Dalton raises his torch high, squinting to see through the rain. His hood has been raised high over his head and water falls in heavy rivulets across his face.
Leaning over to Garenth so he can hear him without looking directly at him, Dalton half-shouts, It doesn't surprise me actually! Rumors have been spreading as far south as my homeland, there must have been a lot of activity! Smirza even mentioned adenturers being drawn to this place! We're expected! He turns to the shivering gnome. But this is what we came for! What fun would it be to blow up something we didn't find unsettling at all, eh? Hah!
And, tugging on Shogg's bridle, he strides forward in the direction the guard indicated.
Looking around, Dalton, you find nothing really lurking about as you stride through the streets. Nothing, actually. No people, no shops are open, there isn't even the occasional rat, or homeless. The only thing you can see is more water and rain.
The guard also seemed tangible, he just walked out of view and hearing range. You're lucky to have heard him when you walked in.
"Well" Varan says, "Suspicious or not I say we head to this Crown Manor mentioned by the guard. Keep yer arms a-ready and yer loins girded, me doubts any a thing here would pose a threat anyways."
The mercenary begins looking for signs of where this manor might be. If he sees a soul around he'll ask for directions.
Voicing his agreement, the inquisitor strides alongside the rest of the group, continuing to survey his surroundings. While one hand holds his cloak tightly to his lean frame, the other holds his hat firmly atop his head to keep the storm from carrying it away.
"There is a malign force here in the hill, I feel. I pray the goddess blesses our endeavors and allows us the means to vanquish what evil lurks in this place," he remarks solemnly to his companions.
As the group wades through the drenched streets of Carrion Hill, the only sounds they're met with is that of heavy rain. Vision is difficult, and the rain, cold to the touch.
Nothing happens while you walk through the streets, save for the rain letting up only slightly. The noise isn't that deafening anymore, but for every bit of noise it lost, it was replaced by the sound of crows circling in the air and guttural noises coming from the various water paths.
The shops on the sides of the road are all closed, the homeless, somewhere else but here, and absolutely no civilians to be seen. What you believe to be guards rush through the streets in a sprint, trying to get somewhere. They don't even bat you an eye as they run.
As you approach the point of interest, you can make out 2 guards, standing aloof in front of an open door. They immediately perk up as soon as they see you, like color just rushed back into them. They point at you, and beckon you inside.
Blinking at the rather abrupt form of communication, Garenth looks around for the reactions of his fellow adventurers before taking the directive to enter. As soon as he steps foot within the estate, the inquisitor naturally takes it upon himself to inspect every spare detail of his new surroundings. Incidents in his past have taught him to suspect even those who invite you in out of the rain.
Teagan looks to Garenth, seeing his traveling companions apprehensive faces. He might be suspicious of these strangers, but at least there's warmth here and shelter from the rain. He looks around the interior of the estate, looking around as he was led in to the estate by this strange man.
The interior of the manor is, in a phrase, dark and cozy. Various dark red bits of curtain hang down, and the floor, wood. 2 crows stand in the corner of both sides of the room, at attention and looking through you as you walk in. Rain seeps into the room, but not too far, yet another testament to the shape of the hill.
As you look inside, in the distance, you see a high-back chair housing a man who's sitting rather aloof in it. He seems to not notice you at first, but then he notices you walking in and practically leaps out of his seat in joy and adjusts various things on him as a last bit of being presentable. His hair is a mess, and he seems to have aged years in just a few hours.
He beckons you in with a wave.
Tall windows line the opening room, a bit gothic. The rain outside has turned into a thunderstorm, though there are no winds present. The occasional flash of lightning takes its toll, casting eerie shadows over the room as the rain picks up again outside and the crows disappear.
Dalton is the last to enter, having held the door for his new companions. He smiles warmly at the man, keeping his hood raised as he drips rainwater on the wood floor. He crosses his arms to warm up his hands again, each arm sliding into the opposite sleeve.
If there are any available seats in front of the desk for visitors, Dalton will be seated. If not, he will stand, his arms remaining in their sleeves. He notices Teagan and Garenth sizing the place up, so rather than try to spot something they miss, Dalton focuses his attention on the man. He's obviously been through a trying time.
Dalton won't speak first, because he remembers how he has bungled things in the past by speaking to future employers too recklessly. With a beneficent expression on his face, he will regard the man carefully, attempting to discern the telltale signs of guilt or malice in his face.
Sense Motive:
With a graceful dip, one foot out to steady himself, the holy-man gives his regard to what he assumes is a lord, in the least. After standing up straight he then introduces himself.
"Garenth Elsorvarle, humble servant of Iomedae," he speaks plainly, allowing the rest of his group the chance to make their niceties while stepping back.
Dalton points to his chest and smiles. Dalton. There, he thought. One word. Can't screw that up. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, looking out the window to avoid making eye contact. I hope this lordling of Ustalav sends us on our way quickly. I'd rather my deeds spoke for me. Maybe one of these three can talk him up, though it looks as if he's already happy enough to see us. That's a nice change, though the implications are...unpleasant.
Dalton looks thoughtful as he scrutinizes the thunderstorm outside, watching the unfamiliar sight of rain, so rarely seen in Rahadoum.
Varan thinks to himself
Answering to the lordling's wave Varangian walks up closer to him. After the inquisitor in the party speaks he raises one hand, palm open in salute, says:
"Hail, yer grace! We be travelin' adventurers who seek to brave them dangers of Carrion Hill. Fell word of this region has reached far'n'wide about the land and 'tis plain there be truth to rumor. How may we be of assistance?"
The man practically leaps out of his seat as Varan says assistance, almost interrupting him.
Finally! Someone in this godforsaken town actually has a spine...
He stops a moment to scratch the hairs on his chin. He has bushy hair and a goatee and seems to carry himself in an otherwise good manner. The amount of stress he's experienced recently seems to be getting to him, but, what could cause that?
A hand pierces the air and he waves you forward.
As much as I would love to exchange pleasantries, I'm afraid we're short on time.
“I thank you for attending in our hour of need—Carrion Hill has a long history of battle, yet always before its enemies have attacked from outside our walls. We are fortified to defend against such attacks, but now we face an entirely different threat. Our enemy is already here, dwelling in the tunnels and catacombs below and surfacing to strike without warning."
He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes the final sentence and looks to you for a retort.
Dalton leans forward and steeples his hands together with his elbows resting on his knees, his pointer fingers pressing against his lips as he considers. His unblinking eyes are focused on the stressed out man. He will hold his tongue, allowing others to speak for their little group.
"Vile forces ever hide under the cowardly veil of stealth, killing the weak without suffering reprisal. I pledge myself, m'lord, and will hound the dastards into the furthest reaches of their lair if that is what must be done!" the inquisitor boldly declares.
Ever the dramatic, Garenth draws his sword and places it before him in a show of fealty to the lord and also to give his pledge an extra ounce of reassurance. The heavily-lined face of the man then turns to see that his companions are also along for the ride, as he suspects.
Dalton merely nods in silent approval when Garenth's gaze falls on him, and makes a small "after you" gesture back at the lord.
Teagan, not as familiar dealing with nobility or royalty as his cohorts, forgoes the formalities traditionally associated. "M'lord, I am Teagan Payne, Exterminator Extraordinaire. You've got a threat. And I happen to be a fixer of threats. I also enjoy doing it, but not always for free."
The gnome picks his teeth. "I'd like to be there to solve your problem, but I'd need to know more about what we're up against, and how much ordnance I'd need to deal with the problem. Tell us a little of your problem, and I'll name my price."
Hearing the brassy gnome (eloquently) dressing down the situation for the noble made Dalton lower his gaze to the floor, in order to hide his grin under the hood of his robe. Fate had told an amusing joke when it had drawn Teagan Payne into his quest.
Seeing the man is obviously in a very disheveled state of mind Varan attempts to prod some more info out of him before his mind retreats to whatever dark corners it has been dwelling upon.
"So the threat comes for underneath, my Lord? What more can ye tells us 'bout it? Where should we begin?"
- he thinks -
"The first of these attacks occurred earlier this week when something huge came up from below in a part of the Tangles called Slipper Market. It partially destroyed a building and killed a half dozen locals before retreating into the ruined structure. The Crows were swift to reply, led by our own Commander Garus, but when they arrived, they were slaughtered to the last...
His voice seemed to drag along on those last words. He obviously wasn't satisfied with the way things had turned out, and who would be?
As he finished that, he overlooks the group, counts you, with his eyes and sits back down in his chair.
"Garus was... one of our best men. The people left after that, and the creature, whatever it is, has broken plenty more buildings since then but no one has seen exactly what it is."
"This happened yesterday."
"What i'm looking for isn't the immediate demise of the beast, or whatever this thing is, rather, information."
He unties a bag from his right side, which he had prepared for this moment, and throws it in front of the gnome.
"Fift... Fifteen hundred gold. I want you all to go to slipper market and investigate. One of my crows will escort you. This is up-front payment, and there will be that much more for good information."
"This is rather urgent, so I would be pleased if you'd go now, before it kills someone else."
The gnome approaches the bag with polite hesitation. He picks up the bag, weighing it in his hands before opening it. He looks inside. That's a lot of gold. But is it how much he says it is?
Thinking it would be rude to count the gold in front of the man who was gracious enough to pay them up front, he picks up the bag, and puts it into one of the pockets of his Haversack. "Although destruction's my specialty, I'm sure that we can do some sleuthing, and figure out what has occurred here. What information would you like us to come back with?"
The man looks at you rather sharply, wipes a bead of sweat off of his brow as the stress gets to him, and then answers rather astutely with;
"Anything."
"We've tried everything we could in the last day to figure out as much as possible, but the only thing we know of it is that it came out from underneath a building in slipper market. That's literally all we know, aside from the fact that it leaves an awful-smelling residue in it's wake."
Dalton smiles when he sees gold exchange hands. This was just like in the adventure stories he read about back at the monastery so many years ago, filled with tales of derring-do and heroism. Perhaps it's finally time for my story to truly begin, he thinks to himself, doing all he can to avoid rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I've heard all I need, my friends. Shall we be off? No time like the present! Hah!" He stands, bowing before the still unnamed lord as he speaks, before turning to his friends and motioning toward the door with a wide grin still on his face. His sweeping gesture reveals his temple sword hanging from the scabbard at his waist, and as he turns to leave with the others, he rests one palm lightly on the pommel.
"Let's go! The faster we figure this out, the quicker I can blow things up!" The twitchy gnome, visibly impatient, made his way out of the room, searching for the empty flask he keeps in his haversack. "The first thing we should do is get a sample of that slime. It should tell us what we're up against."
"If we're pressed into more than investigation I hope you don't mind the fiend's monstrous head instead of some notes," Garenth comments as he cleaves to his companions.
Returning his sword to its place, a shadow of mirth plays across his grim features. Ah, this certainly could be the work of something more than an out-of-control beast.
Varan replies to the question Dalton laid on the group.
"Yes, let us be off 'an make haste." and with a head bow he takes his leave of the lord, "Rest ye assured Sire, we'll hunt the thing and get it done...or perish tryin'"
He makes his way out the room and waits until the group is gathered outside and ready to search for the thing that blights Carrion Hill.
Properly escorted out of the room, the man almost trips over himself while standing up. He collects himself, then points to a man in black leather armor in the corner, who perks up rather quickly.
He walks out of the room in a hurry, catching up with those that have already left and begins leading the way. He doesn't talk much, this guy, and he seems rather morbid and worried. His eyes dart around the area as the rain drowns the drainage pipes and soaks everyone to the deep marrow.
His eyes are focused on the upper windows, where, when the lightning cracks, you can see human figures looking out of them, though, only for a moment. It's disturbing, to say the least. About 10 minutes into the walk, he looks over his shoulder and yells;
"You know! I hear they've got a guy named Talig up here! Runs a shop not more than 30 feet away from the buildin! I'd be careful though! Man's twitchy!"
he turns his head and keeps with the stride, fighting against the mercilessly loud rain.
"Twitchy? What do you mean, twitchy?" Dalton asks loudly, walking as close as possible to the man in black to hear him over the rain. One arm swings rapidly back and forth to add momentum to his strides, while his other hand appears to be gripping the hilt of his temple sword as he walks. Dalton left Shogg tied up in front of the lord's house and left his traveling gear with him in his saddlebags, so he is carrying nothing but his weapons, an Ioun torch that he has not lit, and a small vial belt on the side of his waist.
Realizing that he was soaked anyway, Dalton lowers his hood for the first time to get a better view of what's around him as they make their way toward Carrion Hill.
Perception
Through the curtain of pouring rain, anyone looking his direction would see a determined expression on his face as he steps lightly from stone to stone in the path to avoid sinking into the mud. He's completely bald, and the war paint on his face shows no signs of running in the rain, indicating that they have been tattooed onto his face.
Swearing as the torrential rainfall continues to batter his slender frame, the inquisitor makes a few remarks not typical of many Iomedae devotees. After finishing his string of frustrated curses, he tips his hat up to hear the lord and his companion of the roar of falling water.
"If it's all the same, I think it prudent that we not dally about, especially with characters ill-spoken of. Dark things prevail when righteous defenders are lax. There's no telling who or what we may be sacrificing should we choose not to make haste!" he urges his comrades.
"Shopping can wait until later." says Varan as he follows the black leather armor man.
Dalton's grin flashes white teeth in the gloom, and his raptor smile quickly turns to a belly laugh as he falls in step with Garenth. "I LIKE you Iomedaens' styles!" he roars at the top of his voice, hastening to keep up. He draws his temple sword, eager to taste combat and see what his new friends are truly made of.
Managing somewhat of an awkward grin, Garenth tips his hat to the monk. In turn, he also draws his crossbow and notches a bolt into it as the group hustles down the rain-swept alleys of Carrion Hill.
"How far?" he probes their guide impatiently. "And is there a vantage point nearby to the site?"
"Fraid not, son. However, we're very close."
A boom of thunder pierces the sky.
As you guys wade through the half inch of rain on the road as it makes its way to the gutters, the road turns to pavement, or, at the least, stones.
From the front of the group you hear the crow say "Alright boys, this is as far as I go. The other guards will be all over, so, my job here is done." as he spat into one of the nearby drainage ditches.
The rain was still heavy and relentless.
At the scene that the man brings you too, crows are frantically moving around as a half-destroyed structure to your lefts crumbles to pieces. A black sludge drains into the nearby gutters as the water diludes it.
On the right side of the destroyed structure is a door, and across the street is a rather rickety old shop.
In the middle of the street is another crow, talking to a man with a hood over his head, though not shady, he just wants to stave off the deluge.
Above, eerily enough, are the people in the other buildings. Windows are everywhere, and on every crack of lightning you can see the silouhettes of the commoners, looking down on the destruction.
A red stream flows away from the door on the left side of the street through the ditch.
Dalton holds his temple sword loosely in one hand as he looks around, taking stock. "Who's up for a good old fashioned monster hunt, my friends?" he says, pointing to his left. As he speaks, he begins taking long, confident strides over to the destroyed building, kneeling next to the red stream and waving his companions over to take a look. Dalton rubs his chin as he regards the red fluid, questions racing through his mind.
Varangian starts readying his bardiche and cheks his suit of armor to see if everything is in its place.
"Count me in friend Dal-ton. If it bleeds we can kill it, as me old pa used to say, ha ha!."
As the guide who previously accompanied them double back to leave, the slim follower of Iomedae casts his a bitter glance, nearly all but lost beneath his brim and the rainfall. Meeting with the rest of his comrades he attempts to approach the crimson trickling close at hand. If allowed, the inquisitor kneels down and samples it with a pair of gloved fingers.
If all else fails, Garenth calls upon the divine fervor offered to him by his divine connection, whispering a quick prayer. "Oh resilient defender of all that is just and righteous, help me to see what evil may taint this place!"
Between Dalton and Garenth's actions to check out the blood in the drainage, they realize that it is, in fact, human blood. Someone nearby most certainly should be bleeding nearby, rather profusely, no less.
Upon closer inspection of the drain, it's obvious that the drain snakes around to the other, rather destroyed, side of the structure.
Teagan's beady eyes look over the scene behind his oversized goggles. He pulls up the straps on his eyepieces, and stares intently at the liquid on Garenth's hands. "Looks like some sort of blood, but are we sure what kind it is?"
Looking at the drainage, he sees the thick sanguine liquid. Connecting the blood to the drain, Teagan snoops along the snaking path of the pipes.
Most definitely, the source of this mess is around that curve. It seems that a few Crows (Guards) are standing around, though 1 is out of vision, but you can see a man waving his hand around. A black glove means he's most likely a crow (Guard)
"Whatever was here has slunk back to the festering pit from which it came. It's corruption still linger like fog, so keep an eye out, friends," the inquisitor warns as he begins following the path of blood.
Motioning to the nearby guards, he shouts above the rain to call one over to the group, hoping to garner some answers.
Dalton straightens and crosses his arms as he watches the crows approach (if they do). He sniffs the air, but smells only rain and death. He watches Garenth investigating the blood, keeping a sharp eye out as he clutches his temple sword. "I do not like the looks of this place, my friends. I feel like I'm being watched. Let's get to the hunt as quickly as possible."
Through the rain, Garenth, you see one of the guards wave you over as you attempt to wave one of them yourself. They seem rather preoccupied.
Taking care to remove the ammunition from his crossbow, Garenth returns the weapon to its place on his hip and saunters over toward the guardsmen. Upon reaching them, he gives a small salute to each before staring at them squarely, a look of no-nonsense on his face.
"We need information on all that is going on and quickly. If we are to find the thing that did this and vanquish it, I would prefer it be done before more destruction is caused or more lives are lost. Don't you agree?" the slender, grim-faced man tells the lawmen.
Looking directly at you, the man shrugs whilst pointing over to 3 mangled bodies beneath a tent near the rubble. It seems to have been recently put together.
"Sounds good to me, but, you know about as much as we do!"
Looking over at the bodies, you notice that the blood in the drain is actually streaming from them, as the tent isn't doing much to keep the ground-water out.