Freebooters on the Frontier Homebrew Funnel

Game Master Branding Opportunity

Ahh...got it. I missed that little bit about ammo. Hmmm...2 CON is a bit much, but what the heck, 'work for supplies' would fit in character. Plus, this is a playtest so I'll push things a bit. So, sure I'll do it.

Syrina was about to thank the man but instead finds herself on the floor of the pub, looking up at the smoke blackened ceiling. Is everyone in this village crazy or rude! She exclaims in her mind while pulling herself off the filthy floor.

Heh, in a weird sorta way, I tend to 'reply' in the format of occurrences that are all over the place in terms of when or where in the context of time; think of it as a quick flashback, cutting to past dialog effect, if it'll help things out. ;p

** spoiler omitted **...

GM BrOp wrote:

The miller seems done with the conversation and excuses himself, leaving Thibault out standing in the rain.

Reading up about Stitch's past, I do kinda feel badly about Thibault acting like a silly insensitive gossip to Stitch's Dad but it'd probably fit with Thibault being an overly righteous jerk about the whole sordid affair. ;)

The night before the journey: Left standing out in the rain with nothing to show for his 'candor' to his superior, Thibault is left to quietly ruminate about the injustice of it all to St. Ignys. Whether or not the Saint will see fit to bless the Young man on this endeavor remains to be seen however.

At present outside of Jerrod's abode: One of his hands is involuntarily gripping against haft of his sheathed/belted club but Thibault makes no sudden move otherwise. Half-wondering if it'll be best for others to answer the old Trapper's query, the Young apprentice Miller is content to stay on the sidelines.

reaction: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 6) = 11.

Zuni 'Motherbear' Apertaux wrote:

Candace "Bones" Macdougal wrote:

"Big prints. Not like cattle or uhhh sheep. They were heading away from the village." She adds shyly and with a shiver as she too thinks of all the children's tales of evil and dangers lurking in the Moors.

Furrowing her brows in thought, Zuni tries to recall who or what could be lurking out there to make such big enough prints that Candace described.

Motherbear thinks for a moment and decides that judging from the shape and arrangement of the tracks, it was most likely a beast of burden of some sort, but not one that he immediately recognizes. He does remember that there is an old trapper named Jerrod living outside the village who would probably know the answer.

At the Pig and Pickle during the beginnings of it all: Widening her eyes in realization from the description of the prints given by Candace, Zuni replies, 'Those there prints that you've mentioned sound more like some kind of four-legged critter of some sort- most likely somebody's beast of burden. As to what type of beast, it's hard to say. I'd reckon that maybe someone like Old Jerrod might know though..."

Giving a shrug, the taller scarred Watchman adds in, "Least it wasn't a whole bunch of footprints, side by side, in a big marching area; those don't bode too well if they're practically unannounced...", as an aside.

The Watch's Quartermaster, a middle-aged woman named Leslie Cheron, had taken Zuni under her wing when she first joined and seems happy to help.

"Here, you can have these," she says as she rummages through an old chest covered in dust, pulling out several items. "They're not the newest, but I guess that's okay for just a short trip into the country."

The Quartermistress gives Zuni two sets of leather armor and a shield, but none are in good condition and have the fragile tag. They otherwise work as stated on p. 16 of the "Funnel" doc.

Preparations the night before: Beaming gratefully at Quartermistress Cheron, Zuni says, "Much obliged for your consideration, Quartermistress Cheron, Ma'am. These'll definitely help to keep some of our folks from getting too scratched up out there in the wilds.", in a relieved tone as she offers a heartfelt salute to the officer that had taken Motherbear under her wings all those years ago. "I'll do what I can to help bring them back home safely."

I'll probably go and take it to the discussion thread about who wants to have some free armor, complements of the watch. ;)

At present outside Jerrod's abode: Giving a slight cough before making an announced reply to Jerrod's query, "Old Jerrod? It's just us- well, a whole lotta us from the Village... or thereabouts. We wanted to talk about what's happened with the Hand of St. Ignys, if you're feeling up to that..."

reactions: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 3) = 9.

Upon hearing a second request, the local Lama's face goes red. "Haven't we helped enough, Madame Renault? We are not made of money, you know!"

Soliciting the temple's help the night before: Grateful for the use of Beatrice, as the task of carrying the blessed coffin single-handedly would prove much too onerous for all but the mightiest and fittest of all the porters to have ever existed, Hagar could only sigh in dismay at the lack of healing supplies- undoubtedly exasperated by the theft of the St. Ignys' hand. "This should be fine; as for the rest, we must leave it in his mercy to be shown upon us as a test of our faith. May he visit a thousand ills and misfortune upon those brazen enough to steal his Hand."

At present outside of Jerrod's abode: Trying her darned best to keep Beatrice, the temple's cantankerous donkey, from eating up all the trampled flowers, Hagar adds, "We seek your counsel, Jerrod, for this most important of quests in his holy name, St. Ignys."

reaction: 2d6 ⇒ (2, 2) = 4. Heh, bad donkey? ;p

Earlier in the morning...

Candace arrives at the Pig & Pickle barely managing the load of equipment given to her by Florian. A hodgepodge of torches, tools, rope, hard rations, and a few other items that the councilor thought might come in handy for the expedition.

Huffing and puffing beneath the heavy load, Candace drops the stuff in the center of the tavern's common room. After a few seconds catching her breath she offers a shy smile to those gathered.

"I managed to convince Councilor Florian to provide a few supplies for the expedition. If we divide up the load between us all, it shouldn't be too much of a burden on any." She says.

When she sees the armor Zuni managed to secure, she finds herself cautiously fingering the leather and holding it up to her thin frame. A bit of extra protection could come in rather handy. She contemplates.

"What do you think Talon? Will it fit?"

*Chirrup*

In the woods with Jerrod...

Stitch had spent most of the evening sulking in his single room cabin near the edge of the village. The entire incident with Charlotte had put him in a dark mood. A mood only made worse with the jug of moonshine he'd kept stashed on the shelf next to a mildewed copy of Prayers and Parables of the Ten.

Upon waking the next morning with his head pounding and stomach doing flip flops, Stitch just manages to make the meeting at the Pig & Pickle, although the smell of fried pickle just about sent him back out into the damp morning air again. It was mostly to just escape the smell, that he decided to join those seeking out that old codger Jarrod.

Sure he knew the old man existed and he wasn't afraid of him by any means. But there was no love lost between the two, not since Jerrod turned him down when Stitch asked him if he could apprentice with the woodsman and hunter. You don't have the right disposition for hunting. Can't do it out of spite or greed. Got to do it out of need and respect. The old man said. And so Stitch ended up catching rats in the village, rather than the bigger, more respectable game and threats out in the woods and moors. One of these days, he'd show the old man a bit about respect.

And so, he stood there in the crowd beneath the dripping branches of the Gloomwood shifting his feet from a patch of trampled primroses as Jerrod hollered at them all.

"We're here on village business old man." He hollers back. Going to get the saint's hand back and someone thought you might know something, although what I can't possibly imagine."

Reaction: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 3) = 6

Forgot to roll for Syrina earlier, so doing it now.

Syrina Check Reaction: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 6) = 11

Sorry if it wasn't clear, but only one Reaction roll was needed (since it's only person who is reacting to you). I went with the first one.

The assembled group has a chat with Jerrod, who lets you approach once he realizes you are from the village. He remains on his platform in the tree about twelve feet from the ground and does not seem particularly happy that you are interrupting his day.

"So what is it you want from me?"

Syrina steps forward and offers the elder huntsman a respectful bow, going so far as removing her hat as she bends down.

"We have to come because those in town say you are the wisest and most knowledgeable of these lands and the happens within the woods." She says her eyes looking up at the man upon the platform. "We are part of an expedition that hopes to retrieve the Hand of St. Ignys recently stolen from the church."

She drops her hat back on her head hoping to keep a bit of the dripping water from crawling down the back of her neck. She looks over at the beekeeper and then to the mousey baron's daughter. "We've some suggestion that the missing hand may be hidden or held near the old stone circle. Folks thought you might know something about what might be lurking out there or who might take the hand there and why. There've also been strange tracks left on the trails leading to the stones. Have you seen anything or know anything that would create such marks?"

The old man's eyes drift off as he listens to the bounty hunter speak, moving a pouch he has tied around his waist from the side to the front. He fishes around inside it for a moment and pulls out something dark and unidentifyable that he smells and then pops into his mouth.

When Syriana has finished speaking he states matter-of-factly: "I have not one idea what you are talking about when it comes to that hand thingy. Never trucked with the divine and its done me a world of good!"

"As for strange tracks, that could be from the woman who goes up to clean them once a month, you know, pick off the moss and give them a good scrubbing. Her name is Agatha and she's got a peg leg!"

Not to waste more time, he clearly does not know anything about the Hand, which means that either the cryptic statement in town, or he is not the oldest man in town.

Syrina arches an eyebrow in consternation upon hearing Jerrod knows next to nothing about the hand or the stones. Frustration turns to surprise when the old man mentions Agatha and her regular trips into the wild to to clean a bunch of rocks.

"Any idea where Agatha calls home? Sounds like she would know plenty about those old stones, else why bother going out to clean 'em on a regular basis." Syrina says to Jerrod, although her question takes in any of the other locals who might know who she is.

Fidgeting and fussing in the leather armor, Candace dawdled near the back of the group barely hearing anything being discussed with the odd old man shouting at them from up in the trees. She did take care to carefully and discreetly slide her foot off of a red and yellow primrose.

When was the last time this armor was properly cleaned? She wonders, trying to scratch an itch on her lower back. When suddenly the name Agatha registers in her mind. Wait?! What? Agatha?! Cleaning tending to standing stones...

"You don't suppose he means our Agatha, do you Talon?" She whispers to the falcon who warily watches the woodsman on his perch.

*Chirrup* Replied the falcon conspiratorially.

"Then again, how many woman named Agatha with wooden legs can there be in one village? Only one that I know of."

*Chirrup*

Candace sighs, it seems she might need to deal with her sister after all.

"Ahem....Ummm....I think he might be referring to my sister Agatha." Candace says sheepishly from the back of the crowd.

Upon hearing Jerrod's mention of somebody named Agatha, Zuni racks her brain in trying to recall if there is anyone local to the village that would fit the description given.

int/recall: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 3) + 1 = 8.

"Jerrod ain't the type to be making tall tales, so if he says those tracks are made by this Agatha person, then it probably is."

"Ahem....Ummm....I think he might be referring to my sister Agatha." Candace says sheepishly from the back of the crowd.

When Candace makes mention about about this Agatha being her sister, the taller watchguard turns to where the noble falconer and her bird is situated at and asks her, "Since she's your sister, "Bones", could you and Talon lead the way to where she's staying at?"

Pausing to give some further thought to it, 'Motherbear' hastily adds, "If you want, maybe me and some of the other authority figures here can be right along beside you both- making it 'official town business and all'..."

Deciding that the town's business with Old Jerrod has concluded for the most part, Hagar calls out to the elderly hunter, "We thank you for your time and cooperation; in St. Ignys' name, may his Blessings be upon you.", as she finally manages to pull Beatrice away from the nearby flowers.

Turning towards the rest of the group, the matronly undertaker then says, "Shall we see to Dame Agatha then?"

Thibault himself doesn't really say anything during the whole exchange save to silently sidle along the backrow of those presently gathered.

"S.sss...sure." Candace stammers nervously. "She should just be at manor house. I mean, I can't really imagine her being anywhere else." The woman adds, clearly puzzled by the discovery of her eldest sister's late evening activities.

Confused and clearly a bit nervous about confronting her rather imposing and controlling sister, Candace leads the ragtag group of villagers up toward her families manor house.

The group leaves the strange hermit and makes its way to the ancient baronial seat of House Macdougal: Achandunie Manor. This crumbling edifice began as a small country estate several centuries back and was expanded on several occasionals when times were good. In the past several decades, however, the Macdougal family has fallen on hard times and now most of its dozens of rooms sit empty and its vacant windows stare like empty eyes down upon the village below it.

Bones takes you around to the back of the manor to a small door no more than five feet high. She unlocks it with a key she pulls out of a satchel that is big enough to be used as a kosh. It grinds and squeaks in the lock, but eventually the door pops open.

You can't be sure, but one of you thinks they can see momentary movement from a window on the second floor. When you look up to confirm this, however, you see nothing but heavy black-out draperies in the window.

Bones, how do you feel about your home? Are you embarassed at its state, proud of it, indifferent, or have a different outlook?

Candace looks up at the manor as the group slowly trudges their way up the muddy track. She couldn't help but imagine how the place must have once looked. Bright, proud, full of life and hope. A beacon of civilization in the frontier wilderness. She sighs. That was all long ago. The family had fallen on hard times. The Macdougal's of more recent years hadn't been so much beacons for civilization and hope, but more like smoldering old lamps drawing con men, swindlers, and schemers. Moths come to eat the family fortune. She sighs again.

She casts quick glances at the others traveling up the hill with her. Was it pity? Or more righteous justification? There were many who thought even the idea of nobility and family titles should be tossed aside. Or even worse, was it just distaste or disapproval at the dilapidated state.

"I do my best to help out and keep things up as I can, but there is just too much, and well, I'm not really handy with tools. Candace says her face flushing. "But I could work the gardens, at least until all this rain started." Her brief cheer turning a bit shy again as she points out patch of well tended raised garden beds now mostly filled with water and a few struggling plants.

"Father keeps saying he'll get the repair men up here, but that he just hasn't the time for such things given all the different projects he's managing." She says the belief in her father shining in her voice as she guides everyone away from the front entrance. They couldn't go through the front hall as it is currently occupied by a smattering of buckets, pans, and pails to catch the rain leaking through the roof. The constant *plink* *plonk* *plip* of the water can be heard through a broken window.

"More like the old buzzard can't find anyone willing to work for free." Stitch mutters with a derisive snort.

Pretending not to hear the remark Candace catches a glimpse of the movement above. She quickly pulls her eyes away and suppresses a shiver. "We don't use the west wing much anymore. 'Cept for Sarafina of course." The family rarely talked about the sixth daughter of the baron. Not since...

*Chirrup* Talon gives Candace a light tap on her head, drawing her back into the moment.

Arriving at the back entrance, she finally manages to work the lock and shove the thick oak door open.

"Father! Agatha! Anyone!" She hesitantly shouts stepping into the tiny back entrance and mudroom. A shadow filled hallway leads deeper into the manor while the smell of woodsmoke signals the kitchen likely lies through a second doorway. Over the acid scent of the smoke is another, much stronger smell. That of mildew, mold and dry rot. The tangy odor permeates the very essence of the manor. Candace doesn't seem to notice. "I've guests from the village!"

For the moment nothing answers back but the echoing sound of water dripping into pails.

Candace's call echoes through the empty rooms of Achandunie Manor. The estate may be empty, or its occupants might be in a room so far away that they can't hear the group's entrance, or they may simply be ignoring you. Whatever the case, when no one answers her call, you are left to climb the steep and narrow servant stairs to the third floor to the private quarters of her sister Agatha.

The eldest of the Baron's seven daughters, Agatha was considered a great beauty during her youth and the best chance to save the family's crumbling finances through an advantagous marriage. But first her teens and then her twenties passed with few proposals and several broken engagements. In the end, no one wanted to take on the family's generational debt, and Agatha eventually withdrew from the public and even her family. She spent more and more time locked in her chambers working on pet projects, most of which involved researching the religions of lost civilizations.

When you reach the door to Agatha's bedroom, a short knock brings a single response: "Go away!"

Any of you may try to talk to Agatha if you wish. Candace can tell you that she's not particularly fond of the rest of her family.

"It is probably best if someone else asks Agatha about the stones." Candace whispers to those standing in the hall. "She'll likely just yell at me as a bothersome, tiresome, girl and tell me to go make father's porridge."

Sounds like reaction time to me. ;)

reactives activated: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 2) = 7.

Giving a sympathetic nod to an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Candace, Zuni gives a short cough into her hand before addressing Agatha through the closed doorway. "Lady Agatha? If'n you don't mind answering a few questions, seems that there's some town council business that you might just be able to help us out with..."

Hagar hastily pipes in after 'Motherbear' with, "It isn't just the town elders that this gathering has concerns with; it also pertains to the recent occurrences of theft with St. Ignys himself, Dame Agatha."

hoping for a more favorable outcome: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 1) = 5.

Some of the other townsfolks that have yet to appear, no need to feel shy- just jump right on in there without thinking about too much over things... that's what I'd do. ;p

Thibault, feeling quite awkward about all of this- especially tromping on into the abode of some very prominent members of the local nobility that he's never had cause to associate with- quickly adds, "You really don't want to sleep on this- not with so many folks here."

will 3rd make the charm?: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 6) = 7.

There is a small click from inside the room following your appeals and you realize that the door has been unlocked.

When you push down the mechanism that releases the latch and enter the room all of you are shocked. An acrid, unpleasant smell permeates the chamber and the air is thick with various types of incense. The large bedchamber is in a chaotic state with books opened on every surface and more than a score of potted plants scattered about.

A single four-poster bed dominates the chamber. Its heavy burgundy brocade curtains have been pulled, hiding anyone inside from view, and you see the barest of movement from them, as if someone had just passed through them to get back into bed.

"What do you want? I can't help you." says a weak voice from behind the curtains.

Candace, you have not spoken to your sister in quite some time, probably at least a month, but she does not sound well. You're pretty sure its her, but she sounds much weaker than you've ever heard her.

Also for clarity, only one roll is needed for the Reaction move, since it applies only to one person (Agatha). I'll take the roll for the first one posted.

Upon entering the incensed-filled bedchamber, 'Motherbear' Zuni quickly exchanges a worried glance towards Candace before addressing the hidden figure of Agatha inside the covered bed. "Pardon our intrusion here, Ma'am, we heard from Old Jerrod that you've been cleaning up after the standing stones outside town..."

Glancing over towards Remy's direction - if he happens to be among those entering the bedchamber- Zuni continues, "We got it on good authority, Remy's honeycomb divination as a matter of fact, that there's something going on with those standing stones and how they're all mixed up with St. Ignys Hand being stolen away recently."

Pointedly ignoring any looks of scoffing from both Hagar and Thibault- maybe even from others not so believing in the Beekeeper's divining- Zuni then asks, "You...uh, feeling okay there?" in a much lowered voice.

Hagar would've entered inside; Thibault would choose to peek from the doorway unless everybody else also entered- thereby making him the odd one out, which he'll try to avoid so he'll end up following everyone in. ;p

There is a slight hesitation following Motherbear's question followed by a pathetic answer from behind the curtain: "Go away. I can't help you."

Her nose wrinkles and her eyes water as the overwhelming smell of the incense plays havoc with Candace's senses when she steps into the room. More surprising than the harsh smell is the utterly unusual chaotic state of her eldest sister's room. Towel's hanging from chairs, rain soaked clothing mildewing on the floor. A mold filled bowl of half eaten, congealed porridge. Saint's blessing, I thought I'd just be lucky in avoiding her these last few weeks. Candace thinks guiltily. Instead she's been ill and forced to take care of herself.

"A...Agatha? It's Candace. Are you unwell? Perhaps one of us should run for the apothecary...or...or the temple if you prefer?" Candace says standing next to her sister's dresser, doing her best to push some of the clothing back into the drawers. "I'm sure folk would be willing to help if in return you could just tell us why old Jerrod said you would be the one going out to the old stone circle in the moors. It's nothing against you doing it, but you see, the council has tasked us with...ummm...with finding the saint's hand and its like Zuni said, the signs point to the standing stones." She pauses for a moment, but gets nothing in response. "If there's any way you could help, well, it's...well...I'm sure...uh...folk would be grateful."

Negotiate with CHA: 2d6 + 0 ⇒ (1, 4) + 0 = 5

Uh oh...

First, Candace gets to "mark" her Charisma, that's the good part.

The voice behind the curtain speaks up again, this time with quite a bit more antagonism in her voice.

"Candace, is it? You've got some gall to waltz in here after what you pulled, or do you think I'd forgotten about young master Alain? He was supposed to me mine, Candace, you knew that! But no, you had to drag him around and show him all of your disgusting birds. He never looked at me again after that!"

*Chirrup*

Talon exclaims, flickering his wings in irritation from his perch on Candace's shoulder. The young woman quickly reaches up and puts a calming hand upon the bird's back, softly petting it has her face turns an even deeper shade of red.

"Agatha...I...I...said I was sorry. It really wasn't...wasn't anything to do with..." She says with sorrowful exasperation. Hurt and more than a little anger and embarrassment clouding her voice.

"Bah! Quiet you. I've no need for more of your useless apologies." Shouts back the spurned Agatha, waving the young woman from her room.

The truth of the matter was that the young master in question was neither interested in the much older Agatha or Candace or birds. He'd barely given Talon a glance, after he'd asked Candace to show him her small aviary. Instead the door hadn't been closed more than a minute when he suddenly pressed himself up against Candace in the quiet of the shed-turned-aviary tucked along the back wall of the manor's estate. His searching lips puckered like an addled pond grouper tried to reach her own even as she began to shout in protest and struggle away. But by that point his solid grip was already clamped upon her shoulders and there was no breaking away.

'Hahaha, and the others said I couldn't land a kiss or more from one 'o the Baron's brood.' He said with a leering grin. 'Now let's see about that more..." He adds trying to reach beneath her tunic. The man's laughter quickly turned into a cry of pain and fright as Talon swooped down raking his namesakes across the young man's head and shoulder. Using the distraction, she gathered all her possible strength and planted a well aimed knee that had Alain toppling like a felled tree, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Candace scrambled away, calling Talon, who raked a claw across exposed flesh one last time for good measure.

Needless to say Alain had not set foot on the manor grounds since. Unfortunately, when Candace tried to tell Agatha what had happened, her sister simply wouldn't believe such a thing could possibly have happened. Even if it had, it was surely because Candace had encouraged him in order to steal him away and then changed her feather-headed mind at the last moment. Obviously Agatha still hadn't considered that her younger sister was simply telling the truth.

"Fine! You can rot away in here all alone, for all I will care." She says, puffing out her cheeks and doing her best to hold back tears. Instead of waiting for any further derision from her sister, Candace spins and stomps out of the room. The embarrassment and humiliation in front of the rest of the village. She caught a glimpse of Stitch's snickering face and even worse the surprise and shock on the outlander's face. It was all more than she could bare. I should have never brought them here! Would have been best just go to the standing stones and see for themselves what was there! At that moment she really did hate her spinster sister as she raced back down the stairs. Talon's chirrup echoing down the shadow filled hall.

Well, that's one down. Anyone else want to give it a try? Remember, you may also assist other PCs in their rolls, giving them +1 on their Negotiate moves. I'd say that in this situation, no more than one other person may assist the person making the check. Anyone with a positive Charisma modifier want to give it a try? The person assisting doesn't have to roll, so a lower Cha would be fine. You just have to explain how you are assisting the other person. Also remember that you could attempt to intimidate her (using Strength) or trick her into revealing something (using Intelligence).

No real charisma among any of my three... I'll try for a trick/int though. ;p

"So all this business with the standing stones... this wouldn't have anything to do with getting this Alain person back into your life, is it?"

int roll: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 6) + 1 = 11.

The voice behind the curtain falters and grows quiet for a few seconds. You then hear wheezing as if she was having trouble drawing breath. She then states: "Please, just leave. I cannot tell you anything! Please!"

Syrina sighs and pushes forward a cloud brewing upon her features. Between the other folk and the chaos of furniture and other detritus in the room her large frame can't help but bump and jostle as she forces a path.

"Is every elder in this village a recalcitrant, self centered..." She doesn't finish the sentence, instead simply punctuating it as she slings to curtain covering the bed back to reveal the person within.

"Lady Agatha, this group has been tasked with returning the holy relic stolen from this village. So far sources indicate the relic may be hidden among the nearby standing stones. A place that you apparently visit on a regular basis. Now will you tell us what you know of this place and thus do your duty to the village as a noble citizen, or will you continue to hamper our efforts and therefore put yourself forward as a potential culprit is this blasphemy." She looks about the room and waves a hand at the rundown and falling apart manor. "The choice is your to make, but I think neither you, your father or your family can afford another black mark upon your house and lands. Perhaps you should do as your good sister has done and try to help rather than hinder this cause."

Negotiate with Intimidation (STR): 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (3, 3) + 3 = 9

When Syrina pulls aside the curtain on the four-poster, she uncovers a terrible sight. Agatha, Candace's eldest sister, lies on top of the duvet in only her nighshirt that clings to her body as if she has been perspiring heavily. What immediately draws your attention, however, is the disembodied arm that is wrapped around her neck in a choke hold. The arm is quite obviously from a deceased person and is not connected to anything else, but nevertheless holds Agatha in a death grip. As Syrina moves closer, the arm tightens its grip around the prone woman's neck, causing her to wheeze and as she struggles to draw breath through her constricting wind pipe. Only when Syrina instinctively moves away from the bed does the arm relax its grip and Agatha takes a huge breath, sucking in as much air as she can. Her eyes plead with you desperately as she holds up her hands in a defensive posture.

"Please, I can't help you. Just go away or you will kill me."

As soon as Syrina has pulled aside the bed curtains hiding Agatha only to reveal both her and the clearly unnatural arm tormenting her, Hagar instinctively falls back as she hisses out, "In St. Ignys' name, preserve us from this blasphemy!"

Since Hagar is an Undertaker by trade, is there anything, religious, professional, or otherwise that can free Agatha from that dastardly arm? She'll make an Int roll to try.

Int roll: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (2, 6) + 1 = 9.

Zuni/'Motherbear', on the other hand- having earlier been torn between going after Candace and Talon or staying in the room to keep an eye on the proceedings- lets out a startled verbal exclamation of, "Hells and Damnations! I knew those standing stones were nothing good!" as she attempts to rush forward to pull that cursed arm off from Agatha's person.

If Zuni can reach the arm before it chokes out Agatha, 'Motherbear' will try a Str roll to pull it loose. Or assist in doing so at the very least- unless stopped by someone.

Str roll, if applicable: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 1) + 1 = 6

Thibault, recovering from the shock of seeing such a ghastly sight, will possibly try to jam his club in between the arm and Agatha's neck so that it's wedged blocked from choking her out completely... Will a Dex roll apply? Also, since he's unlikely to budge Zuni away, he may have to try the old 'sneak around to the other side of the bed' maneuver first.

Syrina gasps and steps back from the grim sight on the bed. Her hands quickly gesturing a protective sign. "What necromancy is this?" She says through clenched teeth. Sweat suddenly beading upon her forehead as she draws her crossbow and aims it at the undead appendage.

"Hold still woman and I'll shoot the thing off of you." She says loading a bolt and cranking back the string. Before she can bring it up to aim, a hand reaches out and grabs her arm.

"Hold on, ya daft mercenary." Stitch's voice hisses at the two. "You pull that trigger, and you'll for certain kill the woman." He says to Syrina. "Not that many would show up to the funeral. But she still might know something and I doubt you can afford the compensation the family would require for her unnatural death."

At first simply ready to pull her arm from the smarmy rat-catcher's grasp, Syrina slowly begins to understand. And the blasted man was right, she didn't want to be indentured to these folk just because she accidentally killed a woman trying to free her from...whatever...that thing was.

"Well then...what do we do?" She says in obvious frustration. "We can't just leave her like that."

That's when Zuni moves in. Seeing the woman's strategy, Syrina does her best to dive in and help before it is too late. The strong woman grabs the cold, dead, hand slick with its victim's sweat and does her best to pry it off Agatha before it can complete its task of silencing her permanently.

Help Action for Zuni. So +1 for her.

Hagar has never seen such a thing before. He has heard that necromancers can animate corpses and control them like marionettes, but this disembodied arm is new to him. As far as he understands, countering necromancy is either done with other high magic, or requires special religious blessings or artifacts. Lacking any of these tools, however, he understands that animated bodies can be hacked apart like any other corpse.

As Motherbear lunges at the arm, it instantly tightens its grip on Agatha's neck, who begins to turn blue and make choking sounds, scratching at it fruitlessly with her nails. Motherbear grasps the arm, but realizes that it is covered in some kind of slime or oil and is fiendishly hard to get a hold on. Every attempt to gain a good grip fails, and the arm looks like it might break Agatha's neck instead of just choking her out if it squeezes any harder.

Thibault, the grip the arm has on Agatha's neck is already too tight to slip in anything as large as a club.

What does everyone want to do? You can try again to pry the arm off with the help of others, but if you fail again she is most likely dead (she has already taken some damage). It definitely reacted to you getting closer to her.

"Get off her ye blasted fools!" Stitch hollers grabbing at both Syrina and Zuni. "Can't ya see the things goin' to crush her neck easy as a cow stepping on a toad."

"Everyone get back." The ratcatcher hustles the gathered crowd back toward the hall, although it is unclear if most do so to escape the grim horror of the severed arm wrapped around Agatha's neck or Stitch's own rat filled pockets. Regardless, Agatha's eyes momentarily seem to stop bulging like a bullywug's and her flesh regains some of her natural ghostly pallor.

Hearing all the commotion, Candace comes rushing back in and stops with a startled gasp as she sees her sister's predicament. Talon hisses and flutters his wings in a mix of fright and hatred for the unnatural thing upon the bed.

"Saint's Blessing! What's that? What's...oh Agatha!" She blurts starting to rush forward only to be grabbed by Stitch who eases her back toward the door.

"Do that and you'll kill her for sure miss." He says with uncharacteristic gentleness. He leans down to captured her eyes with his scruffy face. "Now see here miss, there just might be a way to get your sister outta this mess, but we need a few things. Can you help with that?"

Taking several breaths to regain herself and muster up her own courage for her sister's sake, Candace slowly nods.

"First off we need a few basic things. I got some rope from the supplies you brought by this mornin. Along with a block and tackle. Figured we'd need 'em if we had ta move some o' them stones about." He says starting to gaze around the rafters of the room. "Now this bein' a house full of women, I'm sure there's a passel of hairpins about. We'll need several dozen. Nice and sharp."

He starts to tick off a list of several more items. A pitchfork from the stables, the thickest fireplace screen you got, a hammer and a few nails, two or three pairs of thick leather work gloves. Blacksmith's gloves if possible.

He looks over at the dwindling remnants of the fire in Agatha's fireplace. "And we'll need more firewood. A lot more. And it's got to be dry. Bust up the bloody kitchen table if you have to."

Agatha's eyes go wide at the possible assault on her precious kitchen furniture. She raises her head slightly against the arms pressure. "Why, you'll do no such thing. I'll not have you *gurk*gack*"

"That'll be enough out o you." Stitch says take a couple steps back toward the door, utterly ignoring Agatha's glare.

He turns back to Candace. "Now I know that priest from the church has been comin' up here to perform the rites every week. Do you have any consecrated wine or water still about the house."

Candace frowns in thought. "I...I'm not sure. But I'll check the cabinet behind the shrine. That's where father keeps it if we've any left over."

Stitch nods. "That'll do. Now, show folk where we can round all that up." He says instead to Candace who nods and waves for any others to follow to help carry things back.

He turns back to Agatha, his hand going up to rub his stubbled chin as he thinks.

"Way I see it. That thing reacts to anyone gettin' close or her sayin' anything about it being there or them standing stones. Clearly whoever stole the hand, doesn't want her talkin." He says. "So we rig a rope from that ceiling rafter there. We stick the hairpins through the rope to create a spiked noose, like some of them collars ya see on fightin' dogs and what not. Nasty pieces of work them, but that'll keep the slippery thing from slidin' free o' the rope. Agatha seems to be free to move her arms, so she can help guide the loop into place. We splash some holy wine or water on the thing and then..." He snaps his fingers and gestures as if tugging a rope. "Up and away from her nobleness."

"The tricky part'll be getting it over into the fireplace. I figure that's where the fork'll come in handy. And a bit of muscle." He says eyeing Syrina and Zuni both. "We get the fire goin' real hot, then in it goes. We'll need to hold the iron screen in place until the thing is good and roasted. So it'll be a tad uncomfortable, but that's what the thick gloves are for."

He looks about at those still gathered at the edge of the room. "Thoughts?"

Besides herself at her wit's end after unsuccessfully attempting to pull that cursed undead arm off of Agatha, Zuni fumes out, "That damned blasted arm's more slipperier than a greased pig; couldn't get a good grip on it at all! But that may make it much more easier for it to burn up good if your idea goes through, Stitch. I'll help get some more kindling wood out in any case.", before heading off to do just that.

Hagar pipes in, "I can try to help with the blessings of the wine; in any event, despite being unnaturally active, that arm's just like any other human arm- if the bones or elbows were to break, that might give that poor girl some kind of reprieve. A blacksmith's tong or even a bonesaw should do the trick, I believe.". The elder Undertaker turns to some of the other gathered folks and asks, "Surely somebody has something that can be of help..."

Thibault adds, "If there's any sort of lard or grease in the kitchen larder, that might just make it difficult 'nuff for that arm to get a good grip on. Won't smell too pleasant but that's far more preferable than not being able to breathe any, St. Ignys preserve us all.", while scratching at his chin.

if Hagar needs a base 2d6 roll to help persuade the other gathered villagers to contribute: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 3) = 8.

Looking to those already gathered but are perhaps too petrified at the sight of the disembodied arm to do anything to help out, Hagar calls out to exhort them into action. "Time is of the essence here. Does everybody have something to help out Dame Agatha with?"