GM_Sheriff Caeller's page

Imperia & Filiana

The sheriff, Caeller, is present at the meeting, talking with what appears to be a councilor in drab black noble garb and a couple of worried townsfolk.

"What is going on? It looks like a town meeting yet Kendra an ourselves were not invited."[/b]

Caeller wrinkles his nose as Imperia approaches. "Well, I was gonna send one of my deputies to fetch you if you didn't show. Councilor Hearthmount's been real worried about what's been happening at Pharasma's cathedral--Father Grimburrow's been speaking with him."

"Don't know what's got him spooked this time. At least the monument's not being vandalized anymore."

The sheriff nods. "Well, I'll leave ya to it, then. Good day." He tips his hat and turns to leave.

Dr. Cawthorne & Filiana

"I say, it seems quite the nice town you have here, Sheriff. It is a testament to your success as a man of the law and to Ravengro's congeniality that you do us the honor of an escort."

"Eh, you're welcome." The sheriff shrugs as he leads the pair onward. "But I have to say, the two of ya came at a... rather strange time."

"Some strange disturbances have been happenin' in Ravengro as of late--started around the time of Professor Lorrimor's funeral. No idea *how* he just up and died suddenly--he was still damn spry well into his old age." He sighs and kicks a stray rock out of his path, sending dust into the harsh winds. "Then some joker thinks it'd be funny to start painting words in blood on our town's statue. Those friends of Petros' who've already arrived claim it's the work of ghosts. I got no evidence one way or another."

Soon enough, the trio reach the stately (albeit gloomy) two-story manor that is the Lorrimor home. "Kendra, at least, oughta be awake at this hour..." He marches up to the door and knocks on it twice.

The sheriff looks taken aback for a moment. "Really, now?"

"I'm not calling you a liar or anything--I mean, Pharasma knows we're living in Ustalav--" Sheriff Caeller starts pacing in front of the monument while his deputies look on with worry. "--but are you sure you're equipped to handle ghosts?"

"Mr. Ghoroven? Just the mage who runs the Unfurling Scroll magic shop in town." The sheriff says with a shrug. "Certainly more knowledgeable than I am when it comes to s#@* like this."

"That's unusual, isn't it, a statue for a warden. Such honrs are usually reserved for kings. He looks not like a king, so the Hawkran must be a hero, is it?"

"Aye, that he was." Sheriff Caeller nods. "The Riot of '61 was a damn horrifying tragedy for everyone--it was his quick and decisive thinking that saved the town, at the cost of his own life and those of his men..."

He sighs. "...even his beautiful wife."

"This isn't the sickness, just a symptom," rumbles Khardan, ever impatient of delay. "We know where we need to apply the cure. We should go."

"Excuse me?" The sheriff narrows his eyes at Khardan. "What are you going on about, now?"

The sheriff shakes his head. "No, not a one. Then again, we haven't had a chance to canvass the neighbourhood for any potential witnesses. But if there is magic involved here, that's going to make my job more difficult."

The man sighs and waves off his two cleaning deputies. "Alright, gents, you heard the lady. Might as well stop cleaning." The two men stand up straight, with one of them rubbing his back and groaning. "One of you lot go and fetch Mr. Ghoroven. He might know something about whatever's going on here."

The man nods at the young witch approaching him. "Name's Caeller. I'm the sheriff of this town here."

"See, something weird's happened to our memorial statue here..." He waves a hand at the two men hunched over the statue's base with scrub brushes and buckets of water. "...some damn fool thought it'd be funny to splatter blood on it."

"Sheriff, sir?" One of the men looks up at him with a worried expression. "...it's not coming out."

"Scrub harder, then. Didn't your mama ever teach you how to wash things?" He replies without looking behind him.

"No, really, sir--look!"

The sheriff sighs and glances over at the statue, only for his lips to purse into a grim line. The base of the statue has a large "V" painted in blood above its engraved brass nameplate.

The scrub brushes of the men at work on it are soaked red, and the water they're using has turned a dull, rusty red. The blood still looks as unnaturally fresh as it was before.

"...anyways, have the lot of you seen anyone who might have done this?" He turns back to Jayla, expecting an answer.