"I will accept an item of importance in lieu of gold, if that is a concern for you." The old priest says.
Filiana watches closely as the Father's eyes flash a violet color. What is he doing? Is it the same looking magic that Lord Bramwell did? I can't be sure. She glances about the room, taking in all the people she finds herself associated with.
Goodness, can everyone do some kind of magic? Is it not such a rare thing after all? Everyone here seems to be either casual about doing it or casual about seeing it done. Perhaps it's not ... perhaps I'm not ... so monstrous after all.
Quietly, she whispers the words she said before when out at the grave site and once again her eyes begin to glow with a pale white light.
The cursed items before you shine brightly with magical auras. However, you can make out a faint black mist outlining all of them--one that strains your eyes when you look at it.
Filiana stares at the items laid out on the pew, caught with a horrified fascination by the blackness around them. After a moment she shudders and tears her eyes away, seeking the comfort of the nearest symbol of Pharasma adorning the walls of the church and letting her own magic drop so that her eyes return to normal.
Bleh! That's just horrid. It hurts even to look at them.
"They don't look right do they?" she murmers to Filiana.
Imperia acknowledgements the Father's offer of items. "Give us a moment to discuss this. We may have something to offer."
Bramwell taps on the Splatter Man's tome of spells. "Perhaps this grimoire would be a proper donation to the church, once it is cleansed? We would only ask for access to consult in the future, should we ever need to. And, of course, we will probably need to take it with us to Harrowstone in case it proves useful against Professor Feramin. We could leave the spirit board as insurance until we return the spellbook. Is that a suitable arrangement?", the nobleman asks both to the priest and to his colleagues.
He abruptly raises a finger, mindful of one more detail. "Also, Father, we are not yet sure as to the nature of the axe's curse, maybe you could enlighten us."
Cawthorne nods appreciatively at the Father's offer of freeing the items from their curses, taking out his moneypurse only to balk at its lack of weight. "Yes, perhaps the grimoire would best be left in the church's care, especially if you would consider it as payment, Father." Surely lifting these curses can only weaken the ghosts they're tied to. I still wonder, though, where everyone besides Ms. Albus and I stand on our priorities - whether to go after the spirits of Harrowstone, or whatever the Professor has become...
Father Grimburrow furrows his brow, rests a hand on his chin, and nods. "Your spirit board would make a suitable offering for the time being, yes. And the spellbook would be a proper donation, once the 'dearly departed' professor's curse upon it is lifted."
"As to the axe's curse..." He begins as he scans the axe with violet eyes.
...the old priest blinks and rubs his eyes. "...I'm afraid it eludes me. My Lady has not seen fit to enlighten me."
"Filiana would you like to try to study the axe? You have magical powers, and might be able to study it." Imperia asks Filiana as she pulls the planchette out of her backpack and hands it over to the Father.
Filiana looks startled to be asked such a thing ... Me? But what would I know? How could I even start to ... She licks her lips nervously and fiddles unconsciously with the clasp of her plain cloak. Come on now Fi, if you plan to stay and help then you've got to at least try, otherwise you'll just be a burden. Besides, these folks have been the least horrid people about your curse out of anyone who ever knew, saving only Cobble and the Professor.
She clears her throat before replying... I'm not sure what I can say to help Miss, but if you think it will do some good, I'll give it a try.
With that she looks back at the axe again, and with a touch of nervous tightening around the eyes, she mutters to herself again and suddenly her eyes once again take on their former pale white glow. Her face takes on a pinched, almost pained look at the sight of the blackness surrounding the axe, but she forces herself not to look away, even leaning in to try and understand what it is that she is seeing.
The Lopper used this axe to hew his victims' heads from their necks. Again and again, you see hapless, helpless men and women scream briefly before the axe slices cleanly through them.
Your own neck aches for a moment, and you realize what manner of curse lies upon this axe. Whoever holds this axe will feel an echo of the pain these people felt as the axe cut through their necks. It will not leave the hand of whoever wields it in combat.
Filiana stares at the axe intently, ignoring the pain to her eyes as she does so. Oh, oh I see... she says, ...this is just amazing... Then she takes a couple of steps back from the axe, her hand going to her neck and rubbing at it. The look of concentration on her face turns to one of horror.
So many ... he killed... so many with this axe... and now, now it is as if the axe itself wants to kill. If you use it, you won't be able to stop, even though you'll feel the pain of those killed with it. And just using it will harm you. Day by day it will eat away at you, making you weaker.
Tears begin streaming down her face. Those poor people, those poor poor people.
The feathers on the back of Cawthorne's neck prick up at Filiana's explanation, the young country woman's very personal reaction breaking through his clinical detachment and driving home the reality of his situation.
Despite what father always said, I seem to have truly stepped right into the middle of a provincial fireside tale! He stares wide-eyed at the Lopper's axe. The dead menace the living, so much so that even their personal effects seek to do us harm! What horrible malice could drive such creatures? A smothering sense of danger and panic begins to press upon him, and he teeters on the precipice of fear. Looking about, however, he sees the resolve in the others' faces.
What good your manners and education if you abandon them when they're needed most? Pull yourself together, Audubon!
Cawthorne clears his throat. "If we're unable to dispel the evil in all of these items, perhaps those that remain corrupted might also be left in the church's care? If these murderers are risen from the dead, I hardly think re-uniting them with their cursed belongings will be to our benefit."
"I may be a simple warrior," says Khardan. "But I'll bet that a good start on cleansing these things would be destroying the ghosts associated with them. They can't hurt anyone else if we send them off to the Boneyard."
Imperia lays a hand on Filina's shoulder. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's hard to see things like that." Her eyes show a shadow in them that says she knows what Filinia feels.
"I think we might need the weapon to kill the Lopper. We should take it with us just in case we need to use it on him. I'd rather have it and not use it then not have the cursed thing and need it."
Filiana wipes the tears from her eyes and smiles weakly up at Imperia. Her spell lapses and the glow fades from her eyes, leaving them their usual blue. Her hand rubs once more at her neck as if trying to erase the memory of the pain she felt there only moments ago. She sighs briefly and says I am the daughter of a long line of farmers. If this thing had not happened to me I would almost certainly have been a farmer myself. Perhaps I still will, one day... Farmers know death. It is part of their lives as it is part of nature. Death is a natural thing, part of that cycle that allows us to grow crops and raise animals that in turn keep us fed and clothed.
The look on her face hardens, going from sad musing to something altogether more determined.
Death, in its proper time and form is completely natural, but this... she points at the axe. ...this is not natural at all. This is an abomination. This Lopper must be brought to justice. If we have to use his cursed weapon to bring him to the judgment of Pharasma then we should definitely bring it with us.
She sighs and shrinks down a little as her common sense asserts itself over her momentary outrage. I don't know how much help I will be fighting a ghostly murderer though.
"As much as you can, young miss, that's how much," Cawthorne says off-handedly, still staring uncomfortably at the axe. Pulling his eyes away from the grisly object, he warms to the topic, repressing his apprehensions through conversation. "From each according to their ability, to each according to their station - such is how our great nation has survived these long years, and how it shall thrive again. We must all contribute as best we can, Filiana, in any endeavor, and trust in our betters to steer us on a path of propriety and success." He looks at Lord Bramwell for a moment before straightening his jacket and returning his attention to Father Grimburrow.
"And so, Father, I ask of you: Which do you believe is the greater threat to Ravengro? The murderous ghosts of Harrowstone, or the Professor's cursed remains?"
A faint look of surprise passes over Filiana's face at the Doctor's question to Father Grimburrow...
Goodness... I didn't expect him to have the same doubts as me about this... I know the others all seem to think that Harrowstone is the bigger problem, but I can't help but worry about the harm the Professor might do to people in the town right now. And what harm will that do to his name, and by harming his name won't that also harm his daughter? If he is shown to be a monster, won't they also lay blame on her?
She stirs with silent interest in hearing the Father's opinion and looks silently across at him.
Father Grimburrow thinks for a second. "I believe that as distressing as the idea of Professor Lorrimor's errant remains attacking someone is, the idea of Harrowstone's restless dead escaping to wreak havoc is worse. Tend to them first, and perhaps the matter of Petros' body will be resolved as well."
"A wise advice, Father. Very wise, yes," Bramwell says nodding in agreement. "We'll take all items with us, then, as soon as the good Father finishes lifting the curses. Perhaps that won't be until tomorrow?", the dhampir inquires looking at the priest, and then adds another inquiry: "Another thing that might help us are those... how did we call it... haunt siphons. Would you happen to know where we might find such an item?"
Filiana glances down at the floor, slightly disappointed at the priest's verdict.
Come on now Fi, he's a priest, he knows what he is talking about. Of course you want to look out for the Professor - he was kind to you after all... but ... if everyone else agrees except you then you kind of have to consider that the one most likely to be wrong is you.
She sighs softly to herself and looks up, ready to go along with the group.
Imperia looks resigned as the Father suggests the Prison is the more important evil. "I still have a couple empty Haunt Siphons Lord Bramwell, but it never hurts to have more."
Filiana looks quizzically at Imperia... Haunt siphon? What is that?
"It damages and gathers the energies of haunts. It can neutralize them for a time. They can be used as weapons when filled or to heal those who are healed by negative energy." she nods slightly in Lord Bramwell's direction.
"Well those sound quite useful, given the current state of the prison."
"They were great," says Khardan. "Look, Jayla's in danger and the Professor's being profaned. Let' go find who's responsible and set them straight. Now."
Father Grimburrow shakes his head. "I have no idea where such items may be found, I'm afraid."
---------------
With daylight burning and two new allies in tow, the party departs from the cathedral of Pharasma and sets out on the lonely road to Harrowstone.
The sounds and smells of the little village fade into the distance as the group walks the path, with only the occasional crunching of leaves underfoot keeping them company. The gloomy clouds overhead loom with an air of melancholy and menace.
Soon, passing the rotting sign denoting the prison, the group walks back through the aged, scarred stone walls of Harrowstone and finds itself back in the grounds. The warden's ivy-choked home stands before the doors of the prison itself, seeming to sag more and more with each passing moment.
Imperia takes a look at the doors to see if they are locked. If they aren't, she pushes the doors open.
Filiana's eyes widen as she watches Imperia walk up to the door ... How... how can she be so... so fearless? I would not dare ...
She casts her gaze about the front of the building, half expecting ghosts and zombies to come bursting from every shadow.
Then she takes a deep breath to try and steady her nerves. Come on now Fi ... you said you were going to help. So don't just stand back here like some startled squirrel.
With that she moves forward until she is about ten feet behind Imperia and stops to consider what exactly it is that she might do to help.
On the way to Harrowstone, Bramwell stops to pick a few berries from a bush. Holding the fruits between his hands, the dhampir closes his eyes and mutters a prayer to the spirits of nature. When he reveals the berries once again, the once ripe and gorgeous berries are now withered and dull. He walks along his comrades eating the berries one by one; with every bite, he feels a foul taste on his mouth, and yet, his physicial condition improves gradually.
Upon reaching Harrowstone, Bramwell follows Imperia to the main prison building. As she tries to open the front doors, he makes an observation, remembering their last visit. "We have yet to find a way to the dungeons..."
Filiana watches in amazement as Lord Bramwell works his magic on the berries. Amazing! He is transforming the berries in some way. But they look... less ... somehow now. Why would he do that? Oh, and he's eating them now... from the look on his face he doesn't seem to have improved the taste. Why would he do that? I can't imagine he's withered them like that for no good reason. Hmm, are they... healing... him somehow? Of course! They had that conversation back at the house. It must be part of his curse - things that heal normal folk hurt him. Best remember that - don't try and help him with the silver fire.
Khardan strides along, spear over his shoulder, full of righteous energy for the fight. "Same door again? he asks.
The doors to Harrowstone offer no resistance to Imperia's touch. They swing open with a touch of her hand.
The party stands in the antechamber of the prison itself, the walls carved of hewn stone and the air around them cold and unwelcoming. The silence of death pervades the halls.
Becoming even more alarmed at the cold aura of the prison as the doors open, Filiana follows up, staying close to Imperia.
Pharasma protect me, I can't believe I am doing this... oh it's so dark in there...
As she crosses the threshold into the building, Filiana holds out her hand and mutters quietly to herself. As she falls quiet again, her hand begins to glow with a white light.
"There were some doors that we had not opened before we had to leave." Imperia moves to the first door to the left she finds, and listens. If she hears nothing, she tries to open the door.
"Filiana you might want to stay behind Khardan. It's my job to open the doors and his job to hit things that come through them." She smiles slightly.
Even Imperia's light hearted suggestion of the potential for violence in their situation makes Filiana's heart race.
Pharasma protect me... Sarenrae guide me...
She holds her hand out before her, so as to project the light as much as possible. But she also stays behind Khardan.
Cawthorne accompanies the party to Harrowstone without complaint, his reservations trumped by his sense of duty. After they enter the prison proper he focuses on keeping his eyes open and his mouth shut, but finds it hard to concentrate through his apprehension. At Imperia's comment, he steps to the back of the party.
Think what I might of Khardan's breeding, he's a professional - best not get in his way if I want to see this through alive!
Opening the door reveals a stone hallway bereft of life, coated in a thick layer of dust. Sunlight streams in through a window on the corridor wall, illuminating the occasional specks of dust that rise from the stone floor in response to the periodic breezes that wander in.
Four rooms that appear to be offices of some sort lie to the north of the window, the desks within the rooms covered in papers and dust. Patches of dark green mould can be seen in the shadowy corners of the offices.
Filiana follows along behind Khardan, her glowing hand falling to her side as it becomes apparent that the hallway is lit by sunlight.
What a gloomy place she thinks to herself... and somehow, these desks and things seem to make it worse. This was a living place once. People had desks and things to do on desks. And now it's all gone. All the life is ... gone.
Imperia enters the room and starts looking through the room and desks. "Maybe there's a key ring in here that will make getting to the basement easier."
"Yes, it is possible, Bramwell agrees as he, too, sets out to find such key.
While Imperia is inspecting the room at the west end of the hallway, Khardan curiously opens the door in the wide hallway.
Cawthorne lingers in the prison's entry chamber, nervously wringing his hands. Best not to get in the way, as Ms. Albus suggested. He sends furtive glances at floor, walls, and ceiling as he waits.
Filiana follows Imperia's advice and keeps close to Khardan. As they get into the less well lit interior corridor, she raises her hand again to shed her light as far as she can.
Khardan advances on the door, and as he opens it, it falls off of its hinges and into the room with a loud *BANG!* The rectangular chamber beyond seems to have once been a chapel, but now thick sheets of what appear to be cobwebs drape everything within in gossamer threads.
Khardan's intrusion has clearly been noticed--three black spiders the size of dogs scramble down from the cobwebs as the door falls in, and they *chitter* at him when he approaches before leaping to attack!
All three spiders converge on the surprised half-orc and two of them start biting at him!
Both spiders manage to nick the half-orc with their mandibles, but his arms start to feel heavier as their venom starts to take effect.
Filiana gasps as the spiders attack and barely manages to hold in a scream.
Pharasma! Spiders! Monstrous Spiders!!
Khardan! Are you alright?
What ... what have they done ... he looks ... unwell. Oh my... spiders... spiders are poisonous ... are they poisoning him? Help ... help him...
Not really sure what she is doing, she reaches out and touches Khardan, muttering Help him, help him... as she does so. There is a brief spark of white light, almost obscured by the light of her glowing hand except that this light rushes briefly onto the half orc before disappearing as if absorbed into him.
"Nothing to find her Lord Bramwell. Shall we move on? Oh where did everyone go?" Imperia notices that only the Doctor and Lord Bramwell are in sight. She heads back into the hall.
"I'm fine," grunts Khardan, whirling his spear to face the foes, a savage grin on his face now that he has something tangible to hit. "I hurt myself worse than that getting out of bed."
Bramwell follows Imperia out of the offices and into the entrenace hall. Suddenly, hearing Filiana's cries, the dhampir rushes forward, past Imperia and the halfling, and finally spots the three spiders threatening Khardan. He crouches forward and hisses at the vermin to make them back down.