
As a move action, Conner attempts to break free from the entanglement.
Strength:
He will then fire two more arrows at Father Caller.
LB Att:
LB Dam:
LB Att 2:
LB Dam 2:
As Conner fires the two shots, he again tries to avoid being entangled.
Reflex Save:
[dice=Will]1d20+8+2
Uses a hero point for +4 for 18 will save.
Calling upon Iomedae to aid her struggling servant, a burst of positive energy disrupts the Priest's spell, giving Sir Gareth's soul the strength to resist the negative energy. Half damage from the Dread Bolt.
As a move action, Conner attempts to break free from the entanglement.
Strength: 1d20+3
He will then fire two more arrows at Father Caller.
LB Att: 1d20+11+2-2
LB Dam: 1d8+4+2LB Att 2: 1d20+11+2-2
LB Dam 2: 1d8+4+2
As Conner fires the two shots, he again tries to avoid being entangled.
Reflex Save: 1d20+8
Conner would remain entangled, with both the Strength check and the Reflex Save. With a move action to break free, Conner would not have the second shot, as Rapid Shot requires a full round action. I assumed that knowing that, Conner would have taken the entangled penalty and fired at Father Caller. Is this correct?
Calling upon Iomedae to aid her struggling servant, a burst of positive energy disrupts the Priest's spell, giving Sir Gareth's soul the strength to resist the negative energy. Half damage from the Dread Bolt.
Sir Gareth steps back from the Light of the Sword. He hears the Inheritor tell him that he has more work to do.
Round 3 Actions
D'Witt ??? not entangled
Sir Gareth unconscious at negative HP
Carlson ??? entangled
Conner Fires 2 arrows into "Father" Caller, entangled
2nd Floor Halfling ??? depending upon party actions
"Father" Caller ??? depending upon party actions
Hand Crossbowman ??? Invisible
Angel unconscious at negative HP
Xavorin ??? not entangled
Shortbowman ??? Invisible
"Bowman" Jaroo ??? depending upon party actions
Round 2, -5 HP
Round 3, -6 HP
D'witt dodged the vines that tried to grab him. He takes a step out of their reach as he loads another explosive laced shot and brings it to bare on the creature wearing Jaroo's face.
Angel is stabile, but out atm..
Round 3 Actions Modified
D'Witt Shoots Jaroo in the throat, severing his jugular nearly taking his head from his shoulders. The body slumps forward, starting to fall from the saddle. The bomb blast fails to seem to effect "Father" Caller.
Sir Gareth unconscious at negative HP
Carlson Entangled, fires two arrows into the body of "Father" caller, breaking them against his armor. The man seems to shrug off the damage, taking hold of the horses reigns as Jaroo slips to the ground.
Conner Entangled, fires two more arrows into "Father" Caller, causing him to stumble momentarily.
2nd Floor Halfling moves over to the horse, two daggers in hand, ready for a throw, awaiting a nod from "Father" Caller, eyeing Carlson and Conner.
"Father" Caller vaults into the saddle vacated by Jaroo, somewhat slowly yet still gracefully, , raising his gloved hand, while dark energy coalesces in the air around him. Toss your weapons to the river or your wounded die. My allies wait to strike at my command.
Hand Crossbowman ??? Invisible
Angel unconscious at negative HP
Xavorin ??? not entangled
Shortbowman ??? Invisible
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"I will throw this aside and not follow you as you flee. I will prevent the elders from following you now to the best of my capabilities. I give you my word. Will you give me yours not to kill us here?" Carlson calls to the dread cleric before him. He holds out the bow and raises his hands, but does not throw it into the water yet.
D'witt levels his pistol at the 'Father'. "You've shown yourself more then willing to try to kill us armed, what would stop you once we're unarmed." He calmly reaches up as he speaks and pulls a vial from his bandolier. Popping the seal with his thumb the tielfing quickly swallows the contents. His tail snakes up and grabs the empty vial even as his hand releases it.
"Besides if either of your goons waste their time attacking someone already on the ground. I'll happily take the opportunity to do to them what I just did to their cohort." D'witt turns, drawing his double barrel pistol and pointing a pistol at each of the 'invisible' attacker.
"I'll back the monk and give my word not to follow, for now. So what say you all just back off and run along."
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Xavorin looks at "Father" Caller.
"I'll will do the same as the others if you and your companions do no harm to us"
Xavorin identifies negative energy is being drawn to the priest, which would suggest a potential divine ability, but can see no spellcasting he would identify.
Watching the group closely, "Father" Caller makes room in the saddle, and nods down to the Halfling. The smaller man circles round the horse, pausing only a moment to scoop up Jaroo's belt pouch, then uses the body to climb onto the horse, behind the priest. Stand your ground and we shall part our ways. Move, and this ends poorly for you all.
Unless the group makes any gestures or movements, the men and mount slowly move into the street, skirting the entangled area, then look back to your group. The priest starts to call something, but a figure bursting from the burning mill causes his eyes to flare in anger. He turns the horse and gallops into the night, swallowed up by the darkness.
The figure from the mill, a pale skinned, rail thin woman with long black hair, streaked with red, cat-like eyes, and thin ruby lips framing bright white teeth with small sharp fangs smiles weakly at the group. With her, holding her up, is a tanned northerner with sandy blonde hair, wide piercing blue eyes, and a broad face over a rugged jaw. Both are burnt and blackened from the fire, their gear scorched and singed. They bears visible wounds, both having been beaten and battered severely in addition to their burns, him including a vicious gash across the torso. She smiles weakly at the group, My hero... before passing out. The man lowers her gently to the ground, amongst the other fallen figures. He has only a hand ax at his belt, barely standing himself, but looks defiantly at the group. Harm her and you answer to me, I am Grune of the... of the Axe and she is under my protection. He collapses before he can say anything more.
Conner carefully works his way through the entanglement, attempting to carry both Angel and Sir Gareth away from its effects.
We need to get healing for our comrades first, but we also need some support from the locals to find out who or what these two are and what to do with them. I think that two of us should go for help whaile the others remain here with the two survivors.
Can anyone use the wand of healing that Angel has in her possession?
Once Sir Gareth and Angel have been removed from the entangle, D'witt takes it upon himself to administer a charge from the wand each on Angel and Sir Gareth , bringing them to consciousness. The group then focuses upon the two new strangers.
Unfortunately the time taken has had it's toll. The one who called himself Grune is dead, bled out from his injuries. Of Ulfen heritage, he wears a melted and twisted iron ring on his arm, which seems strange as the fire was not hot enough to have caused that damage, his chainmail armor and heavy steel shield and intact, if somewhat smudged and well-sooted.
The woman, upon closer inspection, is a tiefling, somewhat comely save for the beating she has taken. Her lip is split, her jaw broken, her pale skin marred by a large strange purple bruise indented oddly, an impression left from whatever metallic object struck her. She is dressed in close cut robes over a dress that leaves little to imagination over knee high black leather boots, fashionable but more suited to the open road. An Asmodean pentagram hangs from her neck.
Neither body has a pack, but each has a small coin purse visible. A more detailed search of either has not been accomplished.
Xavorin and Carlson have barely left the group to seek aid when they encounter Sir Romidar coming with Brother Calmer and a handful of troopers. They rush back to the mill as the clouds overhead storm up, a rain coming down to quench the flames still licking at the ruins of the mill.
Groggily, Sir Gareth blinks conscious and asks "What happened?" After the group gets him up to speed, he sheaths his greatsword and stands around in a haze trying to make sense of everything.
He waves to Sir Romidar as he arrives, "Good to see you again."
D'witt waited until Conner had pulled the others out of the vines before holstering his weapons. He helps lay them down and digs the wand out of Angel's belongings. He uses it on both allies before turning his attention.
Wand still in hand D'witt went to the two strangers. The man was beyond help but the women still seemed to live. He was certain that Angel would forgive another use of the wand and tries to heal the lady tiefling.
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As soon as Sir Romidar arrives and is greeted by Sir Gareth Carlson chimes in. "Sir Romidar. I was temporarily paroled from the tower in the face of this immediate threat and I need to return to Miss Amelia now that the abomination is slain and the others have fled. " Carlson has left Amelia's bow and arrows with Sir Gareth and is currently unarmed and somewhat beaten from the combats.
Well we got a good look at what we are up against.
Conner goes on to describe Father Caller and his henchmen.
They should not be too hard to track. Should we head after them?
After being revived Angel stands and will use the wand a few more times..
"By the light how did we survive that.. I thought surely we were done for.."
"Thank you Angel. I could use one more zap. Let's hear what Sir Romidar has to say before we head off against them again. Maybe we should discover who the practitioner of Asmodeus has to say, too."
Sir Romidar and Calmer look much the worse for wear than the last time you saw them. Both are haggard and weary, their eyes dark, reflecting the flickering flames of the troopers' torches and the smoldering mill, as equally drenched as you all are in the pouring rains. You notice both have a slimy grey ash slowly washing away from their boots and leggings. Romidar's tabard is cut in places, and stained with reds and greens. His blade is drawn, smeared with a thick black ichor that drips from the tip.
The priest Calmer nods to you, pulling up his frayed and dirty sleeves, then begins looking over the bodies strewn about the ground. The entanle spell withdraws as faux Jaroo's magics fade with his demise. The Iomedaen priest makes a brief gesture over each corpse before moving to the next, troopers standing watch in a loose perimeter.
Sir Romidar nods to Sir Gareth and you all, wiping the blade somewhat clean before sheathing, then speaks, loud enough to be heard over the rain, little likely to carry to the surrounding homes, windows and doorways light with lights or lanterns, but none daring approach the turmoil or its aftermath. It seems your night was as eventful as our own. Kalizar sent the rain to quench the fire, while Terjen went to inspect the Grove. We were waylaid trying to return to Hommlet. Something severed Kalizar's portal link and we had to travel the shadowlands to get home. Whatever did all of this attracted unwanted attentions to my once peaceful posting. We should clear this quickly, then settle together to discuss what you have found.
Turning to Carlson, If you are in Sir Romidar's custody, that is fine to me. If you feel you must return to Miss Amelia, then I grant you leave. Return to her and await my word after. Noticing the bow Sir Gareth holds, Might you not need to return something borrowed?
Seeing the tiefling by D'witt, A prisoner perhaps, that may be fortunate indeed. Shall I have my men take her to the tower as well?
"Yes, with your leave, I will escort Carlson and the Asmodean to the tower. Perhaps, you can put in a good word with the Gundingoot's. They have taken offense at my behavior and cast out all of my companions from their inn by their association to me. I believe they deserve accommodations of heroes. We all could use some sleep and healing. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow after both, share stories, and resolve the unfortunate issue with Mr. Haddix." Sir Gareth offers.
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Carlson inclines his head in respect to Romidar and turns to Gareth. "Sir Gareth thank you.. I would love to assist further and have a long conversation once things have been... Resolved somewhat. Let us go, I owe miss Amelia an explanation."
Carlson turns and makes his way back to the tower after thanking the others and mentioning that he hopes to see them again soon.
With an exhausted look on her face Angel approaches after getting her bearings.. "It seems we were all in the fight of our lives tonight.. Good to see you made it Sir Romidar.. I apologize for the mill burning for it was my doing.. At the time it seemed our only option, perhaps it wasn't.. Sorry for my hasty decision.. I will do what's necessary to compensate.." She sighs.. "I need to get this plate off and lay down.."
She'll use her 3 remaining LoH to heal herself and Sir Gareth..
I will be accompanying you, Sir Gareth, back to the Tower in hopes that we can find accommodations as a group now that we are no longer wanted at the Inn.
Conner gathers his mount, Smoke, and makes his way back with Sir Gareth after a weary day.
Sir Romidar gathers the group together as the troopers begin loading bodies onto two wagons borrowed from the teamsters. Two troopers form a litter for the tiefling, who appears to have succumbed to exhaustion and smoke inhalation. She drifts in and out of slumber. The mill fire is nearly out, the ground floor stone walls acting as a furnace, radiating heat from the collapsed timbers smoking in the falling rain. It will be morning before anyone can enter the ruins to search for other victims or items of interest.
Waving your group onward, walking alongside you, Sir Romidar speaks.I have heard something of the events that have taken place tonight, and wish to thank you for your part in preventing a much worse tragedy. Things transpire quickly in battle, and it is little better that we can act rather than react. Words and deeds in conflict may be better understood by the light of the following day.
Turning to Angel, Recrimination and doubt are detrimental to any successful endeavor, so we must all do our best to put the worst behind us and move forward. The mill is gone, but it has been rebuilt before, we will do so again. I'm sure that we can find blame enough to go around, should we desire to waste the effort upon it.
Crossing the bridge, as Calmer and the troopers turn to take the wagons up the hill to the Church, he gestures to D'witt, a slight smirk forming, I, and other interested parties, have asked the Gundigoots, to which they have reluctantly agreed for the time being, to allow you and your companions continued rooms at the Inn. Making a mental connection he glances off to the wagons, It seems several guests checked out earlier this afternoon, rather unexpectedly, so the Inn's rather vacant at the moment. The Gundigoots are good folk, trusting and very protective of their own, even those they have taken in as their own. Give their pain and grief the time it needs, and all should be the better for it.
Continuing on, nodding to the Justicar, Sir Gareth should take his prisoners back to the Tower. The remaining Elder Council and your companions will meet you there tomorrow to discuss all that has happened, and meld our respective stories into a narrative that may make these events more clear and understandable.
Pausing in the rain, the proverbial split in the road before you, Troopers will keep watch at the mill, and here at the Inn, to dissuade any further attacks, though that seems unlikely. Hommlet has suffered heavily today. Eight of her own are gone, another missing, her mill and Grove destroyed. As yet we can only imagine what further damage this cult has wrought upon our homes and kin. Grimly smiling and giving nod to each of you, Your actions have sent them running, but they survive, and it is unlikely they will stay gone for long. Get some rest, we will all be better served to be clear headed on the morrow. With that he leaves you, heading to the Grove and his companions.
Your group stands before the Inn, her lights more welcoming than they seemed earlier. The door opens and Sharla stands silhouetted in the streaming light, waving some of you out of the rain.
It is a bit longer of a journey to the Tower, where Sir Gareth, Carlson, and their prisoner, born between two troopers, find their rest for the night. Miss Amelia is in the foyer, taking the weapons from Carlson and showing the group to the basement cells. Sir Romidar is lead to his room, while the troopers stand watch in the cells, dozing at the desk while the prisoners take to their beds.
Between the bridge and the inn, Sir Gareth uses his magic brooch again to heal himself thrice. His tabard and armor are mysteriously clean of soot and signs of battle.
When he finally arrives alone in his new room, he removes his armor and spends fifteen minutes in prayer to the Light of the Sword before passing out on the floor.
____________________________________
After Conner escorts Sir Gareth back to the Tower, he goes looking for the head of the Caravan to inform him that he will remain here to provide his services to the Justicar and the village. He then retires to the Inn and his rooms to a good night's sleep.
After handing Angel back her wand D'witt stood watch as the guards arrived.
Gesturing to the two strangers he addresses Sir Romidar. "Take care with these two. Their injuries aren't from us, well most of them. They may well be victims just as much as the rest of us." He moves off to help the troopers pick up the other bodies.
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D'witt walks along listening as Sir Romidar catches them up on what had happened in their absence.
"The man with the tiefling woman called himself Grune of the Axe. Does that ring any bells?" He asks as he turns the name over in his own mind.
He catches Sir Romidar's look as they cross the bridge and returns the smirk. "Well then, we'll have to make sure they don't regret that decision."
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D'witt gives Sir Romidar a respectful, semi-salute as he leaves before turning his attention to the open door and Sharla waving them inside. He smiles at the maid as he walks up to the doors. "Looks like I'll be able to cook for you after all. But I should probably wash up first. Don't suppose I can get a bath drawn up?"
Sharla gives Angel the key to her room, the same she had previously. No one else is present in the common room, looking much as it did the previous night upon her first arrival, with the exception of a heavily scrubbed section of the floor near the fireplace, the spot where Meridosen ended her life. The paladin makes her way up to her room, finding inside the wash basin has already been filled with warm water, and fresh linens laid nearby. A small tray of cold meats, bread, and a few fresh vegetables sits beside a tall pint of chilled wine on the end table.
Morning comes later than expected, the heavy drapes shielding your sleeping eyes from the days dawning light. It is the smell of fresh bread, a sampling of breakfast meats, and simmering oats that arouses you. Someone has entered the room, removed the past evenings fare, and replaced it with something fresh to break your fast. A note on the tray indicates you are expected at the Magister's Tower promptly at noon, roughly two hours from now, if you judge the outside light correctly. The view from the window is slightly different than the day before, with the mill now replaced with a blackened shell and the once great poplar of the grove now somewhat stooped, ash over in gray, and nearly twenty feet from its previous position. Sounds indicate life has resumed, but they seem less vibrant than the day before. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it had seemed before.
Sharla gives Xavorin the key to his room, the same he had previously. No one else is present in the common room, looking much as it did the previous night upon his arrival, except for the heavily scrubbed section of the floor near the fireplace, the place Meridosen ended her life. The sorcerer makes his way up to his room, finding inside the wash basin has been filled with warm water, and fresh linens are laid nearby. A small tray of cold meats, bread, and a few fresh vegetables sits beside a tall pint of chilled wine on the bedstand.
Morning comes later than expected, the heavy drapes shielding your sleeping eyes from the days dawning light. It is the smell of fresh bread, a sampling of breakfast meats, and simmering oats that arouses you. Someone has entered the room, removed the past evenings fare, and replaced it with something fresh to break your fast. A note on the tray indicates you are expected at the Magister's Tower promptly at noon, roughly two hours from now, if you judge the outside light correctly. The view from the window is slightly different than the day before, with the mill now replaced with a blackened shell and the once great poplar of the grove now somewhat stooped, ashy and gray, and nearly twenty feet from its previous position. Glancing down at the smithy, you notice a large figure working the forge today, easily towering over the large half-orc you met the day before. Sounds of the village indicate life has resumed, but they seem less vibrant, muted from the day before. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it once seemed.
Knowledge Geography or Local may tell something about Grune of the Axe, or of Ulfen customs and naming practices, should you wish to make either of such checks.
I also have a question, do you openly wear any emblem showing your membership with the Pathfinder Society?
Sharla seems to perk up, as D'witt steps into the light of the Inn, giving him the key to his room, her hand lingering a moment, giving his a healthy squeeze. He is to have a private room, one vacated earlier in the day. I would be happy to take that meal with you some time. But for now I must decline. I cannot have a bath drawn this late, but I can bring you more warm water, should you need it. I will bring it shortly. No one else is present in the common room, looking much as it did the previous night, save the heavily scrubbed floor near the fireplace, where Meridosen killed herself. The gunslinger makes his way up to his room, whistling a soft tune, his tail swishy absentmindedly behind him. He finds inside the room a wash basin has already been filled with warm water, with fresh linens laid nearby. A small tray of cold meats, bread, and a few fresh vegetables sits beside a tall bottle of chilled wine, with two glasses, on the end table.
Morning comes later than expected, the heavy drapes shielding your sleeping eyes from the days dawning light. It is the smell of fresh bread, a sampling of breakfast meats, and simmering oats that arouses you, alone in the bed. Someone has been about the room, your gear straightened, your clothes neatly folded, and someone has removed the past evenings fare and wares, replacing it with something fresh to break your fast, replete with a small vase and a few fragrant flowers, lilacs. A note on the tray indicates you are expected at the Magister's Tower promptly at noon, roughly two hours from now, if you judge the outside light correctly. It further indicates the kitchen will be available after seven, should you need to use it for a personal meal. The view from the inn's window brings back the events of the day before, the mill now replaced with a blackened shell and the once great poplar of the grove now somewhat stooped, ashed in gray, and nearly twenty feet from its previous position. Sounds indicate life has resumed, but they seem less vibrant than the day before. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it had seemed before.
Conner finds, to no surprise, that Shylocke is currently awake when he arrives at the caravan stop near the Inn. The master thanks Conner for having seen the group safely this far, and from what he and his have witnessed in the past day, Hommlet will need the man more than the caravan will. Shylocke has been asked by the village leaders to remain in town for a few days, receiving promise of fair compensation for the delay, until certain matters can be worked out. What those may be, they have not said, but I and the men will make ourselves useful as best we can until ready to depart.
When arriving at the Inn, the others have already drifted off to their rooms. Ilsa comes at the ringing of the bell, giving Conner the key to a private room, one formerly occupied by most likely one of the dead at the mill. No one else is present in the common room, looking much as it did the previous night, with the exception of a heavily scrubbed section of the floor near the fireplace, the point where Meridosen took her life. The ranger makes his way up to his room, finding inside the wash basin filled with slightly warm water, fresh linens nearby. A small tray of cold meats, bread, and a few fresh vegetables sits beside a tall pint of air cool wine on the night stand.
Morning comes later than expected, the heavy drapes shielding your sleeping eyes from the days dawning light. It is the smell of fresh bread, a sampling of breakfast meats, and simmering oats that arouses you. Someone has entered the room, removed the past evenings fare, and replaced it with something fresh to break your fast. A note on the tray indicates you are expected at the Magister's Tower promptly at noon, roughly two hours from now, if you judge the outside light correctly. It further indicates you are asked to bring the remains of the toad, should you still have them. The view from the window shows the mill a blackened shell and the once great poplar of the grove now somewhat stooped, ash gray in pallor, and nearly twenty feet from its previous position. Sounds indicate life has resumed, but they seem less vibrant than the day before. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it had seemed before.
Amelia meets the arriving guests in the foyer of the Tower, leading them quietly down to the lower level, so that the prisoners can be properly interred for the evening. She takes a moment to speak with Carlson, evidencing that she does not wish to say much with others around.
The guards dump the tiefling in the adjoining cell, none to gently, her race and nature obviously making them uncomfortable. She seems to awaken momentarily, glancing about the room then focusing on Carlson. Are you Conner? I want to speak with you before she fades back into unconsciousness.
Amelia then leads Sir Gareth back up the stairs to his rooms, wishing him good evening, and indicating the room has been prepared for him.
The room is more than Sir Gareth expected, a large four poster bed lain heavy with quilting and blankets, a standing wardrobe, a bathing stand replete with warm and cold ewers, two basins, clean linens, and a seperate chamber pot stand. A mantle adorned with a clock and brik a brak tops a marble fireplace that makes the room comfortable and cozy, though the scent reminds Sir Gareth too much of the nights events. The desk has been set with a small meal of roast chicken and broiled vegetables, a pitcher of water and a glass of elven wine.
Morning comes later than expected, the heavy drapes of the room shielding your sleeping eyes from the days dawning light. It is the smell of fresh bread and simmering fruit porridge that arouses you. Someone has entered the room, removed the past evenings fare, and replaced it with something fresh to break your fast. A note on the tray indicates you are expected in the Tower Hall promptly at noon, roughly two hours from now, according to the timeclock quietly ticking on the mantle over the fireplace. The view from the window looks out over the open fields, with the fort just to the left and at the extreme right, the beginnings of the forest grove. The great poplar is no longer viewable from this angle, though memory recalls its now somewhat stooped, ashy gray appearance. Sounds indicate life has resumed at the fort, but they seem more foreceful, more urgent than the day before. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it had seemed before.
Amelia meets the arriving guests in the foyer of the Tower, leading them quietly down to the lower level, so that the prisoners can be properly interred for the evening. She takes a moment to speak with Carlson, evidencing that she does not wish to say much with others around. I am glad you returned. You kept your word. We will speak more tomorrow.
The cell is much as Carlson remembers it, except his cleaning items have been returned, and a stone stand near the cot holds a small meal of roast chicken and broiled vegetables, with a clay mug of water.
The guards dump the tiefling in the adjoining cell, none to gently, her race and nature obviously making them uncomfortable. She seems to awaken momentarily, glancing about the room then focusing on Carlson. Are you Conner? I want to speak with you. before she fades back into unconsciousness.
Morning comes early for Carlson, as Amelia arrives to remove him from his cell. The prisoner still has duties, until he is officially released. She takes you up to the kitchen, where you share a meal of fruited porridge and a small cup of a strange brown milk, sweet to the taste. Amelia indicates the pair of you have been tasked with preparing a small meal to be served with the meeting to be held today in the Tower Hall. The senior members of the Elder Council, the remaining village clergy, your companions from the night before, and as well Kalizar and Romidar will be present. At that meeting, Carlson should be granted his freedom, but for now you are mine to do with as I wish, so, to the dishes, then we plan the meal.
Though she tries to hide it, Amelia is shaken from recent events. She let's slip sixteen villagers are gone with all that has happened in the past few days. Hommlet is no longer the peaceful, innocent village it had seemed before.