Henric coughs and sneezes for a moment, clearing his lungs of the dust once more. Once he has settled down, he taps the end of his staff on the weather-worn floor of the Wreck, knocking any remaining centipede dust from it. "Shall we, uhh.. move on?"
He takes a brief moment to look around this room himself, before he is ready to try his luck behind door number... 6?
Kiley sneezes again as the last centipede explodes and shakes her head.
"I-I think so," she says before sneezing again. "I didn't know this place was filled with stars though, and since when has Henric's clothes been able to knit socks for mice?"
Renae's luck seemed to finally give out as the centipede's release of putrid vapors this time left her gagging for clean air for several seconds.
"Definitely not one of the hardest fights we've had but it was certainly the grossest," she said to no one in particular.
Once her dry heaving was over she looked towards Kiley who still seemed ensnared by Hal's spell. "You are quite sure that your spell's effects will expire soon, Hal? Renae asked the elf with a bit more heat in voice that she had intended.
With the centipedes dead Stryn looks around in the room to make sure there isn't anything they could use.
Once he is confident the room is clear he moves on to the next door just south of this room to make sure it is safe and listen for anything on the other side.
"Don't worry, Renae. The pink kitty says it's almost over," Kiley says with a giggle before stumbling a bit and landing in a sitting position. She snickers, trying to be quiet, but her laughter is certainly noticeable. It thankfully stops a moment later as Kiley groans.
"Hal, can you not do that to me next time? My head feels like someone used it for a drum."
"You are quite sure that your spell's effects will expire soon, Hal?
"N... yes? Yes. I mean, it has always run its course quickly enough when tested on myself, but the mortal mind is a funny old thing..." the cleric rather lamely defended his magic. Which given that it technically wasn't his magic but instead the magical byproduct of an alien deity, one he'd devoted himself to at that, Hal felt some obligation to speak up for. Not that Groetus had the faintest idea who he was, of course...
Fortunately the elf was saved from further worrying at the sound of Kiley's giggling turning into groans. Despite his words, the cleric's relief was obvious, and Hal's familiar little smile returned along with the young woman's sanity.
"Hal, can you not do that to me next time? My head feels like someone used it for a drum."
"That would be the thrum of the multiverse you're feeling, every pulse counting down for the end of all things. That or your heartbeat battering at your temples. Either or."
"... So am I the pink kitty?"
"Sure, if that makes you feel better. I can't even remember everything I was seeing. It almost felt like how some people have told me taking pesh is like, and if you have magic that is similar, then I really don't want you casting that on me. Pesh addicts are... well, broken in some horrible ways," Kiley says before turning to follow the others and see what lay the last few room.
"The diseased mind is not unlike this house, Kiley."
One spindly arm slowly swept their surroundings, as if to accentuate the elf's's words, but the black orbs that were his eyes - these did not seem present, instead looking at something infinitely distant and far removed.
"The furnishings are in disarray. The wood is warped. The fittings are broken. And the ghosts of regrets haunt its halls. But nothing is subtracted, nothing is added. All the components that once made this a happy, healthy home are still here. Madness does not replace sanity. It merely distorts it. Whatever you saw or heard, know that it came only from yourself. Your drug addicts are those not happy with their mental mansion, and knowing that one cannot flee from oneself, use poison to burn down their homes with themselves inside. Yes, they are broken people. I hope you're happy with yourself, Kiley."
The ill-fitting robes had slipped away from the outstretched limb, and visible to the keen eye were marks marring the pale flesh: puncture wounds from needles dipped into the skin so often as to form scar tissue.
Stopped Hal's words Kiley listens to him with growing horror. She realizes that he was talking from experience, and she saw his oddities in a different light. When she sees the scars, she looks away.
"I don't hate myself. I just want others to like me, and I've experienced enough people's reactions to the ears and tail to know that most would sooner kill me than get to know me as more than just a devil or a demon. I..." Her voice trails off as she realizes she doesn't know what to say. She stands there, her arms crossed, her tail limp, and her ears drooped as she hunches over and reveals her vulnerability.
Stryn doesn't find anything in the room, so he moves onto the next room.
Neither he nor Henric hears any sound from the room, so they open the door. Off-color rectangles on the moldering walls show that there were once many frames hanging on the walls of this room. A selection of pens and brushes, as well as a silver-capped ink jar, lie on the floor amid the remains of a desk.
Henric turns his attention to his allies' (friends?) conversation and notices Kiley's obvious self-doubt. He clears his throat a little, though it takes a moment for him to get the words out. "I don't see you that way, Kiley. I don't think anyone else here does, either." He visibly blushes a little as he continues, "I'll admit that having it suddenly appear directly in front of me was a bit startling,.... but I can't say that I would have reacted any differently even if you didn't have one. I haven't had to many close encounters with women of any race before. That is, until I came here.... and met Audrahni.... and the rest of you."
His speech trails off as his self-consciousness takes over. He doesn't turn away completely, but he tips his hat forward a bit more to hide his embarrassment.
Glad for something else to focus on, Henric looks about the former office. "I wonder if there is where Sir Roderick spent much of his time. Perhaps there is information here that we can use."
Stryn listens to the others talk but doesn't say anything, more focused on the task ahead. He slips into the room quietly to look around for anything of use or value.
"Oh, Kiley."
The cleric's typically so effervescent voice was laden with sympathy. Helping others achieve personal fulfillment in life was his calling, so hearing the young woman assert acceptance of her own nature had Hal elated, even as her feelings of dejection saddened him.
"You don't have to look for affirmation in others," he said, for once sounding like exactly the mentor and guide he wanted to be. And then, like every street sermon he'd ever held, the elf cocked it up by saying something obviously very inappropriate to most anyone but himself. "After all, you're going to die alone."
Hal's smile was about as incongruous with this morbid statement as a mustache on a fish.
"We all die alone, Kiley. When the end comes for you, it will take you as you are, hopes and fears and triumphs and losses and all. Death's door has to swing wide for all the things that make a person, but it only permits one. You go alone. Perfectly natural as it is to want the respect, even love, of our peers, they cannot join us into oblivion. We face this final challenge on our own. This is what makes your self-respect so important, for if you must look into the hearts of others to find validation for yourself, then you will crumble when you stand before the end alone. Happiness is so very important."
What was death but the moment one assessed one's life's worth, one's own's worth? To die content - there was no greater triumph in the multiverse. And conversely, there was no fate crueler than fading out in misery. This was what the cleric had dedicated himself to preventing.
Huh. Hal suddenly realized that this was exactly what had befallen Sir Roderick, and why a distortion of the man lingered in this sullen place. Was it possible that Groetus had guided him here to...? Nah. The Harbinger was't even aware of this corner of existence, and even if he were, he wouldn't give a toss. But something else clicked in the elf's broken mind at hearing Kiley talk about people rejecting other for their appearance, and even turning to violence.
"Hey, Stryn? I'm sorry for asking whether you should be killed earlier."
For several seconds, Renae simply looked at Hal in surprise. She rather didn't except him to be so... elegant when it came to the subject of death. It was still rather morbid for her tastes, but as someone who had effectively experienced death and rebirth herself, Renae found Hal's sentiment to somewhat resonate with her. After all, it wasn't as if dying with several others made her feel any less alone as she felt her end come upon her, though, that may have had more to do with the company she died with than anything else.
The wizard put a hand to her suddenly tired face. It was good that the air was finally being cleared in regard to Kiley's secret, but there were too many revelations going on and they were undeniably halting their process in the Wreck. Renae felt no need to add another story or existential epiphany to the mounting pile. At least not yet.
My apologizes for doubting your spellcraft, Hal," the enchanter admitted freely to the nearby elf. "We wizards can sometimes be unreasonably skeptically when it comes to divine magic. Particularly when that magic is derived from a god as... inscrutable as Groteus. Even so, it was premature of me to ask such questions, especially since your magic has proven to be more useful than my own in our recent battles... Renae trailed off than and sighed. The fight with the centipedes had been a poor showing, indeed.
With her apology done, the wizard sought to make up for it by nearing the door that was by the one Henric was facing. Given what lay beyond the last door they tried to pry into, Renae didn't open it and instead tried to listen for any sounds of movement that could be on the other side.
Kiley listens to the others speak and almost laughs aloud at Hal's blithe statement of how they'd all die.
"Sorry, I guess I need to come clean about some other things, but I think Stryn and Henric have the right idea for now."
She looks over the pens, brushes, and inkpot trying to determine their usefulness as tools.
As you enter the room and begin looking it over, you spy something...grayish and transparent float up through the floor. Drenched and bloated, the spirit of Sir Roderic looks upon you, floating off the ground, his gaze taking all of you in, a slightly malevolent feel to it. He opens his mouth, and ghostly water dribbles out as he speaks, “The cove. The stone house in the wood. The gauntlet. Save them. My map. The key.”
On seeing the spirit of Sir Roderick, Henric is startled, though surprisingly not as scared as he expected to be. Perhaps he'd already grown used to such sights, or the ghost wasn't broadcasting supernatural fear like before. Either way, he dares to step into the room and speak to the spirit.
"We found part of your map. Is there more? Can you tell us more about who we have to save? We want to help."
Renae didn't so much see Sir Roderic at first as she did sense his eerie presence. Even from the main hallway, the spirit's palpable aura sent a chill down the wizard's spine and reminded her the sear terror she felt when she first bore witness to his materialization during the Circle Market.
The enchanter took in a calming breath and thought. The fact that Henric or Stryn weren't yelling for help from the other room was a good sign that perhaps her town's founder wasn't interested in a fight or another scare. The theory didn't entirely calm Renae's nerves but she made her way to Sir Roderic regardless. He was the reason why they were all here after all.
Renae stoically moved into the room and looked Roderic's gruesome waterlogged shade in the eye with more courage than she thought she had. "My friend here speaks the truth, Sir Roderic." She told the spirit in an even but respectful tone. "We are representatives from your Cove asking for your help and wisdom in finding whatever evil is conspiring against it. Be it gangs or otherwise."
She could have finished right there but Renae felt compelled to go on. Roderic's Cove was her hometown. To say she wanted to do whatever necessary to protect it would be an understatement. "Please, founder. My family, the Kastoris, have lived in the Cove for generations. If you have any knowledge that can help protect them and town from danger than I beg you to answer our questions the best you can."
Strangely, the elf's ethereal smile faded at the wizard's kind words to him, to be replaced with an apologetic, even anxious expression.
"What? Oh no no no, please don't say that, Renae. I was so relieved to learn there was an accomplished wizard in the group. I haven't got the foggiest how magic works; I just leech off a greater entity's power. Honestly, it's all very irresponsible. I rely on you to rein me in. Also, I'm quite mad, you see. Please, doubt away!"
Hal might have lost his metaphorical marbles some time ago, but as a spell caster he was still inexperienced. As such he appreciated having someone to talk to who understood the arcane, and even shared Renae's skepticism vis a vis divine magic. Ideologues just being handed the power to reshape reality by otherworldly forces? The cleric might be a lunatic, but he wasn't crazy - that was a recipe for disaster if he'd ever heard one. At least the wizardly types were forced to appreciate the forces they commanded...
These considerations had be put on the back-burner, however. The appearance of real-life ghosts tended to take precedence in most situations.
"Oh hello, Sir Roderick."
The greeting sort of just came out reflexively. This was Hal's first encounter of the ethereal kind, and he was rather stumped as to what to do exactly. So when Renae took the lead, very eloquently engaging the ghost, the elf was happy to shut up and sit back. He'd done quite enough talking.
When the ghost materializes Stryn presses his back against the wall doing his darnedest to stay out of sight. He remembered the fear he felt the last time this thing showed up but it seemed somewhat different now. Either way, he wasn't about to draw any unneeded attention to himself.
Kiley watches the events unfolding while keeping an eye out for trouble. She tries to piece together the ghost's riddle, wondering what it means.
Nope.
Roderic seems somehow...put at ease by Renae's words, and nods at Henric's reply, but his only response is, “The cove. The stone house in the wood. The gauntlet. Save them. My map. The key.” He does emphasize different words.
He's definitely trying to convey something, and you sense slight frustration that you haven't figured it out yet.
Feeling like the answer should be right in front of him, Henric mulls over in his mind what the ghost could be trying to convey, but his social anxiety mixed with the memory of their last encounter with Sir Roderick prevents him from finding a solution. "I... don't understand," he says weakly.
"Do we have to save the cove from whatever is going on in the stone house that you marked on your map?" he asks, grasping at whatever comes to mind. "Is that where this gauntlet is?"
Having no formal education as a cleric whatsoever, Hal knew as much about ghosts as the next guy. They floated? And were typically transparent? The spirit before the party certainly fulfilled these criteria, but even the average person knew that most ghosts weren't all there in the head. That part departed for the great beyond. This seemed to hold true for Roderick's apparition, as he proved unable to elaborate on his plea, even to Renae. The elf set his fractured mind to work trying to puzzle out the ghost's meaning.
Let's see, the 'cove' was surely the town of Roderick's Cove. Unless there was some actual bay he wanted the group to search... 'The map'? Well, they had a map of Roderick's now, and it marked a 'stone house in the woods'. But 'the gauntlet' and 'the key'? Hal didn't have the faintest. Had the party found something like that? For that matter, who were 'they'? The inhabitants of the town? That seemed a fair assumption, but the vague pronoun could cover anything.
Honestly, the spirit wasn't helping much.
Stryn quirks his brow, he can tell the ghost is definitely trying to convey something and is starting to get frustrated we haven't figured it out. Stryn thinks it over a bit and then clears his throat to speak up "So you want use to save the cove, by going to the stone house in the woods to find some gauntlet and your map is the key? Um... is that right?
As Renae listened to spirit, she slightly cocked her head to the side in contemplation. Sir Roderic wasn't an raving spirit, speaking disconnected nonsense, that much was clear. In fact, he seemed rather lucid and straightforward compared to the last time Renae meet him.
Renae turned to Stryn and the rest of her allies. "You're on to something there, Stryn. The cove and them is obviously the town and its people, and we know the map leads to the stone house, but we still don't have any details on it, or this gauntlet or key."
Maybe Stryn was right and the map was their key to getting to this mysterious gauntlet, but without any clear info on the stone house they'd be going into a potential hornet nest without the faintest clue on what they'd find in it. Renae decided to press her luck.
"Founder, I thank you for the information you've given us so far, but we need to know what and why this stone house is so important to saving the cove and how it relates to this gauntlet and key.
Sir Roderic nods in response to Stryn and Renae's words, then says, “The cove. The stone house in the wood. The gauntlet. Save them. My map. The key.”
Sir Roderic then fades from sight.
Stryn quirks his brow as he thinks Wait he emphasized different words that time, maybe the map isn't the key, but the gauntlet is... what gauntlet though?
After the ghost fades away he eases up a bit. "Finish here, then find stone house, yes?" he asks as he looks to the others.
Henric shakes off the remnant fear from the encounter, the ghostly patriarch's words still ringing in his mind. "Yes. Let's get this finished. Whatever is going on, it looks like this stone house is our next stop.."
"Will do," the elf said cheerily at the proposal to wrap up the party's investigation here. He promptly stepped over to the next door and gave it a once-over before opening it.
Stryn and Kiley's examination of the writing utensils finds that the silver ink jar might be worth something, and that apart from not having any ink, is in fairly good condition. Some of the inkpens are usable, as well. There are also some items for measuring out distances on parchment.
Hal's search of the next door reveals no traps, locks, cockroaches, centipedes, or anything else, so he opens the door and walks in. Sagging shelves, one of which has partially pulled free from the wall, line the walls of this room, set with spools of thread, boxes of needles, moldy scraps of cloth, bolts of decaying fabric, and various types of shears. A round box of soiled yarn rests on a worktable along the north wall, and a dress form lays propped in the corner.
Sir Roderic's wife was an avid seamstress, well known throughout the region for her designs and the durability of her wares. When holidays drew near, Andella worked double time to keep up with the requests for festival gowns and fine suits. In the early days of the settlement, everyone had at least one piece of clothing lovingly made by Andella.
Hal walks in and begins searching the room.
High=entangled, low=blinded
Suddenly, the items in the room come to life, flying through the air chaotically. Needles and scissors zip about, while yarn and fabric fly through the air. Several of the sharp objects slice at Hal and fabric tries to wrap around his legs and arms.
"Hm," hummed the lanky elf as he straightened his arched back to look up at the tall shelves.
"I think the good Audrahni mentioned something about this once... Was Sir Roderick's wife a seamstress? This was probably her OUCH! Wha... oh. Oh, that's not supposed to be there."
There were a pair of scissors lodged halfway through Hal's arm, and no, they were most certainly not supposed to be there. The cleric looked up to see a veritable cyclone of sewing equipment flying about the room. He could only assume that this was the work of the late Andella's spirit, and that in addition to being as irrational as her husband, she was also violent. Oh goody.
"Think I'll just back out... oof!"
The words were hardly spoken before moldering fabric wrapped itself around one long leg and prevented him from leaving. Right, the elf though. That was quite enough of that.
Dagger in hand, Hal sheared the cloth away and made his escape.
"Well then," the elf muttered, looking rather forlornly at the scissors still sticking out of his forearm. He wasn't looking forward to prying those loose. "Are we dispatching the tailoring tornado in there, or...?"
Hal thought it best to ask what with the earlier insistence of dealing with the undead centipedes. Even so, he really wasn't sure how one even defeated an animated swarm of knitting equipment. Was just swatting them out of the air enough?
Hearing the commotion in the next room, Henric steps out to nearly collide with the retreating Hal. "Troubles, padre?"
He peaks into the room to see what all the commotion is.
It seemed like just as Sir Roderic's own spirit dissipated into the aether another immediately took its place as Renae heard Hal yell from the other room.
She rushed out Roderic's room to see Hal and Henric nearly slam into another. "What happened? Are you alright? , she rapidly asks Hal, noticing the blood dripping from his arm.
Hearing the commotion, Kiley isn't far behind Renae. She looks at the tornado of cloth and sighs.
"After everything else in this house, this is just silly. I guess we could try slicing everything to ribbons."
She looks to Hal and her eyes widen for a moment before she hunches her shoulders.
"Sorry Hal, I didn't realize you were that badly hurt."
After checking the room with Kiley, Stryn hears the commotion outside. Coming in at the tail end he hears the elf ask if they should deal with the threat. Stryn shrugs "Can it follow out of room? If not, maybe keep door closed and leave it? Don't want to leave creepy crawlers that can follow, but if ghost is stuck in room and can't follow then no worry."
Hal answered the queries on the nature of the threat to the best of his ability.
"Ghost. Spirit. Mean-spirited whirlwind. Invisible monkey flinging everything at hand. I don't know. Sorry."
The cleric seemed sincerely apologetic about this, albeit somewhat distracted by the sewing implement lodged in his forearm. Easily amused as he was and having gotten over the initial shock, the elf was inspecting the scissors with interest. This wasn't an everyday occurrence and for the happy-go-lucky Hal this was enough to make it a worthwhile experience. The endorphins having started to kick in also helped.
"Right you are, Stryn. Let's go then. Oh, but... Mrs Roderick? Catch!"
With a vaguely uncomfortable sucking sound, the elf yanked the shears out of his arm and tossed them back into the room. She was set to be here for all of eternity after all (well, the end of eternity, anyway), while he was free to leave. If the poor woman loved her knitting so much, then Hal was not about to deny her the implements she needed to pass the time.
"Ha hah, oooooh, that hurt."
"Hal, hold on. I can check the next room," Kiley says as she slips beside him and looks things over.
While Hal and Kiley check the southern door Stryn checks the one on the western wall just to help to finish things up here.
Hal tosses the scissors back in the room, where they again fly around with the rest. Notably, none of the objects crosses the threshold, leaving you safe outside the room.
Hal and Kiley move to check the next room on the wall, around the other side of the stairs down. Not finding anything at the door, they open it. The leather of the room’s two large chairs seems mostly intact, but stuffing covers the ground beneath them and has been strewn about. Broken glass glitters on the floor, and a low table lays on its side, the drawers from a small cabinet on the ground beside it. A draft from a broken window stirs the moldy drapes, and a crooked painting of a sailing ship at sea bears a lengthy rip through the canvas.
Stryn, meanwhile checks the first door on the western wall, and finds no traps, nor does he hear anything on the other side.
With Ms. Roderic's sewing room a no-go due to a very angry spirit of haunt chucking random sewing tools towards any would be visitors, Renae moved to the west facing door and stood right behind Stryn.
"Found anything that we should be worried about in there?"
"That depends? Do you follow Shelyn," Kiley calls out from where she and Hal are looking through the room.
Stryn shakes his head, but waits for the others to finish their investigation before attempting to open the door.
Henric stays back in the lobby with Renae, keeping an eye on the room with the flying debris. "If others of Sir Roderick's family still resides in these wall, I would like to know if there is some way of putting them to rest."