Nualia seems to be fuming too hard to listen to your well reasoned arguments. Still San's suggestion earns a response of "Answer? I'LL make him answer when I find him. What can you do? He's long dead." While this exchange is taking place, Morga carefully monitors Nualia's reactions and has an epiphany .
Autumn earns a wry laugh from the ghost "A motion to censure? Like in a court? How pointless. How self-serving..." Nevertheless, the thought of Tobyn being publicly condemned seems to calm her a little. Though clearly a formalized activity doesn't quite satisfy.
Unfortunately Vildran is too distracted to catch anything additional.
Round 5
Gently, San reminds Nualia of her current existence, "Nualia, you are also long dead. Yet here you are. Do you not think the same could be achieved for him? Do you know where his remains might be located to facilitate another ritual? I understand they were removed from the boneyard at some point. We really do want to make things right, and that means holding those responsible... well, responsible."
next easiest would be Religion - You recognize that despite her determination to find and inflict torment on Tobyn in the afterlife, she may still have some concern about her final fate in the afterlife. Religion can help you explain her potential destination in the Abyss after judgement should she continue down her current path.
Hmm...Has she thought about the consequences of her desires? She probably doesn't care about anyone else at this point, but what about herself? "Have you decided you want to go to the Abyss after judgement? This path will certainly take you there. Would being stuck for all eternity in a place designed to torture souls would feel like a worthy reward for your efforts?"
I also want to recognize how members of the town ostracized you, even if not intentionally. Perhaps their current generation could be educated to not objectify others like you as idols; to not endeavor to seize luck charms from then like they did to you. Sandpoint could be a more welcoming place.
Autumn shifts uncomfortably when Morga talks about ‘judgment’, ‘torture’, and ‘The Abyss’. In an effort to lighten the mood—perhaps more for herself than for the ghost—she says “Did you have any favorite songs you liked to sing or listen to, or games you liked to play? I always liked pretty simple games, like follow the ball under the cups, or even just flipping coins.” She takes out her predictable silver piece, displaying it in the palm of her hand, as if offering to play a game with Nualia. “What about food? I find there’s nothing better than a freshly baked scone with lots of cream and jam—though blueberry muffins are a close second.” It might seem inane, but these are the sorts of ordinary, friendly conversations that Nualia might have missed out on.
Nualia utters a short laugh full of contempt "His bones? Probably resting somewhere in a place of honor. You're welcome to desecrate them if you like if you find them. I'd rather make the man himself beg for mercy." She seems more interested in the pain she can extract in the afterlife than San's suggestion. When Morga starts explaining Nualia's possible fate her expression clouds again. "Are you threatening me? I have nothing left to lose. Nothing."
Vildran on the other hand brings her back to thoughtfulness "Educated? These rubes? You're welcome to try, assuming you wouldn't just do and think the same as they did. But... I wouldn't mind if what happened to me didn't happen to some other girl."
Autumn's everyday conversations briefly leave Nualia gazing into the distance, but then she comes back to her particular spiritual state. "Why... Are you trying to rub it in now? After all you said about letting go of the things that fuel me, you want to remind me of all those things I've lost forever?" She glares at Autumn.
---
Round 6
"I didn't mean it as a threat, honestly. I'm clumsy with words, is all. I'm just trying to look out for your soul right now. I think after all you've been through, you ought to have a chance at feeling accepted, safe, and at peace. But the actions you have planned won't get you there. That's why I brought it up, that's all."
Morga can tell her words are falling flat, or worse. She's starting to think that Father Zantus shouldn't have agreed to do the ritual. Perhaps it would've been better to let Nualia's soul focus its ire on finding Tobyn's soul. Maybe then Sandpoint would've been safe. She'd've made her way to the Abyss sooner or later. <sigh>
Autumn barely suppresses an astonished eye roll when Morga speaks. Dwarves are well-known for being gruff and uncharismatic, but this is far beyond anything the con artist has ever experienced. All of the cleric's words would seem quite reasonable and helpful if written down on paper, but the tone is just ... wow.
The sorceress sidles next to Morga and gives her a little nudge. "Maybe listen more, talk less?" she suggests in a whisper.
"Why... Are you trying to rub it in now? After all you said about letting go of the things that fuel me, you want to remind me of all those things I've lost forever?"
"Of course not," Autumn responds in a light voice, "don't be silly. Just because you can't eat do some of those things anymore--though you can still hear music, and we could play a coin-tossing game if you want. Heads or tails?" With a playful smile, she holds out her silver piece, displaying one side then the other.
"Anyway, my point is that you can try to think of the good memories, even if there aren't so many. Especially if there aren't so many, because they're more precious then. I ..." she pauses, becoming more reflective and somber, "... I lost my mother. My memories are all I have left of her."
Autumn looks up and bites her lip. "But you're right--I don't really know what you can or can't do in your ... present form." She beseeches the ghost the way one might ask a respected sage for advice, valuing and respecting her opinion and expertise in a manner that was undoubtedly lacking during her life in Sandpoint. "What ... what happens after you die? Please help us understand."
Autumn's easy attitude distracts Nualia from her increasing displeasure with the dwarf bringing up unpleasant truths. Nualia answers "I was never one for coin games. They would've been a distraction from what I had to do." Her expression clouds, but for once in faint confusion rather than anger "Except... in Riddleport? I've never been there. Have I? It seems so familiar though. Faces. Drinking." She shakes her head.
"When you die? Who knows. You get judged. Or you're like me and the world keeps you around. It knows there's something you still need to do. Gives you another chance to do what in life you weren't able to." Though her expression hardens at that, the fire that accompanied her earlier statements of intent has ebbed. Though it's slow, you're making some progress. The question is only whether you'll succeed before Zantus and Audrahni lose their grip on the ritual.
Round 7
Vildran on the other hand brings her back to thoughtfulness "Educated? These rubes? You're welcome to try, assuming you wouldn't just do and think the same as they did. But... I wouldn't mind if what happened to me didn't happen to some other girl."
I understand! It will be an uphill battle. But I think it's worth starting somewhere for the same reason you realize. This town could come to truly value someone like you.
What we could do is start by hiring a bard to spread the tale of your story, especially young ones who have not yet been taught the bias. This is just the first point of my ten-point-plan...
Vildran continues at length.
San has the feeling the Tobyn line of attack has been run dry. How can they find Tobyn's spirit in the afterlife in such a way Nualia can release her rage... San switches to the reform of the town idea. "We know most of the people to instill these changes of attitudes. Work the idea from the bottom up and the top down at the same time."
"Sandpoint is a big place with many differing perspectives. I'm sure we can find some townsfolk that are already sympathetic to what was done to you. Before the uh... retaliation I mean."
“It knows there's something you still need to do. Gives you another chance to do what in life you weren't able to."
Autumn lowers her lashes, knowing better than to tell her, or even just suggest, what she needs to do. While the elves continue pressing a public relations angle, she sticks to a simple, friendly conversation, treating Nualia like any other normal person, without any hidden agenda or ulterior motives.
“Riddleport? I’ve been to a few towns and villages, but never to such a large city, though I’d definitely love to go there. I’m so jealous if you were there. Did you maybe visit afterwards? After Thistletop? I know it must be hard for you to remember, but I’d love to hear about what it was like there. Maybe you were drinking with some friends in a tavern?”
Yeah, maybe I should just keep my trap shut. I don't know what I'm talking about anyway. Morga sighs inwardly, glad that at least *someone* is having some semblance of success here. She gets the feeling that the most dangerous moment will come at the end of the ritual, when Nualia's spirit will either go back...or stay. Staying would be so much worse. She wonders...does she know anything about how to find Tobyn's soul in the afterlife? If Nualia had some direction there, perhaps her spirit would go do that and leave Sandpoint alone. Yes, it's mercenary, but her priority is to care for the living first and foremost.
"Truly value?" Nualia scoffs at Vildran's first suggestion, but the mention of a bard has her get the same distant look in her eyes you saw earlier, as if she were remembering something. San's suggestion of finding individual townsfolk who might be interested in some sort of reform or at least might've been secretly sympathetic initially doesn't move Nualia much, but he eventually starts to get through to her as well . Nualia comments "If there were those that were sympathetic, they didn't show it to me while I was alive. What good is sympathy if they stood by, or joined in." Still, she seems less bitter after the reminder.
Autumn's patient coaxing helps Nualia remember once more, her voice growing quiet as she ties her scattered memories together "I... I did. At Thistletop I... fled? No. They let me go. And I made it far away. A different life. A difficult life. Fighting. Killing. There were good times too." She frowns "I told myself I was biding my time. That I would go back eventually. That I would get my revenge. But then, I never did, did I? Not until..."
Morga reasons that after so many years, its more likely that Tobyn's soul has already been judged and that Nualia may not have a chance to exact her revenge while in the afterlife.
Round 8
8 Influence.
“Oh, that sounds dangerous! And exciting!” Autumn gushes appropriately at Nualia’s description of fighting and killing. “Maybe you were an adventurer, then? Perhaps part of a party of adventurers? Or maybe you were a gladiator?” She exchanges a glance with Vildran and asks the elf “Do you know if there are any fighting arenas in Riddleport? Or really, anything about Riddleport that might help Nualia remember more?”
Returning her attention to the ghost she continues. “You must have been very brave. And what stories you must have! I so wish you could remember.” She leans forward with interest—a genuine interest in Nualia herself, not in her looks or her heritage, but in her experiences and the story of her life. “But now I wonder … do you recall how you died? Were you fighting a monster or something?”
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Morga reasons that after so many years, its more likely that Tobyn's soul has already been judged and that Nualia may not have a chance to exact her revenge while in the afterlife.
Well, I'm sure as heck not telling her that! Morga muses grimly, unwilling to risk Nualia deciding to rampage here while she has the chance. Hmm... Her soul is still here because it has unfinished business... Maybe if we convince her to focus on redemption instead of revenge, she'll be able to pass on.
"Um, Nualia? We'd love it if your soul ends up somewhere good, and it seems like you'd love to go there and *not* find Tobyn there too." She pauses a moment to let that implication sink in. "So, what if you considered focusing on the good times you had and trying to hold onto them in your mind? That might help you figure out how to finish your business here in a way that lets you to Heaven or Elysium, or wherever suits you."
"Perhaps one way to do that is to examine the anger you have toward *everyone*. You can choose some small pieces of it to let go of, as an experiment. Maybe choose someone who didn't do any harm, but didn't do anything to help you either, and try to forgive them. Once you've managed to do that, genuinely, sit with it for a bit and see how you feel."
Nualia listens to Morga, now actually considering the possibilities that lie ahead for her. The concept that focusing on the good times in her past will somehow help her reach a better afterlife seems a little far-fetched on the surface, but Morga is convincing enough that Nualia seems to be taking it seriously. The follow up a few moments later also lands. Nualia breathes out "You lot haven't done me any ill. And you're all from Sandpoint. Maybe you're right. There are those guilty bastards still out there living their lives, but I don't have to get the rest of you caught up in them getting their punishment."
------
Nualia is quiet and reflective as Autumn continues to ask her questions. She thinks for a long time before uttering a gasp.
"How did I forget? It was him." She gives no indication who "him" might be as her expression tenses. "I don't understand. He wanted me to go back. No - not just go back. He needed me to bring about Sandpoint's doom, and when I showed him I wouldn't he was furious." A desperate fear flickers across her face as her past returns to her.
"You're right. I was a sellsword of a sort. I found my crew, a new life. People I could call partners, maybe even friends, who were willing to look past my monstrous changes to appreciate someone who could fight for herself." She gazes into the distance. "We'd just finished a job and were drinking away our spoils in that tavern in Riddleport. I'd gone outside to clear my head. When I came back in, they were all dead. Everyone in the tavern, lying there eyes open, bleeding from everything and anything that could bleed. A man was waiting there for me, just an ordinary man in a blacksmith's leathers, all calm despite what was around us. I remember the blood red hawk that was perched on his shoulder." She trembles, pausing.
"He told me I'd failed. That the people of Sandpoint had done everything they'd done to me and I'd let them live. That I was betraying my self and my purpose. That he'd expected more from me." Her face hardens once more "And then... he said I would have a chance to go back. That he'd cut my ties to this place from me. That I would go back to Sandpoint and finish what I started. I was overcome, furious. I'd finally found a place and he'd taken it away from me." With her claw-tipped arm she reaches up as if to squeeze an invisible neck in front of her "I tried to kill him. Succeeded. It didn't matter. He spoke even after I'd ripped his head off his body. He spoke even as I felt something stabbing my back, driving me down into the ground. Over and over. I remember his words."
"'You were no good', he said. 'But I have other plans, other plots. Seven Dooms come for Sandpoint, to finish what was begun so long ago. Birthed from terror and trauma, from deep within the earth, they grow even now. The Pit will nourish them and give them that which you lacked. You would have loved the torments they will inflict. Alas.'" Tears have started running down her spectral face "Alas...? Who says something like that while bloody tearing a girl to pieces?"
"That's all. That's all I remember. He killed me, and everyone else. Why? WHY?" She starts to sob.
Struck dumb with emotion, Autumn slowly steps forward and gingerly extends her hand, gently placing it on the crying ghost’s shoulder. “I … I don’t know why.” Her words are soft and sympathetic, but her one eye is as hard and black as coal.
“But what I do know is that person who killed your friends and everyone else—that jerk is the one who truly deserves your vengeance.” Her tone somehow remains soft and comforting, but lined with a determined edge of hot steel. “And the best way—really, the only way—to achieve this is by defying him. By foiling his precious plots. And you’ve already begun. He wanted you to destroy Sandpoint but you refused. You proved that you’re better than him. And the little weasel couldn’t accept your superiority, so he had to resort to killing you. But you’re still better than him, no matter what he says—his pathetic lies are driven by his inferiority and failure.”
The sorceress takes a deep breath, clearly moved by the young girl’s plight. “You did something remarkable. Most people would have given in to old hatreds and past trauma, but you didn’t. You stood up to that toothless bully. And you’ll continue to stand firm and thwart all his precious plans.”
Morga's eyes go wide as she absorbs the implications of what Nualia has revealed. "...Thank you. For telling us. We have a chance to prepare defenses now, thanks to your warning." The corner of her mouth quirks up. "Heh. Folks are going to have to reassess how they think of you, for even more reasons now. How would you like to be known as a hero of redemption?"
Nualia squares her jaw and forces the sobs back. Her eyes are determined as she answers Autumn "I was never going to do what he wanted. I'd made that decision myself. That was nothing to do with being better than him and everything to do with looking forward to my own future." She lowers her gaze. "But don't forget that the people here in Sandpoint were monsters to me. I still remember that. Maybe I even remember it better now that I'm dead. They should have been punished for what they did, but they got away with it. If they think of me as some hero... that's just a delusion. They should think back and remember what they did. They should remember me and weep."
Her voice grows distant and sad and you notice that her form is starting to fade.
She looks down at herself "Of course. I learned this. Ghosts linger because of something unresolved. Now that I've told you, I-" She looks down at her clawed tipped, monstrous arm "I leave it to you. Punish them, save them, whatever you think is right."
Vildran thinks on the Seven Dooms as well. It's not a reference he's immediately familiar with.
--------------------
Then Nualia finally fades, and he exhales in relief.
Good work there at the end to finish it Autumn. Now she can truly rest, and the ritual is successful.
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“Wait a minute,” Autumn tries to squeeze in a few more words before the ghost completely evaporates. “You said that this man kept on talking even after you killed him?” She looks at the others, bewildered, before focusing back on the fading spirit. “Do you think he was maybe an illusion, to distract you from whoever stabbed you in the back? Or … was he some weird sort of undead? It just doesn’t make sense.”
San is dumbfounded at Nualia's story. So much so that he can only stand there listening as the exchange takes place. After the ghost has faded, "Did she say there were more plots to destroy Sandpoint? And from some talking head that tried to get her to start it?! I guess we have some research to do about this Pit."
“Do you think he was maybe an illusion, to distract you from whoever stabbed you in the back? Or … was he some weird sort of undead? It just doesn’t make sense.”
Vildran's relief returns to a low-grade anxiety. He does not speak his thoughts until Nualia's apparition completely dissipates.
Either of those prospects means that the man with the blood red hawk may still be "around," orchestrating the so-called Seven Dooms. I must do more research on this figure...
As Nualia fades, Morga's eyes go immediately to Father Zantus. Is he okay?
Nualia's voice is already distant and hazy as she responds to Autumn "I'd never seen such a thing. The head kept talking. Was it an illusion? A trick? I don't know. Maybe you'll find out." She offers a half-hearted smirk and then fades into tatters that soon merge with the mist that still fills the courtyard.
Moments later, the ritual is broken and Zantus and Audrahni both gasp and stagger forward. Though both are drenched in sweat and shaking from the exertion of tethering Nualia's spirit, neither seems to be physically harmed. In the minute it takes for them to recover their breaths the mists in the courtyard thin and vanish as if they had never arrived, revealing the clear night sky above.
Zantus straightens first out of the two, wheezing "Ah- Hah- You- You managed it somehow. Thank you. I heard some of it here and there. I could feel her rage boiling and then slowly fading away as you talked to her. I-" He takes a little longer to breathe and then continue "I'm not sure I could have done the same. She was... overwhelming."
Audrahni speaks up, having collected herself while Zantus was trying to talk "Very well done."
"I'm not sure I could have done the same. She was... overwhelming."
Relieved that the tense danger of maintaining the ritual is over, Autumn gives Zantus a playful wink. “Yes, she didn’t seem to think much of you. Did you hear what she said about the Seven Dooms of Sandpoint?” She repeats everything that Nualia had said about the massacre in Riddleport, just in case.
Looking over at Vildran, she suggests “You might start by researching the massacre in Riddleport—that would’ve definitely made the news. Though it seems odd that, out of a tavern filled with everyone dead, someone would have picked out Nualia’s remains and known to bring her back here. I mean, there’s the claw, but still.” She looks at Zantus. “What do you know about this courier who returned Nualia’s bones to Sandpoint? Have you ever met him before?”
Morga fusses over Father Zantus and Audrahni, offering them drinks from her waterskin while Autumn fills them in on the conversation. "I don't know anything about what Seven Dooms is, but I suspect there will be seven types of attacks on Sandpoint, at some point in the future. Gods only know when, but we'd better start preparing now." A talking head could be playing on timescales beyond mere mortals, but just our luck it'll start tonight, she muses grimly.
San mulls over what was said about seven dooms and what that might mean for the town. Should he get his parents to try to pack up shop and go somewhere safer? They stayed after the earlier troubles so that's probably not a good sign they'll go anywhere. There's plenty of time to get things in order here... hopefully.
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Zantus eases himself to the ground and sips from the waterskin Morga offers. "Seven Dooms, is it? Well the town has had more than its fair share of dire events over the years. The goblin attacks, the giant raid, dragons, sinkholes, terrible sea tides. More recently however, there is little that I would classify as a "doom". By the standards of Sandpoint, these last years have been rather peaceful." He strokes his beard "And yet I fear anyone who could have hunted Nualia down for 'disappointing' him and then survived a decapitation is someone worth taking seriously. I don't know when these dooms will arrive, but you are right Morga, we will need to be vigilant." He looks to San and Vildran "I think the use of the number seven is far from a coincidence, don't you think?"
"As for the courier, I remember little of the man. Certainly nothing so bold as a red hawk, so as to stick in my memory. He handed over the box and went on his way with no obvious knowledge of its contents and no message to share except that it was for the Cathedral."
He hands the waterskin back to Morga "For now though, we've certainly all earned ourselves a rest. These dooms have waited thus far, and they'll surely wait a little longer for us to discover their nature. It is past time to salvage what little sleep we can before tomorrow comes. I should like to see you all here tomorrow. Audrahni may be able to sense if her premonition regarding the town has changed, which may give us some insight."
Looking over at Vildran, she suggests “You might start by researching the massacre in Riddleport—that would’ve definitely made the news. Though it seems odd that, out of a tavern filled with everyone dead, someone would have picked out Nualia’s remains and known to bring her back here. I mean, there’s the claw, but still.”
Vildran nods, continuing to make notes for later in his head.
He looks to San and Vildran "I think the use of the number seven is far from a coincidence, don't you think?"
Vildran sighs. Of course. Thassilon. It's been a persistent theme since all of this started with the man who appeared in town with the sickness. The further we get, the more questions I have. I have my work cut out for me.
Vildran then grimaces and remembers what Father Zantus missed.
There was a mob that formed outside, while you were in the trance of the ritual. Autumn was able to disperse them, but they seemed generally suspicious of what was going on in here.
Autumn nods as Vildran mentions the mob. “Yes, they overheard you talking about the ritual—in the future you’ll want to be more discreet. Charn Scarnetti was leading the inquisition, and he was not pleased at all when we convinced his followers to head home—I have a feeling he’s going to make life difficult for us.” She shakes her head. “Do you have any idea why Charn would care so much about your affairs?”
“Anyway,” the sorceress suppresses a yawn, “sleep sounds like a good idea. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Father Zantus winces "I had thought I'd managed to keep this all secret. Apparently not." He listens as you explain how the situation with the crowd outside the cathedral was handled and then says "Well, it is good that it didn't come to anything more than some angry shouting. I suspect it won't be the last we've heard of Charn Scarnetti. Though a narrow minded man, he can be quite dogged and quite cunning if he wishes. I don't know of anything specific that might have caused him to stir up trouble, but it's long been the case that the Scarnetti family has seized opportunities to expand their influence when they see them. Perhaps he heard of our ritual here and thought to curry favor and besmirch my name in the process."
He sighs "Or he simply wanted to cause trouble. I wouldn't put it past Charn. I remember when he was a child. Nothing but trials and tribulations there."
He nods with Autumn's last words "Yes, tomorrow." before easing himself to his feet and heading back into the cathedral proper with Audrahni holding him up.
---
You're each able to head back to your preferred places of rest to make the best of the rest of the night. The following morning you awaken to the sounds of the town at work on another fine day. Of course, for the group of you who are now increasingly aware of the threats bubbling to the surface from below and beyond the town, you have much more to think about.
Tired from the protracted trials of a long, long night, Autumn falls asleep quickly and sleeps well enough, in spite of her unease about what they’ve learned. But somehow it’s not the Seven Dooms threatening Sandpoint that has her on edge when she wakes in the morning; it’s not so much fear or anxiety, but anger. She can still feel her blood simmering at Nualia’s death—the poor girl tries to make a fresh start in a new town and then that evil jerk dredges up her past and takes it all away from her? It literally feels like her blood is thirsting for vengeance, as if the incident were personal.
She grabs a muffin from Alma’s for breakfast, then heads over to the cathedral. “Hope you’re feeling better this morning,” she greets Zantus with a friendly smile, “and Audrahni too.” She waits for them to be gathered in private before asking if there are any updates regarding the elf’s premonitions.
Autumn finds Zantus speaking with some of the younger acolytes in the nave. After giving them some instructions he steps over to Autumn with a weary shuffle. "Ah, Autumn. You're looking spry. I'm afraid Audrahni wasted no time this morning and she's already back on the road. We did keep her quite some time from her usual responsibilities after all. She did leave me with some interesting advice, but it seems we managed to address her most pressing concern."
What does Vildran already know about some of these things?
--------------------
As they part for the night, Vildran's mind is racing with the new names and phrases brought to light by Nualia. He can't help but stop off at the house of his new friend, Brodert.
I... hope it's not too late. What do you know of "The Pit?"
He hopse this is enough to get the older man to let him in for a short spell before he retires to his modest quarters for the night.
Back in academic mode for now, San accompanies Vildran to visit Brodert. Can't let him get an edge on getting in to the Runewatchers now can he.
San isn't too willing to tell the whole story quite yet. Maybe once the Runewatchers prove they can be trusted beyond their shared interest in old Thasselon. But Vildran knows more of the ways of getting people to talk. Follow his lead.
It had taken supreme force of will to open the door to Morga's family home. Fortunately, everyone was asleep. She could pretend the heavy silence was due to slumber, rather than sullen dead-eyed despair. Slipping out of her armor as quietly as possible, she sank onto her well-worn bed behind a curtain in the main room and fell into an uneasy sleep beset with surreal nightmares that vanished when she woke, leaving a vague sense of unease in their wake.
It was harder to ignore the heavy silence in the morning, though. It hung in the air like a thick cloud, making it difficult to breathe. I need to start earning more money so I can afford my own place, she mused dully for the millionth time.
Now back a the Cathedral, where she can at last breathe freely, Morga catches up to Father Zantus and Autumn. When he mentions that Audrahni gave some interesting advice, she replies: "Hmm. I suppose you'd rather fill us in once instead of twice. Should we wait for the guys to arrive?"
Autumn shakes her head and half-rolls her eyes at Morga’s suggestion to wait for the elves. “We could be waiting for hours … have you seen how slow Vildran is? Rather than wasting the good Father’s time, he can tell us now and we’ll fill in the boys later.” She gives the dwarf a wink, then turns and looks expectantly at the priest.
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While San and Vildran are rebuffed on the night of the ritual, the following morning they can find Brodert just after dawn as the elderly human opens his door for the day. After a little preamble Brodert invites them in and ponders the question about the Pit. When he's ready he answers "I dare say it sounds familiar. Perhaps it was mentioned in one of these old tomes." He waves at the stacks and stacks of ancient books scattered around his house "And if I remember it from my perusals, perhaps it was related to Ancient Thassilon. Now you are welcome to conduct your research here if you wish, but I do ask for a small amount of silver whenever you do, just for the upkeep of my collection."
---
Over at the Cathedral, Zantus pulls you in a more private side chamber and says "Hopefully with no eavesdroppers this time." after a quick look back out into the nave. He lowers his voice "Thankfully it seems Audrahni's ill feelings around Sandpoint have lifted, which we expect means that Nualia's spirit has moved on. However in light of what you learned last night, she conducted a brief divination early this morning to see if she could learn more on these Seven Dooms. Nothing terribly conclusive. However she did leave me with a few decidedly strange scraps that had come to her."
"'A burial shroud cannot hide the wound that festers' was one. 'Restless is the hollowed shell' was another. The most interesting however was 'Amid beating wings, sorrow yet seeks to burn.'" He furrows his brow "I cannot help but think to our mysterious man that came after Nualia and his hawk. But all told they do not seem to provide much to work with. Perhaps their meanings will become clearer in time. Audrahni advised that we take his threats seriously and to see if we can find this Pit that both the ghouls below and Nualia's tormentor mentioned."
Though pleased to hear that Nualia’s spirit has progressed to its next stage of existence, Autumn is puzzled and annoyed by the cryptic fragments offered as ‘help’. She gives the priest a nod at his final suggestion. “The Pit does sound like the best lead we have, especially compared to the gobbledygook Audrahni got from her divinations. If it’s nearby, maybe someone around town’s heard of it.” She shrugs noncommittally. “I can try asking around.”
The sorceress exchanges a glance with Morga, then asks the priest “Should we tell the Sheriff about all this? If trouble’s coming he’d want to be prepared—and I’d want him to be prepared—though I guess we don’t really know what to even prepare for. These dooms could be monsters, or plague, or vermin, or who knows what.”
San thinks to the different rituals and oddities he's studied to see if anything sounds close to the cryptic clues left by Audrahni.
"Hmmm, how kind of you." The sarcasm is evident though he says it with a smile. Some gentle ribbing about the availability of the library but at a cost. "It's at least somewhere to start. If the Pit sounds familiar, perhaps that's our best bet. I thought it might be more than just 'some place' though. That would make things more straight-forward than some philosophical 'Pit' or an extraplanar location."
The look on Morga's face as Father Zantus relates the divinations from Audrahni is very nearly comical. She can't make heads or tails of it, and only notices the connection to the red hawk blacksmith man after he points it out. This is all way over my head.
"Uh, I think it would be wise for me to research that Horn of Rust. Gods know we were worried about it before, so if it's a threat we need to take care of it before those Seven Dooms hit. Or at least figure out how to kick the can far enough down the road that we don't have to deal with both at the same time." I sill don't think I'll ever understand that thing, but at least there's only one of it, not seven.
but now that he puts his mind to it he does recall hearing about something known as the Pit before. He doesn't make the Abyssal connection that Morga did, but he does remember a discussion between some adventurers that passed through town some time back. They had planned on going to a place they called the Pit, somewhere atop Devil's Platter, a few miles southeast of Sandpoint.
At the Cathedral Vildran informs the party, along with San, of his recollections about the Pit and the little more he got from Brodert.
Looks like we have another spot on the map we'll be visiting. We'll need careful preparation for this venture. I expect utmost possibility of danger.
Still to the assembled at the Cathedral: I will need to spend some days at Broderts to learn more so that we don't walk into that place blind. Nobody wants that...
At Vildran explaining that he's heard of the Pit before, Zantus comments "If you overhead the name from travelers passing through, perhaps someone else in town might have talked to them."
San recognizes the cryptic words as quite typical of extraplanar guidance, at least from what he's heard. He's not certain as to the true meaning behind any of them, but if they were delivered from Audrahni's divine patron they are likely to be more relevant than they seem.
---
Over at Brodert's the elderly collector adjusts his glasses, oblivious to the sarcasm from San "Yes, quite. I dare say this may be the largest and most important collection on Ancient Thassilon north of Magnimar, and well, south of Xin Edasseril I suppose! If this Pit has a connection to Thassilon you will find it here. Five silver from each of you for each day you study here would go a long way for helping to keep this treasure in fine shape."
Autumn gives Morga a warm smile. “That’s a good idea. Who knows, maybe the Horn itself is one of the Dooms.” She nods at Zantus, acknowledging his desire for discretion, and says “As for myself, I’ll see if I can find who talked to these travelers and what they know of the Pit.” Sensing that the meeting is coming to a close, she takes her leave for the day. “Good luck everybody.”
Outside, she spends some time meandering around town, lost in thought as she ponders her next move. Ordinarily confident and decisive, she knows deep down what needs to be done, but it takes a while before she decides that it’s best to just get it over and done with. No sense putting this off. With newfound resolve she heads directly to her destination: Scarnetti Manor. There she asks for an audience to speak with Titus.
Awkwardly, Morga nods a good-bye to Autumn, then shuffles off to attend to some of the acolytes' duties. She needs to immerse herself in something mundane for a bit, and then maybe she can focus enough to make some progress on that cursed Horn.
Over at Broderts, Vildran doesn't bother haggling. He happily pays the 5sp and sits down amongst the copious stacks of books.
Okay, let's see what can be revealed about the Pit.
He gets up often to show Brodert particularly interesting passages or offer to make tea for the both of them as he works. The research is invigorating for him.
The Thassilonian device is also in the back of his mind, but it will have to wait.