Kendra blinks at Imperia, her eyes hardening. "Imperia, what's going on?"
She starts trying to move past Dr. Cawthorne...
Come on Fi! Help them! Don't just stand there ...
Filiana steps across to stand in front of Kendra, her hands held out in front of her, not in a threatening manner, nor trying to block her path but rather trying to draw her attention. To get Kendra to look at her...
"Please Kendra," she implores. "Please listen! We are here, all of us, because of the esteem we had for your father. And because he asked us to stay. He knew there might be perils for you in this village. And the upset at the funeral proved that he may have been right. He asked us to stay and keep you safe. To protect you. Please, please trust that is what we are here to do. Please trust that it is what we are doing now.
Kendra pauses, looking down at Filiana. She bites her lip, and then sighs. "...alright..."
She yawns. "We... we can talk about this in the morning. I'm so tired right now..."
Imperia lets out a breath. She gives Dr. Crawthorn and Filina a slight nod, and moves through the doorway closing it behind her.
Bramwell remains indifferent to the rucus behind him, immersed deep in his thought and at the sight of the profaned corpse in his arms. He looks back over his shoulder just to see Kendra backing away, and then sighs. Standing outside the house, in the cold of the wee hours, he speaks softly to Khardan, his anger seemingly placated. "I don't like the idea of burying the professor back in his grave. He would be safer under the care of the Pharasmin church. He deserves the honor of a consacrated crypt that is under vigilante and protection, lest him rise again like this monstrosity." He turns his gleaming red eyes to the half-orc. "We must do it with utmost secrecy. The Whispering Way cannot know about his true resting place."
"Agreed," says Khardan.
"And then we need to find who did this."
Filiana stares after Kendra as she heads back towards her bedroom. Then she lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Running her hand over her forehead and says "By the gods... and I thought the fighting in the prison was nerve wracking. I think I need a drink."
With that she heads down to the kitchen and sets about preparing a pot of tea.
"To the temple then? Let's go as quickly and quietly as possible. I really don't want to have to put another local guard in his place." Imperia leads the way. Not that I really object to taking my ire out on someone like that tonight. This whole situation is unacceptable.
The walk to the cathedral of Pharasma is windy & dark, but no one accosts the group as they carry the rotting body of Professor Lorrimor down the dusty, beaten road. The cathedral's grounds are empty and quiet--the only sound the party hears over their own footsteps is the howling of the wind.
The main chapel is almost empty--only the hooded form of Jayla, sitting in a pew, is visible, sitting next to the aged Father Grimburrow. The priest turns his head as you walk in, his eyes widening and his hand flying to the holy symbol of Pharasma around his neck.
"What is the meaning of this? What's going on now?"
Soon smelling the faint aroma of brewing tea, Catwhorne joins Filiana in the kitchen after the others hustle the Professor's corpse out towards the Pharasman cathedral.
"Ah!" the tengu exclaims. "Delightful, Filiana - just what the doctor ordered! And I should know." His eyes crinkle at the outside edges and the feathers at the corners of his beak angle slightly - the indications of a tengu smile. He inhales deeply over the pot. "The medical benefits of a good cup of tea simply cannot be overstated." As the pair wait for the tea to steep, Cawthorne keenly studies the diminutive young woman.
"You say you're somewhat ignorant of your magical abilities. They are most likely inherited. Such sorcerous bloodlines transcend race and gender, up to a point. I've never seen credible evidence of a non-sentient species displaying such powers, though obviously they can inherit less voluntary traits from magical forebears.
"Do you know of any ancestors who came into contact with mystical or otherwordly beings?"
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Filiana looks up from preparing the tea as the Doctor enters the kitchen. She appears to have been taking some comfort just in the process of preparing the tea and is visibly more relaxed already.
She looks up and smiles slightly at Cawthorne's enthusiastic reaction to the tea and strangely, finds herself even more at ease for it. "Goodness," she thinks to herself, "who would have thought, when I left home all those weeks ago, that I'd be sitting here preparing tea with someone like this? I'd never even heard of a ... Tengu ... before. And I completely expected that I would be on my way back home by now. I may have dreamed about not returning... of finding somewhere else to be, someone else to be, but ..." The thought breaks off as Cawthorne poses his question. Her brow crinkles slightly as she considers the question.
"I suppose, if I'm honest, I'd have to say I wasn't completely ignorant of these ... abilities. I did know about some of them back home in Redleaf, although neither time I used them were deliberate, they just sort of ... happened, almost on their own. Just the light, and the white fire. And once those had happened I tried very hard not to do anything that might make them happen again."
Her brow smooths out as her eyebrows rise when a thought strikes her. "Do you know, it's just struck me how much new magic I have done, things I hadn't done before, things I didn't even know I could do, just in the couple of days that we have been here. I was so sure that this could only be bad that I tried to keep it all shut away. It never occurred to me that they could be a blessing. Or that there could be so much more."
She smiles again. "My father always used to tell me tales. Tales of the Longsong family. The Longsong family is many hundreds of years old and is spread far and wide across the lands of the Inner Sea. He always had tales of this or that distant cousin or great great aunt who fell into adventure in far off lands. As I got older I always believed that his stories were just made up, but perhaps there was truth in them after all. There was one tale. Of an ancestor right here in Ustalav. He fought in the shining crusade. Did something brave apparently, though it was never very clear what exactly. But my father used to say that for his service he was blessed by the servant of the Dawnflower on the field and that from then on when he fought evil he glowed with a white light."
Her eyes widen as she suddenly connects that part of the story with what has been happening with her.
Imperia moves to the front of the group at the Cathedral. "Forgive our intrusion. We have returned the Professor's body for re interment. It appears that the first time it wasn't protected enough to keep him from becoming a zombie. We'd like to ask that he be given wards to protect his corpse from further defilement."
Father Grimburrow's eyes narrow and he looks at the Professor's corpse. "...indeed. He will not be interred in the graveyard--I will personally see to it that he is buried here."
"We have a series of catacombs beneath the church--normally, they're reserved for the faithful only. But in this case..."
Filiana looks up from her cup of tea to the good doctor, suddenly aware that the conversation has been a bit one sided. She hesitates a moment, nervous of seeming to forward with the often rather strict seeming Tengu, but then emboldened by his hint of a smile she speaks up.
"If you don't mind Doctor, what of you? Did you learn to fight like that at the University? Khardan and Lord Bramwell I expected to be so fierce, but you ... well, for some reason I thought you would be more ... umm, scholarly? Like a... a... teacher! Yes that is it ... like a teacher ... knowing many things, but not ... fighting. But you fight as fiercely as any of the others."
She drops her eyes after the question, worried she might have overstepped some line she cannot quite fathom.
"I have not yet had the honor of a teaching position, but I studied the natural sciences extensively during my attendance of Lepidstadt University - thanks in no small part to Professor Lorrimor. As for my skills in self-defense, I learned them at a finishing school I attended to better prepare myself for civilized society. A gentleman must be prepared to defend himself and others from physical threats and other indecencies. Yesterday was the first time I've been called upon to exercise practical application of those skills. I don't know that I matched Khardan or his lordship, but thank you for the compliment - I believe I acquitted myself adequately." The doctor sips his tea and reflects back on yesterday's events in the prison.
"I admit, I found the experience more invigorating than expected. I understand now how one might be overcome by the humors that are excited by the act of violence. Like all such base physical urges, one must be steadfast in resisting their influence lest they cloud one's reason and civility." He dictated the last piece of advice in a patronizing tone, even going so far as to wag a taloned finger at Liliana, exactly like the teacher he claims he's not.
Filiana listens intently to Dr Cawthorne's response, sipping at her tea as she does so. "Umm, thank you Doctor, you are quite right. The fight was oddly thrilling in a way I would never have imagined. Terrifying too, of course, which was exactly what I might have expected. Discovering the things I can do is oddly ... freeing. But I can see how it might lead to rashness. I shall try to be guided by your wisdom in this and not let it get the better of me."
"The catacombs, yes. They should be safe. Even though I think the men who desecrated the Professor's corpse can still repeat the deed, the sanctuary of the Lady of the Graves shall discourage them a bit. I imagine Pharasma does not look kindly to any who disrespect her grounds, and even a necromancer or undead monster can evade her judgement for only so long." The nobleman steps forward and looks at Father Grimburrow. "There is one more thing, yes? It is safer that no one knows the Professor is here. The less people know about it, the less are the chances of anything else happening to him, and the more our odds of finding out who led our enemies to his resting place should anything undesired come to pass." He glances at Jayla and then speaks hushedly to Khardan. "You've known her longer. Can she be trusted in her current state? She's been touched by them, too."
Cawthorne nods sagely over his tea. "That is quite the right decision, Filiana." The young halfling seems open to being educated. "Furthermore, you may wish to acquaint yourself with some of the more urbane social protocols, especially as we are in the company of a proper lord. Your speech and manners have thus far been passable, but you may wish to consider the matter of your appearance. There are many in the more populous towns and cities of Ustalav who will judge you by this first, and once that judgment is made, it can be terribly difficult to alter their appraisal of you. It is, therefore, most important to cultivate your appearance to maximize the impression you wish to give."
The doctor sips his tea and looks the halfling over, his eyes widening and his head shaking slightly side to side. "I'm afraid the impression you currently give is one of a country bumpkin freshly fallen from a turnip cart, barely distinguishable from the roots she rode with. Now, no matter the accuracy of that impression, it's hardly what you'd like people to think upon first meeting, is it?"
He sets his teacup back down upon its saucer. "I do not mean to be harsh, but honest. Ustalav is a human's nation, and rightfully so; to contribute and succeed in our service to it, it is most commendable to better ourselves to their standards. To make up for our shortcomings, we must be superior in our actions to be considered equals." And you are so close to them in appearance, it would take little effort to make them think much better of you!
"Perhaps if we've time, we can see about getting you a wardrobe more suited to a young woman with so much to offer the world."
Without another word, High Priest Grimburrow assists the party in taking the professor's desecrated remains to the catacombs of the cathedral, far from prying eyes. They're decidedly austere in aesthetic, not given to elaborate decorations, but the stone walls & door of the crypt the body is interred in are sturdy and thick, with Pharasma's divine grace imbuing the grave with the unbreakable silence of the grave.
---------------
The pallbearers make their return to Lorrimor Manor in good time, with renewed resolve in their eyes.
Imperia looks relieved that the Priest is willing to help them, "Thank you Priest Grimborrow. We'll return to Harrowstone tomorrow to continue to clear out the spirits there. Hopefully, that will lighten the mood of this village."
"Do I smell tea? I'd love a cup. Is there anything stronger to add to it? It's been a devil of a day and night."
"That man," says Khardan to the priest, "was a great man. He did not deserve this. Make sure he stays at rest, Father."
Back at the house, Khardan is quiet and sullen. He moves directly to the liquor cabinet and opens up a bottle of the Professor's cheapest-looking booze.
Filiana looks crestfallen at Dr Cawthorne's assessment of her attire. Oh! A turnip? But I ... I... she takes a sip of her tea and then places the cup back on the table in front of her, keeping her eyes down, looking at the cup rather than at the man across the table from her.
"I ... suppose I must look ... well ... what you said ... These," she shrugs as if to indicate the plain and well made but oft patched clothing she is wearing,"are the only clothes I own. That cloak," she waves vaguely in the direction of the front door where her cloak is hanging on a hook, "is the only new thing I have ever owned. I bought it on my way here, to show respect at the funeral. I did not expect to be going anywhere else when I came here. Or to be trying to impress anyone. I thought I would attend the funeral, witness the reading of the will and then go back home. Back to the farm..."
She sighs, and sips at her tea again. "To be honest, I have never given the idea of having to dress to impress someone a thought." She smiles slightly wistfully, "Except for my husband, I suppose, not that that is ...", she breaks off as the rest of the group return to the house and join Filiana and Cawthorne in the kitchen.
Filiana looks up, slightly flustered as the others enter the room.
"Tea? Yes there is still tea. Stronger? Well it has been brewing a while, but I suppose I could put some more tea-leaves in if you like. It might have to stand a little longer if I do that though."
Filiana jumps up and sets about getting some more cups ready and puts some more water over the fire to heat up.
Khardan slides a bottle down towards Imperia and takes another swig himself.
His eyes glower for awhile, but he can't help himself. "Husband?" he asks.
Imperia grabs the bottle and tips a very generous swig into her teacup before pouring tea into it. "He's at rest. The priest said he'd make sure the Professor stayed at rest."
She slumps at the table, her mother would be so upset if she saw her posture, and just looks tired.
"Oh... ahh..." Filiana looks somewhat surprised that Khardan has asked the question about her cut-short statement to Cawthorne. She looks and sees her own cup empty and reaching for the pot, pours some more tea in it. Feeling the lack of weight in the pot she moves over to the fire and pours some more hot water into it. Then she returns to the table and puts the pot back in case anyone else wants more tea.
"Well... what I meant was ... that is ... I had always assumed that I would marry one day. There were, I think some as showed interest. But that all died away as soon as my troubles started. In the last six months or so I have sort of made my peace with the idea that I will probably be alone forever. Not that I had my eye on anyone of course, the choices were thin enough around Redleaf, but still, anyone would be hard pressed to see my parents together and not want a little bit of that kind of love in their life."
She sits down again and looks slightly downcast as the memory of her parents and the realization of her distance from them washes over her.
As the conversation turned to matters of a more personal nature, Cawthorne cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some private matters to attend to. I shall rejoin you after breakfast." Standing up he gives a stiff bow and returns to his makeshift bed chamber, carefully closing the door behind him.
Here I am lecturing a halfling on improving herself whilst I sit content in my own inferiority. Such hypocrisy I've developed! He began carefully unpacking his various ingredients and tinctures, arraying them along the front of a bookshelf. I haven't so much as lifted a finger - a talon - to further my own adavancement since graduating from university. He removes his jacket, carefully folding it over his luggage case, then pulls down his suspenders and unbuttons his shirt. It's high time I put my new theories to the test. After all the intent is for my research to be not academic, but rather practical, in nature. After removing his shirt he finally retrieves his surgical implements - scalpel, scissors, forceps, and clamps, in addition to an ample supply of gauze. He carefully examines his own abdomen for several minutes before taking his largest scalpel in hand.
Time to better myself.
A little over an hour later the doctor returns to the first floor of the house, smelling faintly of ammonia and beaming with enthusiasm.
"My apologies for the delay. I assure you I am now ready to continue the hunt for Harrowstone's haunts and the professor's persecutor with a renewed vigor!"
Imperia suddenly speaks, ”In my experience husbands are more trouble than they are worth.” She remains slumped over the table drinking her doctored tea.
”They either want to tell you want to do, and spend the money you earned. Sometimes they don’t even become husbands before they betray you with your own cousin.” she doesn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular.
She continues to sip her drink refilling it a couple of times in the hour that the doctor is gone. ”You are chipper. A little bit too chipper for me this evening or morning.” She stands up quite unsteadily and moves slowly toward the stairs.
”I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Khardan opens his mouth to respond to Filiana when Imperia speaks. He may not be charismatic, but the priest is wise. He closes his mouth and keeps it that way, staring stony-faced and grim, lost in his own thoughts. He grunts when Imperia leaves.
Blessed Arqueros! They need protection from much more than just the enemy. Are you laughing on your golden walls? Both have just revealed more than ever before and I have no words to ease their pain. Do you show me how ill-prepared I am to be their bulwark?
Or perhaps you show me how small my own pain is. Do I feel outcast? You pair me with Lord Bramwell, outcast from all society, friendless save for us broken creatures. Do I feel unloved? You show me Imperia's pain, sharp and brittle. She is everything I am not - beautiful and graceful and smart, yet I have never been betrayed by one I loved. Was that husband of hers a madman? If I had such a wife I would never betray her....
...Stop thinking of those hips, you dumb mutt. Remember your purpose.
...and your station.
...
Filiana is probably the best of us, pure-hearted and sweet and pretty as a Spring morning. Were she not the size of a child, she would probably be our leader, whatever Lord Bramwell thought. Perhaps she should be. But she has no faith in herself, in her abilities. Or her looks, evidently. A lass like that could snap her fingers and have a dozen suitors in an afternoon, but she thinks she will never marry. Great Bulwark! How we live amidst our own illusions!
And then there is Cawthorne. As opaque as a stone wall. I don't know what he thinks or what he wants. Can he be as civilized and affable as he appears? I don't think you would have sent him if he were. I'll have to keep an eye out.
Maybe you should have sent them a healer, Arqueros. I only know how to break things faster than those things can break us. They need a scalpel and you sent them a brick.
The half-orc sighs, finishes his drink and returns to his post outside Jayla's door.
Filiana sits still and silent for long moments after Imperia's commentary on the subject of husbands ... By, by the gods, was he mad? Imperia is strong and clever, and perhaps just a little bit terrifying. How would he dare? Still, there's a lesson for you here Fi ... you're not the only one that's had their world turn about on them. Not the only one who's been hurt. In fact, I wonder if everyone in our little group might not be a bit in the same place. Is it perhaps this sort of harm that makes people into ... into, whatever it is that we are?
She looks across at Imperia.
"Well, obviously he was a fool right down into his bones Imperia. But still, however horrid that must have been, perhaps it was for the best. Would you be able to do what you do now, if you had a husband waiting at home for you? Are you not more free for not being tied to this foolish man?"
She rinses out her cup and places it back on the bench.
"I don't know if I will be able to sleep, I feel strangely full of energy, but it is the middle of the night, so I'll leave you two to your drinks and go see if I can sleep. Goodnight to both of you."
With that, she heads back up to her room and to bed.
The night finally passes without further interruptions...
-----------------
Wealday, 8th of Lamashan, 4709 AR
The sound of raindrops falling on the roof stirs the party from their slumber. The skies above have become overcast with clouds, and cold rain pours from the heavens in sheets.
As is fairly normal for her, Filiana is a prompt riser in the morning. Finding the house quiet and the day gray, she moves quietly down to the kitchen and sets about getting it ready for the day. She loads up the fireplace with wood and is just about to set to work with the flint and tinder when a thought occurs to her. Setting aside the mundane tools she experiments briefly with holding her hands out in the fan shaped pattern she used the day before when fighting the skeletons beneath the prison. Looking unsatisfied she mutters to herself "Too much, you'd set fire to the whole kitchen."
Standing in front of the fire and concentrating carefully on what she was doing, Filiana starts rubbing her palms together, faster and faster until she can feel the heat building up between them and then she parts them and brings them sharply together in a single clap and the kindling in the fireplace bursts into flame.
Smiling delightedly to herself, Filiana continues getting things ready. As she works she is humming a tune to herself. She clears away any cups and plates that were left from the night before and starts heating water for a fresh pot of tea. Then she sets about preparing some breads and cheese on a platter so that the others will be able to breakfast when they come down. Then she pours herself a cup of tea and puts some of the food on a small plate and finds a comfortable chair in the corner of the room and breaks her fast.
Khardan is in the yard, finishing his devotions to the lord Arqueros. Shirtless, the scarred warrior finishes his prayers and spends a full hour on spear drills, practicing with an almost monastic precision. Then he spends a further hour simply lifting heavy objects hanging from a chain.
Khardan returns to the house late, reeking of the yard, to devour some breads and cheeses. "Fank oo" he manages to mutter around a mouthful of both.
"You are right he was a fool. No I would not be here. I would be tucked away in Cheliax somewhere being a proper society wife. That my dear would be horrible. I'm a librarian, and researcher."
Imperia comes down the stairs. She's walking very carefully as if her head might roll off her shoulders if she isn't careful. "Good morning." she mumbles and goes to get some tea. She eschews any food right a way. After a cup of two of tea she'll then try some food.
"How did everyone sleep after our little interruption? she's still careful how she moves her head, and she's taking small bites of bread and cheese.
The doctor joins those at breakfast, smelling faintly of ammonia and beaming with enthusiasm.
"My apologies for retiring so suddenly after last night's incident. I assure you I am now ready to continue the hunt for Harrowstone's haunts and the professor's persecutor with a renewed vigor!" He tucks in to the simple fare Filiana has prepared with gusto, making appreciative noises as he washes down his food with a cup of tea.
"I slept quite well, Ms. Albus. Yourself?" He wipes the crumbs from his beak with his pocket square before studying the Chelaxian. "You look somewhat under the weather..."
"I've been better. A bit too much fancy tea last night. You look bright eyed this morning. I'm glad someone is."
Filiana smiles at Imperia's question. "I slept very well thank you. I was worried I might not, given the way I was feeling when I went off to bed, but I went to sleep quite quickly. I think I may have had a dream at some point, but I don't remember it."
She wanders over to the table and tops up her tea. "But I do feel very rested. So, what are we going to do today?"
"Clear the jail," rumbles Khardan.
"Yes, I quite agree, Khardan. Whatever's going on there is the work of the professor's killers and must be undone before it threatens the town at large. It may also be that these killers left behind clues as to their identity or intent - information which may be vital to the authorities in preventing them from commiting such heinous acts elsewhere in Ustalav."
The smile fades from Filiana's face at the thought of returning to the prison. The pleasure of waking fully rested and the satisfaction of the quiet routine of preparing the kitchen in the morning are driven away by the thought of returning to the undead infested building to the south.
Don't be foolish Fi, you knew this was coming. You know full well this needs to be done, and seemingly these are the only folks that are going to do it. You've hitched your dray to their horse, so now you've got to go the same way they're going. So, no more foolishness. You've got to go with them and you've got to help them, just as hard as you can.
She stands up and moves to the bench, putting her cup and plate there.
"Well, it's the seeds that never get planted as take longest to grow. I guess I need to get ready." And with that she returns to her room to prepare.
It's a miserably rainy day as the party finishes breakfast and sets out through the rain. The ground under their feet is an uncomfortable mire of mud and dead leaves, and a slow, cold breeze only makes the weather feel much harsher.
By the time the party reaches Harrowstone, unless precautions were taken, they're soaked to the bone.
It sounds like Father Charlatan... is he watching you?
Soon, the party is once again crowded around the burnt hole in the training room floor leading to Harrowstone's basement.
"Alright who wants to go down there first?" She casts Shield on herself, and activates her implements.
"Uh..." says Khardan, holding up a warning hand.
"Is anyone carrying those cursed symbols from the jail right now?"
Filiana stands quietly staring down into the dark hole once again. Although she wore her new cloak this morning, it has proved not to be sufficient to meet the challenge of the rain and she is looking more than just a little damp. She also has a fairly new looking pack on her back today, though the slightly flat way it sits against her back suggests that it is not very full.
What a miserable day, she thinks to herself... It's funny but most of the grand tales of heroes leave you thinking that it all happens on a fine sunny day. But I suppose that the reality is that you just have to go when you're needed. So many things about this are different from what I expected.
She shakes her head in response to Khardan's question.
"I believe that Lord Bramwell had some of them. At least I think he had the spellbook. I didn't take the weapon. I was afraid my will wasn't enough to hold it off."
Noting the weather, the doctor reluctantly changes back into the muddied tweeds he wore the day before. No sense getting finer garments equally dirty, I suppose. If I'm ever to do any field research in the future, I should really acquire a proper set of clothes for the task; something stylish but rugged. He makes sure his vial belt is firmly secure, and this time stuffs some gauze and simpler medical tools inside his vest. No need for my surgical equipment - even if needed, I'll likely have neither the time nor the proper environment to manage anything more complicated than bandages and stitches. Grabbing up his cane and pulling down the brim of his cap, he follows the others out into the foul weather.
As they stand again at the hole, Cawthorne shakes his head in response to Khardan. "Did you not say that until the spirits of their original owners were laid to rest - one way or another - the objects posed a threat to us? Surely we have only brought those which are safe to use..."
"I... just heard...something," Khardan says. "My lord? Do you have them?"
Bramwell cringes and looks in his backpack. "...hmm. I did. It seems they were reluctant to leave my pack."
"We should move quickly."
-------------
The party descends into Harrowstone's underbelly once more, finding themselves back in the main hub of the basement--the chill only gets deeper the longer they linger here.