lazulin's Carrion Crown (Inactive)

Game Master lazulin

"Do you think some of the townsfolk still believe my father was a necromancer?" says Kendra to Nasrin's warning. "I had hoped the confrontation in the graveyard had dissuaded them. Still, I do know a little bit of magic--if I am threatened, I think I can make it across the river safely."

---

The crowd is too caught up in chattering about vandalism for Ilystria or Mathias to get a read on their mood.

One of the townsfolk hears Ilystria’s question; he gives the fey a sideways glance, probably unsure of what exactly she is, before answering her.

”Not much of anything happens in Ravengro, not since they shut down Harrowstone,” says the man, shrugging his shoulders. ”Things have seemed a little strange since ya’ll folks arrived, though.”

"Wykrycie magii." As Nasrin opens her senses to magic, she sees Lily candidly addressing the town folk. Then, at the man's response, she sees red. I let it slide at the funeral yesterday, but these paranoid folks are getting a piece of my mind now.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
"Hey! You!" she says, striding belligerently towards him, but addressing most of the crowd. "Sounds like you were insinuating something. Something about us and our late friend, Professor Lorrimor, being involved in foul necromancy. Look at my clothes and tell me if you think it wise to accuse an ordained of the Dawnflower, the fiercest enemy of undeath, of communing with evil spirits or raising the dead. What then, are you going to accuse Father Grimburrow as well? We are here to help, like it or not, but do not ever accuse me of such evil deeds."
Sorry if this leads to us losing reputation, but a bad night's sleep and the Pride drawback mean that I'm a bit jumpy

"I didn't say nothing about necromancy," says the man, but he still seems cowed by Nasrin's rebuttal. "Just, strange things have been going on since the professor died, is all. Guess the professor dying was the first strange thing, and that happened before ya'll got into town."

Though the man has backed down, you all can tell the mood in the crowd seems to be shifting--and not for the better.

Rom shivers. "Oof. Mara, don't let me make Nasrin mad. She's scary as hell."

He surveys the crowd. "Hey, Nasrin? Maybe we should head somewhere else, before this starts getting out of hand."

Honestly, I think we have a bit of reputation to spare-the system is notoriously difficult to begin with, and since most people choose to kill the mob in the cemetery at the beginning and thus lose rep that way, we're doing pretty great at the moment.

The crowd does not follow after the adventurers as they make their way to the temple; mostly it disperses once they leave, though a few stragglers seem to linger by the statue a little longer than the rest.

Once you cross the bridge, the Temple of Pharasma soon comes into view. It is easily the largest building in town, and the most elaborately decorated as well. A great stained glass window takes up most of the eastern facade, displaying a scene of a gray skinned woman--Pharasma, the Lady of Graves--gazing down on a man dressed in Ustalavic finery. Pharasma holds an hourglass filled with red sand in her hand--the upper chamber of the hourglass is nearly empty, having poured into the bottom chamber. The edifice surrounding the glass is carved into stone gargoyles, their faces in states of torment.

You knock upon the temple door--it is heavy and wooden--and after a few moments, the door creaks slowly open and Father Grimburrow stands before you.

"Greetings, travelers," says Father Grimburrow, taking a second to recognize you all. "Ah, yes, you are the mourners from Lorrimor's funeral. We were all greatly affected by his passing. And I was told of the attempt to block your passage through the Restlands. I am sorry that the villagers chose to act in that manner. Of course I would never allow a necromancer to be buried under Pharasma's blessing. I know her doctrine as well as anyone, I would hope."

"And I spoke to Gibs myself," continues Grimburrow, opening the door and leading the party inside of the church. "He was the man who led the mob in the first place. I asked that he apologize to you all and to Kendra, but I don't know if he will or not. I hope at least he does not trouble you again. He was a soldier, you see, before he came to Ravengro, and I understand his time in the army was quite trying. Made him wary of anyone from outside Ustalav. Sees enemies at every gate, I imagine. But he will listen to me, at least."

"But I suppose you did not come to the Temple just to chat with an old man. Tell me, what brings you to the arms of the Lady of Graves?"

If there was something the man was trying to hint at in his comment, it is completely lost on the artless fey, who always had a habit of taking words at their face value. Pleased to note that the townsfolk seem much more open to their presence, the man's answer garners only a bright smile from Ilystria. The apparent willingness of the crowd to cooperate makes her all the more startled at Nasrin's outburst. Staring up at the suddenly unsettling visage of the woman, Ilystria blinks, wondering what her friend could have heard in the man's statement that she has missed. Looking around to the crowd of faces a second time, Ilystria feels the helpful mood the townsfolk may have been in start to shift in an unfavorable direction. Fluttering her wings as quickly as she is able, the fey flies over the heads of the crowd and back towards her companions, doing her best to herd Nasrin along with her. "We should let you all get back to setting the statue to rights."

----

Ilystria remains silent for some time after the group leaves the crowd by the river, until they begin to approach the Temple. "I noticed that we have yet to tell Kendra of our recent findings..." the fey begins, seemingly apropos of nothing. She takes care to keep her voice light and airy, hoping not to give an impression one way or the other of her feelings about that decision. "Before we speak with the priest, I feel we should discuss how much we intend to disclose with him of Petros' notes. We fey may not be able to tell a direct lie, but that does not mean we have to reveal the truth in its entirety."

----

"Good day, Father Grimburrow," Ilystria greets the holy man. Her understanding of the honorific the mortals give him is unclear, but she knows better than to break from convention by addressing the man as anything but 'Father', no matter how strange it may seem. When the priest ushers them inside, Ilystria follows after a quick word with Fenmaer to stay outside. Before they get into talks of false crypts or lists of people who died in the Harrowstone, the fey asks the man the question that has plagued her since receiving Kendra's letter. "Father, you were in charge of Petros' burial, yes? Is there anything you could tell us of the manner in which he died, or of the condition his body was in when you laid him in his coffin?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

"Ah, of course. You should want to know the circumstances of your friend's death; I am sorry you were not already informed. It is quite tragic. A few months ago, the professor returned to Ravengro from Lepidstadt--taking a leave of absence or doing research, I suppose. Whatever his reason for returning, he began to poke around Harrowstone--the locals all believe it to be haunted; I suppose he thought to put that rumor to rest. Unfortunately, while he was attempting to scale the wall, one of the stones came loose and crushed him to death," says Grimburrow, shaking his head. "It was quite a shock to the lad who discovered his body. We wouldn't've even been able to tell it was him if it wasn't for the fact he was wearing his signet ring. Poor Kendra--she didn't get to give him a proper goodbye."

Grimburrow is silent for a moment, contemplating Illystria's question. "I suppose, the way you ask me that--is something amiss? Do you all suspect foul play?"

On the road
"I'm not sure myself, Lily" Nasrin says softly once she has calmed. "I warned her that there could be danger, but she believed that I meant the townfolk, and I did not correct her. This whole story smells rotten to me, and if she were on her guard she would be safer, but... but it would be hard on her. Perhaps if we found some damning evidence at the crypt or wherever this Harrowstone is?"
She absent-mindedly kicks a small rock forward. "I don't like keeping people in the dark. But I don't like hurting them either."
---------
Before saying anything to Grimburrow, I would like to make a Sense Motive check. Usually that's among the rolls the GM does in secret, I have a shiny +0 to the skill.
Knowledge(religion): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

Nasrin does not sense anything suspicious or untoward about Father Grimburrow; he seems to be a simple priest of Pharasma in a small rural village

"It is nothing more than a feeling right now, we have no evidence." Just an incredible amount of clues, all pointing in the same direction. His body was mangled beyond recognition? Beyond divination, more likely, that would be in the Whispering Way's style. "He left us notes about his work in the Harrowstone, though, and I was wondering whether you could tell us anything you know about the building, its history and its end. Also I believe that he had come to you looking for a list of people who died in the fire which destroyed it, and we were wondering whether you had that. I would hate to leave his last endeavour unfinished."

"Harrowstone, the old prison? A tragedy, that was. Fire burned the place nearly to the ground. All the guards perished, and most of the prisoners too, I believe. I could try to find the record of how many people died--but I'm not sure what good that would do. It must number in the hundreds," says Grimburrow, shaking his head. "Do you have any idea why he was researching Harrowstone? If I knew the reason, then perhaps I could point you in the right direction."

Nasrin takes a deep breath. He trusted him, Kendra does. Here goes nothing.
"We have reason to believe that Professor Lorrimor was hunting down a powerful cabal of necromancers called the Whispering Way. They are followers of the Whispering Tyrant, seeking to release him upon the world, and they act in secret. The way-" her voices trembles "-the condition his body was found is consistent with their modus operandi, so that corpses can't be questioned with magic. The Professor thought that they were interested in someone who was held in the Harrowstone-" While she is speaking, her mind connects two clues. Maybe the prison was burned down in order to have someone escape? "-but he did not manage to learn much more. He apparently was chased out of the Harrowstone by ghost-like creatures, the place may actually be haunted."
--
I'm not telling him about the items in the crypt, since even Professor Lorrimor didn't. I suggest we head for the Restlands as soon as we're done here.

Father Grimburrow is silent as he listens to Nasrin's words, a slow look of horror growing on his face.

"I have heard of the Way before--the priesthood of Pharasma is ever vigilant against them--but I never thought they would ever find a reason to come to Ravengro. What could they possibly want?" he says, shaking his head and rising from his chair. "For the Professor to have died while researching the Way--and having his body mutilated--it is too much to simply be a coincidence. Perhaps the professor was mistaken--but for the time being, I must assume he was not."

"I cannot fathom what the Way would want with Ravengro or with Harrowstone. So many deaths happened there--perhaps that is all the Way needs. Regardless, I will speak with the sheriff about posting guards around the graveyard. I pray that the Way is not still at large here--but we must take every caution in case that they are," he continues, motioning for the party to follow him. "Though I do not know what they might've been seeking--if Lorrimor thought the answer lays within our library, I will grant you access to it. Fifty years have passed since Harrowstone burned down, and I was not yet stationed in Ravengro when it happened, so I can not guess who might've been held there to so interest the way. If you do not find your answers here, then the townhall or the schoolhouse might have more records."

I must warn you all--be wary, if the Way is indeed involved. It is like a snare around the neck of those who follow it, growing tighter with each step that they take until it is too late," he says, as he leads them to the library.

"Before I came to Ravengro, while I was still an acolyte in Caliphas, there was another priest in training I knew. A girl, from Thrushmoor, I believe. A promising student of the Lady of Graves. But one night she was discovered in a graveyard, having dug up a recently internned corpse," he says, opening up a heavy wooden door as he speaks. Within, the hall is dark, barely illuminated by a few stones enchanted to provide a small amount of light. "They searched her quarters, and found--necromantic implements. I cannot imagine what led her away from the Lady's grace to that foul practice."

He stops for a moment as he begins to step away, before turning back to them to finish his story. "I--I still remember her screams. I thought that she would repent, before they took her to the stake. But I was wrong. She cursed at us, and said--horrific things. I am sorry. I will trouble you all with this no more. But thank you for listening to an old man's memories. If you will excuse me, I must speak with my acolytes about this."

With access to the library, you can make a History or Local knowledge roll to try and gather information about Harrowstone, even if you do not have ranks in either of those skills. If you do have ranks in one of those skills, you gain a +4 bonus on the roll. Additionally, because you were forthright with Father Grimburrow about what you discovered, you gain a point of trust, so you are now at 22 points.

Knowledge(history): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
"It's still early, we may learn something that we can use. Let's all see each other here in two hours. Oh, and if you find magic items for sale, please get me a scroll of protection from evil, I'll pay you back." Nasrin then enters respectfully the library, searching through the books.
In the span of two hours, her hair is covered in cobwebs, she has a cough because of the dust and she is starting to see the hated Professor Quealy, her teacher of Absalom History, mockingly laughing at her. "Raissi, I hope for your sake that you have other qualities, because I hardly remember a student as bad as you." What's worse, she feels like she has learned nothing she did not already know. Cursing under her breath, she leaves the temple.
"I'm starting to hope that we find soon some evil creatures to smite," she says to her companions when they get together "because I just got so frustrated that it will be a relief to hit something."

"Indeed, there are those who stare too deep into the dark, and thus get lost within..." Mathias drifts off for a moment at Grimburrow's story of his fallen colleague was that the case of my father? or was it something more? "Father Grimburrow, we thank you for access to the library, we will treat the sacred halls with due respect. If we find proof of any horrors that threaten Ravengro and its people, we will most definitely confer with you. In return for your assistance, I wonder if there is anything we can help you with? While I am trained as a hunter of the dead and am most capable against them, I am also skilled at dealing with others troubles."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Ilystria watches in silence as Father Grimburrow leaves them with another story, wondering if there was some moral to be drawn from his words, or whether the man simply had no one else to tell these tales to. She feels a pang of sadness at the possibility that his situation is the former, a lonely, fading man who had made a wealth of memories in his long, human life, yet had no one to share them with. Perhaps I will be able to visit him again, after we have finished Petros' will here.

Nasrin's suggestion brings the fey back to the tasks at hand. Taking another wide-eyed glance around the Temple Library, Ilystria's sight allows her to perceive the the vastness the room and its tomes in spite of the scant light being given off from the enchanted stones. Turning back to the Kelish woman, Ilystria nods, then recalling that human eyesight was not so keen as a fey's, says, "There are a few gifts that The Stag Lord Cernunnos allows me to call on when there is need of them. One such gift is a divine incantation to ward another from harm by those who walk the path of evil. If it would not be... unseemly for you to receive a blessing from another deity, I would be glad to ask His protection on your behalf. Though, if you would prefer the scroll, I will go to town and try to find one for you." Although in awe of the number of books the library contained, Ilystria knew her assistance in researching the Harrowstone would prove to be of little help; in her estimation, she could be of more help by going back into town and fetching what items they would need to carry out the Professor's work.

"I would welcome the company if you and Mara wish to join me," the fey offers to Romulus with a small smile. After taking a few steps toward the door, it occurs to Ilystria that she doesn't quite know what those items might be. "Will we be needing anything else from town?"

Before delving into the library
She can cast... of course, arcane-divine redundancy, will you ever think before you speak, Nasrin? "Oh," she addresses Lily "no, your spell will be perfectly fine, I will thank the Stag Lord in my prayers."
"Thank you for going into town, as well. We might use a ten-foot pole, a crowbar, maybe a shovel. Don't strain yourself, though, they are heavy objects. Meanwhile, I'll ask the priests for some holy water. Do you have enough money?"
Getting two flasks of holy water for 50 gp

Mathias looks about the library curiously. "Quite the collection here, but I guess we have to get started somewhere."

As Nesrin gives Illystria her list of needed supplies, Mathias lowers the book he is reading and turns to Nesrin skeptically. "A crowbar and shovel, just what are you intending to do, loot the Restlands? Are we graverobbers now? You do realize we are standing in the Temple of Pharasma, after just building some reports with the priest who oversees both it and the Restlands."

If people keep accusing me of disrespecting the dead, I'm going to get an ulcer. Nasrin lowers her voice to avoid being overheard, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "You do realize we are going to retrieve some items from a false crypt, so technically, we are looting the Restlands, just not a grave. What if the items we need were under a slab of stone? Would you break it down with your sword?"

"Thank you for your offer," says Father Grimburrow to Mathias. "I do not believe there is anything particularly pressing at the moment--though I will let you know if that changes. May the Lady guide your path, my child."

------

Try as they might, Nasrin and Mathias cannot find anything at all about Harrowstone in the temple's library. No records, no prisoner list, nothing. She does find a rather amusing book of gnomish poetry, at least seven copies of the Pharasman liturgy, and a surprising number of books about courtly love, but nothing concerning Harrowstone.

You can return to library tomorrow, or you can still attempt to access the schoolhouse or townhall libraries today.

Once finished at the library, Nasrin purchases two flasks of holy water from one of the Pharasman acolytes.

-----

Ilystria and Romulus's trip to the store is uneventful; they are able to procure the items Nasrin requested from the general store. On the way back, through the town square, they see a group of girls, about five or so, all wearing white shawls and playing a skipping game. As the girls play, they hear them chanting a song:

"Ispin Cudgel took an ax
He gave his lover forty wacks
When he saw what he had done,
He gave his daughter forty one!"

As the girls finish the verse, they rearrange themselves before singing again, though the rhyme is different this time:

"Mistress Zari
Quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells
And cockle shells
And bloody maid's heads
All in a row!"

Two of the girls now form an arch with their hands as they continue the first two rhymes, while the other three run under their arms. At the end of the second verse, rather than continuing on, they begin to sing a new rhyme:

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed
Here comes a lopper to lop off your head
Lip lop, lip lop, the last man's dead!"

At the word "dead", the two girls bring down their arms, trapping one of the other three between them, who immediately begins to cry.

As Nesrin lays on the thick sarcasm, Mathias stares back at her calmly. "And you realize that many in this town suspect the Professor of having been a necromancer, so if we, his friends, pupils, and confidants, are discovered looting a tomb, things might go poorly for us... And Kendra. Our primary responsibility is to make sure she is safe, and drawing fear, suspicion, and anger toward her unnecessarily is a rash choice. Or have you already forgotten the Will read to us yesterday?"

Pausing to let his message sink in, Mathias then continues. "if we can confirm an undead presence, then Father Grimburrow will most certainly be on our side and likely grant us his blessing to access the tomb. Let's do a little more research, and get to know the town a bit more first before any hasty decision."

Mathias then smirks a little, though the look on his macabre visage is a bit unsettling. "and to your question, in the hunting of the dead I have walked more than a few tombs and ruins, and have developed a bit of a knack for handling locks, traps, and such mechanisms. Now, shall we delve in?" he hoists a book and gets to reading.

know(local): 1d20 + 4 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 4 = 16

Unfortunately, Mathias is no more successful than Nasrin at finding any information in the library. He runs across a few bits and pieces that he already knew--that Harrowstone was a prison destroyed by a fire about fifty years ago, and that it is widely believed to be haunted, but the temple does not seem to contain any additional information about who may have been imprisoned there or why the Way may have sought them out. If the temple had a list of names of who died there, it is either hidden, lost, or poorly catalogued.

The information revealed at DC 15 is what you already got from your first Knowledge: Local roll, unfortunately.

Back in the temple
- He has a point.
- But he was so annoying!
- He was, but he has a point. Lying won't help.
- But the Professor didn't tell him about the tools!
- The Professor was the Professor, I'm myself. What's the worst that could happen?
- He might take the items as church propriety.
- He is a sworn foe of undeath, he will help us.
- But... Oh, alright.
After her internal struggle, Nasrin closes the dusty tome she was perusing and softly addresses Mathias.
"You are right, we'll tell Father Grimburrow before going to the Restlands. However, the crowbar and the shovel are useful tools and I'm still taking them with me just in case." She pouts for a second, then gets back to her book.

Rom frowns at the sight of the crying girl. He cautiously approaches them and squats down in front of her. "Hey, you okay? It's just a game, right?"

He motions to Mara, who sits down, panting happily. "That's Mara-want to play with her? She's pretty nice. I know she can look kinda scary though, her dad was a wolf."

Bluff (Mara's just a regular old dog and totally not a wolf): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

The girl stops crying as the other two girls part their arms, letting her free. She looks up at Romulus, frowning, while the other girls glower at him. The first girl wipes the tears from her face and tentatively pets Mara; when the wolf does not bark, she gives her a hug around the next.

"She a big doggy," says the girl, looking up to Romulus.

The sound of metal scraping and occasionally bouncing along the street comes to an abrupt stop as the pair find the little girls playing. As fond of a good song and a little revelry as the next fey, Ilystria stops to appreciate the rhymes the little girls sing, though, after a few verses, she realizes that these songs are far from innocent. First, the scene depicted in the stained glass window of the Temple, then, the hideous creatures carved into the stonework, and now the rhymes these young ones sing so carelessly... I hope to never understand their morbid fascination with death.

Cutting her eyes to Romulus to see if he is as troubled by the children's games as she is, Ilystria instead sees the tall, rugged-looking man striding forward to console the crying young girl. At the look the other children give the man, Ilystria sets down the crowbar and shovel she had been dragging along and approaches the group, signaling for Fenmaer to stay with back with the tools. "Hello, little ones," the fey greets then in her most honeyed, bright voice. "My, that was an interesting little game you were playing. It looked like such fun. And the song; wherever did you learn that?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Romulus laughs. "Yeah, she's pretty big. When I first got her, she could fit in the palm of my hand. I think she's still got some room to grow, too. Wolf dogs can get huge."

"How curious," Ilystria says to Romulus after he describes the size of Mara when they had first met. She clearly recalls meeting the she-wolf in the Shudderwood a short while ago, but Romulus had not been accompanying her that night, only a large, wary wolf that couldn't be persuaded to join the three of them. "Fenmaer and I crossed paths with Mara not long ago, but I do not recall sensing a human travelling with her. Do you often allow her to explore the Shudderwood without you?" the fey asks, her words curious but not judgemental. I could not imagine Fenmaer leaving my side for that length of time. Perhaps the bond between mortals and animals, and nature in general, runs not as deep as ours.

"We've always known it," says one of the girls.

"That's not true," says another. "This is the first time we've played this game."

"Dreamed about it, didn't we?" says the one Romulus had been talking to while she continues to pet Mara. "We'd better go home now. Thank you for letting us pet your doggie," she says, curtseying before running off with her friends.

For befriending the children, you gain a point of trust, and are now at 23 points.

Romulus watches the kids run off. Weird. Dreamed about it? That can't be good...

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and turns to Lily. "Sometimes. She often ventures off, but I'm often within a mile or so of her. Where did you say you met Mara?"

I knew it. She was the one at that camp...as long as she doesn't ask about the other wolf with her we'll be fine. Just stay calm.

Ilystria watches in apparent confusion as the children run home after listening to their contradicting tales, and before she was able to teach them a much more tasteful rhyme, no less. And with her poor understanding of human behavior, especially young humans who she's had the least exposure to, the fey isn't quite sure what to make of their explanations. Surely they did not all have the same twisted dreams last night... Yet, what could they gain by hiding the truth from us? Brushing off the children's games as little more than the strange fascination mortals seem to have with the macabre for the moment, Ilystria turns to Romulus with a small smile. "Oh, we met in the Shudderwood, of course. Fenmaer and I had stopped to take our rest for the night when Mara came upon us," she says, slowly but fearlessly extending her palm towards the wolf. "Did you know she travels in the company of another wolf? One whose nature was very unlike that of most wolves I have come across. He did not seem very threatened when Fenmaer and Mara were getting acquainted, at least."

Romulus stammers a bit before answering nervously. "Oh...you know, that's probably just one of the wolves that lives in that area of the Shudderwood. We-I mean...Mara isn't the only one that lives there, you know. I'm sure you know that wolves have to gotta be properly socialized with their own kind. Can't have Mara accidentally attacking someone, man or wolf, now can I?"

After a few hours of combing the books, Mathias turns to Nasrin. "All I have found so far has echoed the basic knowledge I already had from my past time in Ravengro, and from the look of frustration on your face, I assume you haven't had much luck either. I have never had the focused mind for extended study, but perhaps another future look won't hurt. Now, do we want to try the townhall or schoolhouse, as Grimburrow suggested? Or would you rather seek Grimburrow's blessing to explore the crypt beneath the Restlands?"

"I will have to defer to your knowledge on that," Ilystria tells Romulus with a shrug off her oddly patterned shoulders. Smiling at the cold nose that brushes against her palm, the fey takes this as an invitation to pet the she-wolf and does so as she explains, "Fenmaer came to me only a short while ago. Whether Lord Cernunnos had given him his agreeable nature then, or if he learned to be that way in his time before saving me, I cannot say." A sad, high whine brings Ilystria out of her reminiscing, her odd eyes moving over to watch as Fenmaer shuffles longingly in place by their abandoned tools. Amused by her wolf's antics, but reminded that they have more to accomplish that day, the fey returns her attention to Romulus to say one last thing on the subject. "Well, I am glad to see she has found someone to bond with. I look forward to learning more about the two of you while we are here, but for now, I think we should be heading back to the Temple," the fey suggests as she goes to give Fenmaer the attention he had been missing, before taking up the oversized tools once more. "I hope their time in the library has proved as enlightening as ours has."

Nasrin tries to dust off her tabard, to little effect. "I found more gnomish limericks than I ever thought there could be, but nothing about the Harrowstone. I suggest we tell Father Grimburrow about the crypt in the Restlands, while there is still sunlight. What do you think?"
She picks a spider from her hair and gently sets him down on the table. And if I have to search for more history books, I'm going to snap.

After the encounter with the children, the rest of Ilystria and Romulus's journey back to the temple is uneventful. Once Nasrin and Mathias are finished reshelving the books in the library, the four of them find Father Grimburrow in the chancel of the cathedral, praying to the statue of Pharasma in her aspect as a giver of mercy, her hands outstretched at her side, her gray face gazing towards the heavens, waiting for supplication.

"Oh, is there something you all need?" he says, rising up from his prayer to greet them.

"Oh, sorry-didn't mean to disturb you there..." Romulus shifts around awkwardly. He's not especially comfortable here.

Having once again dropped off the newly purchased tools outside of the temple with Fenmaer, Ilystria enters the chancel but maintains a respectful distance from the praying priest. Keeping her voice low so as not to interrupt the Father's conversation with his deity, the fey asks of Nasrin and Mathias, "What more have you two been able to gather about the Harrowstone? Do we know yet what the Way might be after?"

Once the priest rises from his praying and acknowledges them, Ilystria moves to stand beside the holy man. The smile she offers is soft, but when she speaks, her tone is filled with steely conviction. "Father Grimburrow, you mentioned that the townsfolk feel that the Harrowstone is haunted. I am unsure if you feel the same, but from the journal Petros left for us, we believe that harmful spirits may indeed linger in that place. Petros was certain that the false crypt your order has maintained in the Restlands holds the key to warding off such spirits long enough to safely explore the old ruins. Do you know of any such artifact?"

"I suppose I should not be shocked that he knew about the false crypt," says Grimburrow, a wry smile on his face. "We do indeed maintain a false crypt for ritual purposes--but I do not recall any records of the crypt ever being used for storage. If Lorrimor discovered something there, it was unknown to us."

"I imagine I can guess what you are here to ask me about. It's not technically grave robbery, since the crypt is not actually a grave. Though anything stored there would be church property regardless," he says. "I have always assumed the rumors of Harrowstone's haunting were just that--rumors. But if Petros thought otherwise--I cannot ignore the possibility that I was wrong, especially if the Whispering Way might be behind it."

"I will allow you to investigate the crypt. But I will still have to send one of my acolytes to accompany you, and I will have to evaluate whatever you find, to make sure it does not belong under the care of the church. If I determine that what you find would not be better suited under my care and will aid you in your investigation, I will allow you to take it."

At Father Grimburrow's conditions, Ilystria looks around to her companions, trying to gauge their reactions to the priest's requests. At the same time, the fey's clever mind works to find her own acceptable terms to the bargain. What fools you mortals be, indeed, Professor. How they can believe they have a claim on what they have no knowledge of is beyond me. But I will oblige the fading mortal's requests, if only because refusing to do so might leave him less inclined to share with me more of his stories.

Turning back to Father Grimburrow, Ilystria gives the seemingly kindly old man a sweet smile. "I believe we find your terms agreeable, Father. Thank you for granting us this opportunity to search the crypts. Hopefully, we may yet uncover something that will prove invaluable in foiling whatever designs the Way has on your town." Taking one more glance around to her companions to see that they're in agreement, Ilystria gives the priest a final nod before turning to leave the cathedral. She doesn't make it more than a few steps before a sudden thought occurs to her. "Oh, I assume the crypt must be kept locked if its existence is meant to be secret. May I have the key?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

"Oh, of course. My acolyte will unlock the door for you. Let me fetch" he says, shuffling off into the transept. He returns with a rather nervous looking young blonde woman, her hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing the robes of a Pharasman trainee. "This is Katrionna; she will guide you to the false crypt and unlock the door for you."

"I hope that you find whatever Lorrimor was looking for. I cannot imagine he would have gone to the crypt without reason," says Grimburrow before the party and the acolyte departs.

The false crypt mentioned in the professor’s journal is located in the northeast corner of the Restlands, near the junction of the paths known as the Eversleep and the Black Path. The crypt itself is a freestanding granite mausoleum, the roof of which is decorated with a pair of leering gargoyle statues. A single stone door with a rusty- looking lock sits in the mausoleum’s south facade.

As you approach, Katrionna produces a ring of keys from around her neck and kneels down to unlock the crypt--but then she stops, a quizzical look on her face.

"The uhh, lock is broken," she says. "It looks like it's been melted. I think we can still get in though--" she continues--and the lock falls off the door in her hands with a rather satisfying clinking sound. Katrionna picks a stone off of the ground and whispers a few words to it--and then it casts off light as Katrionna peeks into the grave. "Shall we, umm, continue?"

Within, a flight of stone steps leads down into the cold earth to a large crypt lined with empty niches—no dead are interred here. Katrionna stays by the door, her hands wrapped around herself, as she glances at the empty graves, waiting for the party to finish its search.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Survival: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (9) + 0 = 9

The lock was broken, this is not ominous in the slightest... "Thank you, Katrionna. Stay back if you are uncomfortable. Mathias, would you come to the frontline with me?" Then she draws her dagger, whispers a short prayer and points her hand forward, palm up. "Świcie kwiat, oświetlić drogę!" she says with in weird tones of the language of magic. Four orbiting spheres of light appear around her hand and move down the stairs.

After Nasrin's exchange with Father Grimburrow, Mathias extends a hand toward the aged priest. "We thank you for your assistance, Father. Rest assured that we will share with you anything we should discover about the fate of the Professor and the possibility of undead, and the Whispering Way, in and around the ruins of Harrowstone."

-----

As the young acolyte dropped the melted lock to the ground, Mathias looks at the concerned faces on his companions. We know from his journal that the Professor intended to come here, perhaps this was the manner in which he gained access. I don't recall him having any skill with locks.

Stepping into the tomb, he keeps his blades sheathed, though tightens the straps on his cestus.

survival(track): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

As he descends down the stairs, he notices footprints in the dust, and follows them toward the back room of the crypt, directly to a sarcophagus. "It would seem someone has made a visit to this tomb recently, shall we take a look?"

Romulus nods in thanks to Nasrin. "Lead the way, Mathias. Lily, does Fenmaer smell anything?"

Don't forget that the wolves have Scent. I love that ability...

Nasrin's light illuminates the tomb with ease; even those among you without magical sight are able to see what lies within. The back part of the tomb seems fairly mundane; it is just as devoid of bodies as the fore chamber was, except for the sarcophagus that Mathias noticed. As Mathias approaches it, he notices that the lid of the coffin is slightly ajar; someone clearly been here before.

As they enter the room, Romulus notices something odd about the western wall; there is a large crack between two of the stones--far too flat for anything substantial to be hidden in but large enough that you could stick your hand into it with ease--how far back it goes, he cannot tell. As he enters the chamber, Mara interposes past him, her ears flattened back on her head, the slightest growl in the back of her throat.

From the hole, Romulus sees something beginning to emerge--two coiling bodies with far too many legs, intertwined with one another, vomiting out from the hole and onto the ground. The creatures separate, uncoiling from one another, armor of chitin unbuckling into lengths nearly two feet long, antennae and jaws probing the air before they scurry towards the two closest living things in the room--Mara and Mathias.

Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

Romulus Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Mathias Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Nasrin Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Ilystria Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Centipede Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Romulus Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Mathias Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Nasrin Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Ilystria Initiative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Action Order
Surprise Round (Centipedes, Romulus)<--Currently Up
Mathias
Centipedes
Nasrin
Romulus
Ilystria
Katrionna

Currently it's Romulus's surprise round action. If it's not currently your turn but you want to post the action you will take, you can do so, using spoilers to mark your action "Upcoming Turn". You have 24 hours once your turn comes up before I make your action for you.

Kn. Nature: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

"Oh geez-giant centipedes! They're pretty dumb, don't try bothering to confuse them with magic or anything. Mara, get him!"

Romulus draws his earthbreaker, while Mara growls and bites at the centipede threatening her.

Mara Bite: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Mara bites at the centipede, but it skitters up on its back legs, and her jaws find nothing but air.

Action Order
Mathias<--Currently Up
Centipedes
Nasrin
Romulus
Ilystria
Katrionna

Mathias, you're up!

His attention focused on investigating the sarcophagus before him, Mathias iscaught unaware by the Vermin that escaped from the cracked wall. Pushing back from the sarcophagus, Mathias draws his mighty sword and swings at the centipede in front of him.

attack, w/ power attack: 1d20 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (14) + 4 - 1 = 17

damage: 1d10 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 2 = 11

Mathias bisects the centipede as if it was made of butter, its body falling into two pieces at his feet.

The other centipede, not noticing or caring about its fellow's demise, strikes at Mara, its mandible's wide; but despite the close quarters the wolf easily sidesteps its bite.

Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

Mathias
Centipede
Nasrin<--Currently Up
Romulus
Ilystria
Katrionna

Nasrin, you're up!

Nasrin swiftly circles Romulus and runs towards the back of the centipede, taking the long road to avoid AoOs while passing her hand over her dagger and magically establishing a link between her powers and the weapon. She then stabs at the vermin. And now I'm fighting together with a wolf. The day just keeps getting weirder.
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Damage in case it hits: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4