RavenCrown GM's page

Assuming Dmitry agrees to examine the tracks...

The human and wolf tracks are either an extremely elaborate and sophisticated hoax, or else they seem to confirm that something capable of assuming different forms has been skulking around the mansion of late. Mostly, the wolf tracks move in broad circles around the house, then change into human footprints on the east side, beneath Kendra's bedroom window. Occasionally, human footprints are also visible around the edge of the forest, as if the intruder were watching the house from afar. The tracks remain at least 30 feet from the house at all times.

Alec finds Dmitry in the Professor's office in the tower. He holds a flickering taper over one of the ancient books, muttering to himself in Varisian.

You have spent an eventful three days in Ravengro. The following significant facts have been established:

• Professor Lorrimor died while exploring the burnt-out ruins of Harrowstone Prison. The Sheriff’s official position is that his death was accidental, but some details (for instance, the absence of haunt siphons in his gear) suggest foul play.
  
• The townsfolk of Ravengro have become inexplicably hostile of late. Kendra believes that Lorrimor’s explorations were connected to this surge of malevolence. A note of the Professor’s, found by Ivan in a book about spirits, suggests that the Harrowstone ruins are haunted by unusually “violent or hateful” forces.
  
• Three evenings from now, Sheriff Caellar will hold a town hall meeting to discuss Professor Lorrimor’s disinterment. Caellar knows that Lorrimor’s will made reference to several “dangerous tomes” – he may seek to use this as evidence that Lorrimor was a necromancer.

The following questions linger:

• How did Professor Lorrimor die?
  
• Who has been desecrating Lorrimor’s grave, along with other monuments around Ravengro (for example, the statue of Warden Hawkran, whose bloody graffiti spells “VESOR”)?
  
• What force is causing stirges to attack entranced victims whenever music is played?
  
• Where is the missing fifth tome?

Since you have some downtime, you can perform a thorough search of the mansion in an attempt to answer that last question. However, your search does not turn up a book fitting the description (“Untitled quarto, papyrus bound in brained leather. Necril. Date unknown.”). As I mentioned, the missing book is Wictor’s spellbook, given to him by his spectral familiar. We’ll assume he keeps this book well hidden for now. He might even wish to disguise it somehow, if he intends to keep it in the long term.

Here are some other discoveries/prompts that can result from a day of downtime:

Alec: As the character most active in patrolling Kendra’s mansion, you notice that two sets of footprints continue to appear in the mud between the woods and the house: one set is human, probably male; the other belongs to a large dog or wolf. Sometimes one set ends abruptly, replaced by the other.

Dmitry: Your dedicated work deciphering On Verified Madness continues to leave you fatigued, but has no further effect as yet. You learn of the author’s conviction that our world is one of many, each one similar but subtly distinct, and that the dimensions are bound together by something called “aetheric mists.” Ghosts are sometimes capable to piercing these mists, and they are thinnest at physical sites where horrendous events have occurred – (ie. massacres or mass deaths). Meanwhile, you show the tapestry to Ivan, but he does not know what it depicts, or why it is laced with mercuria.

Esdras: While you may prefer not to begin experimenting with alchemy in Kendra's house, you can certainly examine and catalogue the materials which you've inherited from the Professor. I assume you'll be taking skill ranks in Craft (alchemy) from this point onward; this exploration, and any reading you undertake in the Professor's library, are the cause for those skill ranks.

Ivan: The contents of Channelling the Spirit of Varisia are enough to convince you that, quite against your will, you have become a medium, accompanied by the spirits of your dead companions. The book alludes to ways in which you might be able to harness their powers – however, the details are apparently in another book. Lorrimor’s notes refer you to S.I., which you realize must be Spiritus Inquietum, one of the dangerous tomes. It is in Draconic, a tongue you cannot read, but which you know Magdalen can.

Magdalen: You examine the eight talismans bequeathed to you by the professor, and find them strongly charged with psychic energy. What is more, when you clasp one in your hand, they help you focus your mind and make sense of other psychic auras. This serves to unlock the “Object Reading” ability which occulists gain at 2nd level, and you may feel free to apply their flavour-texty focus to any other abilities that Magdalen is still in the process of discovering. Meanwhile, Kendra takes an interest in the set of talismans, which she recognizes as one of Lorrimor’s most prized possessions. The two of you bond over memories of the Professor, and your relationship begins to lose the frosty edge you’ve noticed since your reunion here in Ravengro.

Wictor: Finding opportunities to study independently, you find yourself joined by the mysterious hare, who takes to perching on your shoulder and whispering translations of the spells found within your book. The acquisition of your new spells comes in this way.

In this fashion, you pass an uneventful day and night. With two days remaining before the town hall meeting, your group must decide if you intend to offer any evidence in Lorrimor’s defense. Kendra suggests that the Ravengrans need proof that Lorrimor was acting in their best interests – or, better yet, she says, you need to complete the work he started, by rooting out the source of psychic corruption in the region.

Roll for hp, adding your Con modifier and any race/class bonuses.

Esdras: Jominda sharply declines to get involved with the hearing. However, you were able to observe her alchemy enough to identify the potion as a flask of vitus. The DC to craft this concoction is usually 25; however, now that you've observed the process closely, the DC drops to 20.

End of Chapter Two

I will post some status quo info shortly, over on the discussion thread. In the meantime, you may advance your characters to Level 2. Congratulations on surviving your first few days in Ravengro!

Sorry I missed that, Ivan.

Upon returning to House Lorrimor, Ivan excuses himself and heads up to the library, where several hours of research yields a stitch in his neck and a decent amount of useful information about spirit planchettes.

Ivan now understands the mechanics surrounding the use of his brass spirit planchette. For flavour purposes, you should assume you are communing with one of your own six channeled spirits whenever you use the planchette.

NOTE: While you would think there would be no chance that your personal spirits would lie to you, I think the % chance of lying comes in this case from the pervasive presence of other, less honest, spirits.

ALSO NOTE: Hey, there's a clue about Harrowstone in the description of this magic item! Let's assume that comment was something glossed into Lorrimor's book by the Professor himself. In fact, if Ivan deigns to share that clue with the others, it may give us the momentum we need to move on to the next chapter.

Does anyone else have specific business at House Lorrimor?

At the far end of the town square, several Ravengrans have surrounded the beggar. You watch as they shove him, repeatedly and with increasing violence, until he stumbles and falls into a puddle.

One of the brutes -- you recognize him as Gibs Hephenus, the ringleader from the Restlands -- hauls back a leg to kick the beggar in the ribs, but he falters when a door to the town hall opens and Sheriff Caellar steps outside. A few low words are exchanged, and then the crowd breaks up. Caellar watches the beggar, not offering to help him up. The mendicant limps away, and Caellar retreats into the town hall again, glancing back once in your direction.

Jominda, meanwhile, has been steadily regaining strength, and has switched from imbibing potions to knocking back liquor from a flask. She thanks you all -- a bit reluctantly, as if unaccustomed to accepting charity -- and offers you a discount on any purchases at her shop.

From here, we dissolve back to House Lorrimor. The day is still young, but all signs suggest that the mood amongst the villagers is just as foul as the weather. You have no appointments until three days from now at dusk, which is the Sheriff's inquest into Lorrimor's disinterment. Does anyone have any business they wish to pursue?

Jominda props herself against a counter and feebly issues instructions to Esdras. With only a beginner's understanding the process, Esdras combines reagents and applies heat and pressure at the intervals described. In short order, the herbalist's shop is filled with pungent smoke, and Esdras is holding a beaker full of moss-green liquid.

"Give it here," Jominda beckons, and swallows the viscous mixture in one long draught. The effort seems to exhaust her, but then, very gradually, the colour begins to return to her cheeks.

"Thank you," She says, returning the empty beaker to Esdras. Then, looking at Alec, she says, "You asked about the manner of oppression Ravengro suffers under, sir. I'd say we all got a taste of it today."

Anyone who wishes can further interrogate Jominda, or the mendicant. The results are below. After this, let me know if you want to do anything else today; otherwise the plan is to return to Kendra's house.

When Esdras skewers the stirge with his massive sword, the beast's abdomen erupts, spraying scarlet in all directions. Esdras, Alec, and Dmitry are all covered in Jominda's borrowed blood. At last, the stirge expires, its spindly legs still twitching feebly in the air.

The stirge's treebound brethren take wing, and you now realize there are dozens of the creatures nearby. Fortunately, with the entrancing music having been cut short, the beasts do not attack, but gather in a dark, buzzing cloud and sweep over the thatched rooftops of Ravengro, heading south.

We are out of initiative. Well fought!

Jominda is too weak to stand. She flails her arms for help, gasping, "M-my shop...I h-have potions..."

Nearby, the beggar stares stupidly at his broken accordion, then his eyes track slowly towards the dead stirges on the ground nearby. You hear him murmur to himself, "'Tis as with Illmarsh..."

Alec waits for the perfect moment, then strikes. The blow knocks the creature loose, leaving bright red lines upon the young apothecary's arms where its talons and needle were moments before.

The stirge rolls over and struggles onto its feet. On the ground, it does not appear as threatening, though engorged with blood, it is now the size of a large cat.

Ivan's turn is next.

Dmitry's dagger plunges into the centre of the accordion, bisecting it just as cleanly as Esdras cleaved the stirge. With a final, grating wheeze, the haunting music dies away, and the mendicant shakes his head, seemingly coming to to his senses.

Likewise, Jominda's pupils roll back down into sight, and she starts and feebly flails away from the stirge that's still attached to her arm. The creature does not disengage from her -- perhaps too deep into its feeding process to turn back. However, the four stirges on the wing change course, floating back up towards the treeline before buzzing away to the south.

On the muddy ground, Jominda continues screaming. She clearly lacks the strength to get the stirge off her arm.

Alec is next, followed by Ivan.

Top of Round 2. The following PCs are within 10 feet of Jominda: Alec, Esdras, Dmitry, Ivan. Magdalen is standing beside the accordion player, and Wictor is hanging back (30 feet from the action).

There is one dead stirge, while another continues to assault Jominda. Additionally, at least four other stirges are now on the wing, hovering in the air above you, out of melee weapon range.

Magdalen has established a psychic connection between the music and the stirges' behaviour, although she hasn't told anyone else what she sees.

Wictor is next, followed by Dmitry.

Magdalen's eyes swim as she sees jagged red and violet auras emerging from the instrument. You've never seen anything like this before -- a psychic imprint coming not from the object, but from the sound it generates. The tracers flicker and dance their way over to the stirge on Jominda's arm -- and up into the trees, where others of its kind are taking wing.

I realized I missed Ivan in the initiative. Apologies. You can act now, and then we'll begin Round 2.

It's a bit ambiguous from Esdras's post, but I believe his intention was to attack the stirges whilst urging others to stop the musician. Otherwise he just slaughtered a beggar with his greatsword. Assuming that's not what happened...

Alec's blow goes wide, but Esdras skilfully slices through the abdomen of one of the abominations. Its body erupts in borrowed blood, and its proboscis detaches from its victim's arm as it tumbles, lifeless, to the ground.

The creature on her other arm continues to leech off her, undaunted.

Magdalen is next.

As Dmitry draws near the creatures, he can see the grotesque feeding in revolting detail. The beasts have long, instectoid arms terminating in barbed hooks, all of which are now tenaciously attached to Jominda's skin. Their bodies are furry and mammalian, and their translucent abdomens pulse and throb as they draw Jominda's blood into themselves through their hollow snouts.

Stirge

As you watch, Jominda's already pale flesh grows even more pallid. She stumbles, nearly falling to the muddy ground. Her eyes have rolled back into her head, and a thin moan escapes her lips.

The mendicant's accordion-playing accelerates. The surrounding trees seem to rustle with anticipation.

Next in the initiative, we have Alec, Ivan, Esdras, Magdalen. I'll be offline for a couple of days, but go ahead and post.

For combat purposes, the stirges are 30 feet away from you (except Dmitry), and currently have AC 12. If you attack with a ranged weapon, you'll suffer a -4 penalty unless you have the Precise Shot feat. And if you roll a natural 1, you'll hit Jominda by mistake. Good luck!

Wictor, your Perception check only yields what I described earlier. It's clear now that the black birds in the trees are not birds at all, but rather these abominable insects. They have not attacked your group yet, but two of them have latched on to a bystander, who appears to be in some sort of trance.

Now that you notice it, the accordion-player also looks like he's in a trance...as do the other Ravengrans in the square.

Dmitry is next to act.

We're not back at the house yet. Still in the town square, which is about 10 minutes' walk from Lorrimor's house on the edge of town.

The sextet begins moving across the town square, heading for home, when something catches your eye. The door to the apothecary's shop swings wide and Jominda, the young herbalist, stumbles out. Her eyes are glassy and she walks as if in a daze. You wonder if she might be too drunk to see -- or possibly even sleepwalking. Her staggering movements seem to echo the warbling rhythm of the beggar's accordion.

Before you can approach her, a fluttering movement from the nearest tree yields two black birds -- no, not birds, you realize; these are enormous insects, four-winged monstrosities with long needle-like faces. The two creatures descend towards Jominda, and the dazed woman stretches out her arms, as if to receive them. They perch on her pale arms and plunge their probosces into her veins. She does not flinch.

Initiative giant leech-bugs: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Initiative Dmitry fatigued: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19
Initiative Esdras: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Initiative Magdalen: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Initiative Wictor: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Initiative Ivan: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Initiative Alec: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

The initiative order for this encounter is as follows: Wictor, Dmitry, the creatures, Alec, Ivan, Esdras, Magdalen.

You convene with the others outside the Town Hall. It is almost noon by the time the inquests are complete, but dark clouds lower over the common square, making it feel more like dusk. In the centre of the square, the statue of Warden Hawkran has been further vandalized: now, following the letter “V” which had already been painted on the plinth, you see the letters “ESOR” – all scrawled in dark red.

A few villagers go about their business in the square. The shops are open, but all eyes view you with suspicion. Squatting near the apothecary’s shop, a slough-eyed mendicant plays an ambling, wheezy tune upon an old accordion, giving the entire scene a surreal tone.

Take a moment to compare notes regarding the interviews with Sheriff Caellar, if you like. Of the checks below, the first one applies specifically to the graffiti on the statue; the second is a general check.

“Well then,” Sheriff Caellar removes his hat and adjusts the brim meticulously, “I’d say that wraps things up. It’s clear to me that the assault on Riff Trestleman was motivated by self-defense. The lingering question is whether Mister Trestleman and his associates were justified in their inciting actions.”

Caellar replaces his hat and stands up. “You’re free to go. But I invite you to return to the Town Hall in three days’ time. We’ll be having a gathering at sundown, whereupon I have it on good authority that a concerned citizen of Ravengro will put forth a vote to have Professor Lorrimor exhumed and moved to unconsecrated ground. You and your associates may wish to attend.”

Leaning over towards Leromas, Caellar casually takes the quill out of the secretary’s hand, so that he cannot record his final comment: “If you do come, feel free to bring those ‘accursed tomes’ the Professor mentioned in his will. Unless, of course, you think that they might reflect badly upon his reputation.”

In response to Ivan's plea of empathy, Sheriff Caellar knits his brows together in thought. Finally he shrugs. "I suppose you're right, young man. No one can be truly objective, especially where death is concerned. It makes for quite a conundrum, especially when death appears to be all around us."

Leaning onto the table, Caellar lowers his voice to ask "One final question. Do you believe that Riff Trestleman deserved to die for interfering with your dear professor's burial?"

"Assassination!" Says Caellar, in response to Dmitry's answer. "That's a harrowful word. Strong connotations of intent." He inclines his head towards the secretary and mutters, "There's four S's in that word, Leromar."

The next question which the Sheriff poses to each of you is as follows:

"In your opinion, would you judge that your strong feelings with the Professor might in any way compromise your objectivity about his character?"

Ivan and Alec's conversation may continue. In the meantime, I encourage the rest of you to consider how you will respond to tomorrow's interrogations. I don't intend to role-play all the way through each interview with Sheriff Caellar; instead, I'll provide some questions, and you can submit your answers, assuming that each of you is being interviewed separately.

Once we've run through all the questions (3 or 4), I'll provide the conclusion of each interview, and then we'll skip to another group scene. Picture it like a montage of intercut questions and replies. It's okay if don't end up getting every PC's response to every question.

Sheriff Caellar toys with the wide brim of his hat while he sits across from you in the dusty clerk's chambers of the Ravengro town hall. The only other person in the room is a fresh-faced secretary who diligently records the conversation in a heavy ledger.

"Now then," Drawls the Sheriff, "Our business is an inquest into the death of Riff Trestleman. But as the details of the crime itself are well-established and reported on by numerous witnesses, I'd prefer to establish a measure of context, instead of dwelling on minutiae. To begin with, maybe you can tell me about your relationship with the dear, departed Professor Lorrimor?"

Also, you may wish to lay claim to some of the items in Lorrimor's cache, and write them into your character sheets. I often find that, if a party neglects to split up the treasure, they all forget that it exists. And that would be bad.

Dmitry's grim vow hangs heavily in the air, but no one has a reply. Gradually, the gathering breaks apart, and the guests retire to sleep, or to attend to private business.

Dmitry, your intention was to spend most of your nights translating On Verified Madness. I'll point out that you will need to pick the lock to Lorrimor's study (Esdras and Kendra have the only keys), but I won't insult you by making you roll. For now, the only effect of this midnight-oil-burning is that you greet the next day fatigued.

Does anyone have other tasks or projects they'd like to pursue tonight? You can spend up to 1 hour doing something independently, and still get a good night's sleep, but if you spend more than 1 hour on something, you'll end up fatigued as well.

With nary a signal from Alec and Dmitry, the remaining four infiltrators make their way back out of the cemetery and return to House Lorrimor. Kendra awaits, quite safe and eager to hear a detailed report of your findings. She is also able to offer Wictor an herbal poultice -- one of several that her father prepared for emergencies -- to stave off infection and curtail the worst of his pain.

Though non-magical, these poultices function as potions of cure light wounds.

Wictor healing: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Inspecting the extra crates you recovered from the crypt, you find that Lorrimor had carefully packed and labelled the following items:

• four alchemical sunrods
  
• six flasks of holy water
  
• one dozen silver-tipped arrows
  
• five healing poultices
  
• four mysterious iron-banded glass jars containing tiny, churning clouds of vapour.

When Kendra sees the vapour-filled jars, she sucks in her breath. In a quiet, careful voice, she says, "I have seen those before. My father packed several prior to his final excursion to Harrowstone."

Alec creeps between the headstones, with Dmitry close behind, shadowing his movements. The two men are about equal in stealth, and Alec’s wary ears unerringly lead them undetected towards the gravediggers’ shack.

From the vantage of a crumbling monument (about 30 feet away), the two of you behold a disquieting sight. Both of the brutish twins stand outside their shack, barefoot and clad in only threadbare sleeping shifts. One man plays the music on a copper-whistle: a slow, haunting tune with no beginning or end. His eyes hang heavy, as though he were only half-awake.

His brother stands a few feet away, partly shadowed by the eaves of the shack. You can’t see his face clearly, but you can make out two creatures attached to his neck or shoulders. Tangles of insectoid legs move about probingly, while batlike wings flutter slowly, as do the wings of butterflies when they perch upon a flower to suck its nectar.

It is a dreadful scene, made more horrific and uncanny by the seeming obliviousness of the two human participants.

Will anyone accompany Alec? We can retroactively assume he will Aid Another on Stealth checks, so if you're coming along, add +2 to your Stealth roll.

At Alec and Esdras’s urging, you hastily collect your inheritances and prepare to leave the crypt. But Wictor’s lame leg catches against one of the three small wooden crates, and you realize the professor may have more in store. The three of you with lighter burdens – Dmitry, Alec, and Magdalen – can each carry one of the crates, for inspection back at Kendra’s house.

Perception Dmitry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Perception Esdras: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Perception Magdalen: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Perception Wictor: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Perception Ivan: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (16) - 1 = 15
Perception Alec: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

As you emerge from the crypt, Alec’s ears pick up a strange, hollow sound that trickles through the cacophony of wind in branches. When you concentrate, you can all make out a strange, melancholy melody, played upon a thin, reedy flute. Esdras nods towards the southwest, his best guess for the eerie tune’s point of origin. You recall that the twin gravediggers reside in a hut in the southwestern corner of the cemetery.

Does anyone want to check out the source of the strange music? Or is it time to get out of the Restlands?

With shaking hands and hard-set jaws, Dmitry and Esdras peer around the corner of the open door, half-expecting more of the giant vermin – or worse – to emerge from the cracks in the crypt walls. But nothing moves within the second chamber; instead, your candles cast their glow across several small wooden crates, stacked on the tiled floor beside a sarcophagus.

Atop the same sarcophagus, you see another collection of boxes – six altogether, and mismatched in shape and size. Even in the faint light, you can discern that each box has writing on the surface, and you recognize the hasty scrawl as belonging to Professor Lorrimor.

Each of these six boxes has one of your names written on it. You realize that here, hidden within this ancient crypt, is your true inheritance from the Professor – sequestered from the prying eyes and ears of Ravengro.

Since I’m going to be traveling next week, and can’t guarantee my availability until Dec. 30, and since it is nearly Christmas in some alternate universe somewhere, I’m going to assume you all go ahead and (carefully!) open your presents. Here is what you find within:

Alec du Chevrou: This long, heavy teak box is stuffed with oilcloth. Unwrapping the cloth, you find a row of six cartridges, a drawstring sack with six doses of black powder, and a battered iron pistol. The gun has Galtan insignia embossed upon the barrel, and on the base of the handle, you find the following motto inscribed: “Fear of Death Enslaves the Living.”

Dmitry Pavlovich: Your box is actually a tube of lightweight balsamwood. When you pop off the lid, you see a glimmer of silver fabric within. The contents unfold to reveal a long tapestry sewn from incredibly fine thread, and presenting a parade of figures – kings, soldiers, bandits, and a great many wolves – moving through a forest. Some of the royal figures, and a few of the wolves, are sewn with silver thread which you recognize to be mercuria.

Ivan Fabulanov: This box is almost flat. The contents slide out onto the sarcophagus lid: a thin wooden board printed with numerous letters, numbers, and inscrutable sigils. The Varisian words for “Yes,” “No,” and “Maybe” are emblazoned across the top of the planchette, and the entire board is framed in brass.

Esdras Martalen: Your box is the largest and heaviest. It contains a broad array of alembics, filters, retorts, and labelled vials filled with alchemical powders. The box is compartmentalized in order to store all the items separately and safely.

Wictor Lugaulle: This is a mahogany box treated with a waterproof laquer. It is large enough to snugly fit two books, although it currently only contains one tome: an illuminated history of Ustalav entitled “The Undying Tree.”

Magdalen North: Your box is small and long, with a hinged lid that folds up ingeniously to elevate and showcase its contents: eight crystalline stones, each about the size of your palm, each carved and painted with intricate runes that mark their origins as primordial. The talismans each have a tiny hole bored through, and a leather thong attached, to make them wearable.

Happy Holidays! Along with these goodies, you can have 1 Fate Point each for the last battle. I know, it’s not as sweet as gaining a level, but that may not be too far in the future. See you in a week!

Almost by accident, the party falls into a strategic synchronicity. Alec’s attack, while not mortal, serves to hold the centipede in place while Magdalen quite unexpectedly crushes the beast’s head with her hammer. Then she slumps against Alec’s shoulder, gasping in alarm.

The final creature succumbs to fewer death throes than its mates. Within a few seconds, all is still within the crypt.

We’re out of initiative. Let me know what your post-battle responses are, including whether you intend to proceed into the next chamber.

Esdras, unless you have the Quick Draw feet, you’ll have to drop your hammer on the ground in order to unsheathe and attack in one round. No big deal for now, but keep it in mind for future reference.

Esdras carves through the second centipede like butter. Its black blood spatters up across the fighter’s grim face. The two halves of the creature flop around almost comically, a shadowy puppet show in parody of life.

End of Round 2 status: Two creatures are dead. The remaining one is flanked by Dmitry and Ivan, but is unharmed. Round 3 begins with Wictor, then Alec, then Magdalen.

Even with the flanking assistance of Ivan, Dmitry has trouble pinning down the wriggling monstrosity. It would appear that, between the vain efforts of Wictor and Dmitry, these creatures are magically resistant to sword canes.

Perhaps sensing easier prey, the giant vermin switches targets, lunging at Dmitry with dripping jaws spread wide. Meanwhile, the other remaining beast continues its assault on Wictor.

Attack vs Dmitry: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Attack vs Wictor: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Both connect this time. More blood falls on the stone.

Damage vs Dmitry: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 = 4
Damage vs Wictor: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2
Wictor does not need to make a second Fortitude save, but Dmitry needs to save this round.

Ivan is next, then Esdras. I believe you are both currently in flanking positions.

Although Wictor still strikes ineffectually with his sword cane, he takes some encouragement from the dying squeals of Alec’s foe. The young warrior has impaled the critter in the suture just beneath its head. It continues thrashing long after it has died, but its jaws no longer pose a threat.

One down, two to go. Magdalen is next, followed by Dmitry.

Esdras drops his candle, plunging the crypt into deeper shadow. Now Alec’s madly dancing candle is the only extant light source.

Yet the candle is enough to cast a glint upon the tall man’s hammer as it rises, then falls, striking the nearest creature with a sickening crunch. The creature squeals and releases Wictor.

At the end of the round, the status is as follows: you’re facing 3 creatures:

• #1 has sustained 8 points of damage, and is being flanked by Wictor and Esdras;
  
• #2 is undamaged, and is trying to eat Ivan;
  
• #3 has sustained 5 points of damage, and is still facing down Alec.

Although Wictor and Dmitry both find their sword canes inefficient against the creatures’ plated hides, Alec is able to plunge his own blade through one insect’s thorax. It emits a horrific shriek and lunges upwards, aiming for Alec’s neck this time. Meanwhile, the other two continue trying to make meals of Wictor and Ivan.

Attack vs Alec: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Attack vs Ivan: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Attack vs Wictor: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

This time, all three of you are able to repel the beasts' attacks, although the wounded centipede comes very close to finding an exposed part of Alec's throat -- close enough that you can feel its antennae scrape across your cheek.

Next, Ivan can act, followed by Esdras.

Miss!

Wictor's cane strikes ineffectually at the vermin. The lengthy, segmented insect -- larger than any you've seen before, perhaps as long as you are tall -- continues crushing your leg with its jaws.

At least the poison that dribbles from its mandibles has no discernable effect.

Alec is up next, then Magdalen (who has already declared her action), and then Dmitry.

Alec and Ivan flinch as they feel strong grips clutching at their legs, like a serrated vise grip trying to pin you in place. The grip is not quite strong enough to cut through your boots, and you are both able to jump away from them.

Wictor, on the other hand, feels the mandible slice through his pant leg and deep into the flesh and muscle of his calf.
Damage Wictor: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5
Please make a Fortitude save vs. poison, Wictor. It is also your turn to act.

As the group moves cautiously towards the north doors, the shadows behind them twitch and uncurl, unseen. From out of the cracks in the stone, several hundred silent feet surge forward. At the rear of the group, Alec lifts his candle high, trying to snatch one last glimpse of the crypt’s doorway. He does not think to look down at his feet – and nor do the others, until the creeping horror is upon them.

Your foes made their Stealth check against the party, so they receive surprise round.
Initiative Creeping Horror: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
Initiative Dmitry: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Initiative Esdras: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Initiative Magdalen: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Initiative Wictor: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Initiative Ivan: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Initiative Alec: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

After the surprise round, the initiative order is as follows: Wictor, Alec, Magdalen, Dmitry, The Horrors, Ivan, Esdras

Attack vs Alec: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Attack vs Ivan: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Attack vs Wictor: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Dmitry leads the way down the steep steps, with Esdras’s candle to guide him through the gloom.

The first chamber is a low-ceilinged crypt build of crumbling stone. Niches along the east and west walls contain upwards of a dozen skeletal remains, although time has reduced most of them to dust and bone shards. Over the centuries, the shifting earth has caused the crypt’s walls to crack, admitting moisture and resulting in a pervasive funk that lingers, even though there is no longer any flesh here to rot.

At the north end of the chamber, two stone doors lead to a lower section of the crypt. One of them (the right-hand door) is open, and your candles catch a glimpse of something out of place below – one or more fresh wooden crates, maybe.

Perception Dmitry: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
Perception Esdras: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Perception Magdalen: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Perception Wictor: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Perception Ivan: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3
Perception Alec: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Thanks for the suggestion, Esdras. Any objections? Going once...twice...

The graveyard seems in the throes of a silent seizure as the winds buffet dark, bare branches back and forth overhead. You arrive at the point where the Eversleep meets the Black Path, and approach the crumbling granite mausoleum. Passing cautiously beneath a pair of leering black gargoyles, you find the stone door closed and affixed with a rusty-looking lock.

However, upon close inspection, you see that the lock has corroded open, then put back into place in order to fool casual observers into thinking it still sealed. Esdras, having read only a few hours earlier about the properties of various acidic compounds, recognizes the substance used as one that is fairly easy to synthesize.

With no further impediments, you open the stone door and peer down a dark flight of stone steps. There is evidently a subterranean component to the Van Roeyens tomb.

At this point, you’ll need to make some decisions about marching order and lighting. Who will go first? And how will you light the way?

Kendra will not accompany you on the sortie.

Under cover of darkness, and somewhat muffled by the constant, keening wind, the six strangers cross the river and approach the Restlands. On previous visits, you noted that the two gravediggers, sullen mute twins, occupy a shack at the southwestern corner of the cemetery, so you circle around and approach the southeast gate, which is furthest from the shack (about 150 feet away). You find this gate secured with a large but rusty lock and chain.

A Disable Device DC 12 is required to unlock the cemetery gates. The chain has a Hardness of 10, hp 5, Break DC 26. However, hacking at the chain will probably make noise.

Alternatively, you may attempt to scale the gates with a DC 15 Climb check. A result of 5 or less means you take a tumble.

Jominda provides Alec with no further insight into the Ravengrans' strange behaviour; she speaks in vague but positive terms about Sheriff Caellar, and equally vague and distasteful terms about everyone else in town. She invites Alex to come back to the shop sometime, so she can treat him to one of her "special mixtures" and maybe play her flute for him.

Likewise, Esdras and Dmitry's investigations reach a dead end. You regroup at the mansion, where Kendra is trying her diplomatic best to keep Wictor from making a mess of the kitchen.

Kendra has grown calmer, but she has not forgotten the party's general agreement to investigate the Van Roeyen tomb come nightfall. Does anyone have any special preparations before we skip ahead to that event? You should also tell me if it's your intention not to come.

I’m going to take a couple of minor liberties to keep things moving along. I hope no one objects.

Without much more exchange beyond some nodding of heads, the assembly breaks apart. Dmitry grimly accompanies Esdras in their tracking errand, while Alec makes his solitary way back into the town square. Magdalen succeeds in leaning Kendra back towards her house, and Wictor accompanies the women – leaving young Ivan with the unenviable task of cleaning up Lorrimor’s gravesite.

Esdras and Dmitry follow the tracks to a farm on the northern outskirts, where the grey line of Lake Lias dominates the horizon. The wind here is ferociously cold. You confront the farmer, a sour-faced old man named Zokar, and he reveals that one of his pigs disappeared last night, an act he ascribed to the wolves he’s spotted prowling the western woods.

You hunt around the pigpen for more clues, but the only (human) tracks you find disappear into the cornfield, so you can’t determine their origin. While you search, Zokar watches you, frowning and scratching his chin with the hook he wears where his right hand used to be.

Alec is only able to find one person in town who is willing to open up about the sheriff. Jominda Fallenbridge is the town’s apothecary, and you find her alone in her shop, woozy on her feet and reeking of alcohol. In her intoxication, she confides that most of Ravengro has “gone to the devil” lately, with more incidents of violence in the last month alone than she can recall in her entire life here. She blames the weather, and advises you to seek out sunlight when you can.

Jominda’s eyes grow even softer when you mention Sheriff Caellar. She says he’s one of the good few left in town, “with a heart like Warden Hawkran’s, and a body to match.” You ask who Warden Hawkran is, and Jominda points to the statue in the centre of the town commons. “Our old dead hero. Though why burning to death inside your own prison is heroic, who can say?”

Ivan finds the scent of the pig’s viscera has begun to attract crows and wild dogs, so you work quickly to move it away from Professor Lorrimor’s hallowed plot. As you lug the guts along the Black Path, you encounter a young man with charcoal hair and olive skin, wearing furs and carrying a bucket of water. “Good day, stranger,” He greets you, “I see we had the same compassionate impulse. I’ve brought water to wash the ungodly stain from Lorrimor’s stone. May I pass?”

As the dark man passes you, he tips his cap. “I am Duristan, of Lozeri. The Professor was a friend. I arrived too late last night to pay my respects at the funeral. Please pass along my condolences to the daughter.” And he slips swiftly away up the path.

After these encounters, you regroup at the mansion and compare notes.

Kendra concedes to be led back to the mansion, with the reassurance that the party will follow through with their intention to investigate further after nightfall.

Alec, what do you seek to learn by poking around the town? If you intend to interact with any locals you encounter, you might provide a Diplomacy check; if you're just skulking, a Perception check would be more appropriate.

Does anyone have other agendas, besides returning to the mansion?

“Tell you what,” Says the sheriff, standing up, “Why don’t I get each one of you to stop by the Town Hall tomorrow, each in your own time, to give your statements. Then Mister Pavlovich can come by at sundown for the inquest proper. I’m assuming, since you’ve got nothing to hide, you’ve got no reason to stay away.”

As he begins to walk back towards the bridge to town, Caellar turns and addresses Kendra. “Once again, my dear, my condolences on your loss. And doubly so, considering what befell your poor father’s grave last night.”

Kendra resumes the tour, leading you away from the town square and across the river via a covered bridge, to arrive at the Temple of Pharasma. A squat, ugly stone structure bedecked with gargoyles and spirals, the temple adjoins the eastern gates of the Restlands, providing a convenient landmark and bringing you full circle.

The doors of the church are closed. Upon the steps, Sheriff Caellar sits, smoking a long-handled pipe. "Come to check up on dear Mister Trestleman, are yas?" He says with apparent cheer. Then, after exhaling a long line of smoke into the wind, his face grows grave. "I'm afraid that old Riff passed away in the early hours of the morning. Father Grimburrow prayed up a storm, but there was nothing to be done for him."

Caellar takes another puff of his pipe, then continues. "I suppose we'd best arrange that inquest in short order. How would tomorrow evening suit you, Mister Pavlovich?"

The wind whips your cloaks about as you follow Kendra down the front steps and towards the town proper. As the young woman explains, the village is home to about 300 souls, mostly farmers and fisherfolk since the town’s chief industry collapsed over 50 years ago. “My father used to say that Harrowstone Prison was the town’s lifeblood, but that the blood was tainted.”

The town seems to bear that taint in all its bricks and shingles. Tall buildings encircle the town square like vultures stalking prey. In the centre of the commons, alongside a mud-choked well, there rises a 25-foot-tall, moss-covered stone statue of a proud muscular man wielding a truncheon. Some vandal has defaced the statue’s plinth by painting a large “V” in what looks like it might be blood.

Kendra tries to show you the local apothecary’s, the blacksmith’s, and the general store. But every time you approach another business, the proprietors shut their doors. “It’s worse than ever,” Says Kendra. “In the weeks before my father died, this sort of behaviour was starting to become common. Now it seems to be overtaking the town.”

Ravengro Town Commons

For those bold enough to handle the forbidden tomes, only the following is readily apparent:

Magdalen: Spiritus Inquietum is a confusing and disconcerting book. It is a blend of invocations and exorcisms, alongside a number of personal accounts of hauntings, possessions, and visitations. But it is difficult to tell where each of these ends or begins, and the resulting blur of voices, topics, and intents provokes in you a fear of misinterpretation or misuse.

Alec: Although you cannot read the miniscule, encoded writing in Galvanic Prometheus, you note that many pages are devoted to ghoulishly attentive anatomical drawings of rats, dogs, primates, and even humanoids. There are also studies of decomposition and the effects of acid, fire, and electric current upon corpses.

Dmitry: On Verified Madness is written in the first person, but appears to be a catalogue of hallucinations and visions, mostly describing alien landscapes with names that bear no analogue in any earthly tongue. Much of the description is repellent, yet you find yourself strangely drawn into the lush prose. It feels as if you are reading in a dream.

In all cases, you rapidly conclude that their age and fragility, combined with the density of their archaic script, makes them unsuitable for hasty examination. For a renowned paleographer like Lorrimor, deciphering one of the books might take a week. For such as yourselves, it could take at least the length of your stay in Ravengro.

Making sense of the books, and gaining any associated benefits, would involve 8 hours of daily study and a daily Linguistics (or associated Knowledge) check. If you excel at your skill checks, you’d bring the time down to 7 days at the very least.

Whether or not Esdras’s echoed warnings reach your ears, you realize now that you need to make a choice. You may:
1) Forego your vow to guard Kendra, and devote your waking hours to deciphering at least one of these tomes (before they are due to be returned to Lepidstadt);
2) Devote part of your days to study, knowing this may compromise your abilities, due to loss of focus or sleep; or
3) Agree to let the tomes alone for now (maybe you’ll have time to study them on the road?).

Obviously, you don’t all need to make the same choice, here. But splitting up the focus of the party while you’re in Ravengro could make role-play awkward. For more on the subject of Lorrimor’s books, pop over to the Discussion page.

The iron key was for Lorrimor’s office door, actually. The chest has no lock. And you’re in luck; it is also not trapped!

An uncanny sigh of air escapes as Magdalen raises the lid, as if the chest were in despair to surrender its cargo.

The oak box contains four thick volumes – all manuscripts, by the looks of them – along with a sheet of heavy vellum, rolled up and secured with a black ribbon. The books are arranged with their spines facing upwards, but only two of them bear titles, and they are both in unfamiliar tongues. There is enough space in the chest for at least one more book.

Upon the vellum document is written an index in Lorrimor’s own hand. It reads as follows:

“From the collection of Embreth Daravid, Professor of Antique Civilizations, University of Lepidstadt:

• Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye – offset folio in crocodile leather. Ancient Osiriani. Est. 4550
  
• On Verified Madness – vellum folio in leather (unknown). Varisian. Est. 4300
  
• Postulations and Hypotheses Towards a Galvanic Prometheus by Alpon Caromac – parchment quarto in top-grain leather. Encrypted Thassilonian. 4646.
  
• Spiritus Inquietum – papyrus octavo in split leather. Draconic. Est. 4480.
  
• Untitled quarto, papyrus bound in brained leather. Necril. Date unknown.

Read with thy virtuous soul, not with thy covetous eyes."