"Das' family were killed by that Chopper, during the Late Unpleasantness. They found is wife, right in front of their house, but they never found the kid. It wrecked Das. He wasn't always - like that."
He grabs another drink and continues."Yeh, gobbo, we were drinking. He's been doin' that since they died. He always had nightmares about this time every year, but it wasn't til recent that he started say'n he'd seen th' kid. And yea, we figgered it was the booze talkin'. I mean, what else could it have been?"
He takes another deep swallow, sets the glass down hard and stares straight ahead, at something he's still seeing in his mind. "So, I was takin' im home and trying to talk im down. He was just goin' on and on about the kid comin' at night, callin' fer him. So's we get ta Das place and there's someone at the door. I says, hey it's late, what do you need? And - it turns- and it's th' kid. All kinda ghosty pale and he says 'Hi Dad, I want to come home' then vanishes."
He seems to come back to himself and looks at Biter. "and it wasn't just me 'n Das, gobbo. Quink was there, too. He took Das to see the Sheriff. Me? I just wanna forget I saw it."
"That is magical? If so, we'll need to pull it ff the shelf until we determine the true cost. What is it?" says the man running the place. "Quess, come here! These folks have discovered another magic itm in our stock."
"Nightmares? About Harrowstone? Hm. So you do thing that Gibs is possessed. I wonder...Here the sheriff pauses, seeming to be thinking deeply.
"There is something else you should know. When we found Professor Lorrimor's body, we also saw odd symbols inscribed on the walls of the prison. Gibs was with us and saw them."
He pauses again."As a friend of the late professor, I find it hard to believe he'd be responsible for releasing...whatever's up there. As the Sheriff, I'd like to ask you folks to look into this while you're here. Without council permission, I can't make it an official request, of course. I'll see if I can persuade them. Just, keep me informed of what you find. And if you see Gibs, try to take him alive, if he'll let you."
The sheriff directs the other two deputies to escort Gibs to the jail. As he is being led away, he turns to Riff. " I can handle myself, boy."
He turns to Gkirkhan. "I've fought your kind before, on the Belkzen border. Once this -thing- is cleared up, I'd be happy to accept your challenge."
@all: I'd forgotten the +2. That gives Lazelo a 11 which does allow for +1 to everyone's rolls. Doesn't help Gkirkhan much, though.
The sheriff turns to Vertiele. "I believe you said something before about being able to identify handwriting. I'd appreciate it if YOU were to check out the writing. You may not recognize it now, but if we get a sample from a suspect, you might be able to say one way or the other. As for the rest of you, I can't stop you from checking things out. Just don't get in the way."
Sheriff Caellar chooses to ignore the interplay between Gkirkhan and Lazelo and speaks to Kendra (and, indirectly, the rest of you).
"Someone -desecrated- the Harrowstone Monument last night. It's been splashed with blood and had the letter 'V' painted on it in blood as well. I don't see any reason for your guests to have done such a thing, but I can't think why any of the townsfolk would either."
He snorts."Of course, the town is in an uproar. If Father Grimburrow and I hadn't been helping that travelling show set up north of thown, the usual crowd would have attacked them as the cause."
He curses bitterly and continues."The council's on my back already to solve it, Gibs says no one went near the place all night...but he was also at the Demon last night, so...
He looks at all of you again, angry and frustrated.
"This is a town issue! It needs to be resolved by us or no one will accept the answers. Anything you know, anything at all, tell me right away!"
Lazelo looks around and seems to realize where he is.
"Hey that's th' Lorrimir place. H've ya met t' girl? She's nice. Too bad her da was a nekre..nicri...undead-wizard-guy. Or meby not, he died. Thot those typed couldn't die. Guess Gibbsie was wrong. I'ma gonna go applooo...apilo..say I'm sorry. Giime a min."
He turns to Vertielle and says in the same not-a-whisper"Ya know, he's not sa bad fer an orky type. Don't hold it agin 'im. Or is that sumpin elfs do anyway?"
He turns and heads toward the house, bumping into Wood.
Dex-Lazelo: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14
Perception-Lazelo: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Reaction-Lazelo_to_Wood: 1d20 ⇒ 17
"Buddy!. Here, have a drink w' me n me new buddy...what's 'is name."
He pours more ale into the flaggon he's carrying, hands the bottle to Wood and tosses off the booze in one gulp.
fort-Lazelo: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7
And down he goes.
Fort-vs-alcohol-poisoning: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7
Better get a Cleric.
Lazelo grabs the tankard, quaffs it quickly and tries to stand back up.
"Les git goin"
Fort-Lazelo: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (11) + 0 = 11
And rallies, managing it!
@Que: before you slip off Georgio says"Yep, place is haunted, and not just by the prisoners. if you head out there near sundown, you can still hear the Warden's wife wailing and sobbing from somewhere inside. She haunts th' place, driving off anyone who intrudes on her mourning."
You have no problem catching up to the pair. They seem to have run into the rest of the group.
Sense Motive-Lazelo: 1d20 ⇒ 9
Will-Lazelo: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (10) + 0 = 10
Fort-Lazelo: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Ref-Lazelo: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18
Lazelo jumps, spins around, and drops to the ground on his knees. He's still conscious, but you now know what he had for dinner.
"It's simple, m'lady. All we do is take a drink if'n one o' them ghostes at the prison scares us. First one t' pass out looses n' has ta clean t' other's boots..." He pauses for a moment. " wi' his tongue o'course. Funny, huh?"
He leans closer and adds, in what he fondly thinks is a whisper,"See, I'm a farm hand...ye kin kinda guess what's on MY boots! hehehe"
Gkirkhan looks kinda steady, but Lazelo may not even make it to Harrowstone.
"Greetings, my love-e-ly elf-y lady. My name is Lazelo, Lazelo Praduri. Me and this orc-y guy are goin' up t' th' prison...it's a bet, ya see. LOOK OUT GHOSTIES"
@Vertielle: You think he was one of Gib's followers at the burial. He's also drunk as a skunk.
"Yes, little lady, granda was real brave. Gramma always said she thought *he* triggered the trap that kept the riot contained."
He puffs himself up and tries to sit straighter.
"Name's Georgio, by the way. I c'n fill ya in on all the go'ins on in this town. Don't know much about them five, 'cept their names, though. But they're long dead, so it don't really matter.'
Councilman Hearthmont puulls out a sealed scroll case and shows all of you that the professor's seal is unbroken before beginning. He seems to be mildly annoyed at the need for strangesr present but makes no comment.
"I will note that this document was updated and presented to me on the first of this month." He unseals the scroll, opens it and begins.
"I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.
Amongst those specific details are certain items I leave to old friends [there follows a list of ten names, including yours], I leave certain items, once intended as gifts. Kendra, those items are stored with the chest I refer to further in this document, and labeled accordingly.
Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until the following principals; specific old friends, students, colleagues and benefactors, to whit: Evangline Valeria Aurora, Gkirkhan, Kurik Thurgen, Que Xuang, Vertielle Seipar, and Wood the Wizard can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
To my old friends, those of you who have been able to come despite your busy schedules, I hate to impose even more upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro, as witnessed by Vashian Hearthmount on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4712."
Kendra, choking back rage, starts to speak, but your words seem to have had an effect on the group. The back-up thugs start to scatter, grumbling.
One of them mutters "They're right, I mean if Father Grimburrow had no issues, Gibs...
The surly leader, apparently this Gibs, snarls at his troops. "You know that senile old man would do anything his (heavy sarcasm) sweet little granddaughter asked.
He turns back to the group. "We don't need you strangers messin' with this town. We know that [again sarcasm] Professor of yours was really a necromancer. If any harm comes to our town because of this, it's on your head!"
He spits on the ground in front of the group and follows his retreating troops, though you have to admit, with slightly more dignity.
Kendra nods and smiles her thanks. She steps to the front of the coffin as the other mourners fall behind it.
@Vertielle: what spell?
The solemn procession winds through the cemetary, along a path labled the Dreamwake. Finally you reach a point where the broad pathway joins one labled The Eversleep. As you turn onto the Eversleep you see that the path ahead is blocked by about a dozen surly-looking locals. The tallest, an elderly but wiry man with the look of an old soldier, steps forward.
"That's far enough! We've been talking, and we don't want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain't goin' in the ground here!"
His companions mutter in the background, noding agreement.
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