Well, says Kendra, Lem here has just petitioned Desna for divine aid and discovered that the best course of action will be to wait until the morning to ask Father Grimburrow about the cache in the Restlands. She gives Lem a smile to let him know she's just teasing him. The rest of us are debating the point.
She notices Walter is without his coat and grasps his hands, concern on her features. Walter, are you cold? It wouldn't do for you to fall ill. Come on, perhaps we should head back to the house. We can talk over all of this there.
Walter wanted to say, oh, no, I'm fine, but Kendra's hands were staggeringly warm and soft, so he couldn't do much but nod along. The numbness of fatigue had kind of blunted the cold for him so far, but now, he could feel it strongly. He followed Kendra and the others back to the house.
Seeing the flicker of lantern lights, he strolls in and tosses the bouquet to Walter. Having watched the young man linger with that slender girl, Raj can only assume that romance may be brewing. "Thought you might find a use for these."
Walter struggled to find the reflexes to catch the flowers, but managed. He stared abruptly at the purplish fluffy things all tied together, and wondered if he had meant to throw them to Karrik or someone more alchemically inclined. Not to be impolite, he responded "Um, thank you," and continued to look them over.
Right, says Kendra. What now? Visit the crypt, visit the Sheriff, or just get some sleep?
"Um, I think... it may be difficult, but I think we should ask Father Grimburrow tomorrow. If someone catches us out in the cemetery, it'll raise questions about the vandalism on the statue, and I think the sheriff and his men will be keeping an eye out for anyone sneaking around the town." Walter thought for a moment, and hurried to add the rest of his thoughts. "But, um, I know that Pharasmin law doesn't permit exhumation of remains without, um, a really good reason, so we might get turned down just on the principle that we might open up a crypt with someone's, uh, body in it, by accident. So, maybe we shouldn't tell them..."
"I think we should wait until tomorrow and then ask. I hope," Walter said, remembering Sister Iona's hypocrisy and insulting attitude, "that the Father is persuaded by reason."
Karrik switches his gaze over to the Iomaedan, "Have you ever run an operation like the one proposed?" He pauses to take in the man's accouterments. "Seems like one of your order would generally shy away from such acts. Plus, if we are to attempt such an endeavor, I wouldn't be surprised if certain individuals within our newly-formed group have skills and resources that would prove invaluable. If the Phrasmins are currently unaware of the crypt, and if we decide it is worth raiding, then I believe we need to have every advantage we can muster."
He gives a quick nod to the pint-sized priest, with a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his thick lips, "Plus, I think you might have a difficult time persuading Master Lem's coin that now is the time to strike."
"The unfortunate truth is that men of my order exist because sometimes rules need to be bent to save lives," Theron replied with a bit of a frown. "Otherwise, we'd all just be paladins. However, to answer your other question, while I haven't done something quite like this before I know the art of stealth. At the very least I'd be able to sneak up and keep watch while Raj gets the door open."
For what it's worth, Kendra interjects, I've known Father Grimburrow for ten years; he's not quite so hidebound as his age might suggest, and has led more than a few reforms over his tenure here. He should be willing to listen to reason. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean he'll necessarily be willing to simply part with the items in the cache--but we'll never know if we don't ask.
Theron, you were there earlier today--did you see anything that might indicate the crypt had already been opened?
"I see..." Theron replied hesitantly. "Perhaps I was being a bit hasty. And no, I wasn't able to get a good look at the tomb earlier. There were too many people around. Perhaps I could take a look at the place tonight at the very least if we are going to speak with Father Grimburrow tomorrow."
"I have to ask one question, if we are going to try getting permission to open this tomb. How likely is Father Grimburrow to trust the professor's word? Sure, his word is enough for us to send us on a hunt for undead into the ruins of Harrowstone, but would it be enough for Father Grimburrow to hand us what might possibly be powerful and valuable weapons which belong to his church?"
He stared abruptly at the purplish fluffy things all tied together, and wondered if he had meant to throw them to Karrik or someone more alchemically inclined. Not to be impolite, he responded "Um, thank you," and continued to look them over.
Rajuna gives a curt nod in place of 'you're welcome' and watches the young man eye the flowers as if trying to divine their purpose. He says quietly, "They could be a gift, ya know, for a girl."
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"The unfortunate truth is that men of my order exist because sometimes rules need to be bent to save lives," Theron replied with a bit of a frown. "Otherwise, we'd all just be paladins. However, to answer your other question, while I haven't done something quite like this before I know the art of stealth. At the very least I'd be able to sneak up and keep watch while Raj gets the door open."
Karrik scowls in confusion at Theron, as if he just realized that rabbit that he was studying just turned out to be a sandwich. "So you're not some flavor of priest, then?" It's obvious from Karrik's confusion that's exactly what he thought Theron was. "Shame on me for making assumptions based on your choice of clothes. I certainly didn't intend to inappropriately categorize you."
When the conversation turns to the question of raiding the Pharasmin crypt, Karrik jumps in bluntly. "From my perspective, I would prefer to obtain the items legally, but I believe we must obtain the items… period. If this requires some bending or breaking of rules, I can stomach it. And I don't trust the Pharasmins' ability to set aside their bluster and pride if they realize we're encroaching on what they consider to be their territory."
His black eyes shift to Kendra and Lem. "So I ask the following to any qualified to answer. Do we as a collective believe we have the relationship, rapport, or skills necessary to persuade Grimburrow to grant us access? If we are not fairly close to absolute certainty of our success in such an endeavor, then I'd rather avoid that option altogether. The Professor made it sound like the Pharasmins have no knowledge of the items. If that is the case, then we should simply put those unused items to good use… for the good of the Phasmins as well as everyone else. Whether we do it tonight or tomorrow is not something I have a heavy investment in." Karrik can't help but give the mini-minister another friendly (if rough) nudge, ".. again, our good father Lem's coin's wishes not-withstanding."
Karrik scowls in confusion at Theron, as if he just realized that rabbit that he was studying just turned out to be a sandwich. "So you're not some flavor of priest, then?" It's obvious from Karrik's confusion that's exactly what he thought Theron was. "Shame on me for making assumptions based on your choice of clothes. I certainly didn't intend to inappropriately categorize you."
I guess I'm in luck... at least a few of them were so drunk they didn't listen to my rambling back at the bar.
"Well... I suppose I should say your initial assumptions weren't completely off," Theron says as he ponders how he should take the Half-orc's statement. "These holy symbols aren't just for show. I suppose you'll see later if the situation in Harrowstone is as dire as the Professor suggested..."
Okay, let me try this one more time...
Just to clear one thing up, everyone is definitely back at the house.
Suiting action to words, Kendra heads off, and it's not long before you all reach the safety and warmth of the house--where Dragomir has already stirred up the fire.Everyone's in the sitting room. : )
I don't know how much clearer I can be. You are all at the house. You are all in the sitting room. When I get a chance to post, you will all find yourselves standing outside the crypt ready to go in.
I can't think of anything else to say to make it any clearer, sorry!
After the conversation about whether or not to raid the Pharasmin crypt tonight, or tomorrow, or with or without Father Grimburrow's knowledge has gone back and forth for around ten minutes, Kendra stands up.
All right, she says. I think we've reached a decision--we will head to the crypt and see what we can find. If we are unable to breach it or otherwise have no luck, we will petition Father Grimburrow in the morning.
Take ten minutes to prepare, and then we'll set out.
Kendra heads upstairs, likely to consult her spellbook.
After the ten minutes is up, everyone is ready to go.
Kendra leads off, marching at a quick pace through the town square where the jail is empty once more; it seems the Sheriff has gone back to sleep for the night.
It's not long before you arrive at the Restlands, quiescent in the darkness. A mist is beginning to coalesce amongst the monuments and gravestones, and every footfall in the gravel seems muffled despite the clear, cold air.
As you make your way towards the crypt mentioned in Professor Lorrimor's note, your only companions are Ravengro's dead, and thankfully they lie quiet in their graves tonight. Those of you who are paying attention notice Kendra's jaw is clamped tight as she makes her way past her father's plot, although she only spares it a glance before staring stonily ahead once more.
Before long, you stand before the mausoleum, its squat shape limned with moonlight, the gargoyles on the eaves leering at you as the cold air lies gravid around your ankles.
Well, Kendra says, we had better get moving. She reaches into a pouch at her waist, retrieves a clod of dirt and crumbles it between her fingers as she speaks an incantation.
Kendra's eyes cloud over white as she turns her gaze on the door of the mausoleum.
While I don't claim my vision is perfect, she says, I detect no undead within the tomb.
She steps back and turns to Raj, gesturing at the large padlock on the door. I believe this is your area of expertise.
The sculpture of Pharasma above the door seems to beckon Raj directly onwards.
I also couldn't access the site yesterday. This is a test post.
Raj makes his way toward the doors, but is still four paces away when he stops, his eyes narrow, and he marches straight up to the lock. With one hand, he deftly twists the lock--and brings it away from the door.
Guess I didn't know my own strength, he says sardonically.
He holds the lock up in the moonlight, examining it closely.
Acid, he says. Someone melted the shank with acid, and then replaced the lock so that it would look like it hadn't been tampered with--so long as nobody looked closely.
Kendra holds her hand out. Raj deposits the lock into it.
Kendra turns the lock over, running her slim fingers along the spot where acid has melted through the shank. Her white-clouded eyes seem no impediment to her normal vision.
I guess that explains the acid in the basement, she says quietly. It seems clear now that my father did indeed break in here before he died.
She tosses the lock back to Raj and turns to Dragomir and Karrik.
Gentlemen, if you would, please... She gestures to the doors.
The two burly men put their shoulders to the doors, which swing inwards on surprisingly quiet hinges. The moonlight illuminates a set of wide steps leading down, but nothing else can be seen in the darkness.
So, Kendra says, who's going first?
Karrik, wipes some white dust from his shoulder with a flick of his thick hand as he looks into the darkness. With the revelation that the Professor could have been here, he looks for footprints in the dust as well as any other signs of activity or danger from within.
His blade rasps from its sheathe as he takes in the dark interior of the crypt. "Can't see anything yet. Single room, about 30 feet square. Some sort of bas-relief carved into the floor. Can't see it all yet, though. Raj, Theron, you two leading? I can come if vision is an issue."
Perception 1:
Perception 2:
Survival:
Raj nods, "I'll go first. If I die, well, don't do whatever I did." He offers a reassuring wink before entering the crypt. Not for the first time, Raj silently curses his ordinary vision and mentally scribbles a note to acquire potions of Keen Sight and/or Goggles of Night some day... either that or study magic.
I wonder if I could sweet-talk Karrik, Miss Rose, Miss Flori, or Miss Lorrimor into givin' me some lessons?
"His blade rasps from its sheathe as he takes in the dark interior of the crypt. "Raj, Theron, you two leading? I can come if vision is an issue."
Theron casts a light spell upon his bow as he steps into the crypt. "Vision shouldn't be a problem, though stealth might be an issue. Having Raj and I in the front sounds like a good idea for now....Just be ready for me to fall back if we run into something, I'm better at fighting from a distance. Perhaps we should have one more person with heavier armor with Raj and I for now?" A moment later, he casts detect magic and begins looking around while he waits to see if Raj is ready to move forward.
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Let us pray. Wise Desna, we beseech you for your guidance. Please light our path with knowledge of our obstacles and the skills to overcome them.
As the priest speaks he gestures, and with a flourish armor begins to glow.
He then continues: And should we miss your portents, or choose to ignore them (Lem winks at Karrik as he says this) grant us the blessing of your luck, that our sword blows and arrows always find their marks, or at the very least that our foes' bootlaces are untied. In the dim light, his companions can see Lem smiling, trying to put everyone at ease. Failing that, give us sure feet and a clear path to the exit so we live to tell the tale.
There, that should do it. Nothing to fear now. Let's go. He approaches pats him on the back and says: the blessings of Desna be upon you.
Flori will find a spot in the middle. Lousy perception, but 90' darkvision, if it matters.
Karrik takes the lull caused by the petite parson's prayer to Detect Magic into the dark room, though he gives Lem a smile at the jibe.
"You're a handy fellow, Father." Raj cat-foots carefully into the crypt holding the glowing stone aloft in one hand and a curved dagger in the other. Being careful not to step on the bas-relief, he looks for footprints or obvious traps. He surveys the empty room for a moment, "I guess it was too much to hope for to find a big pile of equipment right here, eh?"
Rose draws her own blade and enchants the tip of it, allowing it to give a soft glow. "Entering crypts and graveyards at night just never seem as good an idea when you get there. Let's just hope this doesn't end like some I've been in."
Dragomir draws the huge sword at his hip and holds it in both hands. I'd better be one of the people closer to the front as long as I am holding this.
Survival +6
Perception +0
Perception +0
Walter stood aside, casting glances back into the rest of the Restlands. Everyone else looked like they were raring to go, claiming spots in front-- Walter figured he was going to be the one in back.
He drew the longsword he had brought up to Ravengro, hefting it in both hands. Before Dragomir could lumber away, he reached forward and touched his back. The voices kicked up, like whispers just beyond a window. It'd be hard to push them back down after this.
"Be careful."
Perception #1 -
Perception #2 -
Untrained Survival -
survival
perception
After a brief shuffle and a few protective spells cast before the doorway, Raj—a lighted rock in one hand and a large dagger in the other—and Rose, with her sword glowing from a light spell as well, move gingerly down the steps. They stop near the bottom to take stock of the room illuminated by their ensorcelled items.
###
Room #1
This room is square, thirty feet to a side. The floor is paved with light grey flagstones. In the centre of the floor is a bas-relief showing a whippoorwill standing on the pages of an open book—a design evincing not-inconsiderable skill on the part of the artisan. To the left, in the centre of the wall stands a six-foot statue of Pharasma the midwife, carved from granite. Opposite her in front of the right wall is a similar statue of Pharasma the reaper. The sculptures appear to watch you all impassively—for now.
The walls of the room are made from the same dark granite as the exterior, leading up to a vaulted ceiling that is 15 feet high at its lowest point, and 25 feet high at the tallest. Ahead, in the opposite wall, are two doors. Both are solid wooden doors banded with metal, but they don’t appear to have a lock on them, merely a latch that may be opened from this side. The doors are normal-sized, you’ll have to go through in single file. The floor and the statues of Pharasma are covered in dust; it’s clear nobody has been in here in decades.
Just to be clear (because perhaps not everyone has read the Discussion thread)—there are no traps within this crypt. (Read: I assume you are looking for them and I would tell you if you found any; there are none to find, so I might as well save us the trouble of having to ask/answer the question repeatedly.)
###
Your turn. : )
Raj looks to Walter, a young man who periodically is a font of inexplicable knowledge. "You know anything about the story behind this relief?"
Raj looks to Walter, a young man who periodically is a font of inexplicable knowledge. "You know anything about the story behind this relief?"
Walter took a few steps closer, taking in the room. He crouched down in front of the relief, setting the longsword down in front of him and looking over the book, dusting it off with his hand.
The book - -
"The whippoorwill is Pharasma's holy bird. It's, um... a psychopomp. It guides the dead to rest."
He gestured to the statue of Pharasma the midwife. "Pharasma brings life," and then to the statue of Pharasma the reaper, "and ends it." He stood up, hefting the longsword again.
If at all applicable, - -
"It looks like, um... pretty standard accoutrements of a well-to-do crypt to me. All we're missing as far as iconography goes is a depiction of skeletal creatures being chased or running," he said, recalling imagery he'd seen in the churches at Lepidstadt.
Raj looks to Walter, a young man who periodically is a font of inexplicable knowledge. "You know anything about the story behind this relief?"
The prints are quite human-sized. Someone who wore shoes rather than going barefoot.
I am guessing everyone can read this spoiler since Walter will relate it anyway, but here you go:
Dragomir makes a fist and makes a spiral over his heart.
Dragomir makes a fist and makes a spiral over his heart.
Dragomir feels an unusual peace wash over him.
These are actually spoilers I'd prefer you didn't read unless the person concerned chooses to relate the information within.
And then he hears/feels/smells/sees/tastes two words that reverberate inside his mind.
FAITH ENDURES.
Dragomir's senses return to him--but it seems nobody has noticed his momentary...whatever it was.
Rajuna listens to to young oracle's explanation while examining the relief closely, crouched low. Held reversed, the curved dagger's blade rests near his forearm - making his arm look like the sharp claw of a praying mantis. He glances up from the relief to give Walter a quizzical look, "Psychapump? I'll try to remember that."
Seeing little to be gained from further examination of the relief, Raj quietly moves to examine the doors and then listen at each one in turn.
Walter thought about correcting him, but chose not to. He pressed on. "It also reads 'When you're no longer outside, you may leave.' It's, um, a koan for the clergy. It can mean a lot of things. I personally heard an explanation once, that, um... it meant something like, if you don't know the future, then you have the illusion of choice, and can choose your own actions. But when you are inside-- the spiral, of life and death, in the 'eye of the hurricane'-- you can see the future and no longer have autonomy of decision. It's one out of a million different interpretations." He made sure, when he stood up, to not put his foot on the relief out of respect.
Walter watched Rajuna listen to the doors as he spoke. Rajuna was something else-- like a cat trying to decide the best way to get through a closed window, he had this aloof severity that made it hard to tell if he was kidding. "Sorry if I'm being distracting. Or boring."
Raj cocks an eyebrow at the comment and holds the young man's eyes. "You're neither, Walt." He yields up a small smile. "Doc once said to me, It is better to be silent and thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt. Guess I just err on the side of caution because you're talkin' out of my depth. It ain't personal."
Dragomir halts suddenly, this fist that had been making obeisance to Pharasma, goes to swiftly to his head and his sword tip drops suddenly, just halting above the floor.
The large man blinks sharply as he exhales, then his eyes shoot back and forth, re-orientating himself.
Pharasma's Grace, he whispers as his blade comes back up to guard position.
I... have felt the touch of The Lady! But why? Is it a sign? Has my time finally come?