Flemming is impressed by the silver raven, which was not what he thought at all. ”Wow Tural! That’s really cool! Congratulations! Undead watch out!”
”Wow Tural! That’s really cool! Congratulations! Undead watch out!”
"That is a most holy object, much like Borracho!" Borracho notes at the find.
He casts Dancing Lights and fearless sends the fey lights to illuminate the undead that he espied.
"Tural, do you see those? As you are so very wise, much like Borracho, can you help Borracho determine what they are?"
Know (Religion)
Hearing Borracho and seeing his lights shoot up Tural glances up.
Borracho’s lights dance upward, illuminating a hideous ghoulish face peering down at you. It has long, sharp teeth, and its pallid flesh stretches tightly over its starved frame. A well combed weft of silver hair clings to its head and it wears a fine, clean jacket of dark blue with a pressed white collar. You’re positive it’s a ghoul, but not like one you’ve ever seen or heard of existing.
”I say, the lot of you are much more interesting than that chap. He hasn’t done anything in years", the ghoul calls down to you. "It’s been dreadfully boring. Not even a hymn or a sermon, just sunrises and sunsets. And the meals are far too scarce.” A second hideous face joins the first, gaudy makeup highlighting the same pallid skin and curled white hair dropping to a high necked dress of yellow. ”Oh, it has been so dreadful! We would love a good hymn, or a passionate sermon, oh, even a bawdy play would be splendid, if I’m being honest.”
"And what would you pay for such a performance? Cheers and claps are nice, but our performances are not free for all," Borracho responds with his eyes narrowing, never wanting to leave a potential audience hanging.
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”Did he say we have to pay for a church service?” The ghoul with the high necked dress looks at her companion with concern, but he dismisses her worries. ”No, dear, I think they’re the type to perform a bawdy play, see the kilt and hairy chest. Yes, lad, we’ll pay two platinum, one each, what play will you be performing?”
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"Two platinum? That's not enough for a full performance of anything," Borracho orates sonorously. "Private performances are much more exclusive and public performances are subsidized by the masses. Now, are there others like you up there that would like to chip in as well? Or shall I offer you the keynote soliloquy of 'Pemsworth's Lament' told in full from the rapturous Fell Night of Winter as a way to find common ground?" he counters.
"But also, if the costs are too high, I would offer you a deal. I will give both 'Pemsworth's Lament' and 'Tsin's Tirade', both from the 2nd Act, if you would do us a service? The service is to leave this castle and never return. I would send you to heaven and then send you out into the world."
S!&*! Flemming is surprised by the undead in the rafters. He didn’t see ‘em, and now that he has, he must admit he’s never heard of well dressed ghouls before. Very strange. Still…
He walks up and whispers to Borracho, ”We’re not really going to perform for ghouls are we? I mean, 2 platinum isn’t bad for a quick performance, but still. Surely we have standards. I mean, shouldn't we be beating them up or something?”
He's a bit confused.
“It’s just my wife and I up here. The witches thought it a bit of fun to keep us trapped, though I suppose they’ve forgotten us by now. We’d love to leave the castle, but presently we can’t even leave this balcony. We’d very much enjoy hearing about this Pemsworth and Tsin. All I’ve got in my coin pouch is ten platinum, surely prices haven’t risen that much in the last century.” The ghoul gentleman looks at you hopefully from the balcony.
While Borracho entertains the ghouls Tural moves from the alter to the side where a pulpit should be. He holds up the new holy symbol and calls out. "You would have a sermon? How about a prayer instead? He pauses to take a deep breath.
"Sarenrae, Beloved Dawnflower, You teach us patience and ask that we offer redemption to our foes. Let your divine radiance lead these undead creatures back to their graves so their souls can move to the afterlife and the rewards they earned in their lives."
He smiles at the ghouls, "How is that? Ready to die again now? Or do you have any information to pass along first? Perhaps you could tell us more about the witches?"
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”We’re not really going to perform for ghouls are we? I mean, 2 platinum isn’t bad for a quick performance, but still. Surely we have standards. I mean, shouldn't we be beating them up or something?”
Borracho looks at Flemming, and then smiles knowingly.
"We are gifts from Sinashakti to *all*, friend Flemming, and if we are going to send them to Pharasma's judgement later, might their journey be bettered by offering our gifts to them?" Borracho counters. "No matter, I will honor the deed, so they might know joy and rapture before they know oblivion, for such is the way of Borracho."
Borracho moves to the altar, and gently kicks the body of the priest out of the way, assuming that the ghouls will have good view of this center stage.
And he will begin 'Pemsworth's Lament', Act 2 from Fell Night of Winter, a story where a gnome professes friendship for a raven but knows that such friendship is unrequited.
"Sarenrae, Beloved Dawnflower.…”
”Oh, that was nice! I do love Sarenrae, she’s my next favorite beside Desna.” The ghoul in the yellow dress claps politely.
"Perhaps you could tell us more about the witches?”
”Make sure they don’t get a bit of you, hair, toenails, anything they can use for a curse. Keep all your bits to yourselves. Nasty curses, that coven, look at us. And don’t be fooled, there’s more than three of them, probably twice that number.”
Borracho clears the altar and climbs upon it where the single shaft of sunlight that had been illuminating the Icon of Ravenloft now serves as a perfect spotlight for his sonorous oration of 'Pemsworth's Lament’ Act 2 from Fell Night of Winter.
"That is a most holy object, much like Borracho!... No matter, I will honor the deed, so they might know joy and rapture before they know oblivion, for such is the way of Borracho.""
Mimi gasps. "The way of Borracho? Tell me that only applies to the undead. I can't imagine all those women you whisk away after performances end up as corpses. That's grim, Borracho. You need to paint prettier pictures."
The old woman gives plenty of space for the orator to fill his lungs, and bring forth wonderful words, but she also studies the ghouls, probably more the man than the woman, because they tend to aggress more. "You two speak so well for what you appear to be. When you look down on us, do you see your next meal? Will you take offense when we fight back? Are you even the kind of undead that mindlessly attacks the living for daring to live in their presence? Oh, you make me think so many questions."
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"...and scene," Borracho bows theatrically, and looks up at his ghoulish audience for reaction, and possibly dropped coins.
He waits to see if Mimi's words get any reaction.
"You two speak so well for what you appear to be. When you look down on us, do you see your next meal? Will you take offense when we fight back? Are you even the kind of undead that mindlessly attacks the living for daring to live in their presence? Oh, you make me think so many questions.”
”To be fair, this isn’t a fate of our choosing. And next meal, heavens no! We’ve found that aged meat is a superior culinary delight. The tissue starts to break down and the flavor is exquisite at about a week after death. I dare say we may get thrown a leg or two from you yet, those spindly arms don’t seem strong enough to deal with the witches, but we will be the very image of hospitality until then, no mindless attacks or even well thought out assaults.”
As Borracho performs the scenes from Act 2 of the Fell Night of Winter the ghouls watch with fascination. When he finishes a pouch of coins drops from the balcony and lands with a heavy clink at the base of the altar. ”Splendid performance! Worth every coin! We do hope you prevail against the witches, it would be grand to see you on a fine stage.”
Tural watches Borracho's performance and the reaction from the two ghouls. They are definitely strange, but he considers the Everlight's virtue of redemption. Could even creatures cursed with undeath be redeemed? Are there any creatures that are completely beyond redemption? The fiends of the lower planes almost certainly.... But, almost?
"We thank you for the information you have provided. Hopefully we can prevail against the witches. Your situation and reaction to us has me thinking more about the virtue of redemption. I thank you for that."
"Can you tell us anything more? What do you know of the Count and his minions here in the castle? We had an encounter, and a meal when we first entered. But we also encountered a 'puppet' and some magical mirrors. They make me wonder what we actually encountered. Do you know anything?"
"You say you're imprisoned in some way. How are you trapped up there? " Flemming inquires after Borracho's excellent portrayal.
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"Can you tell us anything more? What do you know of the Count …”
”The count was always a good man, we liked him very much.” The other ghoul in the yellow dress nods in agreement. ”Being the older brother, Strahd had all of the responsibility, of course, and that didn’t make him a popular man, but he was good and just. He led his father’s armies as young warrior and thundered across the land like the wrath of a just god. Evil fell beneath his boots, but the war years and the killing years wore down his soul as wind wears the stone into sand. There was a sadness already in him when he settled at Ravenloft.” The ghoul in the yellow dress chimes in, ”It’s a shame his younger brother got all of the adoration. Sergei was a rascal. Liked to wear his shiny armor and be celebrated, but nothing noble about that one.” The gentleman ghoul nods, ”Rumors told of him doing horrible things in secret, but in public he was the golden boy that couldn’t do wrong.”
"You say you're imprisoned in some way. How are you trapped up there?”
"It’s a strange curse. We can walk away from the balcony, but somehow we get turned around and walk right back into it. No matter how we try, walking backwards, closing our eyes, holding hands, the curse redirects us back to this location.” Flemming’s question provides a valuable clue. It’s impossible for the troupe to miss the similarity between the ghoul’s situation and that of Barovia.
"I'm not sure I can say the Count is the victim here, but certainly the witches seem the greater threat at this point. I wonder if the Count is as imprisoned as we? Trapped in the same snare?"
"If the witches caused that particular curse, they must be powerful indeed. We should be cautious when dealing with them - and by all means strike first."
He still has reservations about the ghouls, ...but they're so polite!
He sighs, and checks out the map. "I think that's it folks. This other side looks accessible only by going up or down a floor. If we're to comply with the Count's wishes, we should return to the dining hall and await his return."
Both of the small rooms leading from the chapel are similar, and both lead to different types of stairways.
This arched room opens from the chapel and leads to a rising staircase to the west. Alcoves in the north and south walls open into this room. Within the dark confines of the alcoves lurk eight foot tall shadowy figures. Their stone forms show mighty muscled arms and legs. A black shadow falls across the features of their faces.
This arched room opens from the chapel and leads to a huge circular staircase to the west. There are alcoves in the north and south walls of this room. Eight foot tall shadowy figures lurk in the cold, dark confines of both alcoves. The figures’ muscular stone arms hold bright blades. Black shadows fall across the features of their faces.
Borracho offers light to the dark statues, hoping to illuminate them so they might be appropriately appreciated. As he is no stranger to the spotlight, he likes proper illumination.
He will illuminate both K16 and K17 in turn.
Perception K16
Perception K17
Tural walks with Flemming, leading the group with the exploration. He nods when Borracho lights up the rather intimidating statues. "Good idea. Get a good look before we approach. We were warned."
Mimi looks up on the ghouls as the troupe begins its departure from the chapel. "I'm a hobbyist, you know. I collect names, and you two being such unique souls, I would adore to obtain yours before we take our leave. Oh, and where exactly in this godforsaken castle are those witches you so generously warn us to avoid?"
The statues prove to be just statues, though also of excellent craftsmanship like the previous ones encountered in the hallway leading to the chapel.
”Igo and Brinhild”, the ghouls respond to Mimi, ”and I think those foul witches have taken over one of the towers. We do wish you luck, and thank you for the splendid performance! May Desna be with you.” The ghouls wave cheerfully as you depart.
Borracho offers another bow to the very polite desnan ghouls.
"Much like art, it is Borracho's nature to bring people together," he notes as he examines the statues.
He will then look to Flemming to see if the man agrees about where to go next.
Flemming nods to the ghouls, amazed at the world he finds himself in. Undead that aren't, well, maniacally evil. Strange world indeed.
He shows the others the map. "No where else to go that doesn't mean climbing or descending stairs. This place is full of 'em! I suggest we wait in the dining hall for our Count to return."
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Tural agrees at first, turning to return. He pauses, "Actually I wonder if we've actually met the Count. Perhaps that was just one of his minions using the puppet in the mirror room. I'll grant that the organ music was good. But the figure stopped the instant we got in. The meal was already as we got there too."
"When he displayed anger and approached me? He seemed to float rather than walk. There was an image of him in the mirror, and as he left.... he glided toward the door, not walking again. And he just disappeared when he went through the door."
"I don't think that was the Count, and I don't think we should just wait around for the vampire to wake and attack us. I think we should explore more and possibly find the minion. And possibly go to the lower levels to recover the family."
"You've been right about things like this before, Tural. We've benefited already by visiting the Chapel, and your instinct tells you we've been deceived. You may be right." Mimi considers the ups and downs of Castle Ravenloft, and whether or not to sit down and anticipate the true Strahd's arrival.
"How much time do we have before the sun sets?"
”Much like many of you, you are probably brilliantly thinking and wondering if the chapel is still sacred and consecrated grounds. That might be good to know, knowing what we face,” Borracho wonders aloud. ”Is there a way for us to know if it is still sacred?”
Know (religion)
”And, if not, can we make it so again?” Borracho queries, thinking his very deep thoughts.
Mimi raises an eyebrow, and nods. "The statue was an odd bird. Why would a profane fanged fellow have something like that lying about? You pose an interesting idea. I myself am not capable of consecrating ground..." The old woman lowers the first eyebrow, while raising the second eyebrow while turning to Tural, wordlessly asking.
Tural considers Borracho's question. "With the age of the chapel and the obvious damage I don't think it would still be Hallowed. I don't yet have the power to make it so, but I could pray for the magic to temporarily consecrate an area. The spell would require holy water and silver dust and would cover a 20' radius area for 10 hours. It wouldn't stop undead from entering the area, but would weaken them if they did. A magical circle against evil would also be an effective ward, but also requires powdered silver to draw the circle and only lasts for 50 minutes."
"If we find means to depart and return to this castle, remind me to gather the materials and prepare the spell. It could protect us through a night."
"Good point Tural - that might not have been the Count. I'm fine poking around a bit. We can apologize and beg forgiveness if encountered where we shouldn't be."
He's less worried about consecrating this ground. But then he's no priest. He shrugs.
"The witches seem to be generally upward. Shall we take the main staircase?"
Flemming heads to and up the grand staircase with the others if they're in agreement.
The troupe is unable to determine if the chapel is still sacred. Making your back to the entry hall you approach the wide stairs to the north.
Massive stairs rise to a landing 20’ wide by 40’ long. Stone arches support a ceiling covered with frescos. The frescos faded lines depict the stone mountain atop which Ravenloft stands, being taken by armored forces on horseback. The faces of the characters in the fresco are scratched beyond decoration. Dust floats in the air here making it difficult to see fine details. There is a staircase on each side of the south wall. There are two alcoves between the staircases. Torch light filtering through the dust shows two suits of armor covered with dark stains, one standing in each alcove. Each suit of armor holds a mace designed like a curved dragon head. Engraved words on the arches above the alcoves are scratched out.
Borracho will examine both armors, even sending his dancing lights inside each to get a good look.
Perception
"Borracho is armored by the wishes of Sinashakti, and it is done so that others can clearly see all that is Borracho, so they remember what longing is like, and what a strong man is," he notes as he does not wear heavy armor.
Tural is also interested in the armor. Are the stains blood? "Can you use your detect undead again?"
"Can you use your detect undead again?"
"Not this day," Borracho replies, having used part of his amazing skills already, and needing a night of rest to do it again.
"Impressive. I wonder what the arches originally said?" Flemming muses while the others examine the armors.
When the group has had their fill, he'll head up the next flight of stairs.
Borracho’s dancing lights and keen eyes find the pressure plates on the floor before the troupe walks into the trap. With dramatic arm waves he holds back Tural and Flemming, then points to thin scratches in the floor from the suits of armor. The troupe takes a few minutes to study the trap carefully, and you feel confident that you can bypass the pressure plates and make it to the stairways continuing upward if you wish.
Tural moves up and glances at the pressure plate and the scratches on the floor by the statues. "I would guess that the armor is just a trap, not a hiding place for some ghoul or such."
"Looks like we can bypass it."
"In for a penny..." Mimi examines the trap, wondering what exactly happens were one foolish enough to trigger it. If there's a way to disarm it, the Crow certainly tries.
With a bit of guidance, Mimi is able to disable the statue’s connection to the pressure plates. With the landing safe to pass, the troupe advances, climbing the steps to a large chamber as Borracho’s dancing lanterns illuminate the way.
Dim light from the courtyard falls into this room in jagged shafts through the broken glass and iron frames of a large window in the west wall. This immense room stands in chilly, brooding darkness. Hundreds of dust-thick cobwebs drape the room, hiding the ceiling from view. Directly across from the window are double doors in the east wall. Ornate door carvings are obscured by a thick layer of dust. Further south, a single door also leads from the east wall. At the far southern end of the hall, a huge throne stands atop a raised platform. The back of the throne is turned to the room.
”Nice work Mimi! If we need to run this way we won’t have to worry about pressure plates.”
When they get up the stairs, he whistles low, ”Clearly he struggles retaining hired help.” Flemming mutters as he sees the cobwebs and dust. ”Yuck.”
Still, he’ll proceed cautiously into the room and check out the throne.
Borracho nods at Mimi’s finger work. ”Your hands are gifts, Mimi, much like Borracho’s.”
He will follow Flemming up to check out the throne.
Perception
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"Awww, you make a girl blush." Mimi might sound like she jests, but the purr of her voice suggests that she's genuinely flattered. "Now imagine how many more little surprises lie in wait for us. Your younger eyes are keener, so I'll appreciate any stone you turn over. I'll keep my fingers limber."
Mimi does her level best to concentrate on exactly what lies before them, given the sheer scale of the Castle.
Tural moves in to the big room slowly, looking around at what the light would show. "Doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long time."
He stays by Flemming as they approach the throne.
The troupe proceeds cautiously toward the throne with Borracho’s keen eyes searching ahead. The dancing lights jump through the rafters and around the walls confirming Tural’s speculation that the room hasn’t been used in a long time. As you approach the turned throne, you notice a gap in the wall behind it where a secret door has been left open. Cobwebs hang from the edges showing it’s been open for some time. The hallway behind the secret door is filled with cobwebs, much like the similar hall below it where you burned away the webs earlier. The finely carved throne is thick with dust, including the seat. A brief investigation shows the throne and dais appear to have rotated as part of the mechanism that opened the secret door.
Emboldened by, of all things, dust, Mimi moves to the obvious door in the room, nearest the throne. She looks the door over for not-so-obvious traps, doing what she can to lessen the danger, before opening said door, and giving more of the Castle a look-see.
Borracho follows along, letting Mimi's unspoken questions lead the way.
Mimi investigates, and finding no traps she opens the unlocked door.
Dusty scrolls and tomes line the walls of this room and are scattered across the floor. In the center of all this cluster stands a huge accountant’s desk. A figure crouches atop a tall stool, scratching a seemingly endless scroll of paper with a dry quill pen. A rope hangs next to the creature from a hole in the ceiling.
You notice that a chain shackles the man’s leg to the desk. Piles of coins of all types are stacked around the room. In the back corner appears to be a nest made of torn out pages. The man stops his scratching on the parchment and stares at the troupe in frozen shock.