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"Where is it?" Skiia asks, wheeling in the direction Ereviss indicates. As she does so, she slides a wand into her off hand, and reaches for her spell component pouch. "Should we go after it, carefully?" She advances cautiously towards the farmhouse, keeping an eye out for any other traps, and planning to circle the house.
After conferring quietly, Skiia joins the others in the slow trek to the next house. Even with her cantrip offering an unearthly light in the evening, though, the trip through the deepening darkness is unnervingly dreamlike, and Skiia narrowly avoids another beartrap hidden in the overgrown fields. She wonders who set them all up, and what they were hoping to catch. If the Allen child was killed by something like the creature the group just destroyed, the traps can't have been of any use. The thought worms worryingly into her mind, distracting, as the shadow of the next house coalesces into greater solidity.
Pacing through the farmhouse, Skiia is at a loss as to what to make of the evidence - no sign of a rush or huge disturbance, but just of the family having quietly left. She takes a last look at the child's scribbles on the wall, stomach lurching as she remembers what happened in this village, keeping an eye out for anything unusual in the marks in case the group chances upon something else to compare them with, perhaps in the next house. Unless anyone else has found something more significant, she recommends they proceed to the next house to the southwest, to start a loop around the village, as long as it takes.
Sorry, I've been waiting to follow everyone's lead, and I've just come out of a gruelling series of exams at school, so it's taken me a few days to get my schedule back to something that lets me check on the forums more regularly.
After the group does the best they can for Kendra and starts investigating the farmhouse, Skiia tries to assess the circumstances of the house's abandonment. The empty silence defies her, and from the windows of the upper story she locates the next buildings to investigate in quiet frustration.
Skiia barks, slightly carried away by how well the group’s attacks have come together, the feeling of her magic strong within her, and the relief that the undead thing has been put to rest. She wheels back to where Kendra has fallen, her voice still ringing supernaturally loud, She waits for a few moments after she regroups, then resumes at her normal, quiet volume, “I beg your pardon – that spell does have an unfortunate side-effect. I’m afraid I’m only a dabbler in the arcane arts, so the most I can offer for your leg is a healing potion or two. Perhaps one of you others would be better able? …” She trails off tactfully, not meaning to presume. Her eyes, too, drift off into the distance as she considers their situation. “I couldn’t cast that spell again tonight,” she continues, even more quietly. “When we next have the opportunity, I shall have to visit Lepidstadt’s libraries and shops to see if I can think of ways to better prepare myself for incorporeal foes.”
Even as the unnatural need to follow the apparition fills Skiia’s mind, the overwhelming impulse shakes off some of the ennui that has crept over her in the overgrown field. As Rhia’s warning rings out behind her, Skiia focuses on getting herself back under control, and on what she might be able to turn against a disembodied spirit, when Kendra’s collapse threatens to bring her up short.
Despite having mused through the miles between town and the abandoned village, Skiia is still quiet as the group descends from the coach. Looking over the rolling hillside and its sighing grasses into the sunset, she broods, So even though something came back after the Beast was driven off, and though they’re sure that they succeeded in so doing, the villagers are still convinced the Beast is responsible. What is everyone so afraid of here that they are so eager to push for the simple, convenient answer? Though her attention is elsewhere, her Kyonin upbringing, a childhood spent learning to move gracefully through even the densest forest, serves Skiia well as she presses on, nimbly turning to avoid the worst overgrowth, carefully holding back branches that threaten to whip back, and brushing gently past the thorns. Passing by the first of the deserted houses, she feels a shiver run down her spine as she contemplates the silent shells falling into ruin, the sense of abandonment almost palpable in the fading light. She tries to shake the feeling off, and picks up her pace even as the group draws up at the end of the bridge. As Skiia's practiced eye sweeps over it, she smiles at Christoph and says, "Don't worry."
Skiia pauses a moment before answering, hoping that the afternoon will not suddenly turn unpleasant. She acknowledges the compliment with a nod and a small smile, but demurs, "Only scholars, not lords and ladies - though thank you. It's been a busy day in court." She lets the statement hang just tactfully, before continuing as truthfully and discreetly as she can, "And the afternoon is likely to be much the same. We've been appointed special investigators, on our way to Hergstag, and we thought that rather than traveling there directly, we ought to confer with some of those who once dwelt there, so that we can best offer our aid." Skiia prompts as gently as she can, and carefully avoids glancing at Rhia, as if she could will the seer's spirits to unobtrusiveness by a show of equanimity.
“We’ll do the best that we can,” Skiia reassures the Beast. “I think today went fairly well, as far as things go. We'll get to the bottom of this.” After taking her leave, she turns to the others with a nod. “As Ereviss said, perhaps the witnesses in town first, before it's quite evening. They might be able to tell us more of the ghosts, so that we might better understand what need keeps the children’s spirits here.”
"I know it's hard to remember sometimes," Skiia says, speaking softly and patiently, remembering the Beast's limits from their last interview, "but it might help us if you could try. Do you remember Hergstag? There were children there, a girl named Ellsa..." She prompts gently, and waits to see how the Beast might respond.
"Agreed," Skiia nods. "Hopefully he can remember something about this business, unlike Morast. If he can't, well, I wonder..." Skiia trails off as her musings take her far away. Thinking of Judge Daramid's concerns, she wonders what it might mean that the Beast seems to turn up inexplicably in such horrible situations. As for that last child in Hergstag, and thinking of the Beast's apparently limited capacities, she can't help but think, even if she doesn't want to, what such a creature might feel at the sight of a slain child? If she had seen Ysmine herself, before they brought her home out of the Tanglebriar... Skiia closes her eyes, and tries to bring her focus back to the case.
When Skiia's turn to testify comes, she presents her evidence with quiet conviction and confidence in her expertise to the court-room silenced by the stern judges. She has to think a bit to remember the standard authorities to cite on the question of what the Beast is, but she does, and concludes firmly, "Therefore, given the acuity of such beings' vision in the dark, the "Beast" would have had no need of such an alchemical concoction as this. Further, that the flask was found buried in the remains of a campfire rather than simply discarded, in addition to what can be concluded from the other evidence to be presented, clearly indicates a fear of discovery and meticulousness contrary to the "Beast's" alleged motives."
"Indeed," Skiia confirms, nodding. "There are certainly grounds for reasonable doubt. Whatever happened in Morast, it seems far too premeditated for the Beast to have been directly involved. The methods, the timing..." She takes a breath and works up her courage before continuing. "Most damningly, though it is circumstantial, someone went missing about the time the attacks started, and their remains were used to fashion a disguise. That seems out of character for the Beast, and far too close a coincidence."
Her determination easily overcoming her trepidation about opening up the disturbed graves again, Skiia finds the physical labour provides enough distraction that her subconscious is able to do something in its own way. Although the graves themselves tell her nothing other than that whoever looted them was apparently interested in the whole bodies, it occurs to her, and she straightens up again to announce it, "It just struck me: we should hold onto the flask from the campsite. If the Beast is some sort of golem, as I think, then the same magic that animates him would sharpen his eyes - he wouldn't need a potion to see in the dark." Hearing the increasingly restive children's comments on the things the others show them as she helps fill in the graves, finally, she hopes, Skiia files away the identification of the gruesome mask for later consideration. So, if the poor soul who that face belonged to disappeared since the attacks took place - one is tempted to speculate before they took place - that suggests timing that is rather too coincidental. An unrelated murder is one thing - but making a mask out of a victim in a place where an unidentified attacker has been active?
Skiia bites her lip for a moment, then nods. "It's certainly unnerving, but I can't think of what more we can do at the moment that wouldn't be outrageously disruptive. We don't have much, but surely this is grounds for ... 'reasonable doubt,'" she says, trying to remember the snippets of legalese she's picked up from past projects. "There are the other two places to visit, and depending on what we uncover there, we may be able to argue more strongly for the significance of what we've found here. In the worst case, we can come back."
Before Skiia can get a good look at the tools Ereviss has found, she hurries over to help Christoph haul the sack that was attached to the rope onto shore. Hearing Rhia's exclamation, she notes the blood soaked into the sack grimly, and unknots the opening with some trepidation. The tools within are sinister - especially the knives and gag - but she is unsure what to make of them. She speaks vaguely, mainly just shuffling pieces of the puzzle around for her own benefit. "I presume these were used to dispose of some unfortunate, but why the shovel? Why not bury that merchant... or, if the graves have been opened ... it's only a little more to carry..." She looks up grimly at the cleric and the medium, her features clearly showing her distaste with what she is about to ask. "Could you direct us if we wanted to open the emptied graves again without offending the dead? Or..." She brushes a loose lock of hair from her face. "Whatever's going on here is beyond the Beast. He can have no motivation for grave-robbing, and what these poor villagers have that he could want... I wonder, though, if on a dark night, someone large enough, wearing a skin mask, could look like something stitched together?"
Seeing the others beat through the bushes and sifting through their finds efficiently, Skiia tries not to get in their way, still deeply unnerved by the island's atmosphere, and keeping an eye on the direction the manticore flew off in. "I don't wish to alarm everyone," she says, "but I wonder if that manticore might come back. I'm an architect, not a zoologist, so I don't know much about manticore anatomy and nesting habits, but if that one wasn't carrying its weight very unusually, I think it might actually have been pregnant." Her speculation is interrupted by the gruesome spectacle presented by what Rhia turns out from the bag she's found. Though distracted, on hearing Ereviss' comment, Skiia adds, "But what else? Certainly, this hardly seems like what the Beast might be capable of, but that's not an entirely satisfying explanation. So, someone lured that merchant out here; why? And if there are missing bodies, and this thing..." She frowns, unhappy with her lack of success in assembling the pieces of the puzzle. "Why don't you try pulling up that rope, Christoph?" she asks, calling up her own magic to examine the evil thing Rhia has found.
Skiia looks up at Ereviss' shout just in time to try to twist out of the way of the volley of spikes the creature launches. She manages to avoid the one, but another lodges firmly under her ribs, forcing a sharp cry from her. Forcing herself to ignore the pain, Skiia keeps her mind and body moving: breaking off the end of the spine where it juts from her armour, she instantly assesses the range to the beast, her hand already dropping the spine and drawing an arrow, as she tries to remember anything useful about manticores...
Skiia puzzles over the sunken graves for a moment, wondering just how stable the marshy island really is, and trying to think of alternative explanations. She is distracted, though, by the others' murmurings over their finds around the firepit, and wanders back over. Still unsettled by her surroundings, Skiia shares a small nervous smile with Kendra and Ereviss, and is somewhat relieved that examining the odd vial gives her mind something else to focus on than the shiver she tries to keep from running down her spine. With a brief wrinkle of her nose, Skiia opines, "That is interesting. This wasn't a potion powered by magic in the usual sense, but rather some sort of alchemy. It's not a craft on which I've ever focused, but judging from what seems to have gone into it, this tincture was meant to bolster the drinker's vision in darkness, beyond even what's normal for my people - rather, akin to the sight of dwarves and other folk accustomed to dark deeper than that of a moonlit forest. Someone was traveling somewhere or when they didn't want to rely on light, even if they normally had to."
Skiia is quiet, the boneyard waking unwelcome memories of another grave, far away in Kyonin, even if the particular form the memorials of this community take are unfamiliar.
Skiia is relieved the others have taken the lead in making conversation with the one villager they've seen so far, and decides not to make things even stranger by crowding around him too. Surely Ereviss' effusive good humour will draw the elderly man out. In the meantime, Skiia's trained eye sweeps over the village. Not her first choice for a place to live, and she can't help but think that it would be much more practical to build into the trees rather than rely on gradually rotting stilts. Even as part of her mind starts shaping an architectural fantasy, she keeps an eye on the here and now for anything interesting or even a more pronounced sign of life that might be a more hopeful place to continue their investigation of Morast.
Once they get back up to the main hall of the courthouse, Skiia sweeps her glance around the group to catch everyone's attention quietly. "Does anyone have any suggestions?" she asks, concern adding a slight furrow to her brow. "Everything I know about such things tells me the Beast must be a golem of some sort, stitched together out of ..." She finds herself unable to actually voice the thought. She continues, softly, so no one beyond the circle of listeners can hear, "But no kind of golem that I've ever heard of is free-willed. I would not have expected that he would even have been able to speak. If, though I hardly dare credit it, that is what he is, the complications that involves are troubling. If I were asked my opinion in court on the basis of my knowledge of magecraft, I would have to admit that binding a spirit to power the sort of golem closest to what the Beast might be is an unstable process at the best of times. It would not be difficult for the prosecution to argue reasonably that this is just a case of a golem that has broken free from control, exacerbated by the unpredictability of allowing a unique variant to remain animate in the first instance."
Skiia silently takes a long look while Ereviss introduces them, taking the "Beast's" measure. "We're going to start looking into the earlier charges trumped up against you. I know it's a long time ago, but if you can think of why people might think you're responsible for what happened at Morast and Hergstag, too, that would help us in our investigations," Skiia adds to the bard's questions, speaking as gently as she can.
Skiia listens carefully to the exchange, sorry that her skills do not run so socially as would be most useful in politely inquiring into and sifting difficult matters. Satisfied so far with the others' lead, the barrister's allusion to the strength of the "Beast" leads her thoughts back to the questions of what motivates it, and how it was so easily captured.
Skiia is bemused by the rapidity of the exchange between judge and bard, a far cry from the deliberation she's used to from her studies and correspondence. The tenor of the discussion is alarming, however, and Skiia is hardly surprised by the speakers' agitation. She speaks with as much assurance as we can muster, "These certainly seem to be troubled times. While not all of us are silver-tongued, we are all of us, in one way or another, seekers after truth." Pausing a moment to collect her thoughts, Skiia continues, remembering Christoph's earlier observation, "It seems dreadfully ... convenient that a beast so terrible should be caught at last in pursuit of - who knows? Some unlikely relic? Is there anyone in Lepidstadt who could benefit from such misdirection?" "We have reason to fear the circumstances which spurred Professor Lorrimor's latest research. I shudder to think that they may be connected with the unrest here." Skiia carefully avoids looking at the last book to have been delivered, and privately wishes she had had an opportunity to look within, or tactfully lead the conversation in a direction that might reveal just what the tome contains.
Skiia listens carefully from where she's carefully settled in the clutter, paying attention, but content to let others steer the conversation. Something Professor Crowl said sets her thoughts in motion, and she tries to reconstruct the repairs being done on the Antiquities Department in her mind's eye, and runs through a series of rough calculations.
"Skiia Anamabon," she says briefly, her terseness and gently curtsey concealing her diffidence as she realizes she's still armoured for travel. Given the nature of their task, what Kendra and Ereviss have explained about the likelihood of larger forces at work, and, now, a glimpse of how boisterous the university in Lepidstadt apparently can be, Skiia resigns herself to the likelihood that a more conspicuous presence may be prudent. "Apprentice wizard," she continues, adding further, unable to keep a small, wry smile from reaching the corners of her mouth, "... and architect." Her slight smile vanishes as sadder thoughts recur, "I only wish the circumstances of our introduction had been happier."
Skiia relaxes further into the atmosphere of the university as the group wanders through the campus. It's completely different from back home, of course, and it's been a few decades, but there's something comfortingly familiar about the hurry of students and all the work going on, the sense that anything might be happening around the next corner. The sight of the Antiquities Department brings the point home, and Skiia reflexively assesses the work with a professional eye. Judging by the mess, it must have been a particularly brazen attempt at theft, and a doubt skitters over her mind as to how safe their cargo may be here. Still, those were Professor Lorrimor's last wishes, and she hesitates only to give Kendra a chance to greet Dr. Crowl first, unsure if the young woman has already met her father's friend.
Skiia hopes the Kin will be all right, though she's fairly sure that she's just reacting to the terrible circumstances that threw the two groups together. She tries to focus on Lepidstadt itself and her own party's task here. Still, she hopes there will be time simply to explore the university, and perhaps the standing stones, though she doubts many of the others will be interested in the latter. As the coach enters the city proper and Agrimar asks about next steps, she suggests, "It might be more convenient to find Dr. Crowl first in any case, rather than carrying a whole chest of books on our own, and then we could find the judge on foot. It would be a bit more discreet, and hiding the one book between us would be easier."
Skiia keeps an eye out for anything unusual as the group moves to lay the cocoons out on the ground, but even knowing what to expect, she has to stifle a gasp when the cocoons are cut open, all thought of a more careful search abandoned. Seeing the missing girl's body cushioned almost gently in the silky stuff, Skiia remembers other funerals she's seen, and fights to keep the memories under control. She manages to compose herself by the time the footman's body is freed, but she is still quiet for a minute or two before speaking. "We should bring her back to her people," is all she has the heart to say.
Skiia quirks an eyebrow in respectful acknowledgement of Rhia's quick thinking before entering through the part in the veils, having already filed the trick away for further reflection at a more suitable time.
Her attention divided by her concern for how Rhia is handling the pain of her wounds, Skiia's glance at the seam the spider left behind is cursory, though her years of study suggest some possibilities.
Quickly drawing another arrow, Skiia nocks, aims, and releases it in a single movement.
Skiia bites back a tut of quiet frustration as the spider disappears before she can get a better look at it.
Hearing Rhia's warning, as the spider unfolds itself back into the material plane, Skiia launches her arrow at the creature, taking grim satisfaction in the heft of her arrow's magically-enhanced weight. Even as her fingers uncurl from the bowstring, her eyes skip from the arrow's flight to the creature she's aimed at, searching it quickly for weaknesses, trying to guess how it might move...
Even as she speaks, Skiia moves the pieces around and thinks she finds a fit. Looking around, she says gravely, "I think it must be a phase spider. They use hit-and-run tactics between the planes they can naturally access. It will be back - if we all stand where we can see everyone else, we should be able to catch it when it makes its move."
Moving between the planes, something with poisonous fangs... Skiia casts her mind about trying to think of what their attacker might be. Addressing Christoph's question of what the monster might be, Skiia shakes her head. "I don't think it's a ghost or anything like that. But I didn't get a good look, just a glimpse as it vanished - it was large, and the wrong shape to be like us, an elf or a human. If we could get a clear shot at it, I think it's material."
Her enhanced gaze sifting through the magic that clings to everyone from her surroundings, Skiia thinks she spots something unusual. "The veils are thin, here," she announces. "I'm not sure how, but something is distorting the Ethereal Plane in this place." Whirling around at Kendra's gasp, Skiia is just in time to see a vague shape disappear from beside the human woman. "Goddesses, that was ... big." she says, lamely, hoping she's pitched her voice low enough not to alarm anyone.
Fear rising rapidly in her breast, Skiia tries to concentrate on helping everyone else keep safe. "Any ideas about where we should try next? We should stay together!" A rapid incantation follows her words, and her eyes flash as if with silver moonlight as she checks the area for magic, knowing it will take a few moments to sort out the enchantments borne by her fellow travellers.
Skiia whirls to the sound of the scream, but is unable to place it. She falls in with the others, drawing her bow but keeping one hand free to cast a spell, depending on what the situation turns out to require.
Hesitating briefly at the edge of the marsh, Skiia is glad there's another pair of eyes who know what to look for before the group plunges into such difficult terrain.
Just to let everyone know, the last half of my week is going to be hellish for work. Burning the midnight oil tomorrow through to travelling to a conference over the weekend and into next week, so I may not be able to post as frequently as I like. From Friday afternoon through to early next Wednesday, I'm not even sure I'll have reliable internet access. If more monsters show up or just to keep things moving, feel free to take charge of Skiia if everyone would be waiting on her otherwise.
Skiia steps down from the coach, following Ereviss, her mail tinkling gently. "I have some skill in tracking," she says quietly, eyes briefly flicking to the others to see if anyone else does. She helps Kaleb to his feet and pursues Agrimar's line of questioning, "Does Aleece often wander off on her own? What does she look like, and what was she wearing? What would help us recognize her?" She speaks gently but briskly, knowing time is of the essence, her mind already turning to the sort of path a young girl might take through the moors, recalling her own less reckless rambles in her own childhood.
Skiia makes herself as comfortable as she can for what is sure to be a bone-rattling ride, and demurs when Ereviss offers the holy water around. "How are your own options for fighting the undead? It's not quite as much on the whole, but I have a cantrip that I can - and, recently, do - prepare, and it has a greater reach. Thank you, but I think it might be best for you to keep more of the holy water, for now." An utter stranger to the area, she listens with mild curiosity as Rhia and Kendra discuss the route.
Skiia gives Christoph a grateful smile from past Father Grimburrow's shoulder, glad that the inquisitor was able to help ease the tension rapidly building in the room. Sensing that the group has done what they can, for now, Skiia steps up and pays her diffident respects to the priest. "Thank you, Father. I'm sorry for all the confusion that I gather we continue to lay before you. Some of us have only just arrived, trying to help unravel the tangled web at work around Ravengro, and it's still early on, I'm afraid. There are so many questions for which we're still seeking the answers... We'll let you know when we can, and I hope that next time, I'll have time to see your lovely temple more fully."
Skiia shakes her head at Ereviss' remark, but says nothing. She does wonder why he seems intent on baiting the local priest, but is unsure if it is her place to intervene. Temples of Pharasma do not hold happy associations for her either, but she's seen no evidence yet that the priests are not sincere in their belief. She can appreciate the solemnity of the space, even if she's not comfortable with it, and if she had more time she would be tempted to sketch the effect of mass in tension with light and dark in the main body of the temple. It's his funeral, she decides, and he's in the right place for it, so for the moment she keeps her peace. Finding nothing to add to the conversation, she waits to see if the Pharasmins have finished their colloquy.
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