Petyr grins. "There was apparently a decent amount of interest for a saber group, so it led to a split between the pointies and the slashies."
He clarifies. "And nary the two shall meet, at least not in a proper match. But there's enough cross-training that some people can apply themselves in either category. My form is still focused on stabbing over cutting, but if the goal is simply to make contact, as it is in most duels, then I can still do well in a saber duel." Petyr's eyes flit over towards Park. "You know, in case you ever wanted to try."
"I much prefer my actual name, Park, to any nickname."
He just grins at Petyr's offer, "I've watched you with your blade. You'd take two of three at least if I were to 'try'. No. A smart man knows where his skills lay. My blade is a good tool for my style. Ever since I found the magic in my music my blade has been a secondary interest at best."
Between bites of chicken and potatoes, Petyr waggles his eyebrows. "Well you've certainly earned the use of your name. But there's something to be said for titles if you can earn them legitimately." The scholar-duelist affects a seated pseudo-heraldic stance and grossly exaggerated nasal accent, as though trying to throw his voice out to a large, outdoor crowd (without raising his volume above what would be comfortable around a dinner table). "Allow me to introduce to you the musical prodigy of Lepidstadt, the saber-rattling duelist and tambourine man himself, he who sacrificed his own leg to save a man from assassination by falling rock, savior and lady's man of Ravengro, Misterrrrrrr Park Sooooong!"
Well, then I shall call you Park." Kendra says, smiling warmly as the group continues to eat.
"You three are quite the ecletic bunch, how did this group come to be?" she says, waving a hand towards the three friends. "Did you all meet at the university?"
"More or less," Petyr says. "But this trio is quite new. You might recall when Andrei and I were hazing Park last night, reminiscing about previous meetings. Andrei and I have known each other for years, though. I can't remember which classes we took together because I didn't pay much attention in half of them."
There was more than that, of course. They both belonged to the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye. But as a secret society, that wasn't the kind of information that you just went around freely giving. If Kendra didn't know, then it wasn't Petyr's place--or rank within the Order--to tell her.
"Well.... I think I knew "of" Petyr and Andre more than I can say that I knew them. Our interests were in different areas. I was kind of a poor student until I learned that the university taught music, and magic tied to music. Petyr says that he didn't pay attention in half of his classes.... I wish I was that good of a student. Some people say that hindsight has perfect vision while looking to the future lacks such. I think that if I could relive the past few years I would be much better focused. But, I don't even know of a God that has the power to go back in time to 'fix' things. So I'll just have to live with my mistakes and try to do better."
Kendra puts a comforting hand on Park's shoulder as he talks about his past at the university.
"Don't focus too much on the past friend, for as you said you cannot change it. The important part is that you are still here and still trying." she smiles supportively.
"It's good to know my father had such good friends in his life, I feel better knowing he spent any time at all with you three." she finishes. suddenly more serious than the surrounding conversation was.
Andrei mostly remains silent throughout the conversation, occasionally smirking or chuckling to himself about certain details, or the memories they invoked. He does, however, chime in at the mention of Aldori dueling swords, laughing and explaining, "Oh, wait just a minute there! You absolutely can use a dueling sword in duels: 'that's literally its purpose'..." He laughs again and looks over at Petyr. "What was that Taldan prat's name? Zandrian, or Xantrian, or whatever? Do you remember? He showed up ready to fight, and so certain he'd run the list and be the first one ever to step forward and emerge unscarred, and then when they told him he couldn't use an Aldori sword he had a fit for at least a quarter hour. He even measured and weighed it against a sawtooth sabre! 'Look how similar they are in length and weight, how could you say that jagged thing is acceptable, but this elegant dueling blade isn't? That's literally it's purpose!' Ha! He was so worked up."
He pauses once more for another laugh before concluding, "And after all that, they let him use the sword and in his first match his opponent just knocked it out of his hand and cut his cheek while he was picking it up."
After dinner is over, while Petyr is helping with the dishes, Andrei heads out to the shed Kendra mentioned to take stock of what tools and exploratory equipment might be available there.
Andrei finds enough equipment in the shed to form a deluxe dungeoneering kit.
The next morning begins with another wonderful, if quick, breakfast cooked by Kendra of toast and sausage. She wishes you well but then makes her exit, as she has some errands to run in town.
The skies above the town are grey, but it doesn't look like it's going to rain any time within the next few hours. Harrowstone is located on a barren hill south of the city the stark, sagging roof of its central structure visible through a large gap in the surrounding wall. A partially overgrown track leads from the southern edge of town, winding around the base of the hill and then back up along its southern slope to the prison itself.
Harrowstone’s grounds are contained within a crumbling stone wall, the eastern portion of which has fallen away into a huge sinkhole that formed when the extensive eastern wing of the prison dungeon collapsed after the dreadful fire of 4661—this collapse took with it the prison graveyard, which now lies in ruins at the bottom of the murky pond that filled the sinkhole.
A sagging wood and metal gate set between a pair of stone guard towers once barred entrance into Harrowstone, but the gates now hang negligently open, creaking softly in what wind touches the ruined bars.
"Xantrian, I think," Petyr confirms. "The spitting image--quite literally spitting--of a sore loser."
---
Petyr wishes Kendra his best, hoping that her errands would meet with as much success as they would.
Harrowstone exceeds his expectations. Aunt Ailson would be proud, if only he could write a bit of what he was seeing in sufficiently gothic prose. "Stark, sagging roof" had a nice flow to it. He'd have to write that down later.
He takes a look at the dilapidated gates, wondering if they were as safe to pass through as they looked.
The appropriate thing to say would probably be a cliche like "Well here we are." Petyr supposed that such statements were part of the script to help people feel more at ease in nerve-wracking situations. Whether that actually worked or not was another question. He nods ahead and leads the way through the gates and into the prison's courtyard.
"I'd rather go in the way everyone else in the building's history did. But given these walls--and their state--I'm glad to know we have a secondary exit if we need it. Come on."
Andrei surveys the grounds of the prison as they pass through the gates. "I'd guess that smaller building was probably living quarters for the warden or someone important..." he offers. "I'd suggest we start there- see if there's any existing records that might shed light on what was going on here? Could be a good place to find keys too?"
As soon as Petyr steps over the threshold of the gates, a sudden rush of claustrophobia and the split-second sensation that his skin is on fire nearly overwhelms him, but quickly fades. It does not seem to affect the other two members of the group.
This small brick manor house (R3) is overgrown with thick sheets of gray-green ivy. The roof sags ominously, and the front door hangs askew.
A two-story stone building looms in the center of the prison grounds. Ivy and moss cling tenaciously to the walls, while above the wooden shingles of the roof are often missing entirely, exposing the wooden rafters of the upper structure to the sky. Here and there, leering stone gargoyles perch on the eaves, once functioning as drainspouts and decorations but now seeming almost to serve a more ominous role of sentinels. Many of these stone decorations have crumbled away and lie in ruined piles on the soggy ground below. Windows in the building’s facade are narrow and blocked by grills of rusty iron bars. Stone columns support a slumping wooden balcony over the building’s wooden front doors, both of which hang askew and reveal dark glimpses of chambers within.
As you get closer to the main building itself, even to move towards the Warden's house, you notice that something strange has been done to the front walls of the prison. The ivy and grass have been cleared along the edge where the foundation meets the ground, and along this edge a series of sinuous runes has been etched and then smeared in dark red.
As the group approaches the small manor Park looks at the condition of the roof. "If this was personal quarters I don't think the warden would've left keys or records here. He should have an office in the prison for such. That roof looks pretty badly damaged. Wouldn't want the whole thing to collapse on us."
Petyr shakes his head as he crosses into the courtyard. Was he imagining it? Paranoia, or actual psychic residue? He was too aware of the strangeness of occult phenomena to entirely discount bizarre occurences.
Once he has a sense of what he might have experienced--or even if he just reasons that it's a bad vibe--Petyr will let the others know. Even if he had resisted whatever that was, it didn't mean that there was nothing else like it afoot.
"And yet it seems a good first spot to check out first," Petyr says. He has a second thought, and his eyes flit to the younger man. "How about this--if the roof starts to collapse, I'll tackle you out of the way this time. But if you're nervous, let's at least give it a walkaround to see how dangerous it is."
Park barely grins at Petyr's.... joke? "I may hold you to that tackle. But if it looks safe I'll follow. We can check out the writing on the foundation of the prison after checking the manor house."
He directs his familiar to stay outside of the building, perhaps taking a perch on one of the gargoyles.
Petyr knows that sometimes leftover spirits can cause effects like the one he experienced, called haunts. This was most likely a minor one, one without any of the reset triggers or need to be banished. Just an imprint of some of the souls in this area.
The warden's house is very much not structurally sound. In addition, it appears as if a lot of the outside walls and windows have been smashed in or forced open. There likely isn't anything of note inside.
Petyr reports on his hunch. "The place is definitely haunted, in the metaphysical sense. Keep your eyes and ears out for anything unnatural. Sudden changes in temperature, sounds with no obvious source, visual phantasms that have no business existing, and the like. Not to be paranoid, just to...be aware."
Looking around the Warden's House, Petyr frowns but nods. "Good hunch, Park. On closer inspection, let's avoid this building."
Moving away from the dilapidated house, Petyr leads the way towards the glowing runes. He wanted to take a closer at them and figure out what sort of things The Whispering Way--in all likelihood--was getting up to.
Runes were not his particular area of expertise, but he tries to give his best eye towards it. If he can't figure them out, he draws out a pen and begins sketching the runes in his journal.
Seeing Petyr start studying the runes on the prison building Park moves in to try and assist.
The runes themselves are written in Varisian (which you can read) and among numerous magical incantations, repeat the name Lyvar Hawkran dozens of times. Although the runes no longer radiate magic, Petyr's knowledge is enough to determine that they seem to have been part of a larger ritual that involved both abjuration and necromantic magic. What purpose they served is beyond him as of now, but perhaps that could be fixed with more research later, with more knowledge.
Seeing as how you're closer to the front entrance at the runes, you notice the balcony above the doors (above R4) is extremely unstable. When you make it to the second floor, you probably shouldn't spend too much time in that room.
"These are definitely magical runes," Petyr says. "Those ones over there with the intersecting geometric shapes are abjuration. Protection from and suppression of magic. And those," he says, referencing the more bizarre and esoteric runes, "Are necromantic. I don't have to explain those at all to you two." But as he stares at the runes, he shakes his head. "That and the name Lyvar Hawkran--the Warden, if I recall correctly. Putting two and two together, there's any number of things that this could be doing. Banishing a lingering spirit, binding it here, protecting anyone coming or going from being influenced by a spirit, or possibly even protecting Warden Hawkran himself from incursions by others. Of course, I'm not a spellcaster like either of you, so I don't properly know anything for certain. They're just theories."
The scholar finishes sketching and shrugs. "I'll try to read up more later. Maybe the Professor has notes about this, or else Kedra has ideas."
---
Petyr notes the unsafe nature of the roof overhead and makes a note to remember that when they go in. Then he continues around the rest of the way, making as complete of a loop as possible around the prison. He looks for anything else out of the ordinary--signs of tampering, secret doors, and the like.
Park is impressed by Petyr's explanation. He knows.... a little about the different schools of magic. Not an expert like most wizards would be though.
Once Petyr stows the notes and starts to circle the building he follows, watching for any of the mentioned haunts or other dangers. This job is getting creepy and they hadn't even entered the building yet!
A quick walk around the prison reveals the cesspit (R9), that somehow still carries the stench of death. A quick look shows that aside from the occasional rat, it's abandoned and doesn't carry any interest.
Beyond the pit and the areas/entrances mentioned earlier, there aren't any secret doors or tampering beyond the runes around the bottom of the wall.
As they finish the circuit of the building Park glances at his companions. "With the fire and the years this building is risky. Are we looking for an alternate entry? Seems to me that the front door is a safer bet than trying to climb the exterior and go through a window or something like that. Unless there's a ghost guarding it?"
Petyr shakes his head. "No, I'm just ensuring that we have covered the perimeter. In Aunt Ailson's books..." He pauses and frowns sheepishly. "Never mind."
The scholar retraces his steps from the cesspit to the front entrance. "Shall we?" he says, before pushing the door open and stepping inside Harrowstone prison.
Park hears "Aunt Ailson's books..." but decides to ask later. "OK." He follows close behind Petyr, watching for anything out of the ordinary.
This area was once a wide hall flanked by a pair of waiting rooms, but the foyer to Harrowstone now lies in ruins. With little left to hold up the ceiling, the wooden beams above sag dramatically. The wall to the north contains a large pair of oaken doors.
Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary beyond the decay of the building, which is to be expected. The unstable balcony on the roof that you identified is right above you, but it doesn't seem to be affected by you walking under it.
Park eyes the ceiling as the group moves in. Could it be trapped to collapse? Probably. But it also isn't likely that it is. Just weakened by time. He stays out of Petyr's way to check the door ahead of them, just giving it a good look....
Petyr looks up, then around, then ahead. He seems to intuit what Park is thinking and offers his response. "You're worried about traps. I doubt anything like that. I'm sure kids have been up here--at least to here. The Professor, too. Traps don't strike me as the particular provenance of The Whispering Way. It's good to keep an eye out, but I think it more likely that we'll be dealing with spectral presences."
Petyr moves forward, checks the northern doors, and then pushes them open.
Streaks of mold stain the walls of this foyer, and the floor below is a thick, gray carpet of fungal growth. Sturdy wooden doors beckon from every wall.
No traps to be found, thankfully. However, as you enter the room, Petyr notices that the door you entered from appears to be slowly sliding closed behind you.
Park calls out what he knows of the haunt and sings out the words to a spell. Once cast he tries to touch the manifesting haunt.
Whatever was about to happen, the quick thinking and reactions of Park quickly put an end to the spirit‘a shenanigans. The door behind you quietly swings back open, and the faces that were appearing in the wood slowly dissolve into nothing once more.
Petyr holds a flask of holy water high in the air as Park reaches his hand out and channels a burst of positive energy into the approaching haunt. Staring at the receding faces in the door, the duelist-scholar blinks a few times before relaxing back down. "Yes--spectral presences. Like that one. Good thinking, M...Park."
Petyr looks around the room, trying to remember the layout of the map that they had looked at before. "I think left from here would be a good first start," he says, approaching the now-haunt-expunged door and pushing through.
Park pulls out a flask of holy water and moves to where the haunt had started to manifest. He sprinkles it where he thinks it should be. "And if I remember right, it won't come back now...."
He puts the empty flask in his pack. Maybe it could be refilled? "Left works for me too...."
Andrei, who's carrying a kukri in each hand, looks at the fading faces on the door with disgust. "I don't suppose I can just slash at things like that, can I?" he asks with a note of frustration as he follows the others to the left.
"Ectoplasm is made of sterner, stranger stuff," Petyr responds. "Your blades will be great for anything fleshy we find, but if it doesn't have a body? It's better to pump some positive energy in."
"Cure spell works for a single, weak one. Channel from a cleric might be better for multiple. And we've got the siphons. I'm hoping we don't run in to too many.... But they come back unless we figure out how to get rid of them. That one was, simple. I doubt many of them will be."
"We might just have to remember where some are and avoid them if we can. Pity burning this place completely down wouldn't get rid of all of them. But it might free them to roam into the town!"
"I'm afraid I haven't mastered channeling energy yet," Andrei answers with a bit of a scowl, "but if a cure light wounds spell will work then I should have some options. Shall we get moving again?"
Heading left leads you to a hallway (S3) with a row of offices in the north wall, each one's door in various states of disrepair. These small offices were each dedicated to handling one of several key aspects of the prison’s operations, such as prisoner files, income, supplies, scheduling, repair requests, and so on.
You know from the map that the door at the end of the hallway (S4) was the warden's office, before the fire claimed the prison.
Before continuing onto the warden's office, Petyr stops in the offices to check on the state of the records. If there was anything here that could be safely moved back to town proper, it could be useful to both Ravengro and to them. It was probably too much to carry back in one go, but perhaps there was something that Petyr could find on a cursory glance that would be helpful in the more-immediate term.
He volunteers to poke through these files for a bit if Park and Andrei want to continue on to the warden's office.
Park stops at the doorway for the office Petyr investigates. "Strong pass. With who knows how many haunts are in this place I think we should stay close together. Besides, there might be traps...."
Contrary to stereotype, Petyr's eyes do not light up when he sees the amount of paperwork. He was a scholar but found much of the usual literature droll. So these sorts of records were likely to bore him to tears. "Let's come back for these," he concludes.
"The warden's office is ahead," he says. "Let's go."
Seeing the amount of paperwork in the offices Park is glad when Petyr decides to come back later for it. "Governments run on paperwork. Probably has every record in triplicate for totally useless nonsense."
He follows along to the warden's office. Once they get close to the door he sings the words to Detect Magic and scans the door and wall around it. He doesn't really expect anything but warns if he does see any aura.