The old priest clears his throat and wrinkles his nose. "Well... that certainly wasn't what I was expecting to hear."
"Still, it's good of you to have come to me." Father Grimburrow starts walking in front of the altar. "My acolytes have much in the way of holy water to combat the undead." He steeples his fingers together. "However, our records are off-limits to those not of the faith..."
"I'm afraid I am not of your faith Father. I worship Nethys myself, and am a Librarian by training. Your records will certainly be safe with me. However, I do understand your reluctance. Can you and your acolytes help us with the research? I'd be happy to train them in proper research techniques in exchange for the information."
"Hmm..." Father Grimburrow considers Imperia's offer for a moment before wrinkling his nose. "...as tempting as your offer is, I'm not entirely convinced. Our archives are kept immaculately organized already."
"That, and there's the matter of the locals." The old priests sighs in resignation. "The folk of Ravengro are slow to trust--not entirely surprising, considering Ustalav is fraught with dangers that can take even the most innocent of forms--and the arrival of out-of-towners has put them on a bit of an edge as of late. They are simple folk, and, by their nature, distrusting of the unknown."
"If they learned that I had granted you permission to peruse the archives when I have denied them, well... let me just say that they would not take kindly to outsiders being given preferential treatment."
"Fine," says Khardan, growing impatient. "When the ghosts escape Harrowstone because we couldn't stop them, perhaps you'll be able to save the mistrustful people of Ravengro with your immaculately-kept archives. In the meantime, we came for holy water. We've got some ghosts to quell. Got any?"
Bramwell sneers. "Hmmph! It is all records and books in this town." The dhampir turns his head towards the priest and stares at him intently. "I would not insist to read your holy tomes, Father; I am perfectly happy to hear whatever you can teach us about the dead and undead, mouth to ear, in the way of the ancients. In fact, I prefer it. What piece of wisdom have you got for us, who depart to slay the spirits of the departed?"
Jayla had listened to the exchanges between her companions and the priest and then quietly added when a lull presented itself, "We have earned the confidence of Councillor Faravan to peruse the archives at the Town Hall and have also been granted leave to return again if we have a need to. This sanction should demonstrate that some level of trust has been afforded us thus far and we have not been in town long. Is there anything you can show us in your archives? Or tell us directly which can help us with this trouble? Perhaps we can work with one of your acolytes - they can handle the archives and we provide them with the questions we seek answers for? I believe this would give no dishonour to the Lady Pharasma or the township and aid us in helping the town and its people."
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"Hmm?" Father Grimburrow arches an eyebrow at Jayla when she explains Councillor Faravan's trust in them. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"
"If she believes you to be trustworthy, then I see no harm in allowing you to peruse them, I suppose." He then turns to Bramwell & Khardan. "As to holy water, my acolyte Thalia handles the day-to-day functions of our stores--you can find her in the office over yonder." He points to an oaken door with a frosted glass window set in it, an image of Pharasma's holy symbol painted into the wood.
"Now, as to the removal of ghosts..." The old priest clears his throat and coughs into his sleeve. "...more often than not, a ghost with unfinished business will depart for Pharasma's court once their emotional ties to the physical world are resolved. However, some of the more malevolent forms of incorporeal undead are not so easily placated. Holy water will do wonders to drive them out, as will applications of positive energy from channeled divine power and the like."
"Failing that, enchanted weaponry would be your best bet against them."
Jayla listened to Father Grimburrow and nodded her head at his advice against incorporeal undead.
"I thank you for sharing the information with us, Father Grimburrow. And for permitting us access to your archives." The petite Changeling Witch inclined her head in respect for the priest and his helpfulness.
Looking to her companions, she asked quietly, "Do you have any other questions for the good Father or shall we see to the business of the holy water and archives?"
Khardan shrugs. "We're burning daylight. Let's get the holy water and get back to Harrowstone."
When they step away from Father Grimburrow, Khardan sighs. He views diplomacy as a necessary evil, preferring problems he can punch in the gut.
"I've got sixty-nine gold to put towards holy water. What've you three got?"
"I have 32 gold. I also have a way to enhance a weapon for a minute at a time. It's limited use though." she whispers to Khardan.
Imperia bows in goodbye to the priest, "Thank you for your time, and allowing us to review your archives."
The old priest bows in return. "You are most welcome."
"Acolyte Morne!" He turns to the young man in purple robes that led the party inside. "Would you kindly escort this young lady to our archives?"
The pale-faced lad meekly nods and turns to Imperia. "Please follow me, ma'am."
To Khardan's question, she answered discreetly with some embarrassment at her lack of coin, "I only have five gold pieces."
Disappointed that Father Grimburrow only acknowledged Imperia and sent her to the archives, Jayla quietly stood and waited with Lirin and her male companions before seeing the acolyte, Thalia. To Khardan, she whispered, "How many flasks can we afford?"
Imperia follows Acolyte Morne to the archives. She studies the organization, and asks for a rundown of how things are laid out. Not quite up to University standards, but it will do.
She asks for any tomes that have information Harrowstone, and any descendants of the prisoners or guards there.
Bramwell turns his back on the group and hunches over, sifting through a pouch. He mutters a sequence of numbers while diligently counting gold pieces. The Bramwell wealth has come full circle. Hmph. It would be gone one day or another,, he laments, his mind racing to the now decrepit, once lavish manor and estate he left behind a mere few weeks ago. The dhampir drops all the coins on his hand and turns around offering the money to Khardan and Jayla. "Here. My title does not meet my purse, but I gladly give you all I have," the nobleman says humbly.
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The acolyte leads you down a dimly-lit stone corridor off the main worship hall. "I sincerely hope you are as skilled as you claim, Milady--it's not every day that we open our archives for others... especially not to those outside the faith." He says, surprisingly eager. He produces a ring of brass keys from within his robes as he leads you deeper inside.
Eventually, he comes to an intricately carved maple door decorated with an image of Pharasma, staring out from the door with a dispassionate gaze. After sliding a key into the door's lock and turning it, the door opens to reveal an immaculately-kept library, its books neatly organized down to the smallest detail. Countless tomes rest upon the shelves here--various holy texts, several books on genealogy, and more than a few treatises on the history of Ustalav itself. It should be easy enough to find the information you need here...
Curiously enough, you don't discover any, per se... but you do come across records of a powerful mage that was incarcerated at Harrowstone around the time of the fire that burned it down: one Professor Hean Faramin. And more surprisingly, the Pharasmin records on him are very detailed.
Professor Feramin was a celebrated scholar of Anthroponomastics (the study of personal names and their origins) at the Quartrefaux Archives in Caliphas. Yet an accidental association with a succubus twisted and warped his study, turning it into an obsession. Feramin became obsessed with the power of a name and how he could use it to terrify and control. Soon enough, his reputation was ruined, he’d lost his tenure, and he’d developed an uncontrollable obsession with an imaginary link between a person’s name and what happens to that name when the person dies. Every few days, he would secretly arrange for his victim to find a letter from her name written in blood, perhaps smeared on a wall or spelled out with carefully arranged entrails. Once he had spelled his victim’s name, he would at last come for her, killing her in a gory mess using a complex trap or series of rigged events meant to look like an accident.
He was captured by the authorities of Caliphas and transferred to Harrowstone, where the inmates dubbed him the Splatter Man.
Imperia comes out of the archives visibly shaken. She moves quickly to the group. "There was a prisoner in Harrowstone who like to write his victims name in blood before he killed them. He was a mage by the name of Hean Faramin also called "The Splatter Man. Once he had spelled his victim’s name, he would at last come for her, killing her in a gory mess using a complex trap or series of rigged events meant to look like an accident. Was your name completely spelled out?"
Jayla gazed up at Imperia with sober mismatched eyes, "No. I awoke before the last letter was written in blood."
Imperia looks slightly relieved. Then she remembers the bleeding letter on the statue. It was a V. No one else has the letter V in their names except Jayla.
I hate to bring this up, but the letter V was on the statue. Do you think the ghost has been working through your name without our noticing the other letters? You should be very careful."
"I say we go find him and convince him to leave Jayla alone," growls Khardan.
"Unless this Hean Faramin added more letters once I washed the first four off my bedchamber wall this morning...and why he would target me out of all of us is most surprising. I will check my room when we return to the Lorrimor residence."
Hearing Khardan speak of locating the man, Jayla asked, "How do you propose we speak with his spirit, my friend? We do not know where it is hiding at present. We could try Imperia's planchette, but Mistress Kendra was not pleased with it gauging by her reaction when we said we would try to speak with her late father's spirit."
"We march into Harrowstone, destroy everything we find there and drag the bastard's bones into the sunlight. Maybe bury them in hallowed ground if we have to."
"But how would we know which are his bones from the others? We would have to collect every bone in that prison and bring them into the light and bury them all in hallowed ground. Not a small task."
"You take my words too literally. It's not going to be that easy. We go in there and we'll be dealing with ghosts and spirits, not bones. My point is we should act directly. We are wasting daylight here."
How else was she to take him if they were to devise a proper plan? She stared at the Half-Orc a moment and decided not to argue the point.
"We should acquire the holy water."
She moved to the oaken door with the frosted glass window set in it and steadily knocked on the door, mindful of the Pharasmin symbol.
Respectfully, she announced their presence through the door, "Acolyte Thalia, we seek to purchase holy water. May we enter?"
The door opens, and a purple-clad, blonde acolyte with bright green eyes welcomes you in. "Please, do come in. Our stores of holy water are open to all who have donations to the faith."
The office Acolyte Thalia is in is stocked to the ceiling with vials, flasks and scrolls of all sorts, all of them neatly organized and arranged in visually appealing ways. "Holy water is on the second shelf to your left." She points to the shelf with several flasks of holy water.
Bramwell watches the exchange between Jayla and Khardan. When the girl turns her back on the half-orc to speak to acolyte Thalia, he approaches Khardan and speaks in his ear, as if sharing a secret. "They love their books and their research. But I agree with you: sometimes action reveals much, much more." The dhampir takes a step back and, remembering the spirit planchette, says "Splatter Man haunts Jayla, does he? We might as well ask him why. We can talk to the Professor later..."
"We'll buy three flasks of holy water," says Khardan to the priest, eager to be moving on.
To Lord Bramwell he says "Perhaps we should just get into Harrowstone and ask him personally. I don't see why he wouldn't lie to us via the planchette."
Acolyte Thalia is quite happy to exchange the offered gold pieces for three flasks of holy water.
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Once the party has concluded its business at the Cathedral, it's time to return to Harrowstone. The sun is starting to peek through the clouds as the party starts back up the cold, dusty road to the haunted prison.
It isn't long before the party reenters the prison through the dilapidated and scorched front gates.
"The gate we previously approached, with the scythe?"
Yes let's try going that way. We're fairly sure that the patio is clear."
"Yes, let's resume from where we stopped...", Bramwell says with a nod. With eyes and ears open, he marches to the gate in the back, weapon in hand.
We go there and do that. :-)
The executioner's balcony is deserted as you approach. The doors leading inside are closed tightly, and they look quite sturdy.
Jayla had continued to contemplate the possibility of the spirit's fatal attack on her person as she travelled with the others back to Harrowstone. Upon noting the secured doors, she quickly cast Detect Magic to determine any new auras (aside from the chopping/executioner's block). She cast her eyes up, hoping to spy an unboarded window in which to have Lirin spy through, if necessary.
Most of the windows on the upper levels of the prison are either barred or choked with rubble, save for one far above the executioner's balcony...
"If there's nothing magic about the door, I can try to pick the lock if needed. I have some small skill with locks."
"I cannot discern magic on the door or this part of the exterior. There appears to be a window, there, high above the executioner's balcony that might be useful for Lirin to look through. I will send her to check while Imperia works on the door," she responded in low voice to her companions.
Looking to her thrush, hiding among the long strands of her hair at her shoulder, "Lirin, fly to that window above and tell me what you see. Be careful and don't enter. Just observe and report, thank you. But first..."
Jayla touched Lirin and placed a protective ward over her.
The little thrush nodded and then flew up toward the window, in a cautious manner, and upon reaching the side of said window, Lirin looked within.
It's a small room with several burnt ceramic chamber pots--an old privy. Part of the room's southeastern corner is starting to crumble, and a rotting wooden door leads out to the south.
Imperia examines the door, and the lock. She checks to see if the door is in fact locked or just looks sturdy.
Imperia pushes the door open slightly and peers in.
Bramwell watches as the thrush flies away towards the window above. Muttering uninteligible words, he approaches the stone walls and looks for a good grip, attempting to climb to the upper floor.
Lirin flies back down to Jayla and relays what she has seen through the second storey window.
"Small room with chamber pots. Part of room crumbling and rotted floor leading south."
"I've got a rope if someone's got a way to get it up there."
The stone walls of the prison are worn with age, but Lord Bramwell is able to find enough loose bricks to use as hand & footholds that he's able to climb up to the 2nd floor without much difficulty.
The gates leading into the prison are tightly locked, and Imperia's attempt at opening them goes very poorly.
Khardan gets out his rope and tosses it up to Lord Bramwell.
Bramwell steps in through the window and, crouching on the sil grabs the rope that Khardan has just tossed in the air. From the window, he scans the room for a hook or similar feature in which he can tie up the rope, and then stretches one leg to test the floor's firmness before stepping in.
Imperia sighs with disgust that her attempt at picking the lock goes so badly. She watches as Lord Bramwell climbs the wall, and Khardan throws the rope. "Climbing isn't my best skill, but I'm willing to give it a try."
"I am not the best of climbers either," she responded quietly to Imperia. "But with the rope and a little divine guidance, we may better succeed."
She lay her hand on Imperia's arm and cast Guidance on the librarian.
Then she cast it on Khardan and on herself as well.
When it was her turn to climb the rope, Jayla instructed Lirin to fly back up to the window sill and then gripped the rope and began to climb up to the second storey.
Lord Bramwell is able to find a hook on the intact door to the room around which he can tie the rope off.
Jayla manages to scale the wall easily with the rope.
Bramwell stands close to the window and helps Jayla get fown from the sil. "Easy, is it not?", he says with an awkward smile, trying his best to be pleasant. "Now let's help the others." The dhampir grabs the rope and gets ready to pull it up in order to help Khardan an Imperia to climb faster.
"Thank you for your assistance Jayla." Imperia waits until Jayla clears the window, and begins her climb.