Filiana just stares from the doorway, unable to even fathom what it is that Cawthorne is trying to do, let alone think of any way (other than holding his bag for him) that she might help.
The lock on the safe has weathered the fire of Harrowstone and the weight of ages better than the safe itself, as Imperia learns. Her lockpicks catch several times on the tumblers, even as the doctor provides some insight, and Bramwell's magic steadies her hands...
...but, eventually, the lock *clicks*. The safe swings open.
--A sack containing 500 gold pieces.
--A wooden rack with several potions on it: four deep blue, three orange, two green).
Bramwell takes a look at the potions and sips from each vial, grimacing as the liquid touches his lips. The dhampir fails to identify the first two samples, but recognizes the flavor and sting of the orange fluid. "This one removes illnesses and diseases," he says shaking the vial and then corking it up. He then picks up the papers and spreads them open on the desk, inviting the group to gather around them for a minute study of Harrowstone records.
Filiana watches with interest as Lord Bramwell tests each of the color types of the potion bottles.
What is he doing? Tasting them? What will that do?
Her eyes widen as he announces that the orange bottles will remove illness and she concentrates and mutters for a moment causing her eyes to fill with the same pale white light as earlier.
Seeing the glow from the bottles that indicates the presence of magic, Filiana is, if anything, even more puzzled. I'm sorry, remove illness? Can you tell that just by tasting it? It's magical isn't it?
Does that have a taste?
Intrigued, she reaches out a finger and touches a droplet of the potion remaining on the lip of the orange bottle from when the Dhampir put the cork back in. Holding her finger up before her face for a moment, she stares at the droplet with her glowing eyes before touching it to her tongue.
Bleh! I don't see how you can tell anything from that.
Imperia sticks a pinkie in each of the other two potions. "The Orange ones are potions of lesser restoration. We could have used those yesterday. Are you back up to speed Lord Bramwell?"
Still trying to understand what it is that her companions are doing, Filiana tries again, but this time with a blue bottle. She dips a finger into the bottle, and carefully, almost nervously, as if expecting something disgusting, touches it to her tongue.
Her nervous expression dissolves into puzzlement and then a look of dawning comprehension.
Oh... oh! I can't say for sure what this is, but ... but ... the feeling. The feeling I get from it. A couple of years ago, I was helping, well we really ... my mother and father were there too. Actually everyone was there... people from all about the area. Umm... anyway ... we were helping do some repairs at our church. Mostly just helping out, cleaning up and weeding, that sort of thing... although some of the men folk were up on the roof, replacing tiles and such. And one of them dropped a tile and it hit me. Oh it hurt, so so much. But the priest was nearby. He came rushing over and he asked Pharasma to help him heal me. And she did. He prayed down the hand of the Lady and I was healed. That's what this tastes like. Curious as it is to say it, this tastes like that felt. Could this be a bottle of magical healing. It feels quite ... strong? Somehow. Like it is bigger, or more somehow than what I felt back then. I don't really know any better way to explain it...
Lord Bramwell raises and shakes his hand, refusing the orange potion. "I am not fully restored to my health, no, but I believe a night's rest will do. No need to waste that on me. Let's save it, for now."
The nobleman then turns his attention to Filiana and observes with a mix of amusement and curiosity as the halfling struggles with the magic potions. When she is done talking, he approaches her to engourage her progress. "Very wel, little one. Even Miss Albus and Myself failed to identify that potion's magic properties, but from what you descibre, it is infused with the positive energy we spoke of but a moment ago. And it is a lot like you describe it, yes: it is a feeling, as much as it is a knowledge. We call it spellcraft, you see, the practical aspects of magic making, be it divine or arcane; it encompasses the understanding and use of magic's... ingredients, if you will: gestures, words of incantation, material components ranging from precious gems to crickets' legs." The dhampir makes a wide gesture as he speaks, as if trying to embrace the world. "It is how we learn to make magic, and by learning to do it, we learn how to recognize it." He crouches over the potions set on the table. "In the case of potions, it takes a good palate to notice the flavors and tones of the components used in the recipe, which for themselves can hint at the nature of a potion; but it also takes an accute sensibility to the subtle sensation that in the briefest of moments irradiates from your tongue to the rest of your body."
Bramwell leans forward in Filiana's direction and points his index finger at her face, almost touching her nose. "You are doing quite well for someone with no training. We must remedy that situation so that you can master the innate talent you seem to possess." He sniffs the top of her head. "Yes, yes. You have raw power in you."
Cawthorne's eyes glint at the potions, but little mystery remains to them once they are passed amongst the party. It seems my companions are well-versed in the basics of the arcane. Even the halfling has some intuitive understanding of the matter! What good will my training do them? Somewhat crestfallen, the doctor turns to the parchment arrayed on the desktop. Still, potions are but the most basic of tinctures, crude and generic in their effects. Your extracts are a much more refined art altogether.
He begins to study one of the documents. Now, what have we here? How nefarious! "These seem to be the details of the inmates that were incarcerated here. A familiarity with them might help us to deal with those who still haunt the grounds, though I know not if we have the time to study them properly."
Imperia smiles at Filiana. "You are in good hands with learning little one. Lord Bramwell has lived a long time, the good Doctor is an expert in his field, and I can find books and records to help you learn anything you could ever want to know."
She gives a wave at Khardan. And Khardan here will keep us all safe. He can teach you about the divine if that is your interest."
She moves over to assist Dr. Cawthorne with going through the papers.
As Imperia speaks, Filiana turns from where she has been staring rather like a startled rabbit as Lord Bramwell looms over her. Her expression relaxes a little as Imperia lists out all the things that the others in the group can teach her. Her gaze flicks to Khardan with a slight look of puzzlement as Imperia mentions him teaching about the divine.
She looks back to Imperia. That would be lovely. I am sure I have a great deal to learn if I am to be of any help to you all
"I've been studying the lore of the Golden Bulwark," growls Khardan, evidently assuming everyone knows who he's talking about. "There isn't a lot of it, or at least not a lot laying about where simple Ustalavic bodyguards can access it. What I mean is, I don't have any training."
"I feel the will of Arqueros move me. Not a lot, but sometimes. He sent me to Professor Lorrimar. He sent me here. He wants me to protect this group."
The big half-orc looks down at Filiana. "I don't know what you need to know. Imperia's the brains here. All I can tell you is Arqueros knows your name. While you are with us, you will never be unprotected."
Filiana looks slightly downcast as she replies to Khardan... I am sorry, I don't know who Ark..Arqueros is. I don't really know much about any of the gods really. Apart from Pharasma of course. Everyone around my home prayed to the Lady of Graves. I've heard of Iomedae of course. Everyone knows tales of The Inheritor. But that's about all I know really. She hesitates for a moment, before rushing on... Actually, I have a question. There's a symbol. I've only seen it a couple of times, but each time I felt it was ... important ... in some way. I saw it when I was traveling with Cobble. I was sure he'd know what it was, but I sometimes felt like I was asking him questions all the time and I didn't want him to get sick of me, so I didn't ask.
She waves one hand in the air, vaguely trying to show the shape of the symbol. It was sort of like a cross, but with this odd loop thing on the top of it. Each time I saw it I felt sort of... excited. You know that sort of feeling you get, when you wake up and it's your birthday? A bit like that. Do you have any idea what it is?
Bramwell scracthes his chin. "Hmm. I'm not familiar with that symbol. I must admit I, too, find myself lacking when it comes to knowledge about the gods, individually speaking." He turns to Khardan. "I'd be curious to know more about this Golden Bulwark of yours. Maybe later, over some tea."
"I think you're sketching the emblem of Sarenrae, goddess of holy fire," says Khardan. "She is very popular in the warm lands of the south."
To Bramwell, he says "Arqueros is the Empyreal Lord of guardians, and is the keeper of the walls of Heaven. He is the first general that protects the Threshold, the borders of the celestial realm. Those behind him repose safe in his strength, able to pursue their holy works because of his eternal vigilance and strength."
"Interesting. A guardian god, to protect the walls of Heaven from being torn down... by other gods, I suppose." Distracted by the theological discussion, the nobleman rests his hand on the documents spread over the desk and shuffles them absentmindedly, not really reading any of the words. He looks up and exhales strongly before speaking. "Baffling, is it not, that gods should take arms against each other? How mortal of them—or perhaps, how godly of us, to engage in that very same activity here, in our own realm. In the end, it all comes down to passions, no? I say."
He walks up to the window and looks out, staring at the grass, realizing how plant and wild life have already partially reclaimed the abandoned grounds of Harrowstone. "I find that even the gods' whims pale before the unwielding power of nature... the natural laws of existence itself, which not even the gods can escape from. Creation. Destruction. It does no one's bidding, it acts relentlessly without prejudice or intent." The dhampir sinks in the chair behind the desk, elbows pressed against the arms of the chair and pushing the tips of his left and right fingers against each other. "Such is nature."
Sarenrae... Filiana almost breathes the name out. There it is ... that feeling again. But what? Why? I am sure this is the first time I have heard her name... why does it affect me so?
She stares silently at the discussion between Khardan and Bramwell, hoping for some extra nugget of information that might explain her reaction to the symbol and the name of the goddess of holy fire.
"When we leave here. We'll look for tomes about Sarenrae for you Filiana. Do you read miss?"
Imperia stands up from her study of the documents. "I can't tell anything further from here. I hate to suggest it, but I think we might have to climb down that hole in the floor back near where we came in."
Cawthorne pays little heed to the discussion of gods until Lord Bramwell begins shuffling the documents about on the table. Taking it as a cue from the nobleman, the doctor comes to polite attention and listens carefully to Bramwell's ensuing reflections upon the subject matter. The lord is a ruminative man, it seems. Quite proper. His back straightens and his eyes narrow at the disfigured lord's words on nature, though his attention is then commanded by the librarian upon her judgment of the documents.
"Hole?" He looks down at the lamentable coat of dust and dirt his tailored boots had already acquired. "Surely there must be a stair? Even a ladder?"
Bramwell abandons his reflections and looks at Dr. Cawthorne. "Oh, there is a staircase, yes, but it has collapsed. It is completely obstructed." He stands up abruptly, almost turning the chair. "I fear Miss Imperia is right. That hole might be our only option. I would just like to check the corridor nextdoor first, to be sure we have checked the whole ground floor." The dhampir steps out of the ruined office and opens the door to the yet unexplored area by its side.
I haven't read much... Filiana replies to Imperia. I've learned my letters of course. Father was always very particular about me needing to learn that. Sent me down to the church once a week to learn from one of the acolytes when I was younger. Of course they didn't have much to read there other than When the Bones Land in a Spiral, so I haven't had much practice. I suppose I could manage though, if I had to.
When Lord Bramwell decides to check one more corridor, Filiana follows him out of the room, but waits in the hallway, staring out the window.
"We'll take a look at Professor Lorramore's library later. I'm certain we can find something interesting for you to practice on. We're going to be here for almost a month."
She follows the group down the hallway.
Khardan stalks after the others, spear in hand.
Cawthorne stays behind Khardan, wary of being between the half-orc's spear and their enemies.
The room Bramwell discovers is a small one, its walls lined with very old wooden washbasins. There's a smaller privy at the western end of the room. There is nothing else of interest here.
It appears we are climbing down that hole in the floor. Shall we? Imperia leads the way to the destroyed room.
Filiana turns her attention from gazing out the window and back into the building with the rest of the group as news of Lord Bramwell's discovery is relayed out into the hall.
As Imperia leads the way off down the corridor she comments, somewhat nervously as she follows... Climb? We're umm, we're not climbing very far are we? I don't like heights much and I'm not that keen on climbing
"Ah, we are not yet sure how deep the hole goes, or even if it will get us where we want. Worry not in advance, as it will not change neither what we know about the matter, nor what we can do about it," Bramwell advises a little to bluntly. He follows Imperia to the room and, upon arriving, starts inspecting the whole.
"However, my lord, surely thinking about a problem and formulating some basic theses beforehand can assist an endeavor. Not to the point of obsession, of course." Cawthorne follows along behind. "For instance, if your acrophobia is so acute as to render you unable to descend on your own, Miss Longsong, it is most likely Khardan would be able to carry you down with him."
Upon reaching the aperture in question, Cawthorne peers down into its depths and gives a sniff.
The hole in the floor opens up into a very dark, 20-foot drop. There's a network of wooden support beams crisscrossing ten feet down before opening up into a dark pool of water below.
Staring down into the hole, Filiana suppresses a small shudder. Then she glances down at her hand, which appears to have stopped glowing while she was following the rest of the group here. With a uiet muttered word, she renews the magic upon her hand and holds it out to shine its light down ...
"I don't have any rope. Does anyone?" Imperia looks down the lighted hole.
I do not... says Filiana, suddenly awkwardly aware that she has walked out of the Lorrimor house with nothing more than what she wore down to breakfast plus the cloak she grabbed as the group walked out the front door.
...I admit, I do not know what I should have brought on an ... umm ... excursion? such as this...
Here's a thing worth learning Fi, if you want to do this, and try and help these folks ... so pay attention to the things they think you might need.
Cawthorne shakes his head. "I don't suppose you came across any during your last foray here in the prison, in an old broom closet or such?"
"I don't recall seeing any rope. There was that straight jacket. It had pretty long arms and the straps. That might work." Imperia tries to recall a pile of rope someplace in the prison.
Well this is ridiculous - to be bested by a hole! Cawthorne absentmindedly fiddles with the left wrist cuff of his suit as he stares down into the broken shaft. Someone should just climb down there... or jump.
Khardan makes a small ahem noise and silently uncoils a role of rope. He can't keep a certain smugness from his toothy smile.
"I'll go down. Who'll anchor it?" He looks for a place to tie it off.
Filiana stares down the hole, momentarily distracted by the light from her hand glistening on the water below.
It is ... it is ... dark ... down there. If you go down there you will be in the dark. Alone, in the dark ... again... Her gaze flicks momentarily to her hand and then down again. No! Look at what you can do... if there is darkness down there then you will bring the light into it. You will break the darkness. The light always breaks the darkness. If you are going to follow this path, with these people... you will have to learn to go into the dark.
I... she pauses to clear a throat suddenly dry...I... do not think you will find any of us strong enough to lower you down Master Khardan... but if what you need is someone to light the way into the darkness ... I am small and easily lowered ... she holds up her glowing right hand ... and I can carry a light down there ...
"You're not going down there first," says Khardan, sounding protective. "Let's find something to tie this off to. Also, he may not look it, but Lord Bramwell is as strong as I am."
The warpriest looks for a place to tie off his rope.
Imperia looks around the room for a place to tie off the rope. Khardan is right. You aren't going down first. He can see in the dark."
If she can't find one she says, "I can hold it." She wraps the rope around her waist, and braces herself.
Filiana looks equal parts chagrined and relieved at being told she will not be first down the hole. Then she looks at Khardan, staring at his eyes...
You can see in the dark? How does that look? Is it the same as carrying a light? Then a frown creases her brow as she considers what is being suggested. So... can anyone else see in the dark like this? Her gaze flickers across to the Dhampir. I suppose if I had to guess, Lord Bramwell is probably well at ease in the dark. He'd almost have to be able to see, wouldn't he?
"Ms. Albus! Please, allow me to assist!" The tengu, apparently quite flustered, moves to take hold of the rope in front of Imperia. You must not tarry so, Audubon! Strength and determination are needed now, not concern over appearances. He grips the rope firmly and plants his feet wide, the talons which protrude from the toes of his custom boots digging into the floor as best they can. He pulls to allow a small bit of slack between him and the Chelaxian, glancing back at her for a moment with a sheepish nod. While you hem and haw, this woman - a librarian, no less! - is ready to dangle the brute down on a rope. Next you'll have the farm-girl fighting monsters and his lordship sifting through rubbish. Show some backbone!
"We are ready, Khardan."
Seizing the rope and looping it around his waist, Khardan nods at the two holding the rope and lets himself down, dropping to the ground when he can see it clearly enough for a safe landing. He growls as he goes, a warning to anything sharing the chamber below with him.
Distracted with his thoughts as the group discusses the procedure to reach the bottom of the hole, Bramwell takes some time to join in on the conversation. When he sees Khardan taking place to climb down, he walks up to Dr. Cawthorne and Imperia. "Hmm. You have this, yes? I shall lend a hand if anything goes wrong," he informs. It seems only fitting to the nobleman that the commoners do the heavy lifting—quite literally, in this particular case—while he oversees the action to make sure it all goes smoothly.
Keeping his attention at the rope, he answers Filiana's questions. "I, too, little one, can see in the deep darkness, and in fact, even blinded, I do maintain a fairly good perception of my surroundings. I suppose it's just a matter of physiology, but hopefully the doctor can offer a better explaination. It is not really the same as looking at something in actual light, no. There is not the same richness of hues and colors, only volumes, and it is harder to make out fine details—though still possible with a little effort. To me, it all becomes red tinted. Blood tinted."
Filiana gulps slightly at Bramwell's explanation which only serves to remind her of the nature of his being. Determined not to keep flinching from everything this new world puts before her she tries not to let her unease show and holds her glowing hand out over the hole so that those who, like herself, cannot see in the dark, can see Khardan as he descends.
With Khardan securing the rope around a sturdy piece of fallen debris, it’s a simple matter for the party to descend down the hole into the basement level of Harrowstone prison.
This cavernous chamber may have once been an underground cellblock, but it has long since collapsed. The crumbled walls are thick with mold and stained with soot, and heaps of fallen stones and charred wooden beams line the area. Water drips and seeps along the walls, collecting in a dark, murky pool in the middle of the room. To the north, the twisted remains of a wood and iron lift lie in a heap in a shallow portion of the pool. To the west, a partially blocked opening seems to open up after several feet into a dark but stable tunnel.
Imperia looks around the basement. "Let's head through the rubble. Be on guard. May I have a light spell on my rapier Miss Filiana?"
Once her way is lit she'll head forward carefully.
"Ms. Albus, perhaps it would be best if I were to follow behind Khardan? I see very well in dim light - the illumination of your rapier will prove quite sufficient for me, even from behind." Cawthorne moves to fall in step behind the half-orc.
Khardan moves up with Imperia. "The bird-man ain't wrong, Imperia. Maybe better let me go ahead."
Khardan gazes forward into the dark, in which he can see as well as by day.
Filliana looks slightly puzzled at Imperia's request. Light...spell?... she glances down at her hand. Can I do that on other things? I did not ... but I suppose ...
She looks at Imperia and the proffered rapier. "I've ...umm .. I've never made anything other than my hand glow before. But I can try." With that she reaches out and touches the rapier and closing her eyes in concentration, quietly mutters to herself. Moments later the pale white glow springs up on the rapier. Her eyes fly open and a look of delight appears on her face at her success. Then the glow on her hand flickers and goes out.
"Oh ... umm... it would seem I can only do this on one thing at a time. That is a pity."
She will follow along behind Imperia, sticking close to the light.