As Majara's projectile targets and hits the masked figure on the roof that Hannelia had previously shot, the archer turns her attention elsewhere and considers her options.
With two of the masked figures downed by Constantine and Roger, there is one more still standing amongst them, another on the rooftop above the ensnared pirate, and the spider creature - an aranea, Majara had called it. Figuring that she's better off again targeting something off the ground that some of the others might struggle to reach, she weighs up the two choices and decides that with Roger a sitting duck snarled up in the strands of webbing beneath the crossbow-wielding figure, she'd prefer to try and remove another threat so they can all focus their attention on what she assumes is the ringleader.
"It might be sensible to spread out so we can't all be caught in the same web," she suggests, taking her own advice as she strides across the open square, gauging the distance to the figure on the far rooftop as she moves. Although in her heart she's not sure it matters at this point, Hannelia still can't bring herself to shoot for the head and, targeting the figure's thighs, sends an arrow up at the cultist on the rooftop.
Emma's attempts at trying to quell the conflict die rather quickly once the Aranea and cultists appear. It was worth a shot anyway, Emma thinks to herself. Had this been simple townsfolk, perhaps it could have worked.
Better to have tried to deescalate and have it fail in the end, after all.
Keeping a wary eye on the Aranea, Emma hurries over to one of the few still conscious cultists that's near Constantine. Keeping the cultist between the two of them, she adjusts her grip on her sword when she reaches out to attack - she doesn't necessarily want to kill them, despite the fact that Roger has seemingly taken the opposite approach. For the cultists they keep alive, they might be able to find out what's going on here - and also find out if they're being supernaturally compelled to do this.
"Where did they come from?" Emma wonders aloud. "What made them attack here and now, with so many people around? I didn't think cultists were so openly brash..."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Satisfied that her shot finds the mark, sinking itself into the meaty part at the top of the hidden figure's left leg, Hannelia turns to watch Emma bludgeon another of the cultists down with the flat of her longsword's blade.
As the paladin publicly airs her thoughts, they align with Hannelia's private ones on the matter. Three plausible possibilities have occurred to her. First, the cultists are being mentally controlled in some way, possibly by the aranea. The man ranting about murder certainly didn't seem entirely in his right mind and the arrival of the spider creature and the other cultists at the same time lends credence to this theory.
Second, they are behaving rashly in response to the death of one of their number at Roger's hands. It's brutally straightforward and it would hardly be the first time anger has roused people to behave stupidly in ways they wouldn't otherwise, though she's not sure she entirely buys the argument given the scale of the retaliation.
Third, and arguably most concerning, the cultists' power in Ravenmoor is such that they do not need to act behind the scenes but can do so openly and with impunity. Hannelia is conscious that no other residents can be seen and anybody who had been around had made themselves scarce. Admittedly she concedes that's probably just good sense with a fight on the cards, though it hasn't been lost on her that Saul Lupescu hasn't reappeared. If the cultists are the real power in the village, it's probably unsurprising, if disappointing, he wasn't going to publicly defend the party. More darkly, a small part of her wonders is he could be in league with them but his reactions seem consistent with simple self-preservation and it's definitely the most obvious answer in the circumstances.
We'll find out soon, I suppose, she ruminates, scanning the area and keeping an eye on the arachnoid.
The last standing cultist stumbles off the rooftop, and is able to luckily land without hurting himself. He weakly raises his spear, but can't muster the strength to strike quickly enough.
The other fallen cultists seem to have no bearing on his decision to continue to fight until death. Although perhaps your mercy has done so.
There are no other eyes on you at the moment, however. The rest of the town seems to be focused on the fairground. No passersby seem to have wandered into the melee. Whether that had been conspiratorially coordinated or happened by Desna's own luck remains to be seen.
"I don't know," Constantine says, turning as he lays one of the cultists low--unconscious but not dead.
The newly acknowledged Sarini takes a deep breath and recalls the moments in Saringallow and the surrounding areas when he had grown--quite literally--to twice his size. This, combined with anger at being unceremoniously attacked and concern over a misunderstanding that might lead to untoward deaths, fuels him as the occultic rituals he had studied warp his very flesh and bones. Slowly, surely, his form grows.
He locks gaze with a pair of the spider creature's eyes. "But I'm going to kill that thing."
Roger tries to power his way out, but his boots are slick with blood and he doesn't find much purchase.
The spider waves its front two legs which glow with arcane power and it vanishes with a barely audible pop.
It appears the mad dash and the melee are over and there are luckily no other peasants in the square. The doors of the shops surrounding you are all ajar, and if there are peasants inside, they aren't exiting to confront you. It'll take at least an hour for the living cultists to regain consciousness some of you might be aware from combat experience.
Shel fled deeper within the general store as far as Hannelia and Emma can recall, and you can't tell where Saul has gone.
Down the road you can hear music start to bubble over the din of preparations over at the fairgrounds. Fairly quaint if skilled musicians with stringed instruments.
With unconscious or dying bodies strewn about the square, your breath heavy, the monstrous Aranea missing, what do you do?
The cultist (red) is burlier than the rest. Removing his mask reveals him to be Saul Lupescu, the owner of the general store.
"The spider's invisible!" Constantine shouts as he finishes growing, the resonance of his voice changing to fit that of a nearly 12-foot man. "Don't let your guards down yet!"
He knows from arcane theory, though not yet from experience, that such a spell can be used to sneak up on a target. But such action would immediately reveal the culprit. So if the creature was smart, it would have moved either way. Foolishly charging in and carving unwarranted into an innocent villager's house wouldn't do anyone any good.
So he turns to the fallen cultists. "Let's make sure they're still alive," he says, mostly looking towards the one Roger had cut down. He turns back and kneels down (way down) to look at the one whom Emma had knocked down with the flat of her blade. As he gets there, he pauses, his blood chilling in his veins. That shirt. That build.
No...
He looks over at Majara. They had just spent a good long while helping...
The giant occultist reaches down delicately and removes the mask to reveal the face of...
Saul Lupescu.
"Aye, I can't see that." Roger answers Constanstane's explanation of the Spider's status. "Is it the short kind, the long kind, or the oh f&*# he can keep attacking us kind?"
Roger keeps trying to extricate himself, to little avail.
"The long kind, I think," he responds absentmindedly. "Least those were the signs. Probably running."
Constantine is much more focused on the revelation before him. He almost doesn't want to say it. But he has to. "But we have something more important to attend to. This is Saul Lupescu," he reveals, trying to draw the attention of the others. The spirit of Sirio on his left shoulder warns him not to swear idly, so he keeps his tongue tamed for the moment. "Which complicates something already complex."
He looks around uncertainly. "Maybe we should tie them up once we've made sure they're not going to die. The mayor might want to know about this."
As the aranea vanishes from sight, Hannelia suspects it's more likely a defensive move to cover a retreat given its allies - or perhaps thralls - have all been taken down in short order. That said, she firmly agrees with Constantine that they should be wary and keep their guard up, a natural disposition for many an Isgerian.
When he discloses the identity of one of the cultists, she lets out a small gasp and it feels like the temperature of the surrounding air has dropped slightly, a shiver of fear spreading up from the base of her neck. Although her earlier assessment of the situation has not been proved wrong on any count, the fact that someone of the importance of Saul Lupescu being embroiled in it, whether as perpetrator or unwilling victim, has further raised the stakes. Whatever is going on in Ravenmoor - and something is, as sure as Old Deadeye's arrows - they don't know enough and right now a little knowledge is proving to be a dangerous thing indeed. What was already looking like a challenging balancing act politically seems to be getting more difficult by the minute.
Glancing at Roger, still firmly enmeshed in the webs, Hannelia thinks that's a very apt metaphor for the predicament the group find themselves in: trapped in the middle of something much bigger than themselves with predators lurking just out of sight. Needless to say, she does not like it one bit.
She shoots Constantine a look of concern. "Ok," she says, trying to keep focus and remain pragmatic. "It certainly does, so let's try and keep things as simple as we can based on what we do know," which isn't enough, she adds silently. "Good idea. Let's get on with it - if the mayor doesn't know yet then he soon will. Not to mention the rest of the village," she adds in a low voice, mostly to herself. Trusting him to get started, she keeps her attention largely focused on the rooftop where the aranea disappeared from and hurries over to Roger. Unsheathing her dagger she begins to carefully cut through the sticky strands in order to free her companion.
The once-raving-man lay bleeding but it appears his wound is not fatal. He's gone quite pale but any inspection will tell you he's not bleeding as badly as it looked initially.
As near as you can tell this means there's no further violence to be had. For the moment.
Hannelia and Roger bumble through pulling him out of the aranea's webs.
You gather up the unconscious cultists and bind them together. Unmasking them one by one, you see faces of villagers beneath the strange insectoid masks. And of course as mentioned, the owner of the general store, Saul Lupescu.
As you figure out what to do, you see a furtive Shel Lupescu peek her head through the doorway of the general store. Her eyes go wide and her face goes pale, seeing her father. "What's goin' on? Why'd you have my Paw tied up like that?" her voice cracks.
Her eyes turn to glance at each of you, then fall on Emma. Indignant, she accuses, "Did you lie to me?"
Making the connection from Paw to the young woman who looks much like her mother, Constantine reasons out that this must be Shel Lupescu. Thankfully, enough time has passed during the wound binding and rope binding that he is no longer twice his size. He purses his lips. Doubtful that her mother would want to pawn her off as a prospective wife to any of them now. That was for the best, of course, poor girl.
Constantine stands and brushes himself off, taking a deep breath and lowering his sword to the ground. "You must be Shel," he says. "I was just helping your father with the Falling Stars. When we finished, we wanted to come back into town. I don't know why he and these other men attacked us when we got here."
It was true, notwithstanding the accusations thrown at Roger. As far as Constantine knew, this had been entirely unprovoked.
He looks around uncertainly. "Maybe we should tie them up once we've made sure they're not going to die. The mayor might want to know about this."
Majara sucks her teeth. Dourly, she says, "You assume he doesn't know. You assume that the townspeople aren't fine with what just happened. I'm not so certain. If one of the pillars of the community is one of these... whatever they are.... well..." She shrugs. Majara has an earned distrust of small towns hostile to outsiders.
Despite her cynicism, Majara helps out in trying to staunch the wounds of any of the masked figures still bleeding. When 'Shel' appears, she squints at the young woman, trying to ascertain if her surprise is genuine or feigned.
Yeah, humans never make terribly much sense to Majara. She keeps her mouth shut, eyes darting between the others and the villagers-- and to the doors and windows that still remain shut, halfway expecting them to open and reveal crossbows at any moment.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
The strands of webbing are tougher than Hannelia had expected but she is able to work her sword through them in order to free Roger's arms and torso. Able to join in himself, it's not long after that before the pirate is able to shake himself completely loose of the bonds. "Are you ok?" she asks.
While they have been working at that, the others have been busy unmasking the rest of the figures and binding them in turn.
At the sound of a girl's voice, Hannelia turns in the direction of the general store. Shel. Her heart goes out to the girl - nobody would ever wish to see their father in such a situation - and she can hardly blame her for reacting angrily.
Still, her father had come into the store and then left it again - surely Shel would have had some awareness of him going out by another exit? Hannelia scrutinises her face, still pretty even while red and spitting accusations.
"Shel," she says, quietly but clearly. She makes a show of sheathing her sword and approaches the girl, palms up to show she means no harm but keeping a safe distance between them so as not to appear threatening. "I'm sorry you've had to see this, nobody would enjoy that. As Constantine" - she gestures towards the occultist - "says, we were attacked by these men and some kind of giant spider creature with powerful magic." And of course its really damn inconvenient that there's no trace of it any more.
Trying to gauge which way to play things, Hannelia. decides that as the girl had reacted positively to them before, the truth is the best route - not least because they have limited real knowledge of what's going on and she doesn't need to share her darker speculations. "Honestly, right now that's about as much as we know. If I had to guess, I'd say it's most likely that the spider was orchestrating things. We think these people may be under some kind of mind controlling effect so it's a precaution to keep them harming themselves or anybody else." Although she's not sure whether she believes this, Hannelia instinctively wants to give Shel something positive to hold on to.
"So no, we didn't lie to you. I've too much respect for you to that, I don't think you're a child to be patronised. It's just..." she unconsciously wrinkles her nose in distaste, "sometimes what is straightforward in a story is a lot more complicated while it's happening." She looks Shel directly in the eye. "I promise you, Shel, we will get to the bottom of this."
"Aye, I'm alright. Something foul's afoot here, and I've got a place to look for clues. They tried to keep me from givin' a little look see round an abandoned building. Got the feeling it ain't so abandoned." Roger accepts the help graciously and takes to cleaning himself up, carefully pulling strands of goop from his stuffed parrot.
"Aye, I'm alright. Something foul's afoot here, and I've got a place to look for clues. They tried to keep me from givin' a little look see round an abandoned building. Got the feeling it ain't so abandoned." Roger accepts the help graciously and takes to cleaning himself up, carefully pulling strands of goop from his stuffed parrot.
"And that's what led to all of this," Hannelia replies quietly, picking up the thread and following it back to what appears to be its origin. "It does seem likely, doesn't it? We've not exactly been blessed with solid information and it certainly sounds like someone's hiding something there."
Emma stares for a moment down at the visage of Saul Lupescu, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her mouth drops in surprise at first, and then tightens with disappointment and anger. Her grip tightens for a moment on her sword, but she lets out a slow exhale and puts it away.
When Shel comes out with the accusing look on her face, Emma is slow to look up from the form of Saul. Her earlier embarrassment is gone - whatever connection the two of them had going on was spoiled for the moment. At the very least, it certainly no longer held as much importance as whatever was going on right now.
She manages to hear some of what Hannelia tells Shel, and she's grateful for the bards eloquence in the face of Emma's silence.
"I'm sorry, Shel," she says regretfully - but firmly. "We don't quite know what's going on at the moment ourselves. Please be careful - the threat here may not be over."
She turns to the others in her party. "Whatever is going on here, and whatever we're going to do about it, I think we need to move quickly. The longer we wait in the face of something like this, the more likely it is that things will spiral out of control, and not in our favor. Whether it's to try and find the mayor or to investigate in full force where Roger was turned away - we should do it quickly."
The girl's anger and accusatory look deflates. She tries to carefully wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes as she looks up and sniffs.
"Alright..." she quavered, glancing at her unconscious father. "I reckon y'all are tellin' truth on the Goddess. But I can't let my Paw get in trouble for this. If you're sayin' this, we have to prove it weren't their fault."
"I reckon I ain't stoppin' you neither way, but if I had my druthers I'd say we um," she pauses biting her lip, clearly uncomfortable, We can't tell Mayor Kreigler until we prove some devilry was at work."
"D'you reckon they'll get better if the monster's gone?" she asks hopefully.
Hannelia tactfully lets Shel dry her eyes before replying. She can't disagree with the girl's assessment of the situation - without any proof things will be considerably more difficult, and she worries they might be tricky enough to explain even with rather more than they have now.
She winces internally at the note of hope in Shel's question. Hannelia empathises with the girl - the love and respect she has for her father shines through clear enough and this is very much a traumatic situation for her. She just hopes that this theory is indeed the real explanation; she really does not want to have to shatter the image Shel has of her father.
"To be honest I don't know," she says kindly, hedging because she honestly doesn't. "It depends on the nature of the magic. But dealing with the creature is far more likely to have a positive effect. And I think you're right with your assessment of things," she adds. "We could really use some proof of what's been going on." She turns to the others. [b]"I think Roger's instinct is likely correct and that something's going on at the abandoned house. And we're much more likely to find what we're looking for there rather than here. Anyone disagree? Otherwise let's do as Emma suggests and move, quickly."
She glances around the village square once more, still feeling uncomfortably like they're being watched. "And what should we do with them?" she asks in a quieter voice, gesturing at the now-bound unconscious figures. She dislikes leaving threads that still need to be pulled behind, frustrated with their lack of information, but pushing forward seems the smarter course of action right now and their best hope of uncovering exactly what has is going on in Ravenmoor.
Shel gets no complaint from Constantine for her recommendation. He thinks about her question while Hannelia responds...
And sighs. Enchantment was not a school of magic that held much interest for the occultist. Forcing people to do things that they didn't want to, or just controlling minds in general, felt...so wrong.
"If there is a monster behind this," he offers, "And if stopping it doesn't fix things," oh gods two hedges? What was he doing?, "Then I'll...we'll try find another way to help."
The occultist shakes his head. "Let's move them inside the Lupescu's store and then move quickly to the abandoned house. Hopefully we can stop that spider monster before anyone is any the wiser."
Constantine had no vision of being celebrated as a hero at the festival, but he did rather like the idea of at least being able to enjoy the festivities. If that was still possible...
Nodding along to Constantine’s idea - it seems as good as anywhere - Hannelia asks, ”Would that be ok, Shel? I think they would definitely be safer inside than out here. You don’t have to stay, either. Maybe lock up and go and find your mum?” she suggests.
Majara shifts her weight from foot to foot somewhat impatiently as the group confers. She presses her lips together at the notions of carrying the people who just attacked them all indoors, but has enough sense not to argue the point. "I'm grabbing things from Blue while you do that. Hauling bigfolk is not my strong suit," she says crisply to the others, eyeing the distance to the stable and the odds she will be attacked by some sort of spider creature en route.
"I'd say haste should be the order of the day. Bad guys usually don't care much for their minions, so it'll take time for this lot to heal up. Faster we move, the more likely these lot can't take up arms again, nor can the spider gather more." Roger shakes his head. "Throwin' em all in a house just makes whoever's house that is a target."
Constantine shakes his head, disagreeing with Roger's overall reasoning but knowing that he has some points. "I'm not going to leave people in the street," he says decisively. "You want to move ahead, that's fine. I'll catch up." He rolls Saul up from the ground to his shoulder in one fluid motion, looking to Shel for confirmation.
Shel blanches a bit at the mention of being 'a target' but something in her eyes turns to steel as she nods to Constantine and Hanellia to bring the unconscious folk into her father's shop.
"I'll keep an eye on them when they come to. I'll be waiting till you come back." Just minutes ago her biggest worry was getting her lines and posing just right to be Founder's Festival Queen. Her new concerns are much more dire.
You set all the unconscious and bound villagers into the Trading Post and follow Roger's trail back to the old Farmhouse. The Chenowitz Place.
__________
After shutting the door on the Trading Post, you head through the field of dead or wild corn stalks. The dust coats everything, and causes a few coughing fits. The air is humid and thick with the sound of buzzing insects.
You arrive at the Old Chenowitz place in a clearing of the wild corn. The farmhouse windows droop sadly in the rotting building. A barn sits off to your right and behind the farmhouse, the red paint similarly peeling off its visage.
A wicker-and-gourd scarecrow of a moth-winged woman leans against a rickety frame in the front yard of this derelict farmhouse. The house’s windows are boarded up, and its front porch is overgrown with thick curtains of ivy.
No light or sound seems to emanate from the inside of the building, but that doesn't mean much in your experience, does it?
Constantine is glad that Shel seems to have a good head on her shoulders. Cult in town or no, people show their true colors when confronted with truth. At least that had been Constantine's experience
The Old Chenowitz Place is disconcerting, to say the least. At the side, sound, and smell of the buzzers, Constantine double checks the location of a few potentially useful flasks within his bag. If it came to it, he could help to take out another swarm, but...really, that seemed to be the tremendous purview of Majara, didn't it? All told, it was probably good for poor Emma's mental health to have the gnome with them.
Looking at the moth-winged woman, Constantine shakes his head. It could be some representation of Desna, but he was growing increasingly wary of that interpretation. He didn't know enough about Desnan history and iconography to have a particularly good sense of Lady Luck's friends and enemies.
"Well," Constantine says as they approach, "I doubt we'll be able to be particularly sneaky." He looks at the lot of them. Roger, Hannelia, and Majara might be able to sneak around in their leather and chain, but he and Emma would need a small miracle to not be heard tromping around. "So I think it's worth just checking the perimeter for anything unexpected. And then...pick a door."
He draws his sword back out and begins moving to the right, hoping to make a counterclockwise loop.
Hannelia nods at Shel, impressed with how the girl has been able to put her feelings aside and get on with things. ”Thank you,” she says , already moving to get the unconscious figures inside the shop. She helps as best she can, continuing to scan the area for signs of activity, but it’s Constantine and Emma who are able to provide most of the muscle.
Once they are done, Hannelia is keen to move on as quickly as possible to avoid anything which might prevent them from doing so. ”Be safe, Shel. That’s the most important thing,” she says by way of parting, briefly squeezing the girl’s hand in the hope of bolstering her resolve. Putting her own concerns to one side, she makes a final check of her gear before saying, ”Let’s go then. Lead on, Roger.”
* * * * *
The pirate leads them through a field thick with insects and Hannelia is quick to dip into her pack and draw out a red scarf, thin enough to be able to see through. Wrapping it around the lower half of her face she ties a neat knot and the back, still able to breathe easily but now at least keep the buzzing pests out of her nose and mouth.
As they exit the cornfield, it is obvious that the Chenowtiz place is in a state of some disrepair. Hannelia has no expert knowledge of buildings but her work in the archives with Fellis has at least developed a rudimentary understanding of the basics. Even leaving that aside, the crumbling walls and dilapidated timbers would suggest to anyone that it has been left to the elements for some time.
"As far as I can tell, the structure looks mostly sound despite the damage. It goes without saying that we should watch our step, though I have to say I've had my fill of houses that like fighting back." She shoots Constantine a brief smile before circling back to where the occultist is examining the scarecrow figure. It's form is feminine and it appears to be almost a guardian of sorts, though whether its aim was to bring good fortune to the house or to ward off hungry birds – or indeed curious adventurers – she is uncertain.
Like some of the other symbols that they have encountered, Hannelia thinks the scarecrow has a quasi-religious look to it but she shrugs, unable to elaborate on that instinct. Hannelia's dealing with the gods is very much on a personal level rather than a studious one, or even a particularly devout temple-going one. However, not having this kind of knowledge at her fingertips is currently proving vexing to her and once again she promises to look into matters of the gods in more detail once they return to Saringallow.
Returning to house itself, Hannelia turns to Roger. ”Roger, ” she asks, ”can you tell us more about what happened please? Were your attackers guarding the house, did they come out from inside the house, or did they – very conveniently, I might add – happen to appear as you started looking around?”
While she awaits the old sea dog's reply, Hannelia examines the front door for any wards or traps to deter entry.
"This one looks as good as any," she answers Constantine. "As far as I can tell there's nothing to stop us entering. Who wants to go in first?"
"Mmm, I reckon we should find Jeb. They did happen about soon as I started taking a look. T'was strange, at first they didn't want me investigating, but as soon as the conversation took a dark turn, they started threatening me telling me to go in, so I reckon there's a spider's nest inside. But like, unless someone came and got Jeb, he should still be here..." Roger takes a look around for Jeb.
As Roger trails off with his unfinished thought, he stumbles and nearly trips over something he should have noticed before. It hadn't been something the universe had forgotten about and had to be reminded to replace. No, it had been there for dozens of minutes before.
Jeb's body is near where it was left, albeit paler and greyer than before. And more sallow. Two stirges drain blood from his wounds, but flit and flutter away as you disturb their meal. Provided you don't pursue them they just fly away, beyond the roof of the dilapidated home. Mosquitoes and other pests have already flooded over the corpse - a roiling agitated blanket of parasites.
Ravens caw overhead, roosting on an orange-leaved tree like buzzards and a dark portent.
Hanellia and Constantine inspect the scarecrow, but are not able to divine much. However, Hanellia stumbles upon another corpse in the vine-choked porch. Hidden within the creeping vines, she finds a misshapen skeleton. Roger is able to tell based on the structure of the skeleton that it belonged to a humanoid mutant of some sort. It is likely it died elsewhere and was buried in the vines for some unknown reason.
The construction of the Farmhoue doesn't appear that it will collapse immediately, but there may be rotten boards inside incapable of holding a person's weight. Best step lightly once we enter, Hanellia may think to herself.
Constantine rounds the perimeter and finds what lies in the backyard.
The stench of rot strikes him first. Then the sight of its owner. To the North, A maggot-filled corpse of a dead ox calf lies half submerged at the edge of a pool of fetid discolored water. Gnats fly lazily around it as larvae wriggle beneath the hide. A tangle of vegetation surrounds the carrion.
To the west, a small patch of reddish-brown plants grow, reaching heights of nearly six feet in places. Flayleaf. The plants grow thick, and periodically you can see stirges poke out from the bushes to screech, hiss, and click at you. They do not leave their roosts, but anxiously watch you as you watch them.
In the Northeast, sits the ruined barn. Holes perforate the roof of this old barn, while streaks of bird droppings and smears of dark red stains decorate the portions that remain intact. The far side appears to be exposed to the elements, its wall partially collapsed inward from water damage. You could have sworn you heard something coming from that direction before examining the rest of the back yard. Before you can think twice on it though, you find yourself surrounded by three mishshapen, misbegotten humanoids.
"Eats him!" One cries. He has bat ears, one shrunken eye, pointed teeth that appear to be filed to points.
"Naw naw naw, Attack, kill then eat. Master always say-" the other chides. He has large clubfisted hands, a pig-like snout, and a massively crooked overbite.
"Shut up! Shut up!" The other screeches. This one wears a hood, attempting to conceal scales and fur in random patches. One of its arms is chitinous and ends in a large crab-like claw. He holds in his other hand a sword with gold plating in the hilt and a winged crossguard and a necklace with Elidir's emblem. He purrs and chortles, "It has more toys. Like the last ones..."
He'd seen worse. Smelled worse. When you commune with spirits, you stumble on your fair share of corpses. But it's still enough to make his stomach roil.
For better or worse, however, he doesn't have much time to consider the circle of life and the relative domestication of hallucinogenic plants or blood-sucking mammals when three...odd-looking people approach him.
Normally, Constantine tried not to strike a person first. It was the sort of thing that couldn't be easily undone. And appearance was not the arbiter of a person's goodness, obviously.
But that bat-eared one had just said to eat him.
In a single, smooth motion, Constantine draws his sword from its scabbard and cleaves into the batty misbegotten. Then he steps back while raising his sword and shield menacingly. "You can try," he retorts.
The front porch is thick with vines and as Hannelia hacks through them to reach the door, she uncovers a skeleton. Of course there's a body, she thinks to herself. Unsurprising that someone wanted to keep us away. Being devoid of flesh and organs, it's clear that the unfortunate being had been there for some time, and Roger points out defects in the skeleton that demonstrate that whatever it once was - and it probably wasn't human - it had been warped and damaged by extreme physical or magical means.
It is at this point their search is interrupted by guttural cries coming from behind the house and Constantine meeting the challenge head on. As she quicksteps around the side of the building, Hannelia catches the phrase "Like the last ones." So. Killers and savages. Well, those last ones are going to be the last ones you ever hurt, she promises. She sees Constantine surrounded by three cruelly twisted humanoid figures - quite plausibly the kind who would have equally twisted skeletons - and lines up a straight shot. As Constantine swings a mighty blow at one of the creatures to his right, Hannelia calls, "'Ware to your left, Constantine!" and fires in parallel to the wall at the clawed beastman.
Constantine's blade impales the biting misbegotten man before he can close the distance. He whimpers helplessly like the wolves from the other day.
The one with the overbite makes a pained sound when his companion falls, his eyes widening at the flashing steel. "Attack. Kill. EAT." He groans. His face and low voice seem to indicate an oafishness, but his beady eyes track Hanellia's bow, and he positions to keep Constantine between him and any flying arrows. His ham-size fists swing fast and deadly, clobbering the swordsman.
The other snaps his claw, but strikes out with his own gleaming blade. A wet choking noise erupts from his face. Laughter? He tries to strike with his claw as well, but the combination of things seems to be something he isn't well practiced in. "Pretty pretty..." he gurgles.
Majara scurries forward, ears pricked at the sounds of trouble. She wrinkles her nose at the sight of the misshapen... people? ...and squints briefly at the sword one is holding. But her shortish legs mean that all she can do this turn is run...
"Damn, more cultists?" Roger is alarmed by the sounds, but doesn't quite interpret them right at first. As he stomps his way through the undergrowth, he's surprised at the sight of them. "I've seen kinder faces in ghost ships fulla zombies!"
Hannelia, as always, proves to be an invaluable member of the team in the sense that she's able to speak comforting words to Shel all while they bustle about before heading off to the farmhouse. Had it really only been a short while ago that they'd been in the shop, talking and laughing? Whatever had been going on was, for the moment, a distant concern.
She turns to follow the others when they head off to the farmhouse, pausing for a moment to glance back at the shop before continuing on.
Maybe there would be a chance to see how things went later, but for now, this...
This was her calling.
------------------------
As they approach the house, Emma catches notice of a rather ominous looking scarecrow, seeming to depict a woman with moth-like wings, leaning up against a rickety frame. It doesn't exactly help paint the picture of a welcoming home, all in all, with the overgrown ivy, boarded up windows, and general dilapidated look of the place. It was one of the many instances since she'd joined up with this group that she knew she didn't need mystical senses to know that something dark was happening or had happened here.
She frowns at the scarecrow, taking a closer look at it. "Hm," she mutters, more to herself than the group, though loud enough that it could be overheard. "That seems almost Desnan in design, but not exactly. Some kind of corrupted version in the eyes of these cultists, maybe?"
It's not much of a surprise when a fight breaks out not too long after their arrival. Caught off guard by her studying of the bizarre effigy, Emma ends up at the trail end of the group, putting her out of range of the immediate action.
"Damn!" she hisses, before drawing her sword and hustling towards the sounds of the combat. "Come on Emma, focus on staying with the group, worry about potential religious corruptions later!" More cultists of some kind from the sounds of it. Hopefully they would be able to find some answers here.
Constantine grunts and cries as the one over...slams him, sneaking past his guard. That was some bruising he'd want one of the healer types look over later.
But for now, he was still in the thick of it. And the one unknown as Clawed Monet might not have hit him, but there's something about Roger's quip that just draws him to try to hit him instead.
The clawed one ducks her first arrow but at least it gave it enough to think about and the misshapen man is equally unable to land a blow on Constantine. Not so its companion, which catches her friend with a meaty fist. As the others hustle to catch up behind her, Hannelia heeds Roger's colourful words of encouragement and fires again at the same target.
This time her arrow strikes true, catching her target square in the face just as it staggers back under the weight of a hit from Constantine's sword.
The creature by claw and sword sprouts an arrow and a spray of blood. Constantine can turn his full attention to the bigger one now, the clawed one falls with a screech as he writhes on the ground.
A wordless, bloodcurdling warcry erupts from the remaining creature as he attempts to bowl over Constantine.
Roger moves forward, even though it seems most of the foes are felled already, and draws his blade.
Still smarting from that last blow, Constantine brings his shield up just in time to block van Overbite's attack. He hadn't had time (and had more sense than) to look back when an arrow whizzes past him and takes out Clawed Monet. Moments later, Roger is at his side.
Good people, these fiends of his.
Constantine stands his ground, left arm still ringing from the blow to his shield, before using the extra momentum to spring forward and help Roger finish the bloodthirsty brute off.
And now for the debate...to spare and revive or not? They might have useful information.
In less time than it takes to tell, the deformed attackers are down. Majara turns her sprint into a slow jog, approaching cautiously as she looks them over now that they are motionless.
Frowning down at the one just felled, Majara plants her small hands on her hips.
"I want to know what's going on here. We should question at least one of them."
She suits action to word by crouching to try and staunch the ... person's? bleeding.
"...perhaps not this one," Majara says as her fingers probe at arterial spurt.
Constantine winces, drawing his blade out of the fallen body. "Agreed, Ms. Pricknettle. I may have gotten a bit overzealous when they talked about eating me." He rubs his shoulder, sheathes his blade, and drops to his knees. He really had no sense of live-saving aid, but he tries to assess the situation to see where he might be able to help someone else.
Instead he just spends his time being ineffective. It was one thing when he was knocking people out with the flat of his blade. Bruises were messy but easy. These wounds were gushing. He had been aiming to kill, after all. And so had they. Ugh...
With all three creatures going down without too much trouble - Hannelia had to admit they were becoming an efficient team - she watches as Majara and Constantine try to keep one of them from bleeding out, though the volume of blood pouring forth from its wounds suggests they may be fighting a losing battle.
Taking her cue from them, she moves over to another of the fallen figures. She had been so taken off guard by the attack, and then by the desire to end the threat to Constantine that she hadn't really given too much thought to what these creatures even were. Silently chastising herself for missing any key information that may have been helpful, admittedly not needed in this instance, she instead tries to determine what manner of beast they were in the hope that may help keeping one alive.
"Emma," she calls. "You have a much better understanding of the healing arts than I do. Can you do anything for this one? Tell me what to do and I'll assist," she adds, trying to hide her own ignorance of the subject.
Not for the first time, Hannelia is unsure what to do with her hands in order to provide effective first aid. For all the power and thrill of magical healing - and it did still give a minor kick - it did not require any foundation of knowledge. Something else to ask Father Ruvarra about, perhaps. Or indeed Emma or Majara.
Emma sighs slightly as the last of the group is defeated before she can come into effective range. Not that she's disappointed about being in a talented team of people who are able to handle situations quickly - it's just that it's becoming a bit of an annoying habit for her.
"At this point, I could probably write a treatise on how to arrive just after combat is over," she mutters to herself as she heads over to Hannelia. "It happens often enough, I could write several volumes. Volume one, make sure you get distracted by something other than combat, and then volume two, don't forget to wear heavy armor so you're always clanking in just a moment too late!"
Emma kneels down next to where Hannelia is standing.
"I'm hardly an expert in the matter," she admits. "Just a bit of training, mind, but I'll give it a shot."
Sensing some hesitancy on Hannelia's end, Emma glances up at the bard as she goes to work. "The best thing to do when it comes to offering aid to others - allies or enemies alike - is remaining calm. Believe it or not, that was the first lesson I was taught. Keeping your hands steady - and clean, if the situation allows for it - are the most basic foundations of it."
And with that, there wasn't much else for her to do but wait and see if her efforts would pay off.
"I've always found if'n you're itchin' for the front line. it's best to be able to move quick, less you don't make it to the front in time. Fortune favors the bold, words on many a seadog's lips." Roger pipes in to Emma's gripe. "And there's that whole sinking like a stone thing."
Roger and Constantine slash and dismember the final standing creature and he makes an appropriately loud thud as his head hits the ground unceremoniously.
The dust settles and the mosquitoes and gnats find new hosts in the pile of corpses.
In trying to staunch the bleeding, you realize Bat-ears' injury is not fatal and Emma focuses her effort on trying to save Overbite.
The clawed one seems to be dying and losing pinkish blood quickly. Emma's efforts to heal Overbite has paid off however as he begins to stabilize.
_________
After the blood pumping in your ears starts to quiet, and you acclimate to the buzzing of insects, you realize you can still hear the stirges occasionally hiss and squawk at you as they peek their heads out from the bushes.
A tall outhouse sits off to the west of the pool, and a small animal pen of some sort sits to the south, nearest you.
From where you stood before, its hard to tell, but it looks like there isn't a back door to the farmhouse. Just hand made wooden construction.
The barn doors stand open. Within you can see the ruined remains of a sagging hayloft drip with accumulated rainwater. At the back of the barn, you can see a makeshift shrine and altar, set with a candle and various reclaimed knicknacks and treasures. The altar is crowned with a an enormous set of wings painted to appear moth-like made from moldy canvas.
Aside from the obvious symbol of Elidir hanging around the neck of the clawed creature, the winged sword is a standard appointment for tax-collectors and deputized law-men in The City. They are almost always named and often magical.
The gold in the necklace with the symbol could fetch up to 120 gp.
You can detect other magic items in the barn. Among the trinkets and baubles you discover a Pearl of Power (1st) and a Hand of Glory.
Newer Mongrelmen can be produced from unions between a sire and an ordinary humanoid. They often carve out small cave-dwelling communities where they can live in relative peace.
The injured occultist chuckles ruefully, noting how dirty his hands are, caked with mud and blood. The blood was mostly that of others, considering that his injury had been a closed one. "I think I could stand to be a bit less bold," he says. "If they had been trained, I might be the one bleeding out now."
---
Feeling useless or even counterproductive at the mending efforts, Constantine begins putting his actual skills to use. He points to the symbol hanging around the neck of the dying clawed one. "Majara," he says, "Isn't that the badge of office of Elidir?"
It didn't bode well for Elias Kyle's wellbeing.
Constantine picks up the sword as well, receiving...
...some sort of vision that causes him to sway slightly. "The blade is definitely magical," he says, standing shakily and taking a few paces to collect himself.
Constantine leans against the wall of the barn, pulls out a cloth, and begins wiping the blood from his blade. It did no good to let blood set in the small cracks that opened up when he swung this around. Maintenance was key.
As he cleans and polishes, he looks over the fallen creatures and thinks about what they might be, all with different animalistic features. With a sudden dawn, he tilts his head to the side. "They might be...what's the term...mongrelmen. Undergrounders. Usually peaceful. But..." The idea scratches at the back of his mind until he gives it credence. "There's one theory about their origins that is worth considering since they are here, so far from any known entrances to the Darklands. There are other creatures colloquially called Faceless Stalkers that can, uh, mate with other humanoids. And their progeny might look..." he waves his hand towards the mongrelmen he had so mercilessly cut down, "Like them."