Kendra keeps reading her book, regarding Milo's words. "The Laramee girl should know better, especially on a week night." Miss Lorrimor does look up from her studies when Antrellus's name is mentioned.
"The beggar? Why would you need to look for that poor man? I expect him to abandon Ravengro, when winter comes. Harsh weather takes its toll on the homeless." Kendra dips a hard cookie in her kahve for a moment, and saves it from breaking off and sinking to the bottom of the mug.
"He has been an unusual presence, at all. The girl blamed him for killing her bird, but he has also made some unusual appearances since we arrived. It wouldn't hurt to speak with him."
Marinus' hands act of their own accord again, tracing some rather forceful, terse gestures in the air.
Varisian sign has evolved over the centuries to include both a formal diction and a more vulgar patois of gestures that's preferred by the Sczarni.
Though difficult to translate into the common tongue, the gist of Marinus' words is:
Ain't so kindly now, is she? What, just 'cuz he's crazy, he ought be shunned? How many times've we/I been loony, fer fekks sake?
Kendra nods, mid-sip. "From what I gather, he tends to wander off towards the south, southeast of Ravengro, if you don't see him about town. He's been known to steal carrots and apples. I don't see that as any reason to harrass the old man, but their not my carrots and apples."
"Harass? I wouldn't say harass. In fact, maybe he'd like some nice bread and apple jam to accompany our chat. Some coffee too, perhaps?"
Marinus clamps down on his hands, smiling pleasantly at Kendra.
As he sips his tea, Sebastien watches Mari's hand gestures intently but discreetly trying to understand their meaning.
"I would just like to talk to him about your father. He was at the funeral when we arrived and I've been curious about his reasons for attending. The Professor was always very kind and it's possible he helped Antrellus in some way."
Sebastien pauses to take another sip of tea before adding, "Either way I'd like to see if there's something I can do to help him now. As you said, life can be hard on the homeless."
"Oh, you misunderstand me, Marinus. The apples and carrots are not your own. Poor Antrellus is harrassed by farmer Odeon, when they cross paths. His wife, Margaret, tells me so."
Kendra nods at Sebastien's observations. "Have you dealt with the mentally ill before? Not many of Ravengro have, so he's likely going to think of you in the same light. Just, be careful."
Ajir stirs in the morning, opting to stretch before swapping sheet-wrap for clothing.
He helps himself to some tea as well. "A magic scroll! Sounds like an endeavor. Best of luck! Do you know what spell you want to try your hand at scribing?"
"Did your dad have a pet bird here in town?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet. Probably Identify, to start. As for pet birds, we once had a pair of songbirds, when I was much younger. Belle and Sebastian. They made lovely music together." Kendra flutters her eyes at your dhampir. "I'm sure there's a Belle out there for you, too, master Sebastien." She laughs lightly, then turns to Marinus.
"Help yourselves, to food items, and one of the blankets by the fireplace. Maybe Antrellus will find them acceptable gifts."
Marinus gathers a basket full of sundries and presents it to the stronger Milo. "Maybe we could pick up a jar of your mum's apple preserves on our way."
He doesn't wait for a reply. He just smiles and leaves the basket, making for the door.
The Bereaved depart the Lorrimor Place, seeking an audience with the man without a home, known as Antrellus. The day is windy, but the sun manages to counter some of the chilliness with its direct rays. The ground is firm, and it grits its dirt teeth as you trod the road towards the woods beyond the southeastern farmland.
A half of an hour into the hike, and you encounter a small game trail. Sebastien keys into the impressions of bare feet, human in nature, which lead up and down the trail, presumably into and out of town. Another half of an hour, and you find yourselves running along a rather deep ravine, roughly 30' at its lowest points.
Perched on the edge of the ravine, you spy a rude lean-to shelter. It is roughly constructed, with clapboard and scrap wood nailed or lashed together with rusty nails, tattered ropes, and woven branches and vines. Its far end hangs out over the ravine, propped on tree stumps. Rain barrels catch water from an improvised gutter on one side of the shack.
A pair of ropes links the back of the shack to a tall cedar across the ravine, where a ramshackle treehouse can be dimly seen amidst the higher branches. A ramshackle platform sits in the upper branches of a tall cedar, some 30 feet above the ground. The lower branches of the tree have been pruned and scorched to prevent regrowth, but the treehouse itself is shrouded in greenery. The rope bridge ends at a small balcony, where you can see glimpses of a door.
How do you proceed?
Emm takes a moment to cast heightened awareness on herself before proceeding.
"A treehouse? Well, I applaud the ingenuity at least. Perhaps we should be careful lest he be ingenious enough add traps as well."
She will wait for those more protected than her to take the lead, then checks for any strange mechanisms around the shelter.
Marinus follows Emm quietly, more watchful of her watchfulness than any threats. He gesticulates idly.
She's a brave one. Much like mother in the years of... Who was it? Prince Andredos? Which great evil was it then? Look after her. Let her do the same, if she chooses.
Emm idly signs back.
"I appreciate the kind words. I would not want you worrying about me, though."
She smiles and shrugs.
"And don't worry, I only refreshed my memory with one of Petros's books last night, so I have not been listening in this whole time."
Marinus blushes and then almost laughs.
"So many memories with their own voices. It's sometimes to have them talking with my hands than in my head... But this is great! We can speak discretely."
"I am glad you approve. And yes, discretion is always valuable, particularly in our situation, I think."
Sebastien approaches the lean-to with Millicent and Marinus. "Perhaps we should announce ourselves first."
Watching the treehouse for signs of Antrellus Sebastien raises his voice. "Hello! Antrellus, are you home? We'd like to talk to you if that's alright."
Ajir keeps a cautious eye, but admires the handiwork born of necessity, roughshod as it may be.
He chimes in to follow Sebastian's greetings. "We have food. Were you at the Professors house the other night to warn us of something?"
Millicent studies the architectural prowess of the strange man, and finds it trapped with a pit that spans the entire floor in front of the door. She can barely make out the depth, until a little light is shed, and Marinus adjusts his eyesight to the black behind the crack. The dhampir informs you of the 20' depth, though nothing is dug into the bottom of the pit, so you'd only suffer injury by the fall. Someone skilled in disabling traps might be able to secure the flooring for folks to walk upon. Climbing along the front wall with the door may also succeed, if your fingertip strength is good enough. There is also some play in the wood of the other walls, but it may risk collapsing the whole shack on this side of the ravine.
"Hello! Antrellus, are you home? We'd like to talk to you if that's alright."
"We have food. Were you at the Professors house the other night to warn us of something?"
A curtain moves, and the door of the treehouse opens. Antrellus the Mad steps out into full view on the balcony above the ravine. "Food, you say? And you've come to talk, you say? Then you shall be guests! Come up, come up! Come see, come see!" The strange man flicks a small string on his side of the bridge, then bolts back into the treehouse. Probably dusting the chairs off, and making things presentable for your arrival...
"Ah, but sir, the weather is so nice. Perhaps a picnic out here on the lawn?"
For his brief appearance, Antrellus the Mad seems genuinely excited to have you join him in the treehouse.
The sound of a dish clattering reaches you from the treehouse, and a soft moan of disappointment.
"I think he may be genuine. Maybe he deactivated the trap. Did anyone bring rope? I could test it?"
Emm takes a moment to ensure that the trap is disabled.
"Unfortunately, I do not tend to carry rope on me. I have a considerable amount at home, though you may have balked at it anyways considering its use history."
Millicent finds the two planks which are required to be pulled just a little further to stabilize the floor of the landing. The pit below will have to wait another day for an unfortunate to drop in and keep it company.
This maneuver allows you access to the door, which allows you access to the interior of the Shack. The rain barrels do provide drinkable water, despite the fallen leaves and insects skimming the surface. The shack contains a rough oven built of river stones and mortar and an improvised smoker. Several barrels hold jerky of indeterminate origin, and the floor is scattered with rusty tools and numerous stained and worn sacks of burlap and canvas, as well as a hammer, hatchet, shovel, and a set of artisan’s tools, likely useful in maintaining the trapped floor. At the back of the shack is a large shuttered window with a bench beneath it, allowing egress to the rope bridge.
Observing the rope bridge on this side of the ravine reveals a curious mechanism- an axe, poised to swing down on either a trespasser, the ropes of the bridge itself, or both. Its snare has been deactivated, a fishhook running along the length of the rope bridge, and likely pulled from the opposite side, to make sure the axe wasn't triggered by new guests.
"He is quite the handyman, our Antrellus. And you're quite the handywoman, Emm." Marinus steps carefully through the shack, waiting for others to lead the way onward.
"He is indeed." Emm nods towards theaxe poised to swing down on the bridge. "It is deactivated, apparently."
She waves off the compliment. "I have needed to be self-sufficient, that is all. Some mechanical knowledge is useful."
Ajir, unskilled at how structures are built, takes the moment to appreciate the diverse qualities of the group gathered for the professor's cause. He does take a pause at the mention of the rope's use and then grins to himself.
He also pauses to admire the ingenuity behind the supposed mad-man's intentions. Not so much the presentation, but the resourcefulness to bring his vision to reality.
Marinus fidgets a bit, growing impatient. "Well, let's move along, shall we?" He moves forward, keeping an eye out for any additional hidden gems of hut craft.
"Thank you! We'd love to come up and see your home." Sebastien calls out as he makes his way through the shack and across the bridge.
As he makes his way towards the treehouse Sebastien also keeps an eye out for any traps Antrellus may have forgotten to disable.
Ajir does indeed find an empty turtle shell behind the rain barrel, sufficient for filling and sipping, should he so desire.
The Bereaved begin a very unsteady processional along the rope bridge, which strains under the weight of more than one individual. Well, at least Marinus and Sebastien, who advance first. Once Marinus has reached the opposite side, the bridge quiets down, and easily bears the weight of two, complaining with loud creaks when three test its integrity.
The front door of the treehouse is partially open when you reach it, and gives easily to a push before you enter.
A crossbow sits passively against the wall next to the door. There is a very steep set of stairs that must allow access to the treehouse's roof, though one step has already broken through.
Antrellus stands in the middle of his home in the woods, patting his hands. He stands in front of a raggedy tapestry, which has miscellaneous detritus and baubles pinned to the rug, with yarn running from one object to another, sometimes twice or three times. There are at least a dozen points on the tapestry. In the corner, a crate sits in shadow, various objects peering over its top edge.
"See?! You must come and see!" Antrellus bids you come closer, and take a good long study of his work. "I have almost worked it out!! They won't get me, like they got her, but they don't wear the same faces twice, so it's difficult, you see? They lurk about, and they drop things, and I pick up things, and I see things better than anyone else does. Because I've seen them before. Because I've seen what they do to people they want. They want, and they hunt. Like animals. But not true animals, with animal desires, not them. They crave, which is different, isn't it?" Antrellus puts a hand to the tapestry, allowing the drool at the corner of his mouth to fall to the floor of his house.
Millicent folds her arms as she looks over the tapestry. Madness deserves patience and acceptance, not judgment. That his story might perhaps relate to their own investigations seems all the more reason to hear him out. "This sounds like a most troubling situation indeed. You have shown great initiative in trying to unravel it. Who are 'they' and who did they get? What type of things did you pick up from them?"
"Cultists!! I will admit, I thought you were cultists, too, but you announced yourselves, you were out in the open, not watching at a distance, not visiting in the night... There are cultists about, and they mean us, all of us, grave harm!!"
"They are everywhere!! They have been in town within the last weeks, and that only means one thing- they are looking for me!!" Antrellus smacks himself in the head with an arthritic hand. Hard.
"They took her... they took my Marisol!! They chanted, I cried, they screamed, I died!! There was something, many legs, chittering, it came out of the space between the darkness, and it took her!!! Oh, Marisol, I couldn't save you!!" Another smack to the head, then a pinch on his forearm.
"They tried to put the worms in me, but I keep my good luck charm close to me, always." Antrellus produces a small rag-doll. As long as I have it, they can’t find me, and the worms can’t get out.”
Antrellus attempts to explain his careful observations the past decade since his wife’s death trying to reconstruct the path of the cult, their movements, and their secret crimes, desperate that no one believes him about their sinister plots, or even that they exist at all. He shows you his finds, a rusted trowel, a watering can, a pie tin, a single leather boot, a toy horse, a broken shingle... he goes on, explaining that he can't find the way to fit them into his pattern, yet.
“I CAN’T TAKE IT MUCH LONGER!” Antrellus starts suddenly, moving to the door, and picking up his crossbow. He looks out the window, as if he expects an attack at any moment. It is clear that he considers none of you part of such a possible attack.
Sebastien listens patiently as Antrellus recounts his experiences with the cultists.
"I'm so sorry about your wife Antrellus. The cultists killed the Professor as well. We have been trying to investigate their activities ourselves but so far the townsfolk haven't been very helpful. Did you know Professor Lorrimor?"
"Lorrimor... Lorrimor... the name isn't familiar, no. They don't have names, only faces, and the faces change, that's why they're so hard to find!!" Antrellus looks out on the balcony and beyond the ravine, biting his knuckle until it begins to bleed.
Emm places a calming hand on his shoulder. "We won't let anything happen to you. Do you remember any of these faces that they have used?"
Marinus steps forward, speaking with the air of a zealous and slightly ravid confidante. "They attacked me last night, as well. Cultists clad in raven's feathers, clawing at my face. I was able to end them, but I'm sure there are others. Have you killed any of them? Quieted their demonic susuras?"
Milo is more disquieted than the others, and makes no attempts to engage the man in his ravings. He stands in the corner of the cramped treehouse, a mixture of pity and unhappy revulsion churning in his gut. It is hardly the poor wretch's fault that his mind is cracked, Milo hardly blames him for that, no-- but it makes his skin crawl, to be in the presence of one so shattered.
He can set a bone, or suture flesh. He can do nothing for the invisible wounds that take from a person their dignity, their peace, their ability to interact with the rest of humanity as an accepted part. The knowledge that all his medical arts are useless for this poor fellow sits uneasy in his gut.
And beneath that, a different, more selfish unease. If people knew... the things you think... the things you hear... are you really that different from Antrellus? Is this your future? When the voices become too much, is THIS what awaits you? A feared or mocked pariah, dwelling in rubbish and detritus, from which you've fashioned the mockery of a home? Or in your case-- most likely a damned SWORD...
When Antrellus begins his paranoid murmurs about enemies approaching, Milo is painfully glad for an excuse to step outside the closeness of the treehouse. "I will go keep watch," he informs the old man, attempting to be soothing as possible. "I have keen eyes. I'll see that nobody is creeping up on us, Antrellus."
He steps outside and breathes more freely; the air doesn't smell as rank and close.
Broken, not crazy.
Ajir takes the time to study the tapestry to the best of his ability. "Antrellus, who or what do each of these connections represent? A worm?"
After he's done studying the contents of the tapestry and getting as much guidance on its contents as he can from its creator he changes the subject.
"What's your goal here? Is it revenge for Marisol? Or do you still care for the other citizens in town enough to save them from the worm-infected?"
He picks up the trowel and inspects it. "If only these objects could speak. What have you seen?"
"They attacked me last night, as well. Cultists clad in raven's feathers, clawing at my face. I was able to end them, but I'm sure there are others. Have you killed any of them? Quieted their demonic susuras?"
Antrellus lets his eyes go wide, as the boy begins a story of cultists and claws. The madman's eyes narrow, and he mutters to himself. "They never believe me... they never see..."
"Antrellus, who or what do each of these connections represent? A worm? What's your goal here? Is it revenge for Marisol? Or do you still care for the other citizens in town enough to save them from the worm-infected? If only these objects could speak. What have you seen?"
Antrellus hearkens to Ajir's queries. "I'm no murderer." His wild eyes flash at Marinus, then back at Ajir. "I seek justice!! To bring them into the light!! To show the world what evil lurks in even the smaller places!!"
"I will go keep watch, I have keen eyes. I'll see that nobody is creeping up on us, Antrellus."
Antrellus nods aggressively. "Good, good, the more eyes, the better." The haggard vigil-holder closes the door behind the man eager to take post, the crossbow held precariously close to his chest.
"We won't let anything happen to you. Do you remember any of these faces that they have used?"
It's as if Millicent's hand has become a red-hot branding rod, as Antrellus yelps in pain when she touches him! "Noooo!! You'll not have me, too!! Not like her!! Not Marisol, my love, my loss, my fault!!"
The crossbow goes off.
At the same time, blood begins to run from the eyes, ears, and nose of Antrellus, as the poor hermit collapses to the floor of the treehouse, dropping his now unloaded crossbow. The man lies there, shaking uncontrollably...
This behavior is akin to seizure activity. Though Antrellus's eyes are partially opened, he may be unaware of his surrounds. It is hard to say if simple healing magic would be enough to calm the man's condition...
Ajir shouts
Then he moves to inspect Antrellus bleeding, wondering if the wormers somehow got to the man during the funeral.
Once he's sure Millicent is not dying, he keeps a careful eye on ears, nostril and mouth for signs of anything trying to escape.
"Note that the following is not his paranoia spreading: Did they get to him already?"
HP: 20/20. Hero Points: 1. Investiture Pool: 5. Ki Pool: 3.
AC: 16. Touch: 13. Flat: 13. CMD: 12. CMB: 1.
Features: Evasion
Effects:
"What is happening to him?" Sebastien rushes forward and whispers a brief plea to Pharasma as he lays a hand on the shoulder Millicent touched. "Please spare this humble servant Lady. He serves you still."
Milo jumps at the sound of a crossbow's twang and the resulting ruckus inside....
Millicent stares at the bolt in her more in disbelief than anything. She has never been shot before. "Well that's a new experience." She turns to the door, her shock able to pass for simple unflappability. "Doctor, I have heard that you are not supposed to take the bolt out of the wound. However, it bloody hurts, so I would like to make sure."
HP: 15/19. Hero Points: 1. 1st level spells 4/5.
AC: 12. Touch: 12. Flat: 10. CMD: 13. CMB: 0.
Features:
Effects: Heightened Awareness
The bleeding of Antrellus about his head seems to ebb, as the madman's skull implodes like a crushed egg, caving inwards on at least two sides.
Something appears to be moving from Antrellus's gullet, into his chest...
...
Ajir will call out "There's something in his mouth trying to move into his chest. Stop it or make space." Clearly, the monk is more affected by Antrellus' worm theory.
HP: 20/20. Hero Points: 1. Investiture Pool: 5. Ki Pool: 3.
AC: 16. Touch: 13. Flat: 13. CMD: 12. CMB: 1.
Features: Evasion
Effects:
Round 1
Skieved out, Marinus steps behind Emm and prepares to sent a bolt of force if any horrific target appears.
"I'm so sorry this has happened to you."
HP: 13/13
Hero Points: 1
1st level spells: 4/5
Phrenic pool: 2/3
AC: 14 | 12 | 12
CMD: 12
At the yell and shouting from within, Milo spins back, and wrenches the door open only to be stymied by the close press of bodies, though he can just make out..... Antrellus's skull a pulped and bloody thing.
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THE GODS?" he gasps, eyes wide. "I stepped out for barely a -- what did -- how--"
"--I see it, Ajir," Milo says, voice suddenly quite calm. "An active foreign body of some sort. Please step back, Madam Jones, I'll tend to you as soon as I can."
Milo... reaches for his kit of surgical supplies. There's a scalpel in there.
Sebastien recoils in surprise as Antrellus' head collapses.
"What... but I... that should have helped!" Sebastien says as he looks at his hands in horror.
"Wait. What? There's something inside him?" Sebastien retreats to the rear of the treehouse and draws his crossbow.
"I'm afraid I'm not much use up close. See if you can dig it out of there while I cover you."
Ajir sees the movement behind the man's gullet, and jumps to the fallen man's side. Sinking his knees into a deep horse stance, he lets two fists fly just above the man's sternum, aiming to drive the movement back from the chest to mouth area, where it could possibly be extracted. Perhaps the man is still savable...
"Tempest Blitz!"
for Damage
for Damage
Hurricane Punch (if two hits land (Swift)):
(Target is pushed back 5ft + 5ft for every 5 CMD exceeded)
HP: 20/20. Hero Points: 1. Investiture Pool: 5. Ki Pool: 3.
AC: 16. Touch: 13. Flat: 13. CMD: 12. CMB: 1.
Features: Evasion
Effects:
Emm does as the doctor says and steps outside to make room in the cramped hovel. ”I am alright. Do what you need to do.”
She points a finger towards the open part of the room she can see, waiting for a chance to shoot at whatever comes out.
HP: 15/19. Hero Points: 1. 1st level spells 4/5.
AC: 12. Touch: 12. Flat: 10. CMD: 13. CMB: 0.
Features:
Effects: Heightened Awareness
Milovic opens the door to assess the sudden decline in Antrellus's health, reaching for an implement. Marinus readies for something to emerge, from a reasonable distance away.
Ajir takes advantage of the space to thump the madman's chest area while almost straddling the tree house-maker. The first fist snaps both clavicles, while the second cracks the man's windpipe. Sebastien prepares himself at the rear of the tree house, crossbow at the ready. Millicent takes heed of the doctor's words, exiting the cramped high hovel, and aiming a hand at the door, should something untoward exit.
Mr. Jiro knocks twice, and something answers.
The chest of Antrellus cracks open, pushed through the emaciated skin and bone, made easier by the monk's attempt to frustrate it upwards and out of the man's torso. A strange, alien thing sheds its human shell, taking note of you with its myriad eyes.
The creature must be a new-born, an embryonic neh-thalggu, a Chaotic Evil Aberration. They are also known as Brain Collectors, and hail from distant worlds, possibly as exiles.
Marinus greets it with a painful stab of magic!
The creature hisses from the pain of the magic missile. It seems to regard Ajir hovering above it, and the open door nearby. It flicks some of Antrellus's lung meat from its wings, then fills the room with a burst of unnatural colors!!
The burst of colors is familiar to you. It has cast Color Spray!
...