| Vander1249 |
What follows is the tale of a Pathfinder Adventuring Group consisting of:
James - Dungeon Master and assorted NPCs as well as Uther, Beacon of Light
Chris - Clint Barton
Courtney - Anthem Rain
Dustin - Denat the Dancing Flame
The Adventure path we are playing through and subsequently that I will be narrating is Paizo’s Pathfinder Adventure Path: Carrion Crown. This entry will be following the first book in the series: The Haunting of Harrowstone *Copyright Paizo Publishing 2011*
Please enjoy this grim dark recounting of our adventures in this magnificent world Paizo has created for all to enjoy. If you would like more information on this or any other adventure path or would like to try your hand at your own adventure with friends please visit paizo.com for more information and the required materials. Good luck in your future adventures and in the spirit of good fun, let’s roll some dice and forge our legends so they may last for generations!
-James
*Advisory warning: While this adventure will maintain a profanity free adventure, the scenarios and imagery described is set in a grim dark setting that may unsettle some readers. I advise you to proceed at your own risk and please remember this is all in the good fun of fantasy and story telling. None of the opinions or motives reflected in this fictional story should be attributed to the players actual views and are completely based in fiction. Thank you, please enjoy!
| Vander1249 |
PROLOGUE
As night fell they swarmed the prison’s grounds, humanoid shadows flowing over every access point of the ruins, marking every major aspect of the landscape, searching for something. All of them shielded with thick black cloaks and low hoods that concealed both their forms and their faces from any on lookers and from each other. Secrecy was their code, silence was their chosen tongue, and death their ultimate goal. Nearly all of them identical in their actions and pose however Clint’s observant eyes noted five figures amongst the black mass that signified them as unusual or above the station of the others. Four of the five were females as far as he could surmise, three of these females -human by the looks of their revealed features- walked among the other acolytes giving directions or words of encouragement in an almost loving and nurturing aspect. Apart from their odd behavior, their attire and specific markings defined them as unique to the others, perhaps, favored.
‘Favored by whom? Or by what?’ Clint’s internal mind questioned him as he observed them from a distance.
Where nearly all of the individuals present had cloaks and hoods, these women had long black dresses that covered their lower halves concealing them completely and with nothing more then a dark leather corset that exposed their arms and shoulders. As if part of their uniform -or devotion- all three of the females had a tattoo on their right shoulder: an image that seemed to display agony stricken faces screaming through smoke that seemed to rise from the abyss itself, he had learned that while these women seemed like the other acolytes they held the unique title: Curate.
Clint turned his attention to the other woman who seemed similar yet even more distinguished from the three Curates. This woman whom also appeared human stood a ways off from the main group that swarmed the prison grounds. She as well was clad in a dress and corset like the other three however where the prior three were cloaked in shades of black, this individual was bathed in crimson and dark reds. A red veil covering her head and concealing her face seemed to cloak her in an aura of red like a halo dripping blood over her entire form. No one dared to approach her nor did she speak to anyone save the large man beside her. This was the final person that Clint had identified as likely the one in charge. He was a tall solidly built man and stood like an ancient tree on the dead grass and cracked stones among the ruins as he over looked the acolytes as they labored in their search.
His legs covered by a long kilt of what seemed to be black cloth and brown leather which Clint noticed as the man passed him once before, the dried blood splatter on the frayed ends of the kilt did not escape client’s sharp gave either. The man’s shoulders were adorned with a simple and apparently old dark leather vest that remained open exposing his broad chest and thick muscular arms, both his arms and chest were covered by extensive scarring. This individual had his head cloaked in a black cloth as well though not quite a veil, it seemed to be attached to the neck line of the vest he wore. It did reveal the right side of his profile in which Client took note of his chiseled jaw line and the inverted cross shaped scar that stretched from just above the man’s eye brow to just below his cheek bone. His left side was covered by half a skull that seemed to belonged to a long dead beast. Given the elongated shape of the skull and the length of the single horn extending from the skull’s forehead, Clint assumed it was once belonged to a young dragon but from this distance he could not be completely sure. Clint knew this man by the name: Ooga Chaka.
“Pardon me love, our master has a task for you.”
A voice came from behind Clint and in turn he slowly turned around trying not to appear surprised that someone could sneak up on him with such ease. It was one of the tattooed women he had been just watching, how the hell had she made it over to him so quickly… and so quietly?
Her dark eyes sparkled like onyx jewels in the full moon’s light as she informed him: “Lord Chaka would like you to scale one of those gargoyles and ensure we are not disturbed.”
She extended a long pale finger towards one of the stone guardians attached to one of the prison’s second story balconies with a tonality in her voice that seemed like a mother giving orders to a child, yet surely there was more command in her voice then there was love, an observation that was not lost on him.
“Yes Curate.” Clint responded.
His confirmation came without hesitation for he knew that as an acolyte, his place was not to refuse direction from this woman and certainly not from Lord Chaka. Taking orders had never been an issue for Clint, what did bother to give him pause more then once was the nagging thought in the back of his mind. Clint had no idea how he had arrived at this place or where he had come from.
i
The tattooed woman was a sight to behold with her smooth satin like black hair, her sparkling violet eyes that reflected the moon light to near picturesque perfection and reflected a gentle glow off her soft porcelain skin. The Curate’s voice was warm and appreciative as she gave River directions.
“That’s correct my dear, just like that.” The Curate said with her hand resting gently on River’s shoulder in a supportive type of fashion.
River was carving necromantic arcane runes into the stone foundation of the prison for a purpose she did not fully understand. At first she struggled with the task not fully being able to remember the proper symbols and markings for she believed she had never learned them in the first place, the mystery of time was her true devotion to spell craft, not the realm of death. However once the tattooed woman touched River’s shoulder the knowledge of the ritual came flooding back to her, rushing like a torrent into her mind’s eye.
// A torrent of flames! River couldn’t see or breathe! Horrible pain and intense heat was scalding her skin! She was surrounded by screaming! The screams of the suffering and the dying! And that smell! Dear gods, it’s the smell of burning flesh! IT’S THE PRISON! THE PRISON IS ON FIRE! I HAVE TO GET OUT! //
And then she was safe.
It was only a memory, a flash of a past life that left as quickly as it appeared. This was not an uncommon event for River. She was a Samsaran, a creature of consistent re-incarnation that both retains and can at times contact her past lives and memories but only through meditation. Never had these memories come without her disciplined request and patient effort through meditation which meant that something was at work in this place. River could feel it in her soul, something was wrong, there was something here in these ruins and it was enraged with uncontrolled fury. River knew all of this the instance she returned to her task of carving the runes after being burned alive in her memories. She knew this and yet she could not bring herself to stop carving the icons. She needed to help this woman, she needed to help Lord Chaka, especially Lord Chaka because he was counting on her and she dared not fail him. River was then struck with another disturbing thought… Who was Lord Chaka?
ii
“Lord Chaka trusts you with this crucial task. He recognizes your swordsmanship is superior to the others in all regards.” The woman with slate colored eyes studied Denat carefully measuring his physical refinement and confidence.
“No problem, this shall prove a simple errand and perhaps once I have proved myself then Lord Chaka shall grant me a task more to my level of skill. I assure you that anyone who crosses a blade with me shall fall in combat as a worthy yet conquered foe.” He accentuated this bold statement with a flourish of his rapier and a confident smirk upon his face. The Curate sighed with relief and smiled gently as if to admire Denat’s confidence.
“I knew we made the right choice when you were chosen.” She stated.
She placed a pale hand on Denat’s shoulder from which he felt no warmth which struck him as odd for a brief moment but he chose to pay it mind, after all this night did seem particularly cold for this time of the year. But Denat had inspired confidence in her and that for the moment that was enough for him. A nobleman such as himself should be admired and respected by others, yet if he could bring them a body that would not only garner respect for accomplishing his task but also admiration which was key to both nobles and great leaders. Denat knew his fate was to be a great leader, it was his destiny and in his veins ran the blood of kings long past; a tradition Denat would strive to prolong.
As Denat perused the prison’s forsaken grounds he kept a watchful eye and a sharp ear perked for unwanted intruders. Shortly after he began his search Denat spotted one of of the acolytes scaling one of the prison’s walls toward a crumbled balcony.
“Well, seems I have an apposed scout and thus a fellow competitor in this task. Very well… I accept your challenge. May the worthier warrior find his prey this night.” He stated to the scout whom was clearly out of ear shot as much as to himself.
Denat continued his patrol ensuring that each concealing undergrowth was empty and that each shadow held no hidden secret. His racial darkvision aided him well in this search making the darkened landscape nearly as clear as day; yet as he patrolled the grounds Denat’s mind continued to wander from his task and nag at his imagination. The Ifrit had no recollection about what drove him to impulsively leave his wealth and his desert homeland of Caliphas behind. As Denat was lost in the emptiness of his memories a sudden darting shadow broke him from this reflection, this shadow moved unnaturally with the landscape. Finally, Denat had discovered his prey and so his test had begun.
iii
“I must keep moving! They are everywhere! I can feel their eyes and hear their whispers. I must must conceal my presence for the Whispering Way must not know I am here. I must discover what it is they are searching for and put a stop to it!” Professor Lorimor’s mind raced fast then his feet allowed him to move.
The professor had been keeping tabs on the Whispering Way’s movement for some time not but he still had not decrypted their plan. The fact that the cult had come to Harrowstone and subsequently the town of Ravengro which stood just out the prison made him extremely suspicious as well as concerned about what evils the Way had brought to his home. Professor Lorimor darted from wall to wall as quickly as his tired old frame would permit. He was thankful for the black cloak he had discovered buried amongst his older things and even more thankful that is was similar enough that it allowed him to infiltrate the other acolytes amongst the Whispering Way. Once he had infiltrated their ranks he attempted to understand their over arcing plan by eavesdropping or observing their actions, unfortunately neither endeavors proved terribly fruitful so the professor chose to take more drastic measures. A choice the dear professor would soon come to direly regret.
iv
A shadow moving unlike the others caught Clint’s gaze as he observed the ruins and rubble of Harrowstone. A cultist it seemed that was deliberately avoiding other acolytes, but why? Clint decided it would be best to stalk the mysterious hood as it scurried about in a mocking game of cat and mouse that apparently “the mouse” had no perception that it was playing along. Clint proceeded to step, hop and leap from broken ledges to crumbling walls to broken spires all the while keeping pace with his target as his training allowed him to find solid foot holds with swift and silent efficiency. There was something strange about this individual Client was sure of it of it, he was also convinced this was not an errand or mission sanctioned by Lord Chaka.
v
Denat moved slowly and cautiously through the rough terrain of the cracked and broken earth trying to hunt down the shade he had glimpsed from the corner of his eye just brief moments ago. His darkvision revealing any and all hiding places surrounding the prison as he watch studiously for any clue or off kilter sound that would alert him to his prey. He would not allow the scout to claim the prize that he so assuredly deserved. The search was not easy however, for even with his darkvision to aid him Denat scavenged all of Harrowstone’s outer walls and rocky embankments drawn to every sound that made itself known from rustling leaves in the wind to rummaging cultists never allowing his guard to drop least the noble swordsman be caught by surprise. He would have his dual, his victory, and his glory.
vi
Clint followed the mysterious target disliking him more and more as he witnessed his continued erratic decisions and movements. He was convinced this man was working against them and that he should be dealt with quickly and efficiently. At that very moment a sudden gust of night air blew the acolyte’s hood back revealing a face older then time and in such a state of terror that the horrors of the outer planes could not have incited more fear on this pathetic soul. Upon seeing the old man’s face Clint knew immediately he would need to be eliminated for the sake of the cause, this is what Lord Chaka would want of his soldier.
// The gargoyle…//
The old man stopped briefly to catch his breathe right under one of the prison’s stone sentinels all too perfectly. Client seized the opportunity to maneuver his way over to the gargoyle as the false cultist looked around ensuring he had not been seen, looking everywhere, except up. The would be assassin propped his legs against the statue and his back flat to the wall pushing with all of his strength. After a few moments the gargoyle’s base began to crack.
vii
His mind still racing in a thousand directions, breathing becoming forced and staggered as if his lungs had barred entry from any new admittance of oxygen. Professor Lorimor was swiftly becoming aware of his age and knew that he was completely out his element and his league with this foolish adventure of his. He as a researcher of archeology and a tenured professor of dead cultures at Lepidstat University, his days of being a hero were long past. Yet despite having left many adventures in the rives of time he knew that Fate was not always so forgetful. The professor’s daughter was a constant reminder of how many close calls he had suffered in his life and he was beyond grateful to all the pantheon that his dear Kendra had grown to become such successful academic and powerful mage herself. He longed to see her just once more, to tell her how much he loved her and just how many times Kendra had saved him without lifting a finger. Professor Lorimor had to trust in Pharasma -goddess of fate- and allow her to guide his feet. The elder scholar knew that he was destined to arrive at this prison, on this night, at precisely this moment because the Lady of Graves had planned it to be so. The professor truly believed that everything happened for a reason and willing accepted this as a universal truth which helped to calm his mind in times like this despite what his frantic and panicked disposition would otherwise imply. Then suddenly-
CRASH!
viii
Denat heard the crash and witnessed the cloud of dust explode suddenly from the ruins just a few feet away and immediately he sprang into a full sprint!
// Surely the scout has not reach my prey already! //
He could not allow this challenge to be lost! His honor and pride would not allow it to be so! People admired nobles and kings because they were the victors, they were champions, they were conquerers. As Denat turned the corner where the explosion had just previously occurred he was taken back by what he saw.
// How could this have happened?!//
The grinning visage of Lord Chaka flashed through his mind.
// “That is enough Denat… Come to the prison’s gates with the others so that we may welcome our guest properly.” //
ix
River was immediately caught off guard by the sudden explosion of dust and debris that occurred nearly yards from her. She was so startled that she nearly ruined one of the necromantic carvings and now along with many of the other acolytes had halted in her task and looked in the direction of the sudden interruption. An image of a man’s face half concealed by a skull forced its way into her mind and with a strong commanding voice that cracked like thunder,
// “River. Come to the front gate of Harrowstone. We have someone among us who believed they could infiltrate our ranks and must now be made an example of. I shall allow you to witness the power of a true spell caster.” //
River believed she now knew the face of Lord Chaka and from the brief mental intrusion she suffered at his very will River was convinced she did not wish to learn or see anymore of this foul creature. Yet something compelled her to stand and move as directed, a force she could not pin point and a persuasion she could not resist. This was swiftly becoming a waking nightmare and River could not force herself to wake up.
x
Clint was just about to push the gargoyle over the ledge ending the poor fool’s existence when suddenly an explosion followed by a tremendous smoke filled the immediate area. After a moment Clint’s eyes adjusted to the smoke screen and he witnessed one of the Curates standing before the old man holding a black shafted scythe with the steel blade to his throat. For a moment she just stood there with a coy smile playing across her lips and then she spoke.
“ Oh Professor… Did you really feel this would be a proper end to your worn out, pathetic, and fragile legacy?” She said with heavy sarcasm and mocking affection.
Clint was a tad disappointed he couldn’t kill the old bastard himself but all in all he wasn’t terribly bothered by the Curate’s intrusion. Just as he was going to get comfortable and enjoy the show Ooga Chaka’s skull masked visage flashed into Clint’s mind.
// “Fear not little bunny, there is still a show to be had. Please join the others near the gate and I assure you that all shall be entertained…” //
With that the cult’s extensively scarred leader faded into nothingness within Clint’s mind and after a momentary pause the Lorimor’s near herald of death stood and dropped down beside the raven haired woman with eyes the color of bright amethyst.
“Need an escort?” He confidently extended his arm in front of them as if she were a noble under his protection. She laughed playfully as causing her eyes to sparkle giving her face a very pleasant demeanor.
“Such a gentleman!” She then turned an icy gaze on her prisoner commanding him forward, “After you Professor.”
The frozen tone of her voice would have chilled the old man to the bone had he not already been melting in the sweat of his own anxiety. Stammering and stumbling Professor Lorimor was herded toward the front of the prison where a large group of cultists seemed to grow endlessly in palpable excitement of the event about to commence.
xi
River proceeded to join the congregating acolytes near the gates of Harrowstone where Ooga Chaka paced with anticipation in front of the red veiled woman. River took her place beside Denat who stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face.
“ This person had better be important to take us away from our goal.” Denat commented with impatience in his voice. River turned to face him, “Just what is our goal in such a wicked place?”
Denat turned to his head to face her yet as he was about to speak, Denat realized that their goal was unknown to him as well. He was dumbfounded at the fact he was so committed to a cause he knew nothing about… Before he could organize his thoughts into a proper response however Lord Chaka threw his massive arms above him in a victorious fashion as if their goal had just been achieved and then he exclaimed to the gathering:
“ My children! You all have been laboring so efficiently and diligently! I’ve decided to give you all a momentary reprieve with some entertainment!”
At this moment the black mass erupted with excitement and near sheer ecstasy over the blood about to be shed. In the commotion River witnessed some of the acolytes parting the way so that two of the Curates could pass through the collection of cultists. Both of the women held long polished black scythes as dark as the void but also that shined like polished onyx and at the sight of these weapons an icy chill shot straight down River’s spine.
It was apparent that she wasn’t alone in this perspective, “What do you suppose they have planned with those?” Denat inquired feigning disinterest.
The dark waters of the Whispering Way began to separate as the captive professor was led to the front of the group right behind the two scythe wielding Curates as if being escorted by them. River then noticed that the old man had a scythe blade held to his throat effortlessly by the third Curate to which she seemed to be keeping him very close and nearly directing his every movement. As the procession approached the gates the the cult quickly closed the gap left in their wake like a deluge of a black tsunami filling a void over the land. For a brief moment River and Professor Lorimor locked eyes and in that instance River witnessed not fear or grief but recognition. This man knew River and she knew him yet she could not make the connection. Then she saw him looking past her toward Denat and the Professor gave him the same look! This man knew them both! She knew it to be true! He was the key and yet he was about to be put to the blade… or worse.
xii
“Welcome! Professor Lorimor!” Ooga Chaka exclaimed with pure elation and child like joy. Clasping his hands together he leaned down bringing himself face to face with the diminutive professor. “ Now what in the world would bring you here for a visit?”
Professor Lorimor rasped in a low voice, “You won’t win.”
Ooga Chaka stared at him eye to eyes unblinking for a moment like a horrific statue. With a wave of his meaty hand the Curate holding the scythe withdrew the blade and the moment the blade was clear of the old man’s throat Chaka grasped two fistfuls of the professor’s cloak and in a smooth swift motion he hoisted the frail man into the air clean off his feet.
“I’m sorry, I fear I didn’t catch that. One more time if you please and this time, do speak up.”
The professor looked down at the foul villain and in a defiant tone through gritted teeth: “You won't wi-“ SNAP!
Before Professor Lorimor could finish the word Chaka had seized one of the elder’s feeble wrists and bent his hand back snapping the wrist’s frail bones like a twig. The Professor began shrieking in agony holding his forearm starring in disbelief as Ooga Chaka still holding him by one arm began blowing in laughter. River could not look away from the horror before her very eyes. She had to save this man! There must be something she could do to stop this! Denat looked on with angry judgmental eyes holding no longer appreciation or respect but now sheer contempt remaining for this creature by the name Ooga Chaka.
// What purpose did this ridiculous and disrespectful show of force prove? Anyone can cause another harm when they are helpless but a true warrior grants his enemy death on a field of equal combat with victory being attributed to the stronger warrior. //
Client continued to stand beside Curate he had just escorted with the professor witnessing the events before him unfold and trying his best to not show any emotion for the poor soul. He did observe the hunger in the eyes of the other cultists and the pleasure in the colored orbs of all three Curates. It then dawned on him that this was a gathering of unholy hunger that craved painful suffering and sought death to cure its desire. It’s true that Clint was a good soldier who wished to follow orders but this was beyond the scope of a motivated goal with a civilized and organized group. This was vicious barbarism being performed be creatures less then human despite the forms they had seemed to take on. Just what had he gotten pulled into with these people?
“Well, I didn’t mean you should scream it either! Gods, we can hardly understand you! Come now, let’s see if we can’t get it right this time, shall we?” Chaka said as he grabbed the Professor’s mouth and forced it shut.
Tears were streaming down Professor Lorimor’s face for he realized this was indeed the end and that he would never again witness or hold his dear Kendra. He would never tell her how proud he was of her accomplishments, what a beautiful woman she had grown to be, and most importantly… how much he loved his daughter. As Ooga Chaka stared into the Professor’s face he began casting a spell that made the hand holding Lorimor’s mouth glow a sickly green. Professor Lorimor’s eyes widened in terror as he heard the draconic tongue of magic and recognized the spell just as the smell of sizzling and burning flesh began to spread over the black gathering as his body began to writhe and spasm unsuccessfully trying to break free of his captor. Cackling as the Professor was dropped into a crumpled heap Ooga Chaka could barely contain himself and his dark glee stricken from the suffering of his victim.
“NOW THEN! One more time Professor! What did you SAY?!” Lord Ooga Chaka of the Whispering Way exclaimed between fits of magical laughter. The Professor could only respond with a sickening gurgle from his severely damaged face as his jaw had been disintegrated. This was a common ritual for the Whispering Way before executing their victims for this particularly horrid act was performed so that in the event a “Speak With Dead” or “Reanimate” spell were to be cast on the victim, the cult’s secrets and plans would not be betrayed and or used against them. As Professor Lorimor extended his non-crippled hand as a sign of mercy in his last moments, Ooga Chaka was struck by another brilliant idea.
“You there!” Chaka exclaimed pointing at Clint. “Return to your gargoyle and this time, aim for his head… Or at least what’s left of it.” Chaka uttered looking down at the broken man before him. “Lyliana! Ensure he doesn’t miss. We want the poor Professor Lorimor’s accident to be very, very, convincing.” Chaka commanded the Curate with the amethyst eyes as malicious grin formed over his revealed face, at this moment in the moon light it seemed to all those looking on that Ooga Chaka’s mouth appeared to filled with daggers as opposed to teeth.
The Curate beside Clint bowed graciously, “As you command Lord Chaka.”
Ooga Chaka then turned to his crimson bride of un death and stated loud enough for all to hear:
“You know Morigan, as wonderfully pleasurable as it is to hear the screams of the suffering I always find more magnificent beauty in the soft utter of a whisper.” He tapered off at the end and paused for a moment inhaling the night air ripe with the stench of fear and pain. Then without warning he thrust his thick arms into the air and proclaimed to the unholy congregation as Client drug away the professor for his final task,
“Come my bunnies! We have a forgotten soul to ensnare!”
With a thundering clap of his meaty hands the cultists immediately and silently scattered to resume their dark agenda. Leaving the town and citizens of Ravengro non the wiser to the events that had just occurred outside of their borders nor of the hell that was about to be thrust down upon them.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 1
The horse scoffed as it trotted along the slick muddied path as if objecting to the suggested route it’s rider had chosen. Clint Barton was not in a much better mood truth be told. He had not slept particularly well the previous night though he could not recall the nightmare that seemed to plague him. It was no matter though he truly just chalked it up to road weariness, thankfully Clint was nearly to Ravengro where there would surely be a soft bed and a warm drink to fend off the wind’s chilly fall bite.
Client was fairly well traveled for a man his age. He was a soldier by profession specializing with the bow and arrow, sniping targets from a distance utilizing an impeccable natural acuity for aiming. Born a prodigy he was a natural tracker and woodsman quickly picking up skills of survival, stealth, and precision with the bow. All of which aided Clint greatly in his military career, always ensuring he was gifted the most dangerous assignments and the highest profile targets . A soldier of his caliber however could never be awarded or recognized for he was a perfect weapon: calculating, efficient, un compromising. The simple problem with having such a magnificent weapon was that no one could know you had it, ally or enemy
So Clint went free lance for a time becoming a mercenary leaving behind the call of country and duty to see the world by his own calling under his own command. As he traveled he witnessed a great many events across the realm both wondrous and beautiful beyond description. He had shared the road of his travels on many occasions with allies that were not intact always human or even humanoid for that matter. One man in particular stood out amongst his other adventuring companions and what made him special was that this man was one of the few Clint had considered a friend.
Apparently the old man believed Clint a friend as well for he had been notified at the old man’s death, apparently Professor Lorrimor had died in an archeology accident while investigating the ruins of Harrowstone. Harrowstone was a prison that had burned down during a prison riot after a few decades back but what drew the Professor there Clint was no aware. As Clint approached Ravengro there was the peal of thunder that tore through the bruised grey and black clouds over head. There was a storm swiftly approaching and mother nature sounded angry.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 2
River a woke in a cold sweat jutting straight up in her bed. She was awakened from a forgotten nightmare that had soaked her sheets and pillow with terror and anxiety. She rubbed her face and tired eyes trying to shake off another rough night of sleep. River swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up as head slowly began to clear. Over the past few weeks River realized there had been holes in her memory that she could not recall. This both troubled and frustrated her because she knew these nightmares that plagued her were the key. River splashed cool water over her face continuing to strain at the memories that lay just out of reach. What frustrated her more then anything was that she could not recover these memories as a Samsaren. Her people were creatures of reincarnation that retained the memories of all their last lives no matter how far back those lives could stretch. River had trained extensively in this ability for both knowledges of people and locations that she had come in contact with and rarely before her meditative practices would fail her. It had never been this difficult though, recently she would meditate and strain to touch the threads of her history to the point of giving herself a migraine that felt like an aneurysm. River dried her face and got dressed never allowing the “details” of the dream to leave. She left her room locking the door behind her and descended the steps down to the bar of the inn where the inn keeper, Zolkar Elkarid, was shinning a glass. River was half convinced it was the same glass Zokar was polishing the night before, what also struck River as odd was that all the other cups and mugs in the were wooden. The Laughing Demon was an odd name for an Inn to be sure though it seemed as if the rotund man behind the bar was equally as strange.
“Pardon me Zolkar, would you mind changing the sheets in my room for this evening?” River requested with a smile.
“O’ course Lady River! ‘Ey woman! You ‘ave more linens to clean!” Zolkar’s booming voice thundered back to his wife in the kitchen.
To which his wife lovingly responded, “ I’ll clean ‘em along with yer fat ‘had!”
Zolkar roared with laughter to a joke only he clearly understood. It now occurred to River why this establishment was deemed as The Laughing Demon for this bellowing man before her could certainly bellow as no other human could, River was very certain of this.
She left the social company and warmth of the inn and stepped out into the cool fall day under a gray cloudy sky. Pulling her cloak tightly around her to fend off the chilling air as she walked the streets of Ravengro. The townsfolk regarded her with mostly calculated and controlled apprehension for River understood the people of Ustalav as an un trustworthy group that past the time with gossip and rumor mongering. Their culture was wrought with alienation of strangers to the land as right fully so as Ustalav had a very turbulent history of invasions and disasters that were mostly resulting from non-human origins. With her blue skin and white eyes River was certainly not a local born and raised to this part of the realm, if she was even from this plane in the first place. The townspeople eyed her suspiciously as she walked past them and the Samsaren did her best to pay them no mind for her purpose in this place did not concern them in the least. River had come to Ravengro to bury her late mentor: Professor Petros Lorrimor, who had passed while investigating the ruins of Harrowstone. River struggled with the thought that the late Professor would be done in “accidentally” in his most comfortable element. The man was a world renown professor of archeology after all so there was little evidence supporting he would meet his demise at the hands of fate’s little miscalculation. River did not know what drew the professor to the site but she intended to find out. The funeral was tomorrow and the day was slipping through her hands each and every second so knowing that she would find little in the dark so she passed quickly through the streets of Ravengro making her way to the haunted prison of Harrowstone.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 3
Denat strode into town upon his stead with its hooves clattering on the cobble stones. As he trotted along he heard the commoners comment on the stranger with dark red spiked hair, black arm tattoos that resembled flames, the jeweled rapier scabbard at his side, and the numerous symbols of nobility that decorated Denat’s mount. The Ifrit smiled at many of the townsfolk who replied with nears and blank looks as he rode past them.
// Well I’ve certainly heard of Ustalivic hospitality but this is just plain unwelcoming, // his mind stated.
As Denat’s steed wove its way past the makeshift shops Denat’s sharp eyes kept to their search with vigilance to spot Kendra Lorrimor, the Professor’s daughter for he was certain that Kendra would have returned home to bury her father. It had been many years since Denat had been in the scholar’s presence and he was sorry to hear of his passing. the minute word reached Denat in Katapesh the noble had mounted his horse and was off to Ravengro to honor the realm’s loss of one of it’s greatest minds and educators. After searching for Kendra through town and yielding no result’s Denat decided it was best to give the mansion of the late Professor a visit.
He rode through and took note of the people decorating the gazebo in the town square along side a statue of a very distinguished man dressed in uniform looking courageously into the distance. Below the figure Denate noticed name carved into the statue’s base stone work in the form of a memorial to those who died in the Harrowstone tragedy although if this practice was to honor the fallen heros of Ravengro then very soon a new name would be added. Denat would personally assure that Professor Petros Lorrimor would not be left behind in the pages of history. As Denat approached the Lorrimor home his mind played out old memories like a canvas given life. His bound with Professor Lorrimor began many years ago when Denat had save the Professor’s life that day in Katapesh.
// A large gathering of people had encircled the commotion for though thieves were common in Katapesh none of them were this well spoken or this committed to their crime especially once they had been caught.
“You don’t understand! This is an ancient artifact that could level with city should the wrong word be utter in it’s presence!” Professor Lorrimor shouted as he was restrained by the guards in the marketplace.
“Silence you! You’d best shut your mouth and be lucky we don’t take your head or your hands for thievery!” One of the guards shouted in response.
“Don’t patronize me! I know your laws and you would do no such thing to one not of your country least your prince find out!” Lorrimor responded to the threat and then his eyes focused again on the medallion on the merchant’s neck.
“Sir, what you have there is an object of great power and I willing to pay any price for it. I just need you to give me that medallion, RIGHT NOW!”
He wrenched one of his arms away from the guards and cast Mage Hand grasping the medallion from the terrified merchant’s neck and pulling it to his open grasp. They merchant stumbled back as if he had been just punched in the chest and let out a terrified yelp. The guards tightened their hold on the old man no long being “gentle” with him and nearly breaking his arm in the process.
“Now listen here! There will be no magic in my presence and I will certainly not tolerate a THIEF!” The guard roared as he drew his scimitar and raised it above his head while two other guards whom held the professor forced him to his knees and stare at the dirt ensure this would be the last thing he would ever see.
“HOLD YOUR BLADE CAPTAIN!”
A voice from the crowd as the people began to part aside allowing a tall man with stark spiked red hair, black tattoos in the shapes of flames covering his arms, various silks and leathers in reds, oranges, and yellows both hanging and flowing off him. His piercing red eyes accentuated his command as the guard lowered his blade.
“I will not have us appear to be the barbarians in the east we strive to set ourselves apart from.” The stranger spoke with a firmness that conveyed power but seemed somewhat out of place with one so young.
“Of course my prince! Please forgive me!” The guard captain begged dropping to his knees and palms flat on the ground.
The young prince walked over to the Professor and offered him a hand, helping the old man to his feet. “Now then, sir. Tell me more about this medallion you have found for us.” //
As Denat came back to the current time, he found himself face to face with the Lorrimor’s front door and with a heavy heart, Denat knocked hard on the red wooden portal.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 4
The sky fell apart just as Clint reached Ravengro. He continued through the slick streets making his way to the Lorrimor Mansion keeping his hood low and avoiding direct eye contact with the citizens seeking refuge. He still wasn’t completely sure what he would say to Kendra when he saw her be he was confident that he would think of something. It had been many years since Clint had seen the professor and generally their work had been professionally conducted as Professor Lorrimor had been a consultant of the occult for Clint’s employer. The organization that Clint was hired out to would normally send him along with other operators to either recover information and or deliver strange objects to be analyzed. The professor’s knowledge would continue to prove vast and invaluable to Client’s superiors so he saw Lorrimor fairly often. Professor Petros Lorrimor proved to be more an educator then a hero or soldier but Clint enjoyed his company none the less and learned a lot from him. As Clint’s steed approached the large home that recently housed the late professor he dismounted and was at the door in four strides. He knocked firmly on the door waiting for a response, as he contemplated knocking again the latch on the door gave way and the large wooden door swung inward to a lovely young woman with red puffy eyes. Wether it’s that her graceful features and dark brown eyes had finally found an effective was to dam her tears or that she had simply run out Clint was not sure… In a soft, weak voice the woman asked:
“Yes? May I help you sir?”
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 5
Anthem conquered the hill separating Ravengro from Harrowstone and as she looked over the broken prison her heritage turned back the wheels of time. In her mind’s eye the rubble and debris kicked up in a heavy gust flying back to their proper settings rebuilding the broken gargoyles and crumbled walls of Harrowstone. The rusted iron work realigned itself reforging its ancient bonds as the rust seemed to dissolve off the surfaces and disappear completely. Once everything had found it’s proper place, Anthem approached the front gate. The solid iron gate loomed over her giving the appearance that it could never be assailed or over come even though it had been broken down mere moments ago. The samsaren put a pale blue hand to the metal work and her mind exploded.
// An old man being held aloft by a skull faced monster! The man’s face was being liquified! All around her shadows were laughing and goading the creature on to more heinous atrocities! //
Anthem tore her hand from the bars breaking away from the horrid vision. She recoiled for a moment trying to hold onto what she had just envisioned, any little detail could help but sadly much like her dream, details were lost. She remembered generalities but nothing concrete except that now Anthem knew she had been here before for this was a very unique and important moment in Harrowstone’s history. Only once before had she come to this place, she had just arrived in Ravengro and was focused on finding answers after being notified of her mentor’s death. Her vision had been that of a raging inferno that that trapped may poor souls inside it’s walls, she could feel the heat and hear their screams but she was powerless to do anything for them for it was merely a memory from a past life. She found it strange that now there was another vision that was very different from the original she had seen earlier in the week, not only that, but she also felt as if she had been here before, perhaps years ago… If only she could remember!
Realizing that time had passed while Anthem had tapped those memories she noticed that the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon and inevitable dusk was sure to follow, the funeral would begin soon. Anthem turned from the gates of Harrowstone and began her solum walk to Ravengro reflecting on past horrors as the Church of Pharasma prepared another vessel to pass on to face judgement in the afterlife.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 6
The young woman had deep brown eyes that reflected wisdom far beyond her years. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a tight bun that made sure to restrain any stray strands that attempted to rebel. She wore a black dress that was without much flash but flared at the waist slightly. Clint instantly recognized Kendra Lorrimor and pulled his hood back revealing a man in his mid thirties that at first glance seemed to be in the first years of twenty. He was solidly build with tight leather armor that covered his chest and legs. A long bow was shouldered across his chest and a well stocked quiver was secured over his left shoulder. For a moment Clint looked Kendra in the eyes searching for anything to say as far as condolences or comfort and then he spoke.
“I heard the old man ate it.” Client stated with the soft elegance of sandpaper.
For a moment Kendra just looked at him not quite sure how to respond and just as her lips parted to reply a Tian woman came down the stairs behind Kendra and opened the door wider to face the stranger.
“Well, aren’t you a proper piece of rubbish?”
Kendra turned to the woman as if she had been slapped in the face, “Valora!”
The woman named Valora was also dropped in black however where Kendra wore a conservative dress this Tian had slim fitting pants that was held by belt and quick draw holsters that sported two shinny pistols strapped to each hip. She had a light grey blouse with a black vest covering two more pistols, each one under each arm. Clint almost missed those hidden weapons as the vest betrayed no telling shapes and thus he assumed the tailor had designed the clothing with that very thought in mind. The grey blouse also had loose fitting sleeves for free range of motion allowing the wielder easy access to any of her fire arms. Valora seemed to have a beauty about her when she chose to show it but her dark eyes betrayed only suspicion at this moment. Despite the story her eyes told however, Valora’s body language portrayed complete serenity and total peace. There was nothing apparently tense about this woman and that was one red flag Clint would attest to just how dangerous this woman truly was.
i
Denat’s knock struck the door firmly and he waited patiently for a response. Only a couple moments went by before the door opened, a Tian woman in matching blacks and grey with dark eyes and darker hair pulled back tight into a high ponytail. She took a moment to look Denat up and down, then stated dryly:
“Yes? What do you want?”
“I’m looking for Kendra Lorrimor, my name is Denat, I was a friend of her fathers.” Denat replied.
The ifrit responded keeping his flaming red irises locked with Valora’s inky black. After a brief unspoken challenge between them Valora steeped aside to allow him passage.
“Kendra! Another one has arrived!” Valora called into the room immediately to Denat’s left as he entered the home.
Directly across from the front door was a hallway flanked by stairs on the right side. With a set of thick double wooden doors to the right immediate the front door with the stairs starting directly after. To the left an arch way opened into a sitting area with a large black leather paddled couch that sat infant of another large ornate glass window. Currently the couch was occupied by a man whom had stretched out, his long bow and quiver rested near by. To the right of the sleeping man was a masterfully carved fireplace with two smoothly carved and polished marble pillars. The marble reflected the colors of the burning flames perfectly as they danced and shined of the white marble. The mantle itself was also carved marble with of intricately interwoven vines and leaves. Above the mantle was a large portrait of Professor Petros Lorrimor that stirred Denat’s emotions by the mere sight of him. The sitting area opened to a broad dinning room with a long cheery wood table with twelve seats and two large candle mounts. Two winders to the left of the table allowed light to shine in an albeit somber grey from the storm outside choking out any possible sunlight. Valora had taken a seat at the dinning room table leaning back and getting comfortable as if she was waiting for something. Kendra came through the door behind the long table on the opposite side of the the room drying her eyes with a tissue.
“I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Kendra stated to Denat and paused when she met his eyes.
Kendra had read of the Ifrit and their kind in many of her studies but had never met one in person.
“Kendra Lorrimor, my sincerest heart felt apologies for your loss. My kingdom would be honored if we could pay our respects to your father through me, as an emissary. It is my privilege and honor to be here.” And with that the Ifrit prince bowed before her.
Kendra appreciated the tester and thanked him for coming to honor her father. Then there was a clatter of metal from the main hall, a man dawned in a shinning breastplate emblazoned with a flaming longsword entered the room and by his breastplate immediately recognized as a follower of Iomeda. The man had sharp bright blue eyes along with blue tattoos that were intricately printed in celestial patters all over his exposed skin that identified him as an Aasamir.
The cleric of Iomeda stated, “Pardon my interruption Kendra, but I believe we should be going.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 7
As they exited the Lorrimor mansion, the Aasamir took point followed by Kendra with Valora beside her, Clint and Denat bringing up the end of the escort. The rain had subsided for the moment and though the five of them proceeded in silence to the church of Pharasma, they were grateful for the reprieve. As the reached the large gothic styled cathedra, Kendra was created by the head priest, Father Grimburrow, who despite what his name would imply was actually quite supportive and welcoming; he greeted Kendra by clasping her hands and then embracing her in a tight hug offering words of encouragement to the poor woman. Father Grimburrow towered over Kendra with his thin frame devoured by his purple and grey ceremonial robes. his bald head always looked down on her even as he offered his condolences for her loss. The priest then turned to the escort and requested assistance of pole bearers for the Professor’s coffin to the Restlands.
All four companions stepped forward to aid as acolytes in white hooded robes brought the coffin out of the church and exchanged it with the companions stepped forward to aid as acolytes in grey hooded robes brought the coffin out of the church and exchanged it with the companions. Valora and the Aasamir taking the two front poles with Clint and Denat taking the two in back. They kept the coffin aloft never allowing Professor Lorrimor to be set down. They marched somberly with Kendra leading the way into the town’s cemetery, known as “The Restlands.” As they neared the ground reserved for the Professor the group was halted by a small gathering of townsfolk. they seemed to be nothing more then a town militia armed with pitch forks and poorly fitted gear. The man whom apparently led the coalition stepped forward and spoke as a crowd began to collect around the commotion. He was an ages man with a tanned leathery face that revealed nothing but contempt and resolve in a decision that would soon be tested.
“That’s far enough!” He extended his hand and stared them down. “I’m sorry Kendra but it’s been decided, we will not allow that man to be buried amongst our loved ones.”
Kendra’s grief swiftly boiled into fury.
“ What in the world are you talking about?! Father Grimburrow and I have made arrangements! The grave has already been prepared!”
“You just don’t get it woman, we will not allow a necromancer to be settled amongst our kin!”
The bald man becoming more aggressive defiantly took a step forward towards the group support the coffin. Denat looked to Clint whom replied with a nod and took Denat’s portion of the weight as the Ifrit stepped before the mob hoping to coll the flames of fear and distrust.
“Come now! Surely this man has accomplished enough to be called a hero, not a villainous necromancer. He is a world renown scholar and educator that aided hundreds become inspired to greatness! Such a man could never have passed an affinity for the undead!”
The soldier stepped forward again and set his hand upon the hilt of his longsword as he stated flatly to the red headed noble:
“Of course a necromancer would announce his presence and goals openly in a town such as ours!”
It was at this moment that the Aasamir place at Valora whom sighed and replied, “Go on sparkles, do your thing…”
He allowed her to support the coffin along with Clint. As he passed Kendra he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and nodded his approval to Denat. He came to stand before the rebellious mob’s leader with his resolute presence matching, if not exceeding the old soldier’s own commitment. The follower of Iomeda stood before the group and asked both respectfully, and with a smooth courtesy:
“Will you stand aside and allow us to bury Professor Lorrimor?”
His clear resolute blue eyes pierced the weary soldier before him and to the man’s credit, he stood fast.
“No.” He held firm to his decision.
At the uttering of that single denial the assamir’s tattoos exploded with light with holy power transforming him in a blue beacon of shinning justice. His thundering voice carried the command:
“I, Uther, the Beacon of Light, Cleric of Iomeda command you! STAND ASIDE!”
His decree seemed to rumble like an earthquake which not only visibly seemed to shrink the man before him but also dispersed the “mob” bed the leader breaking their resolve. Other allowed his holy lit to dim and recede back within his tattooed frame as he stood there for a moment watching the defiant trouble makers scurry back to the shadows. With a sign, Uther turned and took his place as a paw bearer again, Kendra issued a quiet thank you as he past her.
Denat stood before Kendra and simply stated, “ Let this be the last interruption for your father’s final journey.”
The coffin was lowered into the grave as Father Grimburrow gave comforting and consoling words words from the text of Pharasma. Kendra then took her place by her father’s headstone and recounted her own pleasant memories. She shared some of their adventures and fondest moments through repressed tears. Those present at the ceremony shared in Kendra’s grief through both sympathy and empathy alike, nodding in agreement at the high points, keeping their smiles strong to hide the loss and only a couple people gave in to tears. As Kendra finished her recounting she extended the invitation for others to join and share their past memories of Professor Lorrimor.
Uther walked stiffly to the front and turned to the gathering for a moment only receiving odd looks because of his heavily tattooed skin. The cleric was used to such treatment as few had ever met an Aasamir. Ignoring the off putting looks Uther spun a tale of heroic rescue and compassion for when the professor brought the cleric of Iomeda to watch over and protect not only Petros himself but also his daughter Kendra. His words were elegant and fluid in their delivery improving the mood of many present and was a well honored eulogy to the late professor. With the speeches complete, guests were welcome to take a handful of grave dirt and sprinkle it over the coffin in a final farewell ritual. A few of those present accepted the offer but Clint took note of one man in particular whom was exquisitely dressed in a purple tunic with gold chains draped over him and sporting a black cape with golden trim, he was near certainly a noble. The Varisian man approached the grave, gave thanks to “his old friend” by his words, and took out a small indigo pouch from his belt. He pinched the condense of the pouch and sprinkled what seems to be a very finely ground up powder that glistened in the sun’s dying light. Client watched as the same man then approached Kendra and the group. Speaking directly to Kendra he said:
“My dearest apologies for your loss Lady Lorrimor. If I may do anything to aid you in this difficult time, please, don’t hesitate to request it.” The stranger’s voice was filled with concern and respect as he clasped Kendra’s hands.
“Thank you Auren, your kindness is most appreciated.” Kendra replied.
Auren nodded to the group with a warm smile and then departed. About that time a Samsaren approached them and engaged all of them with a hello but spoke first to Kendra. The Samsaren’s skin was a pale white, almost translucent with a subtle blue tint. Her irises a milky white nearly to the point of opaque and her entire face was framed with a curly mane of chocolate brown and red that bounced playfully as she walked.
“Hello sweetie. That was a beautiful service worthy of your father and his legacy.”
“Thank you, that is very kind and my dearest apologies, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Kendra responded.
“Oh dear, you are correct! My apologies, I am Professor Anthem Rain. I was a protege of your father’s when he taught at Lepistadt University.”
“You’re professor Rain?” Kendra inquired. “My father mentioned you in his will, along with you two as well.” She looked to Clint and Denat. “ In fact, if it isn’t an inconvenience to any of you, I would like to treat you all to dinner and the reading of the will at my father’s…” She trailed off at the last comment, the fresh wound reopened.
Uther stepped forward, “ That would be wonderfully gracious of you Kendra, we would be honored.”
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 8
The dinning room was warm and comfortable with candles lit on the large table as well as lamp fixtures on the walls, and a roaring flame in the fire place. A simple dinner was provided with wine and friendly conversations as the companions got acquainted. Shortly after the meal had concluded there was a knock at the front door. Uther excused himself from the table and went to address the evening visitor.
“Councilman! Please come in!” Uther exclaimed.
The town’s portly lead councilman Fashion Hearthmount with his scrawny aid in tow entered the dinning room and living area hiding his rush to leave very poorly. His assistant was carrying a large wooden box that was set down gently on the table as food was moved aside.
“My apologies for interrupting your dinner Lady Lorrimor. As you know I’m a very busy man and I’m sure you still grieving so what say I read he will so that we may put all of this behind us?” The council man rattled the offer off easily in one breathe with such speed his annunciation slightly faltered.
Kendra kept her composure at the councilman’s blatant rudeness and simply replied with: “That’s fine councilman.”
With that the councilman took a seat at the head of the table and removed a rolled up piece of parchment from the case. Hearth mount cleared his throat and began the reading:
“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.
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 all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
To my old friends, I hate to impose 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 le 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 a er the date of the reading of this will.
I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year …”
The councilman paused for a moment. “Huh… that’s odd, the end appears to be smugged. Ah, well! There we have it!”
Finishing the recounting of the will, Councilman rolled up the parchment and slid the document back into the case. He stood and thanked Kendra for her hospitality, wished for her comfort and peace in this difficult time. He bowed wishing them all a lovely evening and was out the door with his aid behind him. The old politician was gone as quickly as he had arrived. The box that had been left on the table was fairly small and made of a combination of oak and iron. Kendra hesitated opening the container so Denat offered to open it for her.
The ifrit popped the lock using the key that the councilman had provided along with the will and box. The box contained five tomes in total, four of which had been placed side by side with the fifth set on top with a piece of parchment that had READ ME!!! scribbled in bold red print. It was laid upon an old cracked black leather journal that Kendra grabbed almost immediately as the box was opened. She opened the tome with a gasp and a look of shock streaked over her face.
“This is my father’s journal! I noticed it was missing when he was found at Harrowstone. I had wished to bury it with him and was devastated thinking it lost. Though, it was in here, all along…” Her voice trailed and after a moment Valora spoke what they were all asking themselves.
“Kendra, why would he stash his journal with these other tomes and not tell anyone?”
Denat followed with: “And just what was he doing with these?” He extended his open palm directly at the tomes in the box.
The tomes were certainly unique in their design. Uther and Anthem were able to identify two of the four with their extensive knowledge of religious studies. One of the tomes was bound in taught tan leather that almost seemed to depict a human face. The pages were of the same strange material and appeared to be penned in a crimson script that looked to Denat to be blood. Anthem informed Denat that the tome he was currently thumbing through was entitled, The Umbral Leaves, the unholy teaching of the diety: Zon Kuthon. As Denat glanced up at Anthem, she also explained that the book was intact bound and paged in human skin and sinew as well as being written in human blood.
“Seriously?” Denat clarified.
Anthem simply responded with a, “Mhm.” A nod, and a sip of her wine.
Denat placed the book back in the box and wiped his hands on his napkin attempted to wipe clean the knowledge just granted to him. “That is so not ok.” He said in a disgusted tone.
“This wretched thing is: Feeding Your Hunger. Uther stated looking at the third tome in the box. “ Teachings of the abomination goddess, Urgothoa, the Pallid Princess. Why would the professor have these, indeed.
The fourth tome was jet black with green runes of an unknown spiraling out from the central of the book’s cover in a very elaborate geometric pattern. Valora chose this book and opened to find nothing but star charts, crude images of monsters, and equations that none of them could even begin to comprehend. Finally the fifth tome in the box was bound in purple leather and emblazoned with a golden scarab on the from cover along with a strong golden latch on the side of the ensuring its secrets remain sealed. As Kendra skimmed through the her father’s journal she noted that several of the entries are flagged with red ink:
Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Two Months Ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something no, strike that someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky
to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution
has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
After the final reading Kendra shut the journal and thought in silence for a moment.
“Something else is at work here. With Harrowstone, Ravengro, this… Whispering Way. I believe that my father has been murdered in cold blood and I will be damned before I found out what truly happened at that prison!” Kendra stated with a previously hidden fiery determination. “Everyone, I would ask your aid in finding out what has occurred here and what may be just beyond the horizon.”
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 9
For the first few days after the funeral the heroes stayed at the mansion and worked in the Lorrimor’s extensive library. Kendra was kind enough to open the mansion for both their sleeping accommodations as well as any required research they wished to perform. After some preliminary studies into the Whispering Way, Anthem discovered some rather unsettling information about the organization.
The nefarious cult known as the Whispering Way is a secretive religious collection of necromancers active through the shadows of the Inner Sea Region of Galorien for what some believe to be thousands of years. Often the cult will align or arm the organization with undead creatures while some of the cultists are rumored to be undead themselves.
Anthem also found that the ultimate goal of the organization aside from plunging the physical realm into complete decay and undeath was also currently to raise the cult’s greatest necromancer: Tar-Baphon, known to many as The Whispering Tyrant. While he was not the cult’s founder, Tar-Baphon was most certainly the most powerful rich to emerge from their undead philosophies, some rumors still abound regarding The Whispering Tyrant’s divinity being torn from his grasp at the last and most crucial moments of his conquest.
Anthem’s final discoveries attributed the cult’s symbol as that of a skull gagged with a black rag and notated that anyone to learn the deepest secrets of the Whispering Way whom fell from standing would be swiftly executed by the cult and the mouths of the victims mutilated to ensure that no form of magic would reanimate the corpse to speak of what it had known, ensuring that the Whispering Way’s secrets would never be betrayed.
As Anthem read over these new discoveries her mind raced back to the nightmares that plagued her so recently. The laughing black mass surrounding her, the crimson bride, and the skull shielded creature liquifying the face of it’s victim. Anthem was immediately convinced the nightmare was real and she had witnessed the hired even first hand. She didn’t know when this had occurred or who the actors involved were but the samsaren was one step closer to clearing her memory and understanding exactly what had occurred on that night.
i
Clint took his tome to the sitting area that housed the large marble fire place and sat down in one of the wing back chairs present. He was thumbing through the pages about some information related to Harrowstone and its prisoners when there was a knock at the door. He shut the book and laid it on the chair as he stood. He went to the door and opened it as Denat nearly shoulder checked him with his red eyes quite literally glowing brightly with flames.
“So I see your errand was a fruitful one.” Client directed to Denat, his words saturated with sarcasm.
“The Pharasma Church is just as stubborn with their secrets and rituals as ever! All I asked for was the historical records of Harrowstone! They wouldn’t provide me any information because I’m an “outsider” and not trust worthy enough!” Denat continued to fume as the ifrit’s hair similar to his eyes began to crackle with visible flames.
// Ah the Ifrit temperament…// Client thought to himself.
“Look, your temper flaring up like that isn’t going to solve anything. Let’s go back there together and see if we cannot convince them or at least try to discuss some options.” Clint offered.
Denat grudgingly accepted his offer and they left to see if the house to the Lady of Graves could be swayed or persuaded to assist them.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 10
Clint and Denat approached the gothic style cathedral with it’s silver and purple stained glass windows that depicted various images of will-o-wisps, psychopomps, and depictions of Pharasma herself. Acolytes in black and gray hooded robes shuffled about in near total silence. The two hero ascended the stone steps and requested an audience with Father Grimburrow from one of the passing acolytes. The acolyte nodded from under his hood and shuffled off without a word to either of them.
“So are you a religious man?” Clint inquired to Denat after a moment of silence between them.
“I follow the teachings of Sarenrae to the best of my worldly limits. The Dawnflower teaches of healing and protecting the weak, how to be a light in the darkness of all things, redemption…” Denat spoke these words with reverence and comfort.
Clint looked to the ifrit for a moment and then said, “And what of those beyond redemption? Those that cannot be healed?”
Denat left Clint’s inquiry hanging in the air between them as Father Grimburrow approached them. The priest was in his standard black and grey robes this time and created both men with his piercing blue eyes.
“Gentlemen! How may I be of service?”
Clint stated to the priest in a flat uncompromising tone, “ We need access to the Harrowstone records.”
“I apologize, but we cannot release any church records to simply anyone. It’s nothing personal or discriminatory of course, we are just very protective over such documents involving such a tragic event so closely related to our town.” Father Grimburrow replied courteously to Clint.
Clint then produced a small black flip fold from his cloak and opened it revealing a silver insignia that Denat was not familiar with, perhaps a noble icon he had not known.
“You know what this is?” Client asked the priest directly.
The priest glanced at the icon then looked Clint square in the eye without allowing his graceful smile to drop even slightly.
“No sir, I’m afraid not.”
“That means I’m the law here, it also means you will be showing me those records.”
Clint’s confidence clouded the air around them, thoroughly convinced this would the answer to their problem. The priest looked at and almost through Clint for a long moment reading his eyes.
“I can see that both of you are good men. Men of your quality have been a rare visit to our humble town. That being the case, I will not prohibit access to our records, on one condition. I would like for you to win favor of our town, have them accept you as heroes, not as strangers.”
Denat inquired, “ Do you have any advice on where we should begin Father?”
“I would check with our blacksmith, she is a dwarf by the name of Jorfa. Since you are interested in Harrowstone, Since you are interested in Harrowstone, your paths seem to intertwine.”
And with that the priest waited a moment longer with a knowing smile upon his lips and then walked away from the confused would be heroes.
i
Denat arrived at the forge a short time later with Clint having elected to return to the mansion for continued research. Denat opened the the door to the stout building as thick black smoke billowed from the chimney. As he entered he observed right away the assortment of armor and weapons displayed in one half of the shop while the other contained tools for fishing, farming, and constructing.
//One stop shop it seems// Denat thought to himself.
The sound of a hammer bludgeoning an anvil rang out from the back of the shop that was shield by a door and thin wooden walls behind a front counter. A small silver clerk’s bell sat on the counter that Denat struck with a sharp PING! The hammering stopped but there was no response and after waiting a couple moments, Denat called out to the store.
“Hello? Anyone there?” and then struck the clerk’s bell again. PING! A blustered voice came from behind the door.
“A’corse someone be here ya’ slack jawed idiot!” A red curly haired dwarf came bustling out from behind the door coming right up to the counter covered in soot, with strands of hair standing on end in every direction held down partially by a pair of thick black lensed goggles strapped to her head. They stared at one another taking each other in for a moment before finally the glaring dwarf shouted at Denat:
“Well?! W’at is it? W’at do ye want?”
Denat snapped out of his paused thought process of a dwarf smith with her caliber in such a tiny town.
“My apologies Jorfa, I have been directed to your fine shop at the recommendation of Father Grimburrow. He has advised my comrades and I that you were needing some help with Harrowstone prison. We would be happy to assist you as we are headed there ourselves, if you would grant us the opportunity.” He finished the offer with a friendly grin.
The dwarves smith looked him over for a moment and then almost demanded of him, “ If you’n yer kin find yer way into ‘arrowstone t’ere be some weapons and armor from t’e old prison guards. We could be usin’ ‘em for t’e town militia. An I suppose I could sharpen that blade o’ yer’s also,” Jorfa indicated the scimitar across Denat’s back.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” Denat bowed slightly before her and turned to head back to the Lorrimor mansion admiring the weapons and armor as he left the shop.
Once outside in the fall sun, Denat was feeling pleased that finally there was some ground being made. He would be pleased to pass on the good news to his comrades, maybe this town wasn’t so bad after all, just misunderstood. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge the town and it’s people. As he finished the thought he was drawn to a large gathering by the statue near the center of town. Townsfolk were congregating in a growing mass and he heard several people mention something about blood.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 11
Kendra paged through her father’s journal gently so as not to damage the thin pages or the binding of the tome itself. As she read through the pages of her father’s thoughts she took not of the liberal scribbling on the margins that were clearly written after the original entry was penned. Many of these were adjustments to prior findings but a few of them continually caught her interest as the entries that have been boldly circled in red ink.
As she continued to read over the entries again and again to make sense of everything. The answers were clearly in front of her and she knew it to be the case, if she could only find the link!
And then it hit her.
Her father’s death, the odd emotions people are showing around Ravengro, and the nightmares that had plagued Kendra since she arrived to bury her father. All of it was connected and this journal was the key. As Kendra closed the journal and hurried from her room excited to share what she had discovered, there came a quickly repeated knock at the door. Kendra hurried to the front door and opened it to find a stern faced Denat greeting her.
“Kendra, something has happened. I need you and the others to come with me to the town square. Right now!”
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 12
The heroes hurried to the square and were greeted by a truly grisly display. The statue in the center of town was splattered with a sticky crimson substance. A prominent “V” seemed to be painted on the base of the statue in the same substance. As the companions pushed through the crowd Kendra took point and once free from the gathering nearly stumbled over Father Grimburrow who was examining the scene with some of the town’s militia style guardsmen.
“Lady Lorrimor, pleasure seeing you again.” Father Grimburrow stated greeting them all with his bright sparkling blue eyes.
“What happened here Father? Is all of this what I think it is?” Kendra inquired with a slightly unnerved tone as she looked over the crimson splashed memorial.
“ It is blood in fact, however not human blood so far as I have determined. It is in fact bovine blood.” The priest commented off handedly still in thought over the events of the scene.
“So someone is playing a very sick joke.” Anthem stated.
“Possibly but there is a certain sinister undertone to it…” The priest mentioned as he scrutinized the scene further, paying a lot of interest to the “V” on the statue.
Clint spoke up after a moment, “ Looks like you were correct Kendra. There is something going on here and it may only be getting worse as time goes on. They should post men around this site incase someone tries it again.”
“I’ll speak to the sheriff and see if the militia has the men to spare.” Kendra said as she stood and looked about to see if she could locate the town’s make shift sheriff.
About this time the portly Councilman Hearthmont came rushing to the scene very sweaty and very out of breathe. His aid beside him assuring that the councilman would not pass out from the “exertion.” After a moment the councilman composed himself and wiped his face off to salvage and garner some form respect in a diplomatic presentation that he was about to address the people with.
“My good citizens! What we have here is nothing more then a childish prank! Someone with a troubled mind and an unusual sense of humor. I assure each and all of you that this shall go no further and that our Hallowed Day of Remembrance shall continue on schedule without hindrance! Please return to your duties and daily routines! We shall have this sorted and obscenity removed before the days end! I promise you!”
He proclaimed with arms raised as if he were declaring war on the vandals who caused this scene. Though, to his credit this did visibly reassure some of the townsfolk and did help to disperse the gathering of on lookers for the most part with a few staggers lingering on behind either from morbid fascination, or because perhaps they simply didn't believe a word the councilman had just said.Kendra approached the councilman after his speech was made and he was blotting his profusely slick brow yet again.
“Excuse me Councilman Hearthmont, if I may have a word for a moment?” Kendra requested.
“Lady Lorrimor, certainly! How may I be of service?” Hearthmont replied.
“If the town could spare the men, we believe it would be best to post guards about the area, that way should something else happen, it doesn’t get out of hand such as this did. You know, keep the people at ease and show that you are the one in control.” Kendra said slyly with a smile playing to the Councilman’s control complex.
“Hm, a fine thought Lady Lorrimor, yes, I believe the men could be spared. I shall have the patrols dispatched immediately!” The Councilman said proudly and then scurried off to set it all in motion.
“So what is our next step here?” Denat inquired to the others.
“Well, we should probably continue to study up on Harrowstone. It seems that was the place where all of this began, that is probably where we should start.” Anthem replied to Denat.
“I agree, the festival is a couple days away so perhaps we investigate once that has ended, it would only be for one night but it is a pleasant gathering to remember The Great Fire and those we lost in it.” Kendra said with an air of unease about her.
“Sounds like a plan then. Let us return to the mansion then and continue our research.” Denat recommended.
As they proceeded to leave the scene Clint casually looked about to see if anything off handedly was missed. For a moment he was convinced he saw someone lurking in the shadows of one of the alleyways, however when he blinked the dark figure had disappeared. Seems this town was indeed haunted Clint thought, perhaps with something more valid then simple superstition.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 13
The next day had proved mostly uneventful for the heroes filled with solitude and study through out the mansion. Kendra had shared what she had learned from her father’s journal and that had sparked a fire in all of them to push forward and discover anything and everything possible about that had occurred involving Harrowstone and Ravengro the night of The Great Fire and everything else strange up to the current day.
They poured through tome after tome in the mansion’s library, the professor kept many records which proved to be very beneficial to their search covering local history. Including many details regarding Harrowstone Prison. Denat was most fortunate in this search uncovering a time line of misfortune concerning Harrowstone and it’s residents, those criminal and professional alike.
Denat called the group together that afternoon to share what he had discovered assembling them in the library and cracking open a couple of books he had taken the research from.
“ So far, we all know that Harrow was partially destroyed by The Great Fire in 4661, it was never rebuilt or even cleared and consecrated from what we know. It is also the a large source of suspect superstition by the Ravengro community.
Now the prison itself was built in 4661, this was the same time Ravengro was founded around the same time so that the guards and there families would have a place close by and have the ability to stick together as well as provide supplies like textiles and food for the prison.”
“Fairly efficient idea in theory.” Uther stated.”
“Indeed.” Denat continued, “ The unfortunate part is this made the community heavily dependent on the prison for its economic flow and job opportunity, you either worked the fields or you worked the cells. That being the case, when the fire broke out most of the guards were killed either while working the prison or rushing to help with the inferno.”
“What of the prisoners?” Anthem asked.
“All killed in the blaze.” Denat said solemnly, “ The beauty and tragedy of the flame is that it is fair in all things.* He summoned a small flame in his hand. “Both giving life…” The flame danced in his palm, “and taking life.” The flame snuffed itself out. After a brief pause of thought Denat continued his recounting of the prison’s history.
“So based on what I have seen from the historical recounts, the underground eastern wing of the prison was gutted pretty harshly however most of the area above remains stable. Allegedly anyhow, so we will want to watch our step in that place.”
“Aside from the the damage to the prison that the fire we know that very few guards escaped the place with their lives. Among those lost were Warden Harken which is whom the statue is erected for, along with his wife, Vesoriana. No one is sure why she was there, but it was confirmed that she did enter the prison and never made it out.”
“That’s awful.” Kendra commented.
“There was one last thing…” Denat hesitated for a moment. “ When Harrowstone was destroyed, there was a recent arrival of five particularly fiendish criminals. These villains are generally believed to be a mere coincidence in relation to the Harrowstone tragedy, however, I don’t believed I am also so convinced as such. Personally it seems like too much of a coincidence that five notorious criminals are transferred to the same prison right before tragedy strikes.”
Uther spoke up, “I agree. Confidence is a false faith people pursue. This was fate caused by either a single or multiple individuals to have been coordinated as such.”
Valora then added. “Let’s not forget gentlemen, no one made it out alive, not the guard, nor the prisoners. Are you saying this was a prison break gone bad?”
“That’s what it appears to be.” Denat concluded.
“But then why is the Whispering Way involved in any of this? What role could it serve them to visit the prison?” Valora asked.
“Remember that this cult is fascinated by death and desecration. It’s possible that they had some dark agenda that we have no yet discovered related to Harrowstone, much like Professor Lorrimor had believed.” Anthem reminded everyone.
“Then there is still more to learn. Perhaps we now include those five prisoners, see what their role may have played in all this.” Kendra advised.
“I’ll see what I can find, I have skills in gathering information on particular individuals.” Clint volunteered. “It would also probably be a good idea to collect those items from the crypt the professor had mentioned in his journal, provided the church has not collected them yet.”
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 14
The heroes chose to explore the hidden stash in the crypt just after nightfall that same night; not wanting to waste time but also not wishing to draw unwanted attention from any of the town’s residence, after all they were trying to win their favor, not incite their suspicions.
Valora and Uther chose to stay behind with Kendra and continue helping with any available clues that may have been overlooked. The others readied their gear and struck out for the Restlands.
“Please be careful and try to be as…discreet as possible.” Kendra requested of them.
“Of course Lady Lorrimor, we shall be as respectful as possible to such an honored place. We shall not be long.” Denat assured her.
“We’ll be back before you know it.” Anthem agreed with a comforting smile.
Kendra nodded to them and saw them out.
It did not take them very long to reach the Restlands, and the place was fairly deserted as far as any of them could tell. A couple of lamp posts at various cross roads allowed some light to ward off grave robbers as well as allow people to see their way around or light a torch from the open lamp faces. The rest lands themselves were quite and undisturbed. Fog began to roll in as the companions gave made their way to the crypt located in the journal. It bothered Clint because this fog seemed thicker then normal. As it clouded the area their visibility began to diminish and even his exceptional eyesight could not pierce the veil of mist.
The heroes remained guarded for even the most hallowed of places could hide danger. Following the directions in the journal, the group locates a large granite mausoleum, roof ornate with grim looking gargoyle statues. A large stone door with a heavy rusty pad lock. Denat examined the stone portal that barred their path, Denat requested Clint’s assistance with his crowbar, Clint happily obliged and pried the lock apart with ease. It was after this had occurred that Anthem pointed out the lock had already been partial melted and could have simply been removed.
As Denat pushed open the stone doors Clint’s eye caught the image of shadowy figures moving slowly in the mist. They appeared humanoid in shape and seemed to move sluggishly through the fog. There was something off about them, something not natural.
“Let us keep moving, we don’t wish to draw attention to ourselves. Denat, secure the supplies. We may have company soon.” Clint ordered.
“Wait, let’s not jump to conclusions. Let me speak with them.” Denat replied
The figures moved closer at a slow pace almost strolling through the tombstones that stuck up from the ground like broken and shattered teeth.
“Good evening to you!” Denate called to the figures.
They did not return the greeting.
i
As the group left the Lorrimor mansion, Uther ascended the steps returning to his room to study the tomes and commune with Iomeda for guidance. Valora reassured Kendra that everything would be alright and went to the dinning room table to perform maintenance on her pistols. Kendra locked the door behind them and then went to the library just inside the entry way. She took a seat in one of the large chairs about the room with her father’s journal.
The library was warm and filled with knowledge yet Kendra felt lost and cold. These past few days had been the most difficult times she had even experienced. She had been studying in Lepistadt when she should have been at home helping her father, she never should have left him to his adventures all alone. She knew that in time these wounds would heal but at this moment, she felt as if she would be lost in this hell forever.
Then, there came a pounding at the front door.
ii
The people lurched toward Denat as the fog grew thicker, their shapes barely visible toward one another. Anthem and Clint stood at the entry way of the mausoleum both waiting for any sort of response from the strangers, breathe held tight with tension the air of perception growing thick around them. Slowly, Clint reached back to his quiver and allowed his finger tips to brush the fletching of an arrow. Anthem’s senses were screaming that something was wrong. This wasn’t right, something terrible was about to happen and the universe was trying to warn her.
“Are you folks alright?” Denat inquired, his hand resting on his rapier.
The figures loomed closer and closer with each shuffled step. As they came within eight feet of Denat one of them lunged at him with a choked gurgling sound coming from it’s gaping dislocated jaw and shredded throat. Denate drew his rapier in a flash deflecting the first creature and jabbing the second one right in the chest with a swift thrust. As he gazed upon the rotting form of his attackers, Denate made a horrible realization, the dead of Ravengro were rising from the grave.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 15
Kendra looked back at the door as the pounding thudded the wood. She set her father’s journal on the end table next to the chair and stood up slowly approaching the entry way. Valora came from around the corner stripped of all of her side arms save for one on her left hip. Her eyes met Kendra’s and for a moment they exchanged a look of concern in an unspoken agreement that something was not right about this.
Again the pounding hammered the door this time with more vigor and force. Kendra approached the door but Valora stopped Kendra with a hand on her shoulder before Kendra laid her hand on the door knob. Kendra looked at her companion and Valora held up an open palm and silently pulled the pistol from her hip holster. She shook her head and Kendra took a couple steps away from the door.
Valora stepped close to the door with her pistol just out of sight near the door frame and cracked the door open with her free hand. The tian woman’s face filled with shock and horror as the door exploded inward with a force that knocked Valora aside and sent her pistol flying. Kendra’s own dread and terror blossomed at the moment as she came face to face with her father whom had been dead for days, but now stood before her.
i
Denat tore his rapier out of the soft rotting flesh of the zombie before him as Clint released two arrows with blinding speed that slammed into the chest of the corpse that Denat had initially deflected. One arrow stuck it’s mark and held the other pierced straight through the moist decayed flesh.
Anthem invoked her magical abilities and cast light inside the mausoleum ensure nothing was waiting for them there. She discovered that thankfully no undead residents remained within. Denat stabbed at his immediate threat landing another pin point strike with his rapier in the zombie’s shoulder but it seemed to have no effect on the creature. The zombie took advantage of the momentary strike and attempted to seize Denat so that it may feast upon his neck and shoulder. The ifrit held the beast momentarily back but was forced to the ground with the zombie’s hungry maw stinking of rotting flesh hovering over him chopping the empty air with a starved fervor.
“Denat!” Anthem cried out!
She rushed off the steps to aid him as two arrows zipped past her burying themselves into the creatures face and the corpse dropped lifelessly on top of Denat. Anthem reached him just as the creature fell, she slid to her knees and began to push the corpse off him. Denat shoved with all his strength to throw the dead weight off him as the second zombie closed in on the two entangled heroes. The creature attempted to body slam itself on top of Anthem to bury her as the prior had done with Denate.
“Anthem! Watch out!” Denat commanded as he leapt to his feet and shoulder checked the creature knocking it to the ground. Denat took Anthem’s hand and helped her to her feet. “You alright?” He asked.
“Yeah, than-GET DOWN!” Anthem yanked him back and stabbed the zombie lunging from behind burying her knife to the hilt in it’s face nearly caving in the soft skull of the monster.
Denat regained his footing and flourished his rapier before him finishing off the zombie that he had shouldered a moment before to save Anthem; his eyes immediately began scanning the fog thickened landscape which seemed to no longer belong to the living. With his back to Anthem, the ifrit and samsaren stepped in sequence turning in a counter clockwise motion, they could hear the sounds but not yet see the enemies that remained hidden in the mist.
“I think we’d best recover those items and get back.” Anthem mentioned to her dancing partner.
“Agreed, we need to get back and make sure Kendra is alright. Something tells me we aren’t the only ones in danger this night.” Denat replied.
ii
“No! That’s not possible! You can’t be here!” Kendra screamed as she scrambled backwards falling hard onto the floor.
Professor Lorrimor continued shuffling toward Kendra with a choked gurgling noise coming from what remained of his destroyed mouth and throat that the church of Pharasma had done their best to patch up. His hands out stretched were reaching for his daughter as she scooted back as quickly as possible. His milky white eyes were pried open to the point they looked about ready to roll out of their sockets. Those eyes were filled with need and demand but whether it was to hold his daughter again or feast upon her flesh was indeterminable to anyone.
Valora had leapt to her feet and sprinted into the dinning room where all of her pistols had been laid out for cleaning. She had not bothered to retrieve the one that had been flung somewhere when she’d been knocked back by the sudden appearance of the late professor. Valora knew that there was no time to look for it, the threat was here and it needed to be dealt with, he needed to be dealt with. She snacked one of her pistols off the table and strode back into the foyer trying to calm herself as she loaded her pistol so that Kendra would not be hurt by a poorly placed shot. This time was like any other, Valora could not afford to lose her edge and have someone else sacrificed to her mistake of judgement. The cartridge was loaded into the weapon and the firearm was cocked and leveled her firearm at the back of the professors head. Valora let out a pent up breathe and rested her finger on the trigger.
“I’m sorry you have to witness this Kendra.” Valora confessed in a soft tone as her finger began to squeeze the trigger.
iii
Anthem and Denate turned back to back waiting for the next attack. Clint’s sharp eyes scanned the landscape seeking a target. The two heroes in the open began to back up into the mausoleum never allowing their eyes to stop darting from one shadow to another. They climbed the stone steps of the mausoleum with Anthem cautiously stepping further into the crypt brushing aside cobwebs as she followed the wall with her hand. The crypt opened wider then it appeared to on the outside. A set of stairs set into the center of the back wall that led down into a large burial chamber lined with empty crevasses and niches in the wall with which to lay objects of memory or candles. There was a large stone sarcophagus that laid in the center of the room but seemed, for the moment at least to remain undisturbed. Glancing at the floor Anthem took immediate note of tacks across the dirt and dust and began to follow them to the back of the crypt, assuming they were Lorrimor’s and may lead her to the secretive stash. Denat waited at the top of the steps as Clint ducked inside with Anthem to aid her in finding the cache that held the promise of the professor’s final act of preparation.
“We’ve got to be more careful.” Clint commented as he walked the broad side of the crypt allowing her to follow the tracks.
“I agree, but at this point we’ve had only the illusion of choice thrust upon us. It would seem that trouble finds us wether we look for it or not.” Anthem replied to him.
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t find us in the same way it found Lorrimor.” Clint mentioned off handedly.
At the top of the steps Denat’s ears picked up movement and what sounded like the groaning of more ghouls. He turned his head back to glance inside the mausoleum hoping his companions had found something so they could leave this forsaken place. The ifrit had no issue in fighting, however he feared for the safety of his allies.
As Denat was about to mention they move this errand along Anthem came across the cache buried into a hole that had been broken open in the back corner. She grabbed the burlap sack that held the items and passed it to Clint who strapped it over his back. Denat took a step back at the foot of the steps and soon the heroes learned why, more guests had arrived and they were just as lifeless as those prior.
iv
The professor’s wretched stench washed over Kendra as the creature bore down on her now clawing and grasping for her arms and face. She was certain this is how it would end, all the tears, all the pain, all the suffering. This was the final chapter in her life and soon Kendra would be reunited with her father for eternity. In that moment she stopped fighting, no longer struggled, she welcomed the cold embrace of death.
“KENDRA! NO!”
Uther cried out as he dove over the banister of the second floor slamming into the professor with as much force as he could muster. He knocked the professor to the floor and the two rolled in struggle just as Valora let off a shot that exploded and splintered the wood just above Kendra’s head, barely missing the cleric. The two men struggled for a moment before Uther got pinned down by the professor, the cleric got a foot under the professor’s stomach and ejected the creature out the front door of the mansion. He leapt to his feet and dashed out the front door after his prey.
Calling back as he did,”Valora! Secure Kendra!”
Valora did as instructed and immediately rushed to Kendra’s side to assure she was alright. Kendra was shaking uncontrollably and sobbing over what had just occurred. Valora embraced the broken soul and held Kendra assuring her that everything would be fine. Nothing was going hurt her anymore, nothing and no one would ever harm her again. Valora swore it.
v
Uther leapt from the porch tackling the creature that was once professor Lorrimor. He landed hard with a thud on top of the professor, pinning the beast to the ground. Gurgling, the undead looked up at Uther with his milky irises. In that moment that cleric saw the last fleeting moments of humanity purge from the creature’s soul. Lorrimor’s wishes to be with his daughter were gone, there was nothing left of the professor in this shell. It was an empty hollow of black endless hunger. Nothing more.
“Good bye my friend…” Uther raised his arms straight into the sky. “By the Light of Iomedae! I cleanse you in the holy light of the goddess!”
The aasamir drove his hands into both sides of the zombie’s head and grasped it like a vice as holy energies poured out from him and into the creature. The celestial tattoo’s exploded with light like a beacon as Uther channeled as much positive aligned energy into the corpse as he could attempting to sanctify any piece of the soul that may still be attached. The professor was no longer struggling with Uther almost as it he was accepting his final fate. The flesh began to crackle and burn then it began to disintegrate in golden flames till there was nothing left but ash and the burial robes of professor Petros Lorrimor, who once and for all had been reunited with his goddess, Pharasma.
vi
Denat flourished his rapier and awaited the corpses, there were so many this time. Clint and Anthem came running to their ally and witnessed the horrid site he just had. It was a horde of zombies, the graveyard was full of them! Not just here and there but it seemed to over flow with them, more continuing to break out of the ground minute by minute. Anthem looked to Denat and Clint, wondering what to do now, would they be buried in this place or would fate have more vicious machinations in mind and turn them into undead like so many others.
“We’ll need to cut through them and get back to Ravengro.” Denat said in a stern tone his thoughts solely on Kendra and the others back at the mansion.
“Let us hope there is still a Ravengro to return to.” Client said as he knocked an arrow and took aim.
“There will be, the town is small but it’s still strong, just like us.” Anthem reassured them both.
The samsaren prayed that the others were safe but knew she had to focus on the task at hand for the moment, she wanted to see her friends again but would never have that chance if she didn’t make it out of this alive. Anthem placed glowing hands on her allies to briefly grant them resistance in the coming crucible. As the ghouls drew in closer to the mausoleum door Denat readied his stance to charge them.
“Be swift on your feet and swifter on your strikes my friends, we shall not fall this night. I am sure of it.” Denat spoke confidently assured of his own fate in all of this.
“Well, let’s get going then shall we?” Clint said as the first of the creatures entered the mausoleum.
He loosed the arrow which caught the zombie right in the head dropping it’s yet again lifeless corpse to the floor. Denat surged forward after the arrow and pierced the next opponent clean through it’s right eye socket, the eye had long ago deserted its master. Anthem had drawn her crossbow at this point and fired off a bolt that whizzed past denat punching into the shoulder of one of the zombies that admittedly almost severed the creature’s damaged arm but failed to drop the corpse completely. The heroes advanced on the door way with Clint firing off another arrow that met it’s mark between the eyes of a zombie coming up the stone steps. The allies’s fears had proved valid as the graveyard was over flowing with Ravengro’s dead and slowly the creatures were closing on the mausoleum, starving after decades without a meal. Denate ordered his companions to stay back as he descended the now clear steps and turned to the direction of Ravengro where thankfully it seemed the horde was at it’s most shallow. Clint readied an arrow and Anthem loaded her crossbow obeying the ifrit.
“Feel the fury of Katapesh!”
Denat called as his hair and eyes ignited in flames, with his free hand, Denat extended his arm straight out and a torrent of flames exploded from his fingertips like a flamethrower. The zombies were immediately engulfed by the inferno and those closest to the ifrit turned to ash before them. Denat opened up a small opening that Clint and Anthem took advantage of as the inferno began to die down . Anthem firing off another bolt that killed one of the zombies that had caught fire but had not yet fallen. Clint’s arrow struck down a corpse that stood before them without a jaw. Once Denat had exhausted his spell and hurried with them through the closing valley of grasping hands and hungry teeth. After all the foes he had just fell, more still continued like an unending tide of undead, it was unimaginable.
The heroes ran with Clint occasionally turning back and dropping a few more ghouls before the three campions made it out of the mist. They turned back once clear and waited for their pursuers to continue the fight. If they could fell as many bodies here as possible it would be that much easier on the militia of Ravengro, but as they waited nothing came. The heroes looked at one another as if confirming this was actually happening, the mist was clearing. They must have run more then sixty of seventy yards to get out the mist and graveyard but when the mist cleared the were at the foot of the entry way to the Restlands maybe 150 feet from the mausoleum that had nearly taken them in for the rest of eternity! Not only that, but the graveyard was empty! It was completely devoid of both the living and the undead. There was not a humanoid in sight with the candles of the lamp posts burning brightly in the dark night.
“By Sarenrae, what in the world was that.” Denat questioned.
“That isn’t possible.” Anthem agreed.
For a moment the heroes stood in confusion wondering if what they had experienced was even real. Clint and Anthem has used their arrows and bolts which they confirmed were missing and Denat’s innate magical abilities had been spent. That had been no hallucination but what felt like a test to survive proved now to be nothing more then a nightmare.
“We should get back, be sure Kendra is safe especially after this.” Clint urged his companions.
He was just as confused as the rest of them but Clint knew he needed to stay focused. The allies did not sheath their arms but rushed to Ravengro as quickly as their feet would carry them just incase they encountered something else in the night. It seemed as if something had tainted this place and it’s power was growing. The moon was full that night and for a moment Anthem would have sworn she could see a faded skull image of Groetus - a deity under Pharasma- which signaled a dark omen that bode a great apocalypse was imminent.
Ravengro was not the target of this hellish nightmare, it was merely the gateway to the physical realm.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 16
Clint, Anthem and Denat nearly exploded through the front door of the Ravengro mansion. Kendra was still being consoled by Valora in the foyer when they arrived a short while after the incident had occurred. Anthem immediately rushed over to Valora and Kendra and immediately asked:
“Are you alright sweetie?”
“She is fine. There was just an…ordeal.” Valora said after a pause not sure how to explain everything.
“What happened?” Denat asked.
Uther entered the room carrying a wooden box with him. When questioned by Denat what it was the aasamir looked him in the eyes and simply said an explanation would need to wait and that he would be returning shortly. He advised that for the time being they should get comfortable and keep the door locked. Not to open it under any circumstance except for him. For a moment Denat challenged the eyes of the cleric with his own stern gaze, Denat hated being kept in the dark, but after a moment he agreed. Uther let himself out and would return nearly a half hour later.
When Uther returned Clint allowed him to come back in and then a large wooden beam was laid across the door to prevent any unwanted intruders. Clint assured him that the mansion secure. No one else had come by and there were no other signs of entry that the archer could find. Uther trusted Clint’s eyes that all was well. Clint took him to the library just inside the foyer and then took a seat in one of the large wingback chairs, Kendra sat in another and Valora stood near by her. Uther took note that once again Valora was armed with all of her pistols. Denat was also practice his target practice on a dart board that hung on the wall with one of his throwing knives.
“Well, are you prepared to tell us what happened here?” Denat questioned him.
“Yes Dancing Flame, I believe now we have a moment to breathe and convene.” Uther answered as he poured himself a small drink from one of the decanters on one of the tables that held a rich red wine.
Uther began after having a sip of the wine. He recounted with some brief input from Valora the events that had occurred at the mansion that night. The waking nightmare the three of them had been forced to endure and how Kendra was forced to again relive the loss of her father. As he finished Kendra’s eyes began to pour forth more of her sorrow. Uther took another drink of his wine and then poured a glass for Kendra and offered it to her. She took it after some brief hesitation, the aasamir assured her it was to help with the pain, not to replace it. Kendra nodded through a couple heavy breathes and took the glass of crimson with a sip.
“And you are sure it was him? Sure it was professor Lorrimor?” Denat questioned.
“Yes, I am sure it was him exactly. He was resurrected with a Raise Dead spell.” Uther sighed for a moment. “Someone intentionally raise the professor from his sleep.”
“Could it occur again?” Denat asked.
“No, I returned the ashes and burial clothes to the church. I was very specific in my instruction to have the remains sanctified and buried under protective wards which I am confident the church would have done without my request.” Uther’s response with swift and stern. His confidence and commitment to those actions bore no doubt in any of them.
“You three were not alone in terror this night.” Anthem admitted, she then recounted the evening experienced by herself, Clint, and Denat.
“By the gods above.” Valora stated flatly.
“So there we have it… As we suspected this place is going to be the epicenter of horror until we find out and fix whatever it was that the Whispering Way did in the ruins of Harrowstone.” Denat committed firmly.
“Speaking of…” Clint got up and retrieved the sack recovered from the crypt out of the foyer and into the study.
A coffee table was cleared as the sack was opened and it’s con tense were laid out on the table. Inside the sack the group found a dozen silver arrows, four sun rods, six flasks of holy water, ten magically enhanced arrows, five magical ghost touch arrows, two magical undead bane arrows, five potions of cure light wounds, two potions of lesser restoration, a scroll of detect undead, two scrolls of hide from undead, a scroll of protection from evil, and a thin dark wood case decorated with an image of a scarab with a single eye glaring at them from it’s back. It was immediately recognized as the same symbol on the cover of the purple tome.
Everyone looked to one another and decided that Clint would open the box, the archer checked thoroughly for any switches or triggers to ensure the box was not trapped as he felt they had enough surprises for one evening. When he was convinced there was nothing malignant in wait regarding the case he gently opened the lid. What laid inside were three objects of interest. A spirit board with a brass spirit planchette, and four iron and glass vials containing tiny churning clouds of vapor. The vials had been placed in their own velvet lined section of the case beside the spirit board but it was immediately determined that there were six empty indentions next to the four vials.
“Where did the professor get haunt siphons?” Uther asked aloud to himself.
“What is a haunt siphon?” Valora questioned.
“Basically it acts like a trapping grenade for ghosts.” Anthem explained. “When this vial is opened near a haunt the mist released is filled with positive energy that harms the spirit and if it is able to drain enough of the haunts energy it will disburse the being completely. Then the haunts negative energy is stored in the haunt siphon which could then be used like a small grenade to release the negative energy at a later time.”
Where did he get these indeed? Valora echoed Uther’s earlier thought in her mind.
“And what of that?” Denat pointed to the spirit board. “What is the purpose of that object.”
“That is used to communicate with the dead.” Kendra spoke up. The others turned to look her way wondering how she knew what this object was. “It’s a spirit board that can be used to connect realms beyond our physical one.” She said wiping away her tears and drying her eyes. “ I have seen father use it once of twice.”
“That would explain why people believed he was a necromancer, the closed minded always fear what they do not understand.” uther commented.
“And you approve of using this object?” Client asked.
“I understand it’s purpose, wether or not I approve is irrelevant. As long as this thing does not bring harm to this house or any of it’s inhabitants that I have sworn to protect it may be allowed to stay. Only under those conditions.” Uther said firmly.
“Hm, I see.” Clint responded.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
At that moment there was a hard knock at the door, Valora drew her pistols and Clint knocked an arrow at the front door from his view in the study. Uther gripped his longsword and Denat his rapier neither of them drawing their weapons just yet. Kendra visibly jumped and nearly dropped her wine glass in the process There was a pause in the room each of them waiting for something to happen wondering what in the world was about to occur. Then came the voice.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 17
“Lady Lorrimor! Lady Lorrimor are you home? Please it’s urgent!” A male called to them from outside the front door.
Uther went to the front door and opened it slightly while Valora and Clint kept their weapons trained on the door. The cleric came eye to eye with one of the town’s militia men who was visibly anxious and full of fear about something that had occurred. When Uther cracked the door enough to see the man, the soldier immediately blurted out:
“ Lord Uther! You must come quickly! There is another letter on the statue just like the only from the other day! Please, you and Lady Lorrimor must come quickly!”
Uther’s icy blue eyes pierced through the man and he delivered his panicked message and once the man had calmed himself and stopped to breathe the aasamir opened the door wide. He thanked the man for delivering the message and advised he return to his superiors to get guidance on what to do next, they would leave for the town square shortly. The nervous man thanked him profusely and then hurried off to report that his errand had been completed.
Uther sighed as the man ran off and shut the door, locking it as well. He returned to the study where everyone sat and looked to him as if they had heard everything that was said which Uther believed they had the man and all but shouted the information at him.
“This insanity just doesn’t let up does it?” Valora remarked off handedly.
“It would not seem so.” Uther replied to her comment. He then looked to Kendra who was still holding her wine glass taking another sip. “ Kendra, if you are not up to this then it’s fine. We can go without you and investigate this if need be, I don’t want you troubled anymore tonight.”
Kendra shook her head as she took a sip of the her wine and then set the glass down on the table. "Thank you for your consideration Uther, I appreciate it but if the town has come looking for me specifically then I should not disappoint them. I need to be reliable for them despite my own perils right now." She replied.
Uther was profoundly pleased with Kendra in this moment. After all that she had been through she still was not willing to let others down and wallow in her own tribulations. The cleric was sure that soon there would be grieving over what had occurred but for the time being Kendra would be able to stay focused and reliable for those in Ravengro. A commitment that spoke volumes of her inner character to which Uther could not have been more proud of her.
The party gathered their things and left the security of the mansion and ventured out into the night air. A fall breeze nipped at their faces as they traveled the streets to the town square when even in the dead of night a crowd had gathered around the Harrowstone monument. The people were holding candles and torches whispering amounts one another just as they had prior when something strange had occurred and thus the heroes assumed this would be no different. Their suspicions were confirmed as the approached the monument as witnessed that the bloody "V" had returned to the stone work and was now accompanied by an "E" painted in the same medium.
Clint confirmed with one of the town militia present that the prior night the "V" had been wiped clean and that guards had been posted around the site all night. Someone it seems, someone had snuck past the guardsmen and reapplied the letters to the statue. This would also serve the purpose of confirming that this was no normal prankster at work but something certainly more sinister and it was apparently escalating with each passing night, but what would be the finale? That would pose to be a question none of them wished to answer.
After Kendra spent some time with Father Grimburrow examining the scene and deducing about as much as they had before she reassured some of the concerned on lookers that everything would work out just fine and confirmed with the guards that if possible more meant would be posted especially with tomorrow's festivities. Father Grimburrow also suggested that the guards patrol the out lying farms and see if anything suspicious was reported by the farmers there, being that the blood was still bovine it could be possible that perhaps some livestock had gone missing and perhaps a culprit may have been spotted.Clint volunteered to check in with the guardsmen later on tomorrow and see if anything had been reported that may be able to give them a lead on the vandal.
The group returned to the mansion deciding that perhaps the spirit board would be offer some incite to the incident or even lead them to the person responsible. It certainly would be a shot in the dark but after all they didn't really have much to go on as it was. It was agreed that Kendra would be the one to use the item since she had the most experience with magical items however Uther would stay close by just in case something were to go wrong. Summoning specific spirits could be a perilous venture by even the most practiced magical sage, summoning a random spirit through a weak connection like a spirit there was no guarantee of what you might drag out of the ethereal plane.
I
The spirit board was moved into the dinning room and to the large table so there would be plenty of room so as to accommodate Kendra in the seance. Candles were placed in ritualistic locations all about the room as per Kendra's instructions. Clint seemed to think that Kendra may have known more about this object then she had originally let on but he wasn't about to through an accusation out in the open with out valid cause and reason. All of the companions took a seat at the table save for Uther who elected to stand directly behind Kendra's chair so as to take control of the situation and protect her in the event of a spiritual attack. Uther promised himself that whatever came out of the board would bring no harm to Kendra or anyone else in this room. He swore it.
With all present and gathered around the table Kendra closed her eyes and began to focus on her breathing. She took a few moments to channel her arcane energies into the brass planchette and spirit board. Kendra rested her slender fingers on the edges of the planchette and it slowly began to move. The triangular brass pointer coasted smoothly over the arcane lettering of the spirit board and it began to gain speed as it swooped across the magical surface. The companions looked to one another and Uther gently laid his hands on Kendra's slender shoulders protectively, the aasamir's eyes never left magical objects not sure what to expect but leaving nothing to chance.
"Are you with us now?" Kendra asked after a moment longer of focusing on the object maintaining her arcane connection.
The pointer glided over to the arcane symbol marked "yes" at the top right of the spirit board.
Hoping to make a personal condition or perhaps determine whom it was they were dealing with she followed up with: " Do you remember your name?"
The point held it's place over the "yes" for a moment then glided over to the symbol marked " no".
"I'm sorry, do you mind if I ask you a question about Ravengro?" Kendra spoke softly with her eyes still shut maintaining her connection to her magic not allowing her discipline to waver for fear of the consequences.
The brass planchette glided away from the "no" and then returned to it and rested there answering the mage.
"Do you know whom is marking the letters on the Harrowstone monument?" Kendra inquired.
The triangular instrument glided away from the "no" and then utilized the arcane letting to spell out S-P-L-A-T-T-E-R-M-A-N. The name given to Harrowstone's most feared prisoner.
Kendra's face scrunched up for a moment trying to understand. "But splatter man is dead, isn't he?"
The spirit responded by hovering back to the "yes" symbol.
"Then how can Splatterman be painting the letters?" Kendra asked.
The spirit moved the planchette about the board not hovering over any particular letter for very long indicating confusion.
"Who is Splatterman after? Whose name is he spelling out?" Kendra pressed.
There was no response.
"Is it someone in Ravengro?"
No response.
"Are you still with us?"
No response.
Uther spoke.
"The only truth that remains: blood for blood. All shall perish." His voice was rough and guttural as if he was speaking abyssal or infernal. the aasamir's eyes were white. Something had possessed him.
The companions sprang from their seats except Kendra who was still being held down by Uther in her seat. Valora leveled a pistol at his temple and demanded he let her go. The aasamir didn't respond to any of them, he just stood there stiff and solid like a statue. Valora pulled back the hammer on her weapon and Clint knocked an arrow prepared to bring the cleric down.
Then he was Uther again.
His eyes cleared and he looked at them in a state of confusion, clearly lost about what had just transpired. Uther looked at Valora from the corner of his eye not moving a muscle but gently and slowly moving his hands off Kendra allowing her to get up out of her chair. The cleric scanned the room and looked each of them in the eye before finally saying in a voice conveying failure and disappointment.
"I was taken by that thing, wasn't I?"
"Yes, you were." Valora spit venomously.
Uther lowered his head. "Forgive me, I have failed you all. I am to be a bastion of the holy and a champion of light, yet I allowed some foreign spirit to plague my soul and betray my defenses. I will understand if you feel that I can no longer be trusted."
Kendra stepped forward. "Uther, what did you see?"
Uther looked up at her while his crystal blue eyes. "I saw fire, blood, and darkness... I think also... A man with his face covered by a dragons skull."
Anthem flinched at the mention of the man with the mask. An image of his laugh face flashed through her mind briefly but then it was gone.
"So just like that you are fine again?" Valora pressed.
Uther turned and looked her in the eyes now. " I can assure you here is nothing inhabiting my body but me."
They held each other's gaze for a moment longer testing one another's commitment.
"Enough!" Kendra shouted at them. " We are done with this damned thing. If Uther could succumb to it's evil then none of us are safe."
"What about you spirit whom told us of Splatterman? Can we believe it?" Denat inquired.
"And what about what Uther was saying?" Clint remarked. "What if that was the same spirit and if so... Can we believe any of it?"
There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over the room and tension set in quickly.
"I will stay at the inn this evening. If there is anything... Residual, I don't want to be near any of you when it chooses to manifest." Uther stated uncompromisingly.
"Thought you were empty." Valora replied, her words dripping with sarcasm.
Uther shot her a look, beginning to run low on patience.
Anthem spoke up. " Kendra said that's enough! Both of you stop that. What's done is done, we are all fine and there we got some answers tonight. Let's enjoy the progress made and resume this all tomorrow."
Uther and Valora held their gaze a moment longer before Valora finally chose to holster her pistol and walked over taking her place behind Kendra. Anthem requested Uther to stay behind and she would assist him with any protection from evil spells at her disposal to ease his mind at sleeping through the night; she personally believed he was not a threat to any of them and knew it would be best if they stayed together in this ever changing nightmare. Uther begrudgingly agreed but was internally grateful to Anthem for giving him the courtesy of faith in him when even his own foundations had just been shaken by the experience.
The heroes slept soundly that evening in their respective rooms. Clint actually being the last to fall asleep, truth be told he had stayed up and listened to the session between Anthem and Uther to ensure the cleric would not hurt her once they were alone. His recon had verified Uther was no longer a threat at least for the moment but it still troubled Clint as to just what in the word they were dealing with if a powerful cleric of Iomedae could be controlled so easily. Each day Ravengro was becoming more hostile with new terrors arising from the shadows and Clint was determined to find out what it was that the late professor had uncovered or perhaps stumbled into. Clint would stop the threat, at any cost necessary.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 18
After finding another bloody letter on the Harrowstone memorial the companions decided to take Harrowstone in full force after the festival. The morning of the festival had been filled with more research specifically on the prison, it's structure, and its inhabitants. Kendra and Valora had steeped out to assist in the town square decorations were the center of the festival would commence. The mansion was fairly quiet although all present were very aware after the past few days there could be an immediately escalated event at any time. None of them laid a finger on the spirit board since Kendra's seance, they still were not in agreement if the unknown spirit they had contacted or any spirit contacted by those means could be trusted completely.
Uther was particularly troubled recently with everything happening, whenever he attempted to enter meditation or commune with Iomedea something kept forcing its way into his mind. Something that appeared to be a sonnet:
Put her body on the bed,
Take a knife and lop her head,
Watch the blood come out the pipe,
Feeds the stirge, so nice and ripe,
Drops of red so sparkly bright
With a hammer killed his wife
Now he wants to claim your life
Tricksy father tells a lie
Listen close or you will die.
Uther had never heard the dark rhyme before coming to Ravengro, plus what made this all stranger was that he could not recall anyone else ever signing the song. Uther had not spoken of this to anyone for fear of what it could mean. His companions had enough to deal with right now anyways. Once they made it to Harrowstone he was convinced they could stop all of the afflictions Ravengro had previously suffered though.
After most of the day had passed Kendra and Valora returned with both in high spirits., excited for the festival that evening. The Festival of Hallowed Remembrance was meant to be a celebration of those who had past and commune with loved ones when the veil between the Material Realm and the Ethereal Plane was at it's thinnest. Even for Ravengro, small town that it was, this would be an event folks had awaited with much anticipation. Especially in light of recent events, this would prove to be a much needed distraction. At this point the bigger the distraction the better and that was something Councilman Hearthmount was pushing hard to deliver as much for the people as for his current position as councilman. Admittedly the town was in a brighter mood this day and as dusk bore down on them the excitement only grew.
The companions left the mansion together that night walking through the main streets taking in the beauty of soft glowing lamps and candles in windows that the town residents had lit to guide there ancestors to the center of town where the celebration would be held. The cloudless night revealed a black sky ablaze with stars, perhaps a gift from the goddess Desna on this sacred night. The townsfolk they passed would nod and some would wave to the group appreciating that these foreigners would come and participate in their customs. It seemed that after a while Ravengro was accepting to those from outside her boarders if one would be polite and courteous to her rituals, the fact that Kendra walked often with the group and that she was a Ravengro native probably helped to put some troubled minds at ease as well.
As the heroes arrived at the center of town all of them were mystified by the atmosphere of the place. Soft glowing candles lit the street in a warm orange and reflected off pieces of decorative pieces of glass, masks, and paper ornaments that had been hung on lines connecting the outlying buildings to the where a gazebo had been constructed in the square next to the Harrowstone Memorial. The gazebo currently was providing shelter to a bard and her companions who would be providing music later in the evening. Along the outer rim of the town square people had either set up stands or were selling festive items like food and souvenirs from their personal shops. Children ran about laughing and playing with their parents sharing stories and part taking of the festivities. The companions decided to go their separate ways from here so that they may enjoy the festival but also that they may watch over the event to ensure nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
I
Denat strode through the festival square and was reminded of the cluttered shops of Katapesh, merchants shouting to bring in business, people trading goods and services, children causing mischief. Denat had performed his own share of immature rebellion when he was a young prince and often enjoyed escaping the captive walls of his royalty so that he could play like any other kid. The merchants of Katapesh might have lost a piece of fruit or two when the young price was patrolling his city, not for want of hungry, simply for want of sport. Those merchants whom did not realize who the young boy was proved especially entertaining in their attempt to case him down at all costs to ensure the their was taught a lesson. Denat enjoyed these fine childhood memories as he walked and greeted the citizens of Ravengro. These were good people, hard skin, distrusting to outsides, and generally blunt in conversation but still good people none the less and Denat enjoyed seeing them so joyful on this night.
II
Anthem walked about the shops speaking with the merchants about their souvenirs and while some of them hesitated at first due to the samsaren's blue skin and snowy eyes they could generally be garnered by her charm once a conversation was struck. She was having fun this night, perhaps the first time Anthem had enjoyed herself like this since coming to Ravengro. It was refreshing to see the people enjoying themselves and accepting the joys of life again, even if it would only be for this night. They showed themselves to be people capable of being happy and Anthem enjoyed that fact above anything else right now. She had experienced many life times in many different places but the joy of others was what she always enjoyed the most because it should that as hard as this life could be, it wasn't completely filled with sorrow and pain. As she walked through the crowd she nearly stumbled over Councilman Hearthmount at one point spilling her drink all over him as Hearthmount was hurriedly rushing about for one reason or another.
"Good evening councilman." Anthem greeted him with a warm smile.
"Professor Rain." The council returned the smile with a slight bow. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"
"They are positively wonderful, you and the others did a fine job putting all this together in such a short amount of time. Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time as well." Anthem replied to him.
"Glad to hear it, our town needs a breathe of peace after what has been happening, you and your companions came at just the right time it would seem." The councilman stated apparently forgetting the reason the heroes had shown up originally.
"Yes, well, the universe works in mysterious ways at times doesn't it?" Anthem replied and took a sip of her drink. Her eyes bright with diplomacy but behind them she could not think of anything else to call him besides an ass.
"So it does! Well if you would excuse me there are other things I must attend too, have a pleasant evening professor Rain." With that the councilman bowed slightly and took his leave of her continuing his ever difficult PR campaign to ensure he remained at the head of the council.
III
When they had arrived Clint immediately took his leave of everyone and decided it would prove beneficial to maintain over watch of the festival because the archer was not going to let his guard down over a party. Honestly, he never let his guard down for anything; certainly some people would call this paranoia but Clint always referred to it as tactical self awareness. After all, an assassin would have a difficult time knifing you in the back if you were constantly on the look out for him.
Clint found a suitable house to scale fairly quickly, not wanting to disturb the inhabitants of the home if there even were any, he found his footing and began to climb the side of the wall in a dark alley. the wood and stone proved sturdy enough to support him and the roof high enough that he was able to witness the entire event as it unfolded. He would watch the crowd of townsfolk and the shop keepers but who he payed the closed attention to was his fellow adventures. As Denat strolled about and Anthem made small diplomacies with the natives Clint would watch over them like a tireless sentry. Especially keeping a close eye on Valora and Kendra as the greeted others of the town.
Clint was most grateful to Valora keeping Kendra nearly attached to her hip most waking moments since the incidents, Clint felt she was appropriately safe and reliable which feed him up to watch over the others. Such a joyous gathering would make a magnificent target for misery or suffering like the town had already been caught in. Wether it was an individual or something else causing all of this Clint did not know for sure however he was convinced of one thing. If this was the cause of one person they would not let this night pass without disturbance, he was convinced of this because it would be something he himself would see to disrupt if his agenda were to be more malicious.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 19
People gathered about the gazebo as the bard and her group began to strike up a haunting rhythm of spirits and whispers from days long past. Being unable to break away after so many years of captivity, finally released to freedom but with no place go or no purpose to go. The front woman of the group captivated the audience with her attire consisting of red silk and think black belts and buckles that draped over her in very gothic fashion. None could deny her attention and not because of her beauty and her magic of performance, but because of her voice and the music produced by her companions.
It was all very Ustalavic in nature albeit a tad more lively then tradition would dictate but it served well to those of the younger generation as well as the elder who enjoyed the stories she wove among the captivating notes and haunting rhythms. All enjoyed the show, Denat and Anthem included. Anthem for the culture of the music and Denat for the performer of the art. After a couple songs had been sung and more then a few of Ravengro's hearts captivated by this eloquent bard she settled on a softer song of lose and mourning. Conveying the difficulty of loss and he strength it requires to move forward. This was the song that Kendra had identified with, it brought back painful memories to be sure but it also soothed the burn of old wounds. This bard was talented and well versed in her craft, always seeming to convey just the right message with her magic influencing just the right feelings for those experiencing her performance.
Clint did not deter from his watch even once the bard began her craft. As much as he would like to enjoy the festivities, keeping a steady watch suited the retired soldier far better. The gathering was moving about excitement with people laughing and cheering each other on at one festival game or another. The aroma of seasonal festivity foods wafted up from the town square filling the night air with all things sweet and spicy. Clint continued to scan for key targets both those of high importance to ensure their safety like Anthem as she conversed with councilman Hearthmount as well as suspicious individuals that were lurking about both in the crowd and in the shadows. For the majority of the festivities all remained quite and very ordinary from Clint's perch. The town's folk scurried about enjoying the party, merchants enjoyed the income from their wares and the bard with her band reached a crescendo of one of their performances beneath the colored lights.
I
The crowd of townsfolk clapped and cheered as the bard finished her song. Across the town square the mood was cheerful and festive, everything was going beyond expected and the councilman could not have been more pleased, he had even allowed himself to relax on the personal relations crusade and enjoy the bard and her performance. As the bard struck another song something changed. A thick fog began to emanate from the center of the gazebo. It glided over the wooden floor where the bard and her band performed and began to roll into the crowd. Everyone cheered and clapped at the new theatrics presented, everyone was impressed. Everyone except for the bard whom had no idea what this was for neither she nor her companions had summoned this effect. She continued to sing and spin about the stage going with this new effect assuming it was something perhaps the councilman had put together to enhance the performance. Clint noticed the bard's initial hesitation and readied his bow.
This is it, Client thought.
As the fog spread through the crowd more and more people seemed to visibly tire from the initial festive fervor they had just possessed moments ago. As he watched over the crowd Clint noticed a dark figure behind the Harrowstone Memorial, humanoid in shape the person was large in frame but moved very gracefully for their size. The stranger climbed atop the memorial's pedestal and swung around the statued leg of Warden Harken. Taking a small leap over to the gazebo where the band was still performing albeit at a less enthusiastic pace then before. Something in that fog was drone people of their excitement, of their life force.
As the creature climbed into the gazebo the Denat and Anthem began to look around and note of the fog rolling through the town square. Anthem immediately recognized it as not a normal but unsure as to what it was doing to the townsfolk who just seemed to stand there motionless, eyes heavy and their bodies began to slump where they stood. Anthem went over and tried to speak to one of the people affected by this fog but they did not respond. They appeared to be almost sleep walking without actually moving. Then the shadows came.
As Denat moved through the crowd his ifrit eyes caught a shadowy figure that drifted through the crowd and stopped in front of one Ravengro's dumpier citizens and leaned in towards the man as if sharing a hush secret. The shadowy figure raised an arm and gently touched the mans portly face. The man without any reaction or emotion as if he wasn't even aware of the creature before him just dropped in a heap as if he'd just suffered a heavy blow to the head that rendered him unconscious. Denat immediately lashed out with his rapier stabbing at the creature whom had "attacked" this citizen only a feet from the warrior. The slender blade pierced the shadow in the shadow and then almost like a mirage the thing disappeared. It disappeared into the fog it had sprang from. Thoroughly confused but not dropping his guard Denat quickly checked the man that had just fallen and felt for a pulse, it was weak but it was there. He would live thankfully.
Anthem moved about the crowd, the townsfolk seemed to be like zombies without their unnatural hunger. She was struck with deja vu from the mausoleum that night prior when they had barely escaped with their lives. These people seemed o still be alive however and in some form of stasis or waking sleep. It was very strange and she had never seen anything like it before. Anthem noticed then that she was not the only thing moving amongst the crowd. Creatures draped in what appeared to be shadow or supernatural darkness drifted through the town square almost like feathers on the wind. It wasn't eradicate however, it was graceful, haunting. From what she gathered there only seemed to be three or four of them that she could count and they moved about the townsfolk with little to no interest.Anthem could not deny their purpose here was sinister under a veil of innocence and benign wonder. Recently her experiences with spirits proved they were not all positive beings and while these spirits were not directly lashing out directly, she could not discern there purpose here and that did unnerve her greatly. Her universal intuition was not to be doubted, at that moment Denat would witness the first victim to the monsters and the launch his attack only to disburse a shadow that may not have been there in the first place.
II
Client observed these events unfold before him from his rooftop perch. He witnessed the shadows dropping townsfolk and observed Anthem and Denat both beginning to interact with their creatures of shadow. What bother Clint was that his sharp eyes could not locate Kendra nor Valora, as well as the humanoid creature that had made his way to the gazebo stage. The bard has ceased her performance and just like everyone else in the town was standing slumped in a sleepy daze. The intruder gracefully strode over to the bard specifically coming up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Clint drew an arrow and knocked it back waiting for a clear shot at the creature's head. The shadow leaned in and appeared to whisper something to the bard. At that moment, she dropped to the floor and Clint loosed his arrow. The projectile cut through the night arrow and nailed its mark, then it bounced of a shield of force that apparently enveloped the shadowy horror. Clint cursed under his breathe and decided to target one of the shadowy creatures attacking another Ravengro citizen. This arrow penetrated the shadow and dispersed it before it's victim dropped to the ground however the arrow did pierce the shoulder of the man before the creature. The man did not seem to reach or even notice that he had been struck.
What in the hell is all this? Clint thought to himself as he readied another arrow.
Uther was moving through the bodies as the fog rolled in. His immediate concern was for Kendra and her safety, he knew Valora would protect her but this felt like something that would not be able to be solved with a bullet. As he moved through the stunned mass that congregated in the town square Uther remained ever vigilant of his surroundings. The aasamir was very aware of the shadowy predators that stalked their prey within the townsfolk however as he searched for Kendra and Valora he noticed that dark figure that remained in the gazebo and watched over the ritual attacks. Immediately knew this creature would be the one to end this, if he could cut off the head then the body would fall away.
Iomedae's cleric strode through the crowd moving directly toward the shadowy leader. His tattoos beginning to shine in the darkness, a beacon of light. Clint loosed another arrow into one of the shadows feeding on one of the townsfolk and noticed Uther's direction of attack, the archer knocked an arrow back to cover his ally, something terrible was about to happen and Uther would not be facing it alone.
Anthem saw the shiny of Uther's tattoos and looked ahead of the path he was set on heading towards the gazebo. She saw the shadow figure in the center and was immediately racked with fear. She knew this thing from somewhere, she just couldn't remember from where. A few feet from her Denat punched his rapier through a shadowy predator dispersing it. He called to Anthem to assist him, no matter where he struck the things would just disappear and reappear somewhere else. She apologized to Uther and pursed the shadows with Denat firing bolts when he shots were clear and channeling magic when opportune.
Uther's tattoos cut into the darkness illuminating the entire town square as he stormed the steps. He drew his longsword and brandished his shield before him. As he stepped up to face this new evil he proclaimed:
"I, Uther, Beacon of Iomedae demand that yo-" he was silenced in an instant. Before he could finish the beast had smashed his shield aside and grabbed him by the throat lifting him clean off the ground. Uther swung at the monster with his longsword but the horror caught his for arm and stopped it mid swing. With his tattoos illuminating the entire area Uther stared into the face and eye of his foe. Half the man's face was covered with a dragons skull, the other half reveling a red glowing eye and long fangs filling his mouth. Uther's light had destroyed the creature's cloak of magical darkness but the villain didn't seem to care. He simply held that malicious grin and then spoke a single invitation.
"Come little bunny, let us play a game!"
Clint loosed an arrow and right at that moment there was a great explosion of fire and both the villain and the cleric vanished in the fire ball and burst of smoke that followed. The arrow struck the wood of the gazebo lodging itself in the floorboard.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 20
When they disappeared the fog from the town square lifted and the townsfolk began to regain their bearing from the living nightmare. None of them seemed to recall the life threatening events that occurred just moments ago. The shadow creatures had disappeared, but so had Uther.
Denat and Anthem hurried through the crown ensuring that the newly awakened townsfolk, especially those that were touched by the shadowy figures were unharmed. Clint descended swiftly down the side of the building he had perched upon using a string of lanterns that had connected another building and held strong as he swooped down to the ground. The moment his feet touched the stone work he broke into a sprint to the gazebo.
Client flew past the townsfolk effortlessly moving between them and skid to a halt once he reached the steps. He immediately began to examine the gazebo steps and the area that Uther had stood just moments ago with that shadow. Anthem and Denat joined him shortly after and he informed them what he had seen happen to their companion. How in just a flash, the cleric was gone, taking to some fate unbeknownst to any of them. As Clint painted the fate of Uther to them his eyes caught something out of place burned into the woodwork.
The symbol that Clint had found was a rough outline of an eye, with an inverted cross in the center of where the iris would have been. Client circled it twice and confirmed it was right where his target and Uther had stood before. He pointed out the symbol to Anthem and asked if she could identify it. After a moment of contemplation, Anthem was struck with recollection, she knew this symbol and exactly who, or more appropriately what, it belonged to.
"That is the symbol of... Gorgarothe. A pit fiend of the of the lowest hells." She said grimly to her companions.
"A pit fiend?" Denat questioned.
"It is a creature treated of fire and destruction. It's only existence is to tournament the living and enslave the eternally damned. What it could want with Uther... I know not. Pit fiends crave creatures of powerful magic or exception strength, they seek to enslave the most powerful of the physical realms in order to corrupt them into their forsaken army of lost souls so that they may wage war on the higher celestial planes." Anthem felt a chill snake it's way up her spine.
Kendra came running up to the gazebo with Valora at her side. Clint was relieved to see Kendra still under guard and both unharmed. Perhaps this Valora was someone that could be trusted, cold and stubborn as she was. Clint had yet to see her loyalty falter, the sign of a true sister in arms.
"Is everyone alright?" Kendra asked immediately, with a look of fear in her eyes.
"We're just fine sweetie. Are you ok?" Anthem responded.
Valora went to Clint who continued expecting the burn mark. "Find something?"
Clint looked up at her and shook his head for a moment, he could tell Valora knew he was lying but thankfully she didn't choose to press the issue. Kendra and Valora had been controlled just like the rest of the town but luckily the shadowed creatures had not sought them out. Kendra would not be told of Uther here, not now with what had just occurred. The situation needed to be explained carefully and the besides, none of them even knew where Uther had been taken, or why.
The heroes returned to the mansion a short while later and decided that in the morning, they would venture to Harrowstone tomorrow. this nightmare had to end once and for all. Perhaps that is where Uther had been taken as well, if nothing else it would be a good place to begin the search for the cleric. When morning broke they would pack and venture out in the safety of daylight and would scour every inch of that prison for Uther and abolish whatever evil they encountered.
Before the night end the heroes had one final visitor to the Lorrimor mansion. A member of the town militia stopped by at the request of Councilman Hearthmount to ensure that everyone was safe and to thank the adventures for there deeds of heroism. It seemed that the townsfolk attending the gathering were talking about the strangers who saved the day. No one had seen anything but there were already rumors spreading about the heroes in their nightmares. Warriors of might and magic who stayed the shadowy dreams that tried to feast on the victims souls. Everyone believed it was but a dream but no one could deny the fact that everyone had the same dream with the same details. This had also encouraged a lot of fear from the town and the Councilman had called an emergency town hall meeting an announce his place to make the evil plague their town to rest. The councilman was hoping that the champions of the festival would be there to support his plan and may help to ease the tensions of the town.
They had no choice to agree. The town was falling apart and if an appearance would help to support the people, how could they refuse? The heroes agreed to explore Harrowstone the next morning and then return to Ravengro in the afternoon to attend the town hall meeting in the evening. The group hoped that tomorrow they would finally be able to begin solving some problems and get some answers since coming to Ravengro. So far things have simply escalated from one day to the next and soon, something was going to break beyond repair.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 21
The dawn broke over the ridge of Ravengro that morning and the adventures rose with it. Each of them ensuring that their blades were sharp, bow strings taught, and spells prepared accordingly. No one knew what horrors would be found in that prison but it was sure to test their spirits. Anthem came down stairs to find Kendra sitting in the dinning room near the window with a hot cup of coffee and a stoic gunslinger both within her grasp. She looked out at the dawn light as it bathed the street in golden light, Kendra then turned to the samsaren with a soft smile upon her graceful features.
"Good morning Anthem, did you sleep well?" Kendra asked her.
"I did, thank you Kendra." Anthem took a seat in one of the large arm chairs next to Kendra. "And yourself?"
"Soundly, thank you. I must confess though, I have not seen Uther this morning, or last night. Have you seen him?" Kendra inquired
Anthem and Valora shared a quick glance. "I haven't no, I'm sure he is about though." Anthem lied, sort of.
"Hm. Well, I must get to work." Kendra stood and took a sip of her coffee. She wished Anthem luck and asked her to be very careful out there. When Anthem confirmed that they would Kendra disappeared into the kitchen with Valora giving the oracle a nod and smile before following Kendra to assist her in cleaning the kitchen.
Anthem let out a pent up breathe when the two left. She hated lying to Kendra but they needed some answers before anything could be said for sure to console or comfort her. After all she had already lost her father, she couldn't lose her guardian and friend for so long right now. That would be too much. Clint came down stairs about this time and was tightening the buckles on his vest and armbands, he greeted Anthem when he entered the dinning room.
"Ready to go?" Clint asked.
"Yes, ready to start getting some answers." Anthem replied to him.
"Agreed. Hopefully we'll find sparkles in there too." Clint remarked.
"Yeah, Kendra still doesn't suspect anything as far as I know." Anthem said with a slight regretful edge in her tone.
"She's not ready, not yet. Plus we might be able to find him and bring him back like nothing happened. No one will be the wiser." Clint proposed.
"Except for us." Denat remarked as he entered the room. "We should inform Kendra when the time is right, but let's find out companion first and secure his safety." A fire of confidence burned in the ifrit that they all took strength from.
The companions set out shortly after dawn had risen. Moving through the quite streets of Ravengro with but a handful of townsfolk already up and about. More then a few smiling in the direction of the companions, one even waved to them as they past. There was a joyful air in the town this morning, it seemed to seep over from the night before. Despite the horror the heroes had faced the Festival of Hallowed Remembrance had been a wonderful success for the town's spirit and demeanor. It seemed that even in the blackest darkness, all one needed was a spark of happiness to change the perspective.
As the heroes ventured out of the town the morning sky had began to ignite and cast a ray of greens and yellows over the horizon. The grounds of the prison were lit by the sun once they arrived and tentatively approached the front gates. The gates hung on ruined hinges from neglect and creaked softly in the morning breeze. Clint chose to climb the stone wall next to the ruined gate, the archer bounded fluidly up and over to the other side as Anthem inspected the gates a little closer. She hesitantly touched the gates expecting another flashback like when she had first visited the prison but nothing came. She pushed on the gate which resisted at first but as she forced it a little hard the left side of the gate fell clean over free of the hungers that held it fast for so long. The crashing gate nearly crush Clint whom leapt aside as the rusted bars thundered to the ground. He looked at Anthem as if to question her failed assassination attempt.
"Whoops..." She replied and smiled sweetly trying to play the whole unintentional thing off.
Denat stood and watched as the entire event unfold before him. As the gate crashed to the side he couldn't help but smirk and think what an odd group of people they were, in such a foreign place to any of them. Quite the adventure so far... The ifrit noble was most grateful he chose to leave Katapesh.
"Well that works too!" Denat stated as he walked through the now broken entry point, past Clint who was still shaking his head at Anthem.
The prison itself was a testament to tenacity of nature attempting to take back all things that stood upon it's ground. The partially over grown track led them from the front gate winding around the hill the prison sat up and eventually curling back up to the southern slope of the prison itself. The eastern portion of Harrowstone had fallen away into a massive sinkhole that had taken on water forming a sizable lake. The sink hole took not only a large eastern portion of the structure but also the prison's graveyard to which had now long since drowned the corpses of it's former inhabitants. The rest of the stone work had worn away being exposed to the elements. Walls had given way and broken apart, the roof was sagging heavily and vines had begun to pull the prison back into the earth that it was build upon. Some of the stone gargoyles that had at one time functioned as drain spouts still held tenaciously to the architecture. Some of the stone sentinels remained on guard but a few had crumbled or fallen away due to the unkept weathering of past decades. The prison had appeared like it was built to last the ages but in just six short decades something else seemed to prematurely where down the structure and age it quicker then it's prime would have indicated.
The heroes stepped over the grass covered pathway up to the front of the prison where the stone columns supported a slumping wooden balcony over head of the entry ways large wooden doors. The doors for the moment hung askew much like the iron gate however they appeared to be more stable and would require perhaps more then a push to be moved. Anthem examined the ruins before them running her finger tips over the worn stonework almost caressing it. She could feel the pain and suffering locked in the stone like a testament of eternal torment that would stand as long as the prison remained. Anthem's eyes and face portrayed her concern and heartbreak for the lost souls that remained within these walls.
Clint stepped carefully with his gaze sweeping from side to side not allowing any detail to go unnoticed, nor would the archer release the arrow that he held ready between his finger tips against the bow string. His tension could be snapped in a moment and the projectile would find its lethal mark in whatever chose to attack them. In Ravengro, his senses were alerted, here in the old grounds of Harrowstone he felt boarder line paranoid afraid for a brief moment that the slightest noise would snap his assault at an unworthy target but Clint tried to remain calm. Not wanting to act prematurely lest this forlorn monument claim another soul in it's clutches.
Denat walked boldly to the front doors with one hand never leaving his rapier. He looked over the frame work of the doors and judged them sturdy enough to be forced open. He waited for Clint to ascend the stairs to join him wanting cover from the archer should a creature be present to welcome them. Clint stepped up behind him and readied an arrow leveling it at the darkness beyond the wood doors. Denat inhaled deeply, held it, then pushed in with all of his strength. The door gave way to reveal...nothing.
What was once a wide entry hall flanked by waiting rooms on either side was now a foyer of splintered wood, crumbled stone, and shredded cloth. The wooden cross beams above the foyer were sagging dangerously low barely holding what was left of the ceiling in place. Directly across from them was a set of large oaken doors that appeared to be tightly shut.
The heroes stepped into the foyer one at a time with Denat entering first. While Clint lowered his bow the arrow was still set and Anthem had taken out her own crossbow at this point. The air wreaked of mold and stale dust, Anthem suppressed a cough when they entered. Both waiting rooms had caved in long ago offering nothing to investigate but also nothing to hide which came as a small comfort to the heroes. What worried them all however was the set of large oak doors directly before them. They seemed to not have been opened in years and there was no telling what lied behind them.
Clint and Denat stepped up to the doors before them with Denat taking hold of the left door handle and Clint jamming a crowbar that he carried with him into the door jam and stood to the right. The two warriors locked eyes and almost in sync mouthed three...two...one... Anthem leveled her cross bow down the middle of the doors ready to fire on whatever may lay on the other side. With great strength the heroes pulled and the oak portals cracked open without much protest.
On the other side lay a different world altogether, the roaring inferno immediately swept over all three of them. The entire room was engulfed in flames licking the air and burning whatever would fuel the destruction. There were people trapped under burning beams, men and women either dead or screaming in agony as they were slowly burning alive. Smoke poured out choking the adventures as they looked on in terror as beams collapsed and the scream of the damned broke the silence of the prison air. Then a flare of fire and in the center of hell stood Uther. His armor charred and torn with his exposed skin boiling in the heat his tattoos blackened as the ink cooked him from the inside out. He stared at them through the inferno with his glassy blood shot eyes in awe of seeing the three. His face told of his disbelief, merely an arms length away from salvation but a lifetime of pain separated them from the cleric. Anthem screamed in terror and dropped her crossbow to run to his aid. Denat launched away from the door to leap into the inferno to aid his companion. An ifrit feared not smoke nor flame and with an ally in need Denat would not forsake him to the fires of torment. Clint dropped his crowbar and went for his bow, this wasn't right, something was at work here and this hunter would not be ambushed by his prey so easily. Just as Denate reached the threshold of the door and stretched out his arm to grab Uther the cleric roared at him.
"GET OUT, RUN!" Uther's vocal cords strained in the scalding heat, his face twisted in rage and suffering.
A powerful gust blew them all back from the door knocking each of the heroes to the ground and the oaken panels slammed shut as Uther doubled over in agony and pain succumbing to the fire that began to engulf him. The oaken doors sealed as wisps of smoked drifted through the cracks a moment longer then disappeared completely. The three of them sat there for a moment stunned at what they had just witnessed. In that fraction of a second time seemed to stop and last an eternity before Denat leaped to his feet and threw open the doors with all of his strength. The wood gave in easily to his demand this time and the room beyond was empty. Streaks of mold stained the walls and floor in thick grey carpets of fungal growth. What parts of the room remained uncovered by the mold appeared blackened and charred by a great flame that had long since passed.
"No... NO! He was right here!" Denat roared in anger, his eyes igniting in flames and his fists tightening to the point that he nearly broke the skin of his palms.
"That wasn't him." Clint said as he rose and collected his bow. "We all know that's the truth, Uther may be here but that was not him." Clint stated firmly wanting to keep them focused. Clint would not be swayed by illusions or tricks, and he would demand the same from his allies. This place was evil, that much was evident to them now. They could not afford to drop there guard for even a moment least it be their down fall.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 22
The heroes collected themselves after Clint's forceful reminder about being tricked by this desecrated ground. The room where the inferno had just been raging was now cold and empty except for the mold that draped the walls and carpeted most of the floor. With wooden doors on all sides there was a momentary pause from the three heroes until it was decided they would proceed left. Slowly opening the wooden door Denat preceded cautiously with his rapier drawn. Anthem was behind him as Clint covered their backs with arrow readied.
The door opened to a long hallway that had four wooden doors set against the right side. These doors were opened just as carefully one by one. They had seemed to have once served as offices for prison officials, among the rubble and debit the heroes located prisoner files, faded income reports, repair requests, supply orders, schedules for various prison operations and so on. Nothing of great value was discovered in these rooms who had either been long since looted or never held any value to begin with. As they inspected the last office, Clint heard gentle whistle from the last door at the end of the hall. He exited the office and faced the door with slight trepidation. there was a second door he noticed beside it in the gloom that they had not seen before. This one was set in an alcove off the hallway and Clint was for a moment unsure of which door the whistle had been issued then he heard it again.
Like a gentle breeze the whistle drifted out from the other side of the door and Clint drew his bow. He genteelly squeezed the doors handle and found that it seemed to be unlocked. He slowly and silently pulled an arrow and readied his shot. He gave the door a good shove with his foot then stepped back and tensioned his arrow as the door swung inward. The spacious room beyond reeked of mildew and rot, with a long desk and chair sitting to the south atop the front side of the desk was a very dusty gold name plate that read WARDEN HAWKRAN. To the northwest a narrow alcove contained a safe still locked tightly under key and combination security. This layers of dust covered everything in sight and as Clint entered he heard the whistle again. It sounds as if it was all around him right at that moment and suddenly his eyes settled on a ring of shiny brass keys that laid dead center on the desk. The keys themselves were free of dust as if they were brand new and the object seemed to be highlighted by what appeared to be moon light from the bared window behind the desk itself.
// Moonlight in the middle of the day?// Clint wondered to himself as he stepped over and gently picked up the keys.
No trap was sprung and no ambush was launched upon him. Something or someone wanted these keys to be located by him. He didn't trust them, but attached them to his belt none the less. A voice cracked the silence of his contemplation and he nearly jumped as he turned to see Denat in the doorway.
"Everything ok in here?" The ifrit asked him.
"Yeah, everything is secure so far as I can tell." Clint replied.
"Hm... I'm assuming the wardens office." Denat commented as he entered and picked up the name plate, running a finger across it.
"It's odd though." Clint said off hand.
"What is?" Denat set down the name plate.
"Well so far it seems like the rest of the prison has either been ravaged by the fire or by the mayhem that ensued during the incident. But this room appears untouched. Not even a scorch mark on the door." Clint stated as he looked about the room.
Anthem entered the office overhearing the conversation and took note of what Clint had observed, sure enough he was right. This room seemed to have been spared from the destruction that had ravaged the rest of the prison. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed or disorganized from the last time it had been used. A memory flashed through Anthem's mind right at that moment.
The room was lit by the soft light of torches and candles lit on the table which lit the room with a warm glow. Behind the desk sat a balding man with a thick black but neatly maintained handlebar mustache. He had a strong and charismatic face that was characterized by light green eyes. Anthem recognized this man immediately as warden Hawkran, she also recognized the other person in the office as the militia leader whom had caused trouble at the professor's funeral march. The man was much younger in this time but she recognized him all the same.
"Warden, you know as well as I do these men pose a threat to everyo-" The trouble maker pleaded.
"Gibbs! Enough! We have spoken at this length far more then it would deserve. Our job is to detain these individuals until they can be settled in a more permanent facility. I know their backgrounds same as you and I don't like it anymore then you do, however I have to accept them here because it's what the law dictates." Hawkran's green eyes were uncompromising.
Gibbs' face soured for a moment. "Warden. I understand the law. I'm simply advising as your chief security officer that we are not suited to retain these prisoners for any amount of time."
The warden took a sip of his drink and then stood up from his chair meeting Gibbs eye to eye.
"Officer Gibbs, you will be told one more time. And I would seem to think that if you understand the law then you would understand the need to follow it. The decision to detain those prisoners here is neither one of ours to make. Now I suggest you prepare your men for their arrival. Onyxcudgel will be the first one and he will be arriving tomorrow morning, early. I want no mistakes. Am I understood?" Hawkran stated firmly.
Gibbs stood there stone faced for a moment. Then he simply smiled and replied obediently, " Of course Warden, the Mosswater Marauder will be handled with the utmost care for both himself and our officers." With that Gibbs turned on his heel and walked out of the office.
Warden Hawkran sat back down in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. "May the divine watch over and protect us for the test we are about to endure." He said with a heavy note of exhaustion and concern in his voice.
Anthem returned to the present time having only left the present for a moment. She kept that brief memory to herself, not quite sure why her abilities granted her that insight but she decided to not speak of it unless something more pertinent came into play. Anthem walked over to the desk and picked up the dusty picture frame set upon it. She gently I wiped her hand across it removing the dust to review a picture of warden Hawkran and a lovely young woman whom she assumed to be his wife.
"Well, we have a comrade to locate. Let's continue the search." Denat commented to them and left the office with Clint following behind him.
Anthem lingered in the office a moment longer looking at the picture, she then set it back in its place as accurately as possible and the samsaren left the room with a more profound insight to just what might have occurred this night more then anyone else save the perpetrators. There were answers she needed to clarify and Anthem was going to see them through to the end, along with rescuing Uther.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 23
As the heroes cleared the prison offices and found nothing of value they returned to the foyer where they had witnessed the trickery of magic and fire. The next door they chose to open was the one on the northern wall, currently to their left. They stacked on the door in standard fashion and Denat opened it carefully. What lay beyond was a long hallway with a trio of doors at the end for them to choose, two sets of double doors on the right side of the hall and a door to their immediate left. Clint elected they go left.
This door opened into the western wing of the first floor of the prison. Upon immediately entering the group was greeted by a split pathway. They can follow the wall straight ahead or proceed to the right where one door to separate rooms greeted them or straight down to a four way branch. Following the left wall they passed the short hallway option and proceeded with caution, there was a hardly a sound in this crypt, short of the occasional dripping water or gusting wind from outside. Much like it’s residences, the atmosphere in Harrowstone was thoroughly dead.
At the end of the hall a door stood before them with a hallway branching to the right, it would be the door and then the hallway they decided. Opening the door Denat entered slowly taking in everything possible shadow as he entered so as not to be caught off guard or be betrayed by the darkness. The stark room they entered contained a low stone bench against the north wall and a ruined desk to the west that sat under three narrow, barred windows. An old brass brazier laid on its side to the south, surrounded by several rusty branding irons. The irons bore either a numerical or alphabetical combination which would indicate some sort of organization or classification of prisoners. The group swept the room which aside from the aforementioned objects was fairly barren.
Denat went over and slide his fingers over one of the brands examining it closer, he considered it’s purpose to be a barbaric thing and should have only been used to mark live stock, not humans. As the ifrit touched the cold iron he began to think that perhaps this wasn’t such a cruel thing to do to criminals after all. They would have been considered animals in their own rights, for the crimes they had committed. They would need to be broken and shown the error of their ways in order to be rebuilt and reformed properly. Such a process was not so barbaric when one considered the types of people it was used to rehabilitate. They were still people after all, capable of reform, capable of change.
Clint and Anthem watched the ifrit as he picked up one of the iron brands and began inspecting it. Anthem thought of how terrible this place was and perhaps it deserved to burn and be destroyed. True it housed evil in human form, but what of the actions committed within these halls, were those actions above respite and judgement themselves? It was at that point she heard the rattling of metal. Clint snapped into motion knocking back an arrow and commanded his senses to find the source. His eyes darting from one shadow to another, Anthem was sure he had heard the sound as well, something was in here with them.
Everyone is capable of change, everyone could reform. They just needed to be reformed in the proper way. Not everyone needed to be tortured of course, just… guided. Set in the right direction. Led along the right path, just a nudge would be all it takes…At that moment Denat’s eyes settled on Anthem from across the room. His grip tightened on the branding iron. Just a nudge, I can start with her… lying to Kendra the way she has, allowing Uther to be taken without note of remorse, she is no criminal but she needs to be set straight. First her and then the archer…
Clint’s eyes caught the movement first, the branding irons laying on the other end of the room near Denat began to vibrate on the floor and then leaped into the air levitating for a moment. The symboled ends spontaneously combusted and the irons launched themselves at Anthem and Clint. Anthem screamed and dove narrowly out of the way with Clint deflecting his mid air with a shot of his own. The arrow struck the iron knocking it aside and harmlessly to the ground where the fire snuffed itself out almost immediately. The iron that was dodged by Anthem stuck the stone work behind her and branded the wall before falling lifeless to the ground, Anthem however was not safe yet. Denat launched himself at her with the branding iron still held firmly in his grasp as the end ignited just as the other two had. Denat bore down upon her, his eyes wild with anger as he drew back the branding iron. Anthem stared into his face, her own frozen in fear. Clint readied another arrow ready to lose it on the ifrit and bring him down if it came to that. Denat drew back the weapon with every muscle in his arm growing taut and the words echoing in every corner of his mind: REFORM, PUNISHMENT, REFORM, PUNISHMENT, REFORM…and then he began to whisper.
“DROP IT! NOW!” Clint commanded.
“…Reform…”
Anthem was preparing a spell to protect herself and struggling to understand what was happening.
“…Punishment…”
“DENAT!” Clint shouted to him again, his grip on the arrow tightening, readying the kill shot.
“…Reform…” Denat’s words grew louder.
Anthem looked up at him, “This isn’t you Denat! Fight it!”
“…Punishment…”
“C’mon Denat, don’t make me kill you.” Clint begged under his breath.
“REFORM!” Denat bellowed in rage.
“Fight the evil in this place. This is not you Denat, the Dancing Flame.” A soft voice forced itself into his clouded mind.
Denat was looking at Anthem then. The ifrit was towering of his ally with an urge he did not recognize, not understand. The flame of the branding iron snuffed out as Denat took a step back and relaxed his arm dropping the iron to the floor. He nearly jumped at the sound of it, looking around confused at his companions, seeming to be unaware of where he was and what he was currently doing at that moment. Clint did not low his weapon or lighten his bowstring. Denat looked at his hands for a moment trying to remember…
“By Sarenrae… Anthem… I’m sorry, I, I have no idea what that was…” Denat stepped back another step and dropped to his knees looking at his hands.
Anthem stood up and slowly stepped toward him. “Denat. It’s ok.” Her hands were shaking. “It’s Harrowstone, it’s this place.” She raised a hand and reached out to touch him. Behind her she could her Clint pull his bow string taut again, just in case.
Denat looked up at her, his eyes unclouded, full of sorrow. “I do believe this place means to rip us apart.”
Anthem set her quivering hand on his shoulder and had a slight tremor in her voice as she comforted him. “It’s alright Denat, it has passed. We are all ok. Lets just keep moving.” Her milky white eyes looking into Denat’s flaming corneas, she know longer sensed malice in his spirit.
Clint loosed his bowstring at last and as he walking by Denat who had begun to stand up, Clint stated: “Pull anything like that again, and I’ll put you down for good.” This promise came as Clint kept Denat in the corner of his eye for a moment longer and with that Clint left the room.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 24
Denat stood and placed a hand on Anthem’s shoulder assuring her that he would never intentionally hurt a comrade under any circumstances. Anthem confirmed she understood and she knew that it wasn’t him that attacked her. She decided to share with him her thoughts on this place, that the fire was not an accidental event. Anthem believed it had been planned and that whatever had a hand in such a catastrophe was still here. It was still haunting this place and it was trying to escape.
Clint turned left as he exited the branding room, he followed the wall to his left that led him down a short hallway until he reached a door to his left and the hallway made a slight arch to the right that appeared to connect to the four way intersection they had seen when they first came in. He waited for a moment and when he noticed Denat and Anthem had not followed he loosed a quick sharp whistle to signal to them and receive a response. Denat came out of the branding room with Anthem following and they moved as quietly as they could to Clint’s side.
“We good here?” Clint asked Anthem.
“Yes, everything is fine.” Anthem said as she glanced as Denat whom continued to stare at Clint.
Denat was not sure of the archer at this point. The ifrit could certainly understand and appreciate Clint’s ultimatum under the prior circumstances but given the severity in his voice and the uncompromising tone Denat was slightly unnerved believing that Clint would carry out murdering a comrade without a second though and that did not sit well with the prince.
“What have you found?” Denat asked the archer.
“Unsure yet, figured I would give you the honor.” Clint said as he nodded his head to the door.
Denat moved up and placed his hand on the door latch, Clint and Anthem readied their weapons. Denat depressed the latch and found the door to be locked tight. He tried to force it open without making too much noise but was unsuccessful in doing so. He turned to Anthem and Clint his face conveying: “Well, what now?” It struck Clint at that moment that he still had that ring of keys from the office. He withdrew the bronze key ring and begin trying them in the lock.
“Where did you find those?” Denat asked Clint
“Stumbled across them.” Clint said as he found the correct key. With a gentle turn the tumbler disengaged and the lock released.
Clint removed the key and placed the ring back on his belt. “After you.” He said looking Denat square in the eye.
The ifrit stood there for a moment eyes locked with Clint, the more he saw of this man, the less he was beginning to trust him. “Trust is a two way street, friend.” Denat stated then pushed open the door.
Tangled mounts of moth-eaten fabric sat on several wooden tables, each of them surrounded by workbenches spread about the room. Various sewing tools such as shears, needles, rolls of thread, boxes of chalk, and other objects were scattered over the floor. In a stained and ragged heap of fabric to the west there appeared to be a skeleton protruding out from the mound. The bones were currently motionless.
The heroes entered the room, Denat taking point with Clint and Anthem sweeping the room with their bow and crossbow. The room seemed fairly calm and quite as many of the others had up to this point. What they all felt however was that there is a peace to this place, a certain serenity much like in the warden’s office. None of them knew why because this place had obviously been caught by the fire and there was a skeleton that was laid to rest either by choice or forcibly so in this room. As they stepped through however nothing sprang to action, no objects manifested itself, this place began to feel like a haven for them in the torrent of this chaotic prison.
A blue glow then began to irradiate from the skeleton in the fabric pile. It was soft and unnoticed at first but then began to glow. Clint immediately knocked an arrow at the skeleton’s head, Denat stepping forward rapier in hand, and Anthem prepared a protection spell fore whatever may be preparing to assail them. As the glow grew brighter however it’s aura felt warm and peaceful, free of malice or rage. As it flashed in a final blinding burst a spirit rose from out of the heap. The spirit took the form of a beautiful young woman dressed in a tattered but lovely blue dress. Tears were streaming down her soft features from her pure white eyes and clouds of smoke drift from her lips as she spoke.
“Have you seen him? Have you found my husband yet?” The spirit pleaded with them.
For a moment the adventures stood there unsure of this new arrival, not fully comprehending how they should respond. Then Anthem spoke: “Vesorianna?”
A flash of emotion across the spirit’s face. “Are you the guards we sent for? Are you hear to restrain the prisoners and save my husband?”
Anthem stepped forward with Clint and Denat keeping their eyes locked on the spirit. “No my lady, we are not guards. The riot has ended, the prison died decades ago.” Anthem told the spirit. The samsaren motioned for her companions to lower their weapons, both of which did but Clint begrudgingly so.
The spirit drifted back a moment as it being struck. “But…No… That’s… That’s not possible! I can still feel the heat and hear the men’s dying screams!” She was beginning to become hysterical.
Anthem pressed gently. “Lady Hawkran, my name is Anthem Rain. I come from Ravengro. We are here to lay the spirits of this prison to rest. Everyone here is dead, the fires are quenched but something remains. We have come to end it, to save Ravengro.”
“To save Ravengro?” The spirit reflected. “Ravengro is in danger? Was the riot not contained?!” She began to panic again.
“The fire was, your husband and many brave guardsmen gave their lives to contain the chaos and protect Ravengro. The died as heroes but something remained after death, just as you have. Something dark, something malefic.” Anthem informed her.
The spirit took this information in for a moment dropping her head in a moment for consideration. She then lifted her head and dried her eyes. “Forgive me Lady Rain…I apologize for my initial greeting. I am Vesorianna Hawkran, and as you said… I have been dead for decades.” Vesorianna said in a calm collected tone, her mind seeming to recollect itself as it came to terms with it’s current predicament.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Hawkran, as I have said my name is Anthem Rain, these are my companions: Clint Barton and Denat, the Dancing Flame.” Anthem gave a slight curtsey as Clint nodded to her and Denat gave a slight bow.
“It is a pleasure to meet you three, I would apologize again for my outburst earlier. It has been a very long time since anyone has walked these forsaken halls and I fear with each passing day my mind deteriorated into madness.” Vesorianna explained.
“It is nothing for you to apologize ma’am.” Clint replied to her.
“We are looking for our comrade. His name is Uther, the Beacon of Light. He is a cleric of Iomedae, perhaps you have seen him?” Denat asked
Vesorianna paused for a moment and closed her eyes in contemplation. “I apologize Lord Denat. I have not seen this Uther you seek. Nor do I sense anything pure in this prison besides you three.”
“You sense something else then?” Anthem asked.
“I do… there is a tainted aura upon these grounds. I can slowly begin to feel this evil you have spoken of. The prison seems to be choked by it as we speak, similar to when those hooded creatures came.” Vesorianna stated.
“Hooded creatures?” Clint asked.
“Yes, some time ago a large black mass of beings that cloaked themselves in shadow defiled these grounds. I know not of their purpose but I could feel it was anything but pure.” Vesorianna recounted.
“The Whispering Way…” Anthem whispered.
“I apologize that I cannot give you any more information upon them… although, there were a few among them that appeared different from the rest.” Vesorianna said trying to recall the details.
“What can you tell us of these individuals?” Denat pressed.
Her mind was still clouded but Vesorianna explained the best she could. “I can see three young women, all dressed in black with large black scythes… They seemed to float through the black mass over seeing it’s operations. And then… a woman in red. Completely covered as if drenched in blood, she stood far from the group near the front gate of the prison next to…” Vesorianna was caught for a moment.
“Next to what?” Denat pressed.
“Next to…something…he seemed to be a man but his spirit, blacker then anything I had ever experienced. Pure evil given form and granted to walk amongst the realm of Galorien for a purpose that I confess I wish not to know.” Vesorianna’s eyes gave way to tears again though she wasn’t crying this time, these tears seemed to be born from deep rooted fear.
That was it, Anthem had been there amongst that evil when it had come to Harrowstone. She had participated in the black agenda of this evil thing and his crimson bride. The same thing that had taken Uther and brought him here, it was all connected all of the events that had danced just outside of her memory came rushing back in full account. Harrowstone was the first step to resurrecting Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant and she had served a role in it.
Anthem’s introvert reflection was broken by Vesorianna’s sudden outburst. “NO! No this can’t be!” The spirit clasped her own head as if struck by horrendous pain. “Something has gotten out, something has left the prison!”
“What is it?! Where has it gone?!” Denat demanded.
For a moment Vesorianna’s face twisted in pain and then in an instant snapped back to a blank look of shock and fear. She faced the heroes.
“Ravengro’s town hall.” Her look of terror was undeniable.
At the mention of those three words Denat bolted for the door his mind immediately flashing with images of Kendra and Valora. Clint hit the door as well and turned back to Anthem demanding they needed to leave right now. Anthem looked to Vesorianna.
“Find me once the town is safe.” Vesorianna told her. “I shall remain here! Go! Now!”
Anthem turned and ran to the door with Clint both of them trailing behind Denat who was running with all of his strength cursing himself for not being faster. He was not going to lose another ally or innocent person this night. Enough was enough, no one else was allowed to die he had decided. The heroes tore through the prison halls and leapt from the top of the steps at the entrance as they hit the ground running, the sun was beginning to make it’s evening engagement with the horizon. Anthem’s mind raced about how time could have passed so quickly in there, it had seemed like they had only just arrived and now the day was nearly gone. She decided it mattered not, they had to reach the town hall. Whatever evils were going to strike there, the heroes had to save the people. All Clint could think about was Kendra and Valora, he would not fail them, could not fail them.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 25
Denat pounded them into the ground, willing them to move fast although to the ifrits credit he was nearly flying over the short path back to Ravengro. With Anthem and Clint gaining distance but it was a gradually gain. All three of them kept seeing images of Kendra, Valora, and the innocent being burned alive trapped in the town hall. Wooden beams collapsing to block any viable exit and smoke choking out the air. It was a physical realization of hell before the inn would collapse killing all inside. As the heroes neared the boundaries of Ravengro they could begin see the lights of the town had already been lit in expectation of night fall and the streets were fairly empty which was strange at such an early hour. Most of the citizens must be at the town hall, they must move quicker, Denat’s mind pressed.
The three tore through the streets brushing past a few townsfolk and Clint avoided a passing supply cart with surprising reaction time and acrobatic skill. The reached the town hall just as the town militia were closing the door to begin the meeting. Denat nearly knocked both men over as she shouldered through into the crowded town hall desperate to find Kendra and get everyone out. Clint and Anthem arrived on Denat’s heels after he disappeared into the crowd.
“You need to get everyone out of here right now!” Clint commanded one of the recovering militia soldiers.
“What are you talking about?! What is wrong with you people!” The guardsman fired back forcefully on the defensive.
Clint stepped up and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. “Now you listen here you worthless lit-“
“Clint!” Anthem interrupted. “Stop! We don’t know what’s about to happen and causing a panic may cause more harm then good right now. Let’s speak to Kendra and Councilman Hearthmont, they can move the people to safety and not in a made panic.” The samsaren’s face was stern with her direction.
Clint dropped the man back on his heels. “Fine, take us to the Councilman.”
The guardsman led them inside with a grumble.
The town hall held what seemed like most of Ravengro’s population tonight in tight capacity. Twenty four pews had been erected in two vertical rows to accommodate all of the attendants that night. Wooden floors, thick support beams, and large rafters framed the building which contained some sixty plus villages who had come to express their growing concern with their town’s safety and to find out what exactly Councilman Hearthmont was going to do about it. A stage approximately fifty feet wide and ten feet deep sat along the north end of the hall with a set of large oak double doors open to the south allowing attendants to enter at their leisure until the actual meeting would commence. The brick walls of the town hall held two windows on each side of the room that began around four feet off the ground, they were five feet in length and five feet high, currently closed to keep out the chill of on coming winter air. An oak podium sat at the front of the stage and was currently unattended as the council members we sitting against the back wall in chair that were small enough to accommodate eight seats in total along the back wall.
It was there that Denat spotted Kendra, she was sitting at the fair right side of the seating arrangement speaking to another council member with Valora by her side fully armed as per usual. Denat pushed and maneuvered his way through the crowd with the entire place seeming to have standing room only. Townsfolk were milling about hear and there as Denat was about half way to Kendra, Councilman Hearthmont stood up and went to the podium. With two swift knocked of his gavel order was brought to the town hall and all eyes both standing and sitting focused on the portly man and his mild perspiration.
“Thank you everyone for coming out this evening! I appreciate you expressing your concern for your town and each other enough to be here so we may discuss future plans to secure the safety of our borders!” The councilman began.
Denat was moving to the side of the room thinking that would makes things easier to manage, this however did not prove to be a valid assumption. Clint and Anthem were not fairing much better however despite having an armed escort. The militia man was attempted to move gently through the crowd so as not to upset any of the attendants whom already appeared agitated enough at the incompetence of their town council to handle the situation. As they move Clint’s eyes continued to dart about the room looking for any sign of intruder but having no luck, there was just too many people in here! Anthem kept her eyes locked on Hearthmont as the front of the podium as they moved forward.
Anthem leaned in close to Clint. “This is taking too long, there are more in here then I thought there would be, perhaps your plan might have been better.”
Clint looked back at her with a knowing smirk. Then turned back to the militia man. “Look man, you can either move this along or we will go it alone.”
The militia man hurried them through a tad quicker but still at a deplorable pace. Eventually Clint excused the man back to his duty of being a hat rack with a sword and he forced his way back through the last bit of people to make it to the stage and promptly climbed up in front of everyone completely interrupting the councilman. About this time Denat had reached Kendra and was already explaining to her briefly their encounter with Vesorianna. Clint leaned in to the councilman and in a mildly respectful, mostly forceful tone advising that he dispatch the meeting in a calm collective fashion and they will reconvene tomorrow night. The councilman looked at Clint once all of this had been whispered to him and in that face of uncompromising granite the councilman promptly smiled, turned back to the townsfolk.
“Everyone! I do apologize but must ask we post pone this meeting to tomorrow night as something has come to my attention which I can assure you is relevant to the safety and security of our town. These fine heroes will be aiding us in this matter and we are going to formulate a plan of action tonight!” Hearthmont finished with such a gusto that Clint himself might have believe him, if he didn't already see him as an emotionally crippled pawn in throws of political power from one day to the next barely scrapping by.
Kendra stood up as the crowd grew restless and began to hurl obscenities and insults at the councilman. She went to the podium and raised her hands up settling the crowd. Some of the townsfolk had begun to leave in disgust and wanting to hear no more or have anymore of their time wasted here. Kendra spoke forcefully at first and the dialed back the emotion to being firm and confident as she found her voice amongst the glares and faces of confusion.
“Please! Everyone please grant me a moment! My name is Kendra Lorrimor, I am a citizen of Ravengro just like all of you. My late father, Petros Lorrimor, was a member of this council and a citizen of Ravengro, just like all of you. I can understand your anger and frustration right now. Like you I am scared, angry, and confused about what is happening to our town. This is home to many of us and we have done nothing to deserve the hell that has been thrust upon us. I would ask you all as neighbors, friends, even as family to put your trust in me this night. Place your trust in this council. Place your trust in these heroes!” Kendra swept her arms to the side indicating: Clint, Anthem, and Denat. “They had come to attend the funeral of my father, but have chosen to stay to aid in the relief of our town. To be a light in the darkness. We will see Ravengro through this crucible and pass through the flames stronger then before! Now please… collect yourselves and allow us one more night to convene with the council on how best to proceed with a plan that will protect us all.”
The townsfolk were calmed by these words and some of them even clapped for the heroes as they left. Kendra’s smile expressed relief and happiness that the heroes felt they had not seen in a very long time from her. Time passed in a different way here in Ravengro, this was a sentiment they all shared at that moment, because they all hoped despite all odds, this peace and inspiration would continue. As people slowly filed out of the town hall till nearly a third remained the cool breeze of the night wafted in from the open double doors bringing a slight chill to those left in the town hall. Kendra was thanking the council for their time when Valora noticed someone walking into the town hall rather then out with the rest of the crowd. A dark figure in a black cloak, face concealed with a dark hood.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 26
The man stepped through the slow stream of townsfolk not seeming to notice those that he bumped into, he simply kept moving forward even pushing some of them aside fairly forcefully. The people would return the gesture with a scowl or some form of protest but he paid them no heed. The man in cloaked in shadow stopped once he had made his way about a quarter of the way up the center aisle.
Suddenly the double doors at the front of the in slammed shut trapping the everyone inside and almost killing one man trying to proceed through. The townsfolk pulled on the doors in an attempt to open them but to no avail. The heroes drew their weapons because they knew full well what was coming, Clint thinking that Kendra’s “test of fire” was closer then she had anticipated.
As the people settled and tried to understand a way out the sound of laughter could be heard. Some one it would seem was generally amused at their current predicament, problem was that none of the people in the town hall could be seen as the source of the laughter. After a couple moments the sound began to resonate and other pitches of laughter joined in the cacophony that began to escalate in volume to near deafening proportions. Every one in the town hall covered their ears in an attempt to block the torment, everyone but the man in the middle. The black figure raised his arms as if bidding the laughter to a crescendo and then suddenly the laughter was gone. As the trapped people began to stand again, recovering from the blaring laughter the man in black began to clap. Slowly and in a mocking fashion before speaking.
“Kendra, that was an inspirational speak that would have made your father proud, had I not killed him.” The creature of darkness said.
“What did you just say?” Kendra struggled to ask her body icing over immediately in fear.
“I’m sorry, I don’t like to repeat myself…But I would like to express my gratitude in the role you all played in gather most of the town here. You all shall be witness to the beginning of the end…” With that, the man removed his black hood.
What was hidden underneath was a linen sack with a hole ripped open on the right side in order to allow this individual to see. A crude line was torn across forming a mouth that was held together by loose stitching and around the neck was a slipknot that was securely fashion around his neck it was cut after the knot no longer tying him to the gallows where Anthem was sure he belonged for she knew instantly who this creature was.
“Welcome! To the death of Ravengro!” Ooga Chaka raised his arms. “And the fall of mortal realm!”
Clint loosed an arrow right at his head which bounced off an unseen wall of force as Chaka began laughing maniacally and people began to run screaming trying to find any possible way out. The demon himself ignited in a pillar of great fire setting the entire town hall ablaze. Denat turned to Kendra and the others, he ordered them to get everyone out, this beast was his to slay.
Denat leapt off the stage and charged Ooga Chaka who's fire snuffed out right as the ifrit reached him and stabbed with his rapier. The evil being stepping aside with ease laughing all the while, Denat stabbed again and again with each strike barely missing it’s mark.
“Come now dear prince! Surely they teach better sword craft then that in Katapesh!” Chaka goaded.
As Denat and Ooga Chaka did combat in the center of the town hall, Anthem began casting the spell: Create Water in order to douse the flames that had began to spread through the rafters and to some of the pews. She found this would delay the spread of the fire but would not quench it completely, they needed to get everyone out now. Clint was already at work, he immediately bounded off the stage scooping up two children and sprinted to the nearest window. He held the children close, stuck his feet together and spring boarded himself out the window twisting as he did so shattering the glass and protecting the children. He landed with a hard thud to the ground with small pieces of glass bitting into the skin and flesh of his back. Clint paid the damage to himself no heed as he set the children down and commanded to the townsfolk who had began to run to the fire.
“Get water or sand! And bring the priests! We have wounded!” And with that the archer dove back through the window to rescue more captives.
The town blacksmith Gorga had come to the meeting and as Clint jumped back through the window he witnessed the stoat dwarf drive her dwarven war hammer into one of the glass windows shattering it and began to help some of the people escape through that route. Smoke had begun filling the town hall however and visibility was dissolving quickly, some townsfolk had tripped and fallen over each other in panic and a woman had caught fire. As Clint moved to the downed woman, she was immediately drenched in gallons of water, compliments of Anthem. This extinguished the flames as he arrived and he carefully picked her up running her over to the dwarf who helped Clint get her out. Valora broke a third window and was working with Kendra to get citizens out as well but no matter how quickly that worked they just couldn’t seem to move quick enough.
Townsfolk were pounding on both sides of the double oak doors trying to break them down but the wood would not surrender to any blows against it. The council was still running about with other panicked townsfolk and militia members who were terrified themselves being of little to no use right now. Smoke had abolished near all visibility at this point and it began a sheer game of luck to find your way in the inferno. The lanterns about the hall had exploded in the conflagration igniting the brick work of the building surrounding all inside with hungry flames. Anthem and Clint both heard the audible crack of the rafters above as they began to succumb to the flames chewing through their supports. The entire hall was about to collapse and there were still people inside, they couldn't save everyone… it was too late.
“Where is he?! Where did you take Uther!” Denat demanding an answer his mind consumed with rage, eyes ignited in the fires of his blood line.
Ooga Chaka continued to laugh and deftly avoid the ifrit’s attacks. “I can take you to meet him if that’s what you wish prince!” He spit his offer like venom and then from no where produced a rod of solid black polished steel like stolid onyx.
The staff caught one of Denat’s thrusts and the ifrit drug his blade up the safe attempting to stab Ooga Chaka in the face with what he believed was a neglected opening he could exploit. The blade of the rapier ran its course but was stopped short right before it’s mark, it felt like some invisible force was blocking it. A explosion of purple and black crackling energy erupted from the head of the staff and extended in the shape of a blade. Denat launched himself backward just as the scythe released his rapier and attempted to take Denat’s head off, barely missing it’s target. Chaka spun the weapon and held it behind him.
“What’s wrong little bunny, I thought you wanted to know where your friend is…” Denat could see the glimmer of flames in Ooga Chaka’s eyes under that mask.
“I will destroy you demon…I will chase you across Galorien and through whatever realm I must, to all planes of existence to spill your blood until you are drained of it.” Denat’s hatred could not be hidden from this beast. He had met his rival and Denat would see him destroyed by any means necessary.
“I always did enjoy playing hard to get! Come find me in Harrowstone and we’ll see what you can do little prince!” Ooga said through his own amusement.
The rival before him then drove his black energy scythe into the flood boards and exploded in an outburst of smoke that blinded Denat for a moment but found that his prey had escaped him. He cursed the creature before sheathing his rapier and running to move a collapsed beam of a man trying to reach one of the windows. Kendra and Valora were helping people out of a window when one of the rafters cracked and fell nearly crushing Kendra in the process but Valora grabbed her and threw her aside at the last moment.
“Kendra! We need to go now! We’ve done all we can! This place is coming down around us!” Valora urged her.
Kendra begrudgingly agreed with her and shouted to everyone to get to one of the windows and get out. Smoke filled the air and visibility was impossible, Kendra and Valora ran straight across the town hall leaping over broken pews and townsfolk that had not been saved in time. Valora fired a special round from one of her pistol’s exploding the window in a ball of fire. Both the gunslinger and the mage dove out the window in rapid succession tumbling onto the grass.
When she stood she saw Clint dashing about still inside, suddenly her mind exploded with his thoughts, frantic but focused. Clint had found Councilman Hearthmont and was trying to locate a window with which to pitch him out of. Kendra’s mind melded with Clint’s immediately and the archer now somehow knew exactly where the window he needed was. The archer grabbed the portly political pawn and launched him out the window with all his strength nearly throwing the man right into Valora, whom side stepped barely missing the political projectile. Clint then leaped out the window himself just as there was a thunderous explosion and the town hall collapsed on itself.
Anthem, Denat, Gorga, and Clint had all barely escaped at the inferno claimed its trophy. They were all scattered to different sides of the inn but something drew the heroes eyes to the sky as smoke plumed into the night sky above. There they witnessed a profile of a slender faced man with wild hair that stood up on ends and spectacles that encircled his eyes above his pointed nose. The face seemed to speak in a thunderous volume starting at all three of them perspectively right in their eyes.
“Curse all of you! You shall all perish in fire and blood! I will decimate this town for what it has done to us! None of you are safe! Harrowstone shall be your grave and I will be your executioner!” With that final threat the face evaporated into the smoke and was gone completely.
The church of Pharasma as directed by Father Grimburrow attended to the wondered which miraculously all were saved. While the town hall had been completely destroyed, the people had nearly all been saved. Everyone worked long into the night taming the fire to ensure it would not spread and coordinating the wounded as well as identifying the bodies that were removed from the after math. None of them slept well that night, plagued by either nightmares or insomnia.
Denat was up before dawn and went back to stand before the burnt down ruin and reflect on what he had considered his greatest failure. Too many people had died last night. No one had needed to or deserved such a fate. The villain had been revealed and Denat would hunt him as long as it took, this atrocity would not go without the justice of retribution. Father Grimburrow approached and broke Denat out of his penance of reflection.
“You are up early my son.” The priest welcomed him warmly.
“As are you Father.” Denat replied.
“I have come to pay my respects to those we could not save.” The priest explained.
“The ones I could not save…I was blinded by my pride and anger, that…thing, distracted me from rescuing those in danger.” Denat lamented.
“You cannot save everyone Lord Denat. The Lady of Graves will call some to judgement for it is their fate. It is there moment to be judged before her and that is not for us to delay. Do not bear such a burden as one that you caused personally.” Father Grimburrow said attempting to console the young ifrit.
“I appreciate your words of wisdom Father. They do set my mind at ease, however, my prey remains free and I shall bring that demon to justice for the crimes he has committed.” Denat swore.
“I do believe your fate extends beyond this place as well. I cannot say for sure if it is to hunt this being down for his atrocities but I will say that Pharasma has blessed me with the assurance that you and your companions are meant to do great things in this world. Unfortunately she did not see fit to deem me with specifics that I may impart to you.” Father Grimburrow laid a hand on Denat’s shoulder. “Never stray from your commitments young lord. They are the strings of fate that we all must follow, and the commitments of the heart are the strongest that Pharasma allows us to perceive, follow them tirelessly and without reprieve and you shall fulfill your destiny. Of this I can assure you.” With that reassurance the priest turned and began to leave the ifrit to contemplate what was told to him.
“Oh and one other thing.” The priest turned back to Denat. “The Church of Pharasma will support you and your companions in whatever aid we can provide. You have proven yourselves heroes of the people and I would be honored to support your endeavors.” The priest’s cold blue eyes shinned with pride and with that, Father Grimburrow took his leave.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 27
Denat returned to the Lorrimor mansion to find his comrades awake and readying their gear. As he entered Clint was shouldering his quiver and locking the buckles in place. Anthem was rolling up some parchment into a case with a couple vials of ink and some quills and Kendra was coming down stairs with a fully equipped gunslinger on her heals.
“Good morning Denat.” Kendra greeted him in slightly positive fashion.
“Good morning Kendra. I see everyone is ready to return to Harrowstone.” Denat replied to them.
“Yes, however there were some favors I wanted to ask of you all. I have already spoken with your allies and I requested that you three document anything witnessed in this prison. Last night when that spell caster attacked us, he said something about the fall of the mortal realm, and I am assuming it will start with Harrowstone. We know the Whispering Way is not to be underestimated so we will want to gather as much information as possible from the prison to ensure we can plan for what’s ahead.” Kendra informed him.
“Then you agree with us that this will go beyond Harrowstone?” Denat confirmed.
“As much as we don’t wish to agree, yes. Kendra believes there is more to come.” Valora answered for her. “That is one reason I will stay behind and remain with Kendra at all times. It seems that not only you three are a target in this sick but she is as well. I shall remain with her as her personal body guard and ensure she does not become another casualty.” Valora’s conviction was solid.
“Very well. Thank you Valora.” Denat bowed slightly.
“Shall we be off then?” Anthem asked the group.
“Actually there was one more thing.” Kendra interjected. “Father Grimburrow requested that you make at stop at the church. He said there was a personal gift he wished to extend to you while you raided Harrowstone, in addition to a request on behalf of Ravengro.”
“We’ll make sure to stop by.” Anthem agreed.
The group exchanged hugs with Kendra wishing them all safety. Clint and Valora also shared a nod of approval to one another with an unspoken appreciation for the other. They then departed the Lorrimor mansion and made their way to the Church of Pharasma. The morning sky was overcast with gray clouds making for a very bleak morning especially following the events of the previous night. What towns people they did encounter however were nothing short of gracious to them and thanked them profusely for their efforts last night. One individual even offered to give them one of his chickens free of charge, they declined the offer but thanked the man and agreed that he could make it up to them at a later time. In all honesty, they would never attempt to collect on the man’s kind gesture. They simply wished to get back to Harrowstone and end this nightmare for good.
When they finally reached the church they were greeted by an acolyte who welcomed them almost immediate of them breaking the threshold as if he had been waiting for them to arrive.
“Very good! You received the whippoorwill! Let me inform Father Grimburrow at once!” The acolyte hurried off to alert the head priest that his guests had arrived.
When Father Grimburrow arrived he welcome them all with gratitude and appreciation for their efforts the past evening.
“I have some information for you three. After what happened last night I felt confident you would be returning to Harrowstone and wanted to share some findings the church had discovered after the initial destruction of the prison due to the fire. When my fellow clerics and I went to cleanse the ruins and purge what evil spirits we could, we were unfortunately only mostly effective in this regard. What we had discovered was that some areas had been rendered inaccessible, and in that regard we believe that some objects of power may have been lost and anchored some of the more powerful spirits there, possibly a part of their remains.” He warned them.
“If you are able to locate any of these objects I would greatly appreciate it if you would return them to us so they may be properly cleansed and sanctified as we should have done years ago.” The priest requested.
“If the spirits don't try to spear me with a branding iron, sure…” Anthem mentioned.
The priest’s eyes narrowed at her for a moment and a smirk played at his lips picking up on her sarcasm. “Oh! that reminds me!” He said suddenly struck with a thought.
Father Grimburrow pulled out a wand from inside one of the folds of his sleeve and handed it to Anthem.
“This is a wand of cure light wounds that I crafted this morning for you three in particular.” He expressed with gratitude in his voice. “It should assist you in Harrowstone should you encounter more branding irons, or anything else for that matter.”
The group thanked the priest for his kindness and then headed off to the prison. They proceeded to the prison and entered with the same formation that they had used prior. Nothing dark or malevolent greeted them as they entered this time. They back traced their steps back to the room where they first met Vesorianna but decided to continue investigating rather then touch base with their ethereal ally. They ventured to the previously unexplored four way split and found a door to the immediate left. Denat was inside first with the consistent breach and clear method. Several rusty iron tubs sit in this room, along with washboards, metal buckets, and heaps of moldy clothing. Denat entered the room and was covered by Clint from the just inside the door frame, Anthem elected to just peak inside the room.
Denat began to inspect the tubs of the room finding them empty with the exception of questionable stains and skid marks from long hours of use. The ifrit then moved to sort through some of the moldy clothing piles with the tip of his rapier as Anthem and Clint observed from the door way keeping a close eye on their ally. Denat shifted through the clothes but finding nothing turned to his allies and stated:
“Nothing here it seems.”
As fate with it’s eternal ironic sense of humor dictated, the minute those words left his mouth, a straight jacket leapt to life and levitated for just a moment before ensnaring Denat and binding him with all of it’s buckles locking in place. The prince was thrown to ground as the jacket began to squeeze. As Denat struggled and writhed trying to break free of the clothing’s grip, Clint drew an arrow and raised the fletching to his eye as he steadied his breathe. He let the arrow fly catching the buckle holding back Denat’s right arm. The buckle exploded releasing the ifrit’s arms but his hands were still trapped inside the jacket’s fabric. Anthem moved to Denat’s side and attempted to untie one of the buckles across his back. As she fumbled with the buckle the jacket thrashed away knocking her to the ground and preventing her from aiding her ally. Clint readied a second arrow and pulled back his bowstring taking very careful aim at his thrashing target. Clint loosed the shot with a hope and a pinch of luck, the buckled brace restraining Denat’s legs broke free. All that was left were the buckles on his back, but with the jacket still thrashing about with life this would be no easy feat. Denat got to his knees as Anthem is finally able to pry one of the buckles loose. Denat himself attempted to unlock a buckle but his restricted hands prevented him from releasing the last latch. Clint decided to go three for three on his tricked shots, fired an arrow this time barely taking a second to aim and destroyed the last buckle in expert fashion.
Denat tore the jacket off and threw it aside, he stood up pulling his scimitar from one of sheaths across his back and unleashed his frustration against the article of clothing. His inner ifrit blood line ignited the scimitar with writhing flames that scorched and seared the straight jacket that was still in the throws of animation. After numerous strikes against the haunted jacket which was now little more then singed scraps and piles of ash, Denat steadied his labored breathing attempting to quell his rage. He kicked away the scraps and then ignited the entire pile of moldy close with his innate magical ability: Burning Hands. He then sheathed his scimitar and recovered his rapier then went stomping past Anthem and Clint back into the hallway.
“So, next room?” Anthem asked in sweet and innocent tone.
Denat simply replied with, “This one is clear.” As he stormed out eyes slightly ignited.
The door at the north end of the four way split proved to hold a privy that held nothing of interest to them. So they intern moved on to the door to the east of the four way intersection and this would be the last door that remained secret to them in the west wing of the prison’s first floor. As the door was opened they discovered a set of double doors immediately to the groups left side, a door straight ahead and a hallway of about twenty five feet south which they confirmed branch of the original foyer where they had witnessed the vision of Uther. Keeping to habit they chose the set of double wooden doors to their left which swung open easily on thick industrial hinges. What laid beyond were several moldy cots that lay strewn about the room, with doors to smaller, more private sleeping cells hung askew to the west. It was perceived from these observations and various other objects strewn and containers about the room that this must have once been the prison’s infirmary.
Denat gingerly stepped first into the room moving slowly to a door at the far right side of the room his scimitar still in hand and eyes constantly looking about having tired of this prison already and wanting no more of it’s hidden tricks. Clint stepped in after the noble with his back to the wall just inside the left door giving him full coverage of the entire room as Denat made his way through. Anthem was last to enter the room keeping her eyes sharp and running her spells through her mind to be ready for anything that may spring itself on them, she stayed just inside the door. Denat makes it to the other side of the room where the door is at with his instinct tingling but nothing of apparent danger was noticed. His two companions began to make their way further into the room but the ifrit warned them:
“Take head my friends, something does not feel right.”
Clint spoke aloud the thought they all shared. “Nothing in this place feels right.”
Clint moved through the room straight to the door moving glancing about and turning with his arrow drawn taught however nothing leapt from the shadows. Between Anthem and Denat taking time to look through the containers and cabinets located in the room they discovered: a pair of fully stocked healer’s kits, three vials of antitoxin, two vials of antiplague, three doses of blood block, three doses of smelling salts, two vials of soothe syrup, and the most valuable of the discoveries: four potions of cure light wounds. Anthem took two of the potions, Clint and Denat also took one each.
As Anthem took one of the healer kit’s, the room spun about and the entire room filled with smoke blacking out her vision. When the darkness lifted she could feel heat on all sides of her and directly across from her was a one of Harrowstone’s guards strapped to the table thrashing and swearing in rage and frustration. Three men in prison uniforms ran over to the helpless man and said while they howled at his predicament.
“Don’t worry boss! It’s for your own good!”
The three prisoners proceeded to grab a hand full of syringes that had been left on a near by medical tray and began to take turns jamming them into various parts of the guards body with dark gleeful joy. They guard was screaming in agony as the prisoners mocked him about the pain he was experiencing, saying they only wanted to help make him better. After a few moments one of the prisoners became severely agitated and dug through one of the drawers in the medical cabinets, upon discovering a large medical saw, he went back over to his group’s victim and proceeded to scream at the guard whom at this point was a proper pin cushion.
“For the love of Asmodeus! Shut up and take this like a man!”
The prisoner then proceeded to saw through the helpless guard’s strained vocal chords and through his throat completely as the scene diminished returning Anthem to the present. Anthem shuddered for a moment and when asked what was wrong, she simply said there was a slight draft. The group proceeded back to the unused door and proceeded through it.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 28
A huge stone furnace dominated this room, large enough in size for a child to climb inside. The catastrophic fire burned away the entire east wall to the room providing a panoramic, if eerie, view of the lake beyond Harrowstone. The same lake appears to have gradually expanded into prison flooding the eastern half of this dilapidated room. The heroes entered slowly one by one with Denat in the lead. Anthem’s head began to feel heavy, her thoughts began to cloud. Something here was triggering her samsaren ability of location memories. Harrowstone wanted her to see this memory, something personal lingered here, something dark that had been left behind. Anthem embraced her heritage and opened her mind’s eye the illusion.
Her clouded vision began to clear and she found that she was looking at the cobblestones of the prison floor, her feet dragging on the cold hard ground. Two guards held her by the arms on each side, she was clothed in a filthy gray prisoner’s outfit. As her head cleared she began looking about frantically, the guards were dragging her to the furnace, she could feel the heat, she was convinced that they were going to throw her in!
“No please! Please don’t! I didn’t mean it!” Her mind was racing. She was trapped in this prisoner’s body and couldn’t escape. The room was full of guards, some of them holding drinks and some with their shirts unbuttoned, clearly no longer on the job, not officially.
“Come on now Benjee, shut up or we actually might throw you in.” One of the guards sneered at Anthem.
“Please don’t throw me in there! I didn’t mean what I said about the warden’s wife! I didn’t mean it!” The prisoner had tears streaming down his face. The furnace was drawing near.
One of the guards wore a black executioner’s hood and opened the furnace door allowing the flames to lick out in anticipation of it’s newest sacrifice.
“What do you mean? Say something about Hawkran’s wife? Who said that?” One of the guards laughed.
Anthem’s heart was pounding in her chest.
“What?! If not that then why?” Benjen pleaded.
“Because Benjee…” The guard hoisted the man up by the collar. “We’ve gotten tired of your little outbursts and of course, accidents have been known to happen!” Benjen screamed as the flames begin to burn the back of his uniform, he was now inches away from being engulfed by the inferno.
The other guard stepped up to the captive man, “Between you and me Benjee…” The guard looked Anthem square in the eye and for a moment, she swore it was the face of Ooga Chaka. “I’d have a romp Hawkran’s old lady too!”
Then without another moment of hesitation the guards threw the man into the furnace and slammed the gate shut. The sound of the man’s screams were drowned out only by the overwhelming laughter of the guards present for the horror.
Anthem snapped out of the memory and a chill ran completely through her, she proceeded to walk around the watery edge of the room. Clint knocked an arrow covering the open room. Anthem’s brief moment had not escaped Clint’s sight, but he chose not to question what she saw. Denat began to search the room for anything of use, as he looked about something prompted him to check the furnace and he immediately found a soot caked name plate over the furnace’s mouth. The ifrit wiped away the grime and found the copper plate read, “ EMBER MAW.” He happened to glance inside the belly of the furnace and made out the remains of a charred, blackened skull.
Denat then took a couple steps back and suddenly the door to the furnace flew open as flames erupted from within and the face of Ooga Chaka breathed in flames mocked, “ Hey prince! Nice night for a fire!” The face of the demon cackled as Clint loosed an arrow between the image’s eyes, flames sprang forth from the furnace in a large explosion leaving nothing behind but the charred skull inside the beast’s iron belly. The party hesitated for a moment but the furnace no longer breathed life or showed any sign of further haunting.
“Son of a…” Clint stated.
“I despise that creature.” Denat agreed.
“I have plenty more arrows where that came from.” Clint replied.
The group slowly moved to the other end of the room where a door sat to the left of the furnace’s maw. Denat slowly eased through the door never taking his eye off the furnace. The northeast wall of this room had partially fallen, revealing the dark, murky waters of the pond outside. Molding training dummies and other similar equipment hinted that this room may have once been a training area for the guards. In the northeast part of the room, a jagged hole in the floor was surrounded by black scorch marks. The hole in the floor appeared to once be part of a lift system to the lower floor, the machinery that once operated the lift had fallen into the water below which appeared to be a twenty foot plunged straight down.
“I think going down there should wait for another time…” Denat suggested.
“Agreed, let’s find the stairs that go up.” Anthem concurred.
The group moved to the set of double doors set against the far west side of the room, pushing open the door revealed several rows of wooden benches. All of the benches were spotted with mold and sagging with neglect, they faced a stage that was walled off from the rest of the room by a solid row of iron bars. The room itself was dilapidated much like the rest of the prison and as they inspected the area, Anthem discovered that the bars were cold to the touch, her samsaren senses tingled. For a moment she believed that she could hear the rambunctious hollering of adults but even straining she failed to hear exactly what was being said. She closed her eyes and concentrated attempting to once again channel her: location memories ability.
When Anthem opened her eyes, there was a man standing behind the iron bars. He was standing before a podium and dispatching the charges of a prisoner. When Anthem turned the pews had been restored and directly behind her were two guards holding a very disgruntled prisoner locked up tight in chains on his wrists and ankles. The prisoner was then escorted out of the room as another prisoner was brought in for sentencing. Anthem watching this procession before feeling heat at her back, as she turned. The man behind the podium had disappeared, he had been replaced by a multitude of guards. The lot of them screaming and pounding their fists against the bars flaming debris blocking both sides out of the cage. The men were trapped…
Behind her there was laughter, Anthem turned to see the entire room filled with prisoners. All of them pointing, laughing, mocking the men behind the iron. The prisoners were occasionally prying at the guards with short spears most likely raided from the armory, some had daggers, some were slamming chairs against the bars trying to crush their captors fingers. Anthem realized at that moment this room was used as a final place of judgement for those sentenced to the depths of Harrowstone. In the end it seemed that the prisoners were able to turn the judgement upon their enforcers, neither of which seemed to deserve such fate from what she had seen, but she could also appreciate the universe providing balance to the guardsmen and their corruption. Up to this point, it would seem only the warden still held his honor in this place. As Anthem came out of her illusion she conveyed what she had witnessed to the group, no longer wishing to bear the burden of the black secrets alone.
Her companions held their feelings on the matter, understanding that perhaps there was more at work here then an accidental fire, something Anthem had already thoroughly believed. In searching the room they found nothing of value and as Denat completed his search Anthem spoke her mind in a dry sarcastic tone.
“Starting to really enjoy this place more and more…”
As she said this Clint’s mind immediately transported him to a study filled with loaded bookshelves and the warm glow of a lit fire place. A woman was standing before him perusing the books, in her hand a glass of red wine. She was dressed in an elegant black evening gown and her red hair in thick curls.
“Natasha?” Clint asked in confusion.
The woman turned to him, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds in the warm light and replied. “I know this is hard, but it will get easier for you.” Her soft voice, a calm reassurance.
Clint snapped back out of his memory, he was lost as to why that would have sprung to his mind so readily, after all this time.
Anthem notated what had been had occurred up until that point ensuring not to leave out any detail of the chilling events hoping that it would prove to be of some use to Kendra. The group chose to move on from the room to the double doors which led them back into the foyer when they had first seen Uther bringing them full circle on Harrowstone’s first floor. Few doors on this level remained to be opened however there was still the matter of the second floor and the basement. The haunting had already begun and seemed to increase with each room they investigated, gods only know what awaited them above, and below.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 29
The group discovered that as the entered the foyer that there was a door to the left that they had yet to investigate. The door was opened by Denat and the proceeded down the hallway that was discovered behind the door. The hallway existed much like the rest of the prison with moldy stone work and dust kicking up with each step, however in this hallway there was a loan stool. Upon the stool sat a man with his back to the group, they all stopped and watched him for a moment. It appeared that he would raise his arm for a drink every few moments. Denat extended his rapier. Clint aimed his arrow at the back of the man’s head.
“Who, are you?” The ifrit asked.
Anthem took a step back and began to notate, not taking her clouded eyes off the individual.
“Sir?” Denat pressed.
Anthem then took out her light crossbow and leveled it at the man.
Denat stepped forward and tapped the man on the shoulder, his rapier passing through completely. Anthem casted: Detect Magic sensing auras of necromancy and illusion. The spirit stood, took a long drink and then turned about to face the group. Clint immediately recognized him as warden Hawkran. The long dead warden faced the group but seemed to look past them.
“Make sure that door is locked, tight.” He commanded. “I don’t want anyone going into that room, do you understand?”
As the warden finished his order, the ghost of an equally dead guard passes through Clint. “Of course sir. I’ll do it right away.”
The guard walks past the warden to the door at the end of the hallway, inserts the key, apparently locking it. Denat sheaths his rapier and drew his scimitar, something was coming, the ifrit could feel it. The visions seemed to always be accompanied by something more heinous and dark then the visions themselves. The ghosts faded into the past of time offering no further insights except the enticement to know exactly what was behind that door.
After waiting for a moment to be sure Clint advanced to the door and used his key ring to unlock it with Denat’s scimitar and Anthem’s crossbow waiting to strike. The door was unlocked and eased open without protest revealing a bizarre collection of antique goods, the items rested upon wooden shelves that line the room. Several of the items were marked with tiny tags and labels written in a careful script.
Anthem cooed and slipped past her two companions to look over the objects. She was able to locate all of the item but could not effectively read the labels that marked them. Denat utilized his dark vision and found that on the far wall directly across from them was a latch that opened a false wall. Denat moves to open the door as Anthem locates some chain shirts and short swords that the group would return to the blacksmith as per Jorfa’s request.
Anthem discovered that while most of the remains of the room were junk at best, certain items do stick out to the noble as objects of interest: masterwork thieves’ tools, a bronze war medallion from the Shining Crusade, an unframed Taldan painting of Stavian I, a set of a noblewoman’s silver hair clips, a masterwork punching dagger, a pouch containing a dozen masterwork shurikens, a masterwork silver war razor, and a wand of lesser restoration.
Denat pulled the latch open and the false wall swung back revealing a small hidden vault. Denat discovered that while this area may had held the most valuable or notorious belongs of those residing within the prison, only five items had been left behind. They were either never reached during the riot, or had been forgotten about after the fire had burned away the prison. Luckily, this room appeared to be unscathed by heat or by time. All five items were tagged as to the relation of their former owners, the five most feared creatures of Ustalav. Of the five there was a Bloodstained Handle wielded as the murder weapon of the Lopper, a Collection of Holy Symbols that Father Charlatan used to impersonate false faiths, Moldy Spell book that was once the property of a Professor Hean Feramin aka, the Splatterman, a Smith’s Hammer, the terrible weapon used by the Mosswater Marauder, and finally, a Tarnished Silver Flute which was the instrument of none other then the Piper of Illmarsh.
Anthem took the spell book, flute, and collection of holy symbols, Clint took the smith’s hammer, Denat belted the hand axe.
“I believe we have discovered the items that Father Grimburrow requested.” Anthem suggested.
“So it would seem. Perhaps they will aid us as we assault the rest of Harrowstone.” Denat agreed.
“Do you think we should return them to the church before we proceed? They must be old and we don't want them getting damaged.” Anthem pointed out.
“Very well.” Denat said and proceeded back through the hall way, past the foyer, reaching the front of the prison.
When the group reached to entrance steps to Harrowstone however they forgot the reason they had turned back around. Their minds were clouded and they all shared the urge to return to the prison. They began to check their gear thinking perhaps something had been forgotten and left behind. Anthem channels her detect magic and finds that the entire group is under some form of compulsion. Problem was she had no idea how to break the enchantment. As she was about speak up what was happening something called out from behind them all through the foyer.
“What’s wrong?! Leaving so soon!” A voice from behind them.
The three heroes spun on their heals, Ooga Chaka was holding Uther in a choke hold.
“Come and get ‘em.” The fiend goaded and dragged Uther into a side passage.
The cleric could only let out a strangled, “Nooo!” Before he was dragged out of sight.
Clint extended the villain a single finger as Denat broke into a sprint after him.
Anthem called after him, “Denat! No! It’s a trap!”
“You moron.” Clint sighed.
The ifrit paid them no heed dashing after his captured ally. As Denat rushed through the foyer all of the doors began to slam repeated creating a cornucopia of thunderous sound, with great skill and dexterity he leaped through a couple of slamming portal and skid to a halt in front of the door where the villain had disappeared with Uther. The door was open and a stair way led up into the darkness of the second floor.
“Curse you foul beast!” Denat shouted.
Mocking laughter was heard from about in response.
Anthem and Clint reached Denat about this time as the doors has ceased slamming when the ifrit passed through, a parlor trick it seemed meant only for him. Denat’s rapier was drawn, Clint and Anthem readied their weapons as Denat’s eyes lit ablaze and he defiantly began climbing the steps. As he reached the top of the stairs another door blocked his way. With a forceful kick Denat broke the door’s lock at the strike plate and the old door swung open on creaking hinges. A wall laid behind the door with an extended hall on the left and an open door area filled with debris to the right.
“Great.” Denat grumbled. “Clint, same as usual?”
“As always.” Clint confirmed.
Denat turned left and proceeded to the end of the hall. Straight on appeared to be a guard area that was blocked from the cellblock by an arc of iron bars. Within this area was an old wooden table with a few chairs scattered about. There was what appeared to be a cell block to the right and another hall way and cell block to the left. In side the guard area where two doors on opposite corners of the far wall that more then likely led out to the balcony. Denat moved to a door off the right side of the bars, Clint followed him in but Anthem remained outside as the two men entered the room.
Although this cell was rather spacious, it contained no concessions to comfort. A skeletal body dressed in the rotting remains of prisoner’s robe lies slumped against the eastern wall, wrapped in numerous chains that bolt him directly to the floor. As the two heroes enter, for a moment nothing happened, then an ethereal head rises up from the skeletal remains. An ethereal body coalesces attaching to the ghostly head, the body stout the head slightly balding, the figure remained with it’s back turned to the group hunched over it’s own remains.
Clint leveled his arrow at the back of the creatures head readying his action to strike. His ifrit ally drew his scimitar and slowly stepped forward… all three of them could hear the creature’s sobbing. The creature’s shoulders and frame began to twist and jerk as if it was over come with the over bearing suffer it was being forced to endure.
“I’ve got just the thing for this.” Clint stated and then with a quick forceful push he shoved Denat forward at the spirit.
As the ifrit was volunteered to make contact the spirit turned to face him. The swollen features of a distraught dwarf glared at him, scraggy hair stick out in every which way from the top of his head down into a thick tangled beard. In his grasp was the severed head of what appeared to be a female dwarf, the spirit was sobbing not at his own turmoil but rather it seemed over this object. The male dwarf locked eyes with Denat as if he could see him, for a quick moment the dwarf composed himself and contained his anguish.
In a shrill plead he screamed at the ifrit, “It wasn’t my fault!”
At that moment three skulls fly through the wall howling as they pass by the adventures disappearing through the other side of the wall, they then reappeared hovering over the spirit of the dwarf. All three of the skulls seemed distinct in their own way. The one on the left had ignited in a ball of fire, it turned to the dwarf and spoke.
Enraged the flaming skull screamed at the spirit, “It’s them! Get them! Kill them! They have the shard!”
The skull to the right was a frigid blue color that stammered when it spoke to the spirit, “ But but but… We can’t kill them! We-we-we-we shouldn’t kill them! We’ve killed enough! There is no way they could have the shard! Give up the search!”
The skull in the center of the trio was a soft porcelain white with a light grey glow coming from it’s empty eye sockets, it was very composed and focused when it spoke to the dwarf. “ What does it matter. We’ve killed so many others, what’s three more dead?”
At the utterance of that thought the flaming skull howled and flew at the adventures with reckless abandon. Clint knocked two arrows simultaneously and fired them without hesitation over Denat’s head. The project flew through the arrow piercing through the skull’s empty eye sockets and exploding out the back side of the head. The creature erupted into a great burst of flames and then extinguished into thin air.
As the flaming skull explodes out of existence the dwarf becomes enraged with the adventures and commanded his ethereal allies. “Burn them! Slay them! Bring me their heads!”
Anthem stabled her cross bow over Clint’s shoulder and fired a shot at the frozen skull. The creature barely dodged the attack and the bolt ricochet off a wall. The frozen skull responded by swooping at Denat with it’s chomping jagged maw, latching onto Denat’s shoulder its fangs digging deep into the ifrit’s flesh. The porcelain skull attempted to bull rush Clint but it’s snapping jaws slammed shut just inches out of the reach of Clint’s neck as the archer deftly leaned past the attack.
Denat broke free of the frozen skull which flew into the wall behind him disappearing for the moment. The noble chose to slash across at the porcelain skull with his scimitar to aid his ally. The blade made a clean cut across the back of the cranium and the skull wailed in pain from the attack. Clint then took a five foot step back to the right and loosed two more arrows at the porcelain head. Both arrows struck the skull one between the eye sockets and the second arrow striking just above the first, cause the creature to dissipate.
The dwarf was still barking orders but seemed to be more composed at this moment. “I thought I said kill them, now!”
The frozen skull flew out from the wall at the moment heading straight for Denat’s back, again with jaw a gap and icy fangs once more seeking his blood. The ifrit exploded into motion whipping around to face the howling specter head on. He raised his scimitar over his head and slashed downward with all the strength he could muster as the creature bore down on top of him.
His scimitar connected with crushing force right along the center of the skull’s face and the creature’s icy form exploded into hundreds of icy chips and shards that sprayed in all directions as Denat’s sword stroke forced itself completely through its target. The chips and shards evaporated as they struck the wall and floor disintegrating like the two ghostly craniums before it.
They heroes turned to face the dwarf and readied themselves for the next attack waiting to see what else this new enemy was capable of. The dwarf was no longer enraged at the group however, he was nearly babbling to what seemed like himself.
“I know I must kill them. Yes of course they have to die, how else will we get the shard? But, what if they don’t have her piece. I can’t fail her again.” He began to stammer. “ I-I-I-I cant let that happen again… No!” He suddenly became very calm. “It’s fine. They must have the shard I’m missing. They have no other reason to be here. She brought them to me so that I may complete her and finally we shall be reunited.” His face began to contort. “ However, if they don’t have I shall crack their skulls open, hack their bodies into bits and crush their bones into dust!” His voice screaming with pent up rage.
The dwarf continued to cycle through multiple emotions and what seemed to be multiple personalities as Denat approached him withdrawing his haunt siphon. After taking a couple steps to him the dwarf’s head snapped it’s attention toward the ifrit as the dwarf spewed from his lips.
“You stay away from me guard! We aren’t doing this today! This is not a good day!” His face twisted in rage the dwarf turned and jumped through the floor to one of the lower levels of the prison.
Denat sighed pitying the distraught spirit and latched the haunt siphon back on to his belt. The three of them stood there for a moment Animal that he was in life did not permit this creature to suffer as such in death.
“Well, I believe we have just met the Mosswater Marauder.” Clint spoke up.
“He was one of the five prisoners sent to Harrowstone before the fire wasn’t he?” Anthem inquired.
“Yes, ironically the records indicated he was one of the more docile of the five. At least when he was brought in.” Clint told the other two.
“What do we know about him?” Denat asked.
“Well, he was born Ispin Onyxcudgel. He was granted the infamous title Mosswater Marauder from his home town of Mosswater where he hails from. Apparently, five years before the town was overrun and destroyed by monsters from a nearby river, Ispin was said to be both an exceptional artisan and doting husband. However, the dwarf discovered his wife’s infidelity and murdered her with his blacksmithing hammer in a fit of rage. It is said he did not stop swinging until he head and be reduced to hundreds of shards of bone.” Clint recounted.
“By the goddess.” Anthem’s look of shock and horror was shared by her companions.
“It seems however that such a brutal execution not only shattered her skull but also his sanity.” Clint continued. “Being wracked with shame and guilt The Marauder attempted to rebuild his wife’s shattered skull but was unable to full complete it due to a single shard that was lost in the killing. Over the course of several weeks following the murder the dwarf stalked and murdered nearly twenty more innocent people in an attempt to find the missing shard killing them all in the brutal fashion with the same brutal weapon. Seems he was captured just before murdering the daughter of a visiting noble and then brought to Harrowstone to await transfer and trial back to his home country.” Clint finished.
“That explains why he was babbling on about a missing shard.” Anthem realized.
“And being reunited with, her.” Denat added.
“I say we continue searching and help them reunite. This animal has it coming and Ravengro is not safe while that spirit exists.” Clint stated.
The heroes left the cell and continued their search through Harrowstone for not only the now discovered Mosswater Marauder, but the other four damned souls as well.
| Vander1249 |
Chapter 30
“Well that’s one down.” Denat stated as he drew his rapier with his left hand and held his scimitar in his right.
As they proceeded to search the floor Denat called out to Uther but did not receive a response. They continued left from where they encountered the Mosswater Marauder and found row upon row of ten-foot-square prison cells lining the walls, each separated from the passing hallway by a series of iron bars fitted with narrow iron doors. Skeletons slumped in many of the cells, the bones were scattered and coated with a mixed layer of ancient ashes and fresh mold. As the passed through the halls Clint fired an arrow into each of the skeletons ensuring that they were truly inanimate.
“Keep an eye out for anything useful.” Denat advised.
The heroes checked each cell as they walked through the cell block mostly just finding the bones of former inmates, blacked walls, shredded cloth and pieces of bedding, and some fallen bars that had given way over time. To Clint’s satisfaction none of the skeletons had reacted to his arrows. As they walked along the empty bared cells they began to hear a noise that seemed out of place. It was something to the effect of a calming serenade, it lightly floated through the air charming them with it’s silverly tune.
At one point Clint lost sight of his companions and found himself alone in the cell block, about the same time his trained ears pick up an underlying sound beneath the serene music, something akin to the sound of fluttering wings. The archer knocked an arrow and began to slowly turn in all directions seeking the source of the noise. Suddenly Clint felt something slam into his shoulder pad but get deflected off, it was too quick to be seen however and flew up into the ceiling without being identified.
Clint snapped back to his companions breaking free of the haunting compulsion and shouted to them. “Watch out! We’ve engaged the Piper!”
Denat and Anthem looked at Clint for a moment not fully understanding what he had just said. They had not seen the shadow attack Clint but as the archer looked up into the ceiling, his companions followed his line of sight and they all came to his same conclusion as one giant stirge hovered there momentarily before a second drifted out of the shadows. The insectoid creatures had two pairs of bat wings, a tangle of thin legs, and a needle-sharp proboscis the adventures immediately knew to avoid.
“Oh, great.” Clint confessed. “Stirges!”
Denat sheathed his scimitar and drew one of his daggers. A sound from behind the group drew their attention to find that a solid wall of stirges had formed behind them completely blocking the south exit of that cellblock, however for the moment the north exit remained clear. The stirges above them continued to multiply rapidly out of the gloom in the ceiling. The music in the cell block suddenly altered from it’s calm peaceful melody to a more dramatic blair of crescendos and falls causing the stirges to swarm in an agitated and aggressive fashion.
The heroes attempted defensive actions to ward off the swooping creatures and in doing so both Clint and Anthem noticed a large shadow drifting amongst the stirges. It appeared to be a skeletal figure with no physical flesh remaining on its bones. The spirit was shrouded in a dark gray cloak that just like it’s lower half seemed to dissipate into thin air. It’s jaw and neck were covered in a lavender scarf, while its right skeletal hand held a golden cage and its left clutched a silver flute.
“There he is!” Anthem called out seeing the Piper at the southern end of cellblock.
“No! He’s over there!” Clint argued seeing the haunt through the bars to the east of the cell block.
To add to the chaos, the skeleton’s contained in the cellblock sprang to life. Some of them reaching through the bars with clawing hands, some snapping hungry mouths against the bars desperately trying to escape. Luckily most of the cells had remained locked and prevented many but not all of the skeletons from escaping.
Denat acrobatically dodge forward between the grasping claws and hungry skulls, launching his dagger at the nearest stirge as it attempted to dive-bomb the surrounded heroes, the dagger flew past the stirge missing it’s target. Clint took a step backwards careful to avoid the grasping arms of one skeleton and launched two arrows. One of which passed straight through the specter, the other striking it in the shoulder. For a moment the Piper staggered back then snapped it’s fiery gaze at Clint, it almost appeared shocked that someone had caused it harm, this however only convinced their enemy to employ more diabolical magic.
The skeletons continued to rattle against their cages some of them breaking free to attack the heroes as others emerged from their open cells to join the fray. One skeleton clawed at Denat who flicked it’s hand aside and stabbed it clean through it’s fleshless rib cage, causing no damage. The Piper disappeared from both Anthem’s and Clint’s sight, as the stirges and skeletons closed in again. Shaken by the assault the heroes close in back to back fighting off the swooping insects. In between the bars of iron and bone, Anthem saw Denat from the other side of the cell block appear frozen right in the middle of the chaos. For a moment the ifrit stood motionless his rapier drawn with his arm fully extended as if challenging the emptiness before him. Then suddenly multiple small fountains of blood erupted from his skin as it drawn by invisible syringes. After the brief expulsion of his life blood the noble doubled over in pain as if he was being stabbed in the abdomen. The music of their symphonic doom then exploded through the cell block again seemingly in response to Denat’s trial.
Denat growled in frustration and pursued the reappearing haunt at the other side of the cell block. He leaped over intervening skeletons, sliding against the wall as he rounded one aisle of the iron cages to keep clear of the undead as he neared his prey. As Denat moved Clint located the Piper again and knocked two arrows aiming carefully between the bars of the cells timing the chaotic movement of the dead prisoners. The Piper floated and played his flute staring down Clint attempting to entrancing him in the spell. This provided the precise moment Denat needed, stabbing his rapier into the back of the Piper. In that fraction of a second Clint loosed both arrows that fired true through the bars, past the skeletons and pierced the Piper.
From the blackness of the Pipers cloak two arrows exploded as Denat landed his mark, both projectiles passing through the incorporeal haunt and nearly striking on both sides of the ifrit’s face mere centimeters from his skull, one of the arrows cutting loose some of Denat’s spiked hair.
“Hey! Watch it!” Denat’s command was lost in the uproar of combat.
A skeleton broke free of it’s cage and lunged for Anthem wildly, she easily side stepped and fired a bolt into the back of it’s skull killing the creature. Another of the skeletons latched onto Clint’s back but before it could dig it’s rotten teeth into his neck the archer flipped his attacker over his shoulder and crushed it’s head with his boot, the fragile bone caving in without protest. The Pipers haunting melody dispersed out over the cell block as it disappeared again attempting to enthrall the heroes under his spell.
The bars, skeletons, and even music fell away into darkness as Anthem lost sight of her allies. The repeating sound of heavy fluttering wings replaced the chaotic uproar of battle and the samsaren immediately realized she was about to experience what Denat had been put through moments ago. The stirges that had filled the cellblock began to multiply into a solid wall of the insects, the wall then began to move and churn into a torrent of needles and wings. Anthem turned about constantly as she reloaded her crossbow not willing to be caught off guard. She caught sight of the Piper as the torrent of whirling needles parted and their master floated through closing on his victim.
Anthem leveled the crossbow and fired a bolt that piece the musician’s face but seemed to have no effect, she cursed and hurried to reload as her mind continued to scramble for a plan. The Piper drifted closer as the circle of stirges tightened like a noose, the music was growing in volume and beginning to deafen her. Anthem would not be taken by this vile horror, she would not bend to its will. She would fight, or she would die. The song was building to a crescendo with the notes becoming precise and focused, she swore she could hear the screams of the Piper’s victims in those notes and then at the last possible moment, the Piper stopped.
The burning coals that acted as his eyes bore into her with fiery hatred but he did not advance. The creature spun about in a rapid turns and exploded into a great fog, the stirges dissipated as Anthem returned to the cell block and her allies still fighting for their lives. Anthem thanked Pharasma for her good fortune and strength of will breaking the spell’s effect.
Clint fired off three arrows in rapid succession at the reappearing Piper of Illmarsh, all three arrows striking solid blows against the spirit. Denat crushed one of the skeletons against one of the cell blocks trying to clear the way back to his allies.
“Strike him again! While he’s corporeal!” Denat called out.
Anthem turned and invoked her healing magic grasping the shredded cloths of the haunt, the spirit surged with agony as if being electrocuted by her cure light wounds spell. Clint loosed two more arrows into the convulsing spirit piercing it’s ghostly rib cage and striking the lavender scarf covering it’s mouth. The haunt retreated into the aether as Anthem proceeded to cast Sanctuary, magically shielding herself from the attacks of the skeletons and the stirges just as Denat reached her.
“Well done.” Denat commended her.
“Quick reflects when they need to be.” She replied, “ But where is he now?”
Both of them turned as the stirges continued to swarm about looking for where their enemy would reappear and attack them from next. Clint’s mind was racing, trying to find patterns in the attack or how the targets were chosen by the Piper. He knew the flute was the key but he couldn’t figure out how aside from obviously controlling the stirges. The archer tried to center himself in the chaos, come to peace and calm his mind to see the pattern. It didn’t help that these blasted stirges simply would not stop fluttering about breaking his concentration. He fired off three separate arrows killing three separate beasts but more simply appeared to take their places. The music that rang about the cells lulled for a brief time before beginning to pick up and resonate again. Clint’s sharp sense listened to see if he could pin point the source.
“Here he comes!” Denat called out apparently noticing the pattern himself.
Doesn’t he ever shut up? Clint thought to himself as he was trying to listen for the source of the flute. Clint then noticed that the stirges were forming in a tight cyclone just above Anthem. Clint realized this was the tell he had been looking for, it wasn’t the flute, it was the stirges. He knocked an arrow and took aim waiting for the specter to show itself and hoping that it would not only come out of the aether, but come out corporeal before striking at them again.
Clint’s luck held out as the Piper emerged from the stirges above the archer’s unknowing companions and as soon as the insects cleared, Clint fired. The arrow pierced the air flying straight for the side of the Piper’s head, as the haunt raised it’s flute to play the arrow shot right down the instruments metallic body. The force throwing the direction of the instrument toward the Piper’s mouth rather then away from it and the arrow exploded out the back of the Piper’s head.
The haunt let out a high pitched shrill that sounds like it should have come from the instrument itself. The stirges spasmed and convulsed before exploding into shadows, the skeletons then dropped into lifeless bone piles once again as the Piper’s spirit erupted into small clouds of dust like tiny volcanoes bursting forth with ethereal energy. There was a final shrill cry as the spirit evaporated with the metallic flute and golden cage dropping to the stone work both bouncing briefly with hollow clangs. Anthem and Denat turned and looked incredulously at Clint as he lowered his bow.
“I don’t like things screwing with my mind.” The archer replied to their looks of disbelief regarding his exception shot.
“Well, we’d best take these back to Father Grimburrow.” Anthem stated as she knelt down to pick up the recently discarded relics
Anthem reached out to pick up the golden cage, as her fingers brushed the cage the samsaren found herself behind bars in the cell block. Her nostrils filled with the dank musky smell of mold and the air was damp with humidity. She then took note of gaunt grey skinned hands grasping the bars in front of her and realized that she was seeing a memory through the eyes of the Piper of Illmarsh. Two guards were standing on the other side of the bars, one was holding the cage and the other was holding the flute.
“How the hell do you play this thing, f$*!~%?” The guard mockingly asked her.
“Oh I know! Here!” The second guard held up the cage and grinned at his coworker.
“Of course!” The first guard hollered as he began slamming the flute forcefully against the cage no doubt trying to cause as much damage to the instrument as possible.
Anthem began to feel emotions of rage boil from within her. She was unable to look away from the guards and couldn’t get the thought out of her mind…”Any moment now… All of you will die.”
Suddenly there was a massive explosion from what seemed to come from underneath the prison. The two guards stopped their antics and froze looking at one another trying to see if the other knew what had just happened. Before either one could speak, Anthem whistled a soft melodic tune.
Two stirges dropped in from the shadows above and skewered both guards in the neck with the syringe like proboscis. The men were sucked dry of their life force in mere seconds, Anthem loosed a haunting chuckle that was muffled by the purple scarf she wore as the cell door gently swung open and the stirges ascended back into the gloom above.
The memory faded to black.
Anthem was once again back in the present time, holding the golden cage. She briefly hesitated on picking up the silver flute unsure of what she would witness this time but decided after a couple moments of indecision to do so. Nothing invaded her mind this time. She attached the items to her pack and the group continued on through Harrowstone. One haunt had been eliminated, they have four left to find.