"I'm too tired to determine the wand's properties, I will examine it again in the morning." Simeon offers in explanation for his failure to discern the wand's nature.
He waves his hand in annoyance at Jorminda's mercantile suggestion "Explain what these concoctions of yours are able to do , then we can make a decision..."
Later, with a belly full of beef and wine, Simeon retires to the library, accepting Vigilance's help if offered. There he pores over his notes on the ritual inscribed on the prison walls, attempting to ascribe more meaning than the general nature he was able to determine in situ.
Knowledge (Arcana) 1d20+11 = 23
Rising the next morning, Simeon once again holds the wand in his hands and carefully examines the nature of its magical essense.
Spellcraft 1d20+9 = 22
Jaru eats well and retires to study his notes on the prison. The next morning, he interrogates Simeon about the objects they found in the vault. "Haven't you studied these yet, Simeon? I have an orison to read the magical writings of the book should you wish to share. This flute though, could it be the one used by the Piper of Illmarsh?
There is an old axe, handle and head stained with spots of something dark and brown, a cluster of necklaces - thin fine metal chains and leather thongs thrown in a careless knotted pile, each appearing to be attached to a holy symbol of this god or that. A thick leather bound tome that is turning moldy, a smiths hammer and a tarnished silver flute... each of these radiates magic to varying degrees - a thin veneer of magic for the flute, chains and hammer, with the axe and book radiating magic far more strongly.
As the consensus seems to be for much needed coin an agreement is reached. The many dusty glass and ceramic objects are stacked in a wooden crate that is fetched from Jominda's shop and with Kendra's help they are taken away.
The alchemist comes back with your refreshed healing kits and a large coin pouch. She and Kendra put the kits on the table and hands the coin pouch to Jaru with a smile, then she heads back to the kitchen.
Jaru opens the pouch to confirm the contents briefly. In amongst the old silver and tatty coppers something bright gleams... gold. That there is gold is not remarkable but 'freshness' of the colour draws the eye.
Jaru moves to the table and carefully empties it on the surface. Jominda hasn't stiffed you. There is 100 silver coins, 100 coppers, and 14 gold coins, all of what must be local usage. There remains 20 bright clean shiny coins of gold of a make that you've not seen before. They have seen little or no use before. Lament and Simeon gather around with Jaru to look at why the usually altruistic priest is sorting through coins.
Simeon picks up one of the new coins frowning slightly... something isn't right. The coins would normally be minted with the images of its creators monarch and homeland. These bear the image of the skull on one side and a grim tower on the other.
Lament also takes up a coin. These look like an old old coin I once saw - from the days of the Tyrant, she says quietly.
That 'Something' that was bothering the wizard has suddenly become very clear to him. These coins were minted early in the reign of the Whispering Tyrant. Later in his cruel rule coins bore the images of the various Vampiric, Lycanthropic or monstrous rulers he used to run the then subjugated realm of Ustalav.
Jaru frowns at the unworn coins with the strange engraving. "Perhaps these came from some ancient stash recently recovered. Of course, they could be evidence of the Whispering Way as well. We should ask Jorminda where she got these."
So saying he heads into the kitchen and asks the alchemist about the origin of the coins.
You find Jominda laughing standing behind a smiling Kendra who is kneeding dough, arms draped over your hosts shoulders.
What is it Father?, Kendra asks as Jominda gently steps away.
Jaru doesn't waste much time getting to his inquiry.
I found a number of coins like this in the payment you gave us Jominda - can you tell us where you got them?, he says holding it up.
vs
Jominda tenses and you know you have struck a nerve.
I don't know, must have been from a customer at sometime, she tries to brush away the inquiry casually. Father Jaru has dealt with people all of his priestly career and her words, her voice, her face all tell him that she is lying.
Kendra frowns.
But business has been bad, you told me that - I wondered how you'd have the money to pay for what they found. Is this something to do with those crates you have from the Silken Purse? Have you been borrowing money from them?
Its my own business, Jominda angrily snaps back but she pales seeing Kendra's shocked reaction and you can tell that she regrets what was said.
Jominda turns to leave. Excuse me, I've got to go, she says emotionally, trying to push past Father Jaru.
The tall priest bars her way holding up one of the coins. "I do not think that the Whispering Tyrant's likeness would go unnoticed in the town. Others will question you and perhaps given the losses from the deadly fire last night, they may be moved to violence. You were one of our first friends here and we will vouch for you, but you must tell us everything now."
"Halt, woman!" Baradlon commands, using his sheathed sword, and body, to block any exit she might have. "You must explain yourself. We're hunting a cult of necromancers, and you bear coins that might be connected to them? If you have committed no wrong, there is nothing to fear." The elf stares at her long and hard with his alien eyes. If you are allied with the necromancers, I will cut off your head.
So consumed with questions about the ritual , Simeon had completely forgotten about the items that Jaru had reminded him of. Shaking his head, he said "Of course, Jaru. Thank you for reminding me."
Placing the items on the table, he begins to examine them, muttering as he extends his senses to discern the magical emanations of each.
Flute
Spellcraft
Hammer
Spellcraft
Chains
Spellcraft
Axe
Spellcraft
Once finished with the items, he begins to examine the book, very carefully.
Simeon briefly notices the confrontation with the alchemist, but so engrossed is he that he merely looks up for a moment, blinks then returns to his work.
The flute, holy symbols all tangled together and the hammer all bear traces of necromantic energy. A resonance if you will, without having the heavier magic of truly enchanted items. They have a magical link to something or someone.
The axe is another matter, like the others it carries the same resonance but unlike the others, its definitely a magical weapon, though with what properties? You are unable to divine that.
The spellbook... We'll get to that in a bit.
Lament sits in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. She is staring intently at the flute. She can feel its pull. She has felt it before. The allure of necromatic magic. "The darkness creeps. It surrounds the fog. Depths unknown. The lady is drawn. The lady has succumbed."
She stands as if in a trance and walks over to the loot. She stares for what seems like more than ten minutes before slowly turning toward Jominda. Her dark, tranced expression turns into a warm smile as she addresses the woman. "You have nothing to fear. We are not here to hurt you. We are here to help. We will protect you. I know you want to be successful. When we destroy the evil here, this town will be changed. You will be able to thrive here. The darkness keeps customers away. That will all be changed." She walks over to Jominda and touches her hands. She gives a gentle touch. "I have been there. I understand. You have friends now. You do not have to be lonely any more. Please help us end this evil..."
At Laments touch Jominda breaks down sobbing.
Over the next ten minutes a weeping Jominda recounts her tale.
The shop had been declining in business over the last two or so years... ever since her father had died. The shop itself had passed from her Grandfather, who was the Prison doctor and set up a business after the fire, and to her father but the township are not as trusting of her as a woman... she supplemented by taking on additional jobs. Abortion medicines and 'Pox' doctoring to merchants or guards who came this way.
But she dreamed of success and getting the hell out of this town, and taking Kendra with her. She was sure that Professor Lorrimor would have supported Kendra moving away.
She reached out to the Silken Purse for a loan to help purchase a small house in Lepidstadt, with the intent of moving out there, setting up a business and calling back for Kendra and selling the shop... but the deal went south and she was swindled, leaving her with a considerable debt.
She was in some trouble, with the Silken purse taking some of her lab in hock for failure to pay when a merchant came through to visit her to receive doctoring about 6 months ago. He mentioned that he understood trained alchemists could either have in stock or make poisons, "For rats and similar". She knew that something was wrong but she had some arsenic on hand and sold it.
The next month she received a letter asking for more poisons and promising a hefty sum. She used the Silk Purse to transfer the concoctions and the money was sent back. This happened monthly and she was gradually able to redeem her lab. Finally she branched into making potions and selling those as well and is now out of debt. In fact she now has a few hundred gold banked with the Silk Purse for when she finally wants to move out of town.
Over a month ago a man came to her shop at night. Hooded and speaking in low tones he confessed to being a grain merchant looking to invest large sums of money in the Ravengro grain crops - he would pay 100 gold coins for an evening of information but she was to answer any question put to her.
Jominda breaks down at this point.
She goes on to say that the questions were innocent at first then went to the families in Ravengro. The man asked many questions about Lorrimor - what did she know about him? Not a lot - that he was a teacher and good man. Had she seen him use magic and if so, what magics? Minor spells such as creating light or cleaning. Once he had cast a spell on Jominda to help her understand some difficult writing... the questions were uncomfortable and probing but not directed as to sound threatening to him. Then the questions moved to Harrowstone where she spent the rest of the night sharing everything she knew of it.
The man grew increasingly agitated as the sun rose and his manner cold and menacing. Jominda says that she begun to fear for her life when there was a knocking at the shop door. It was the Sheriff asking her if she would like a morning stroll. Gladly she took it and did all she could to hide her fears.
On her return the man was gone.
I just didn't know what was going to happen, Jominda sobs. Now there is talk of necromancers and no one knows what happened to your dear father but he's likely dead because of me and what I told that man!.
The alchemist begins to wail and keen softly while Kendra backs her self into the corner of the kitchen, arms held tight to her body, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Lament wraps her arms around Jominda's hips and rests her head on her side. "It is not your fault. You didn't know what the man was up to." She motions for Kendra. "See...Kendra doesn't blame you."
She leans back allowing Kendra to show the lady sympathy. After a few seconds, she continues" "We need to know everything about the man. Anything you can think of. What about the coins?"
Lament wraps her arms around Jominda's hips and rests her head on her side. "It is not your fault. You didn't know what the man was up to." She motions for Kendra. "See...Kendra doesn't blame you."
Kendra, hugging herself tightly is mute and shaking.
She does not approach Jominda or say a word.
She leans back allowing Kendra to show the lady sympathy. After a few seconds, she continues, "We need to know everything about the man. Anything you can think of. What about the coins?"
Jominda winces and cries more but goes on. I never saw his face and his voice was always low and soft. It was a man, his accent wasn't strange - could have been from anywhere in Canterwall... and the coins? They were the ones in the pouch he gave to me.
"Well...if he feared the morning sun, and has coins in mint condition which are from the time of the Tyrant, it's possible he was a vampire who's been around since that time," Baradlon says unhappily.
Jaru frowns at Nighteyes' assertion, "Let's not jump to conclusions. I am sorry to hear this though I am glad that you have been honest with us. You are right to feel guilty, Jominda. All who live must face her judgement, but not today. May you have long years to atone for your actions so Her judgement will be kinder."
"I seem to remember the phrase 'it's possible' indicating uncertainty in the common tongue," Baradlon snarks at Jaru. "Vampire or man, you made a grave mistake for the sake of gold, woman." The elf seems to be disgusted by the alchemist as the revelation fully sinks in. He leaves the room, stepping out onto the front porch to be alone.
Lament defends the woman. "She did what many of us would do. She was alone...afraid." Lament goes back to hugging the lady. "Do not listen to them. They are angry at the unknown man and are taking their frustration out on you."
"How can we find this man? Think people. That would be more helpful than standing here and pointing fingers"
Jaru shakes his head. "I suspect he was affiliated with the Whispering Way and they appear to have left. We however, still need to repair the damage done. Once we have exorcized Harrowstone, then we can focus on finding the stranger."
Jominda weeps quietly and is not consoled by your words.
Leave.
The word is said with a rock hardness, a harshness that is surprising.
The word comes from a stony faced Kendra. Tears still roll down her face but there is an angry tension in her posture and bearing.
Jominda looks up stunned.
Leave, Kendra says again, words grating through slightly clenched teeth.
Jominda stands and then darts from the kitchen, through the house and out the front door, wailing inconsolably.
Meanwhile Simeon is fascinated by the spell book.
Many pages are destroyed by mold but there are still a good few spells contained within and the notes... oh the notes have the twisted clarity and brilliance that could only have come from mind of a mad man!
And that's when Simeon sees his own name. Spelled out in blood across one of the pages.
There is a thrill of fear that courses through his veins but the wizard masters it in time to see the Alchemist running across the room.
Jaru just sighs after the exiting apothecary, "It is a slippery slope to a lost soul..."
"Yes, we must focus at the task at hand. I honestly do not know what to make of Simeon's analysis of the objects in the vault. Unfortunately, I am not particularly well versed in spellcraft. I will speak to Father Grimburrow about it. Perhaps he will have some insight."
Mastering his overwhelming desire to fling the book into the fire and run screaming from the manor, Simeon instead forces himself to regard his name scrawled so bloodily, looking past the blood to what lay on the page beneath.
His attention is only momentarily distracted by the flight of the aphothecary.
In time you do your own researches and plan your events for tomorrow. Simeon resolves to re-study the wand, Elidal thinks to catch up the Sheriff on the parties progress, Jaru decides on how best to approach the crusty old Father Grimburrow. Nighteyes is content to simply rest in his customary warm chair by the fire, grateful that Vigilance is able to watch the monument.
Before bed Elidal taps into her magic and heals her wound to the throat but something is wrong. The poker punched a hole right into her neck and didn't sear the skin as such, and typically magic heals without leaving scars or traces... yet a bright angry scar of an 'E' is left marring her skin. It is unsettling but there is little point in getting everyone excited about it tonight - the is nothing to be done for now. The mark may fade with a good nights sleep.
The night grows cold and deep and you all snuggle down to sleep... and dream.
All you have learned, all you have known is written down before you. A life time of accomplishment. It is a proud day.
Then the mocking laughter and the haughty derision comes in wave after wave. Your learning is held as childish dross as you begin to doubt your own mind.
You are held, bound in place by many unseen hands as the work of your life is torn from your writings, page by page. As each page is ripped out you feel a sensation like a sharp spike is piercing your heart.
Apostate!, screams an angry voice.
And then chain falls. Again. You look down screaming at your bruised body, the many blows have swollen your abdomen and you can barely breathe - difficult to suck air in with cracked ribs. An agony all of its own. You cough and wheeze on the the sickly-sweet smoke, the smell of old incense and rancid perfume cloying.
Blasphemer!, an accusatory voice shouts.
The beatings continue well beyond the point you wishes you could have passed out by yet something that keeps you awake and focused on every screaming nerve.
You looks up and sees the chain descend again, its length adorned with cruelly shaped spirals - the final mocking condemnation of the faith you have served so pathetically all your life.
Your body arches as the blows move from your chest and belly and to your thighs. The torture never ceasing...
Its a rare day of rest. You hum happily in the kitchen of your parents home as you work on dinner. You have never been so content - soon your beloved will be home.
Feelings of tenderness and satisfaction rises as she finishes primping the pie crust of their dinner.
The door slams shut.
It is a disconcerting sound, shattering the peace you feel but none the less you take up the pie and turn to the oven.
There is a blinding flash of pain. You feel sickened, stunned... and then faint as the room goes black.
There is a feeling of rising horror as you find yourself standing over your own body, looking down at your crushed head while a dwarf picks through the remains of your skull...
Anxiety races through the elf's mind. It is an alien feeling and it is almost as if you are in a 'third person' state. It is you and yet it is not you as you would be during the sojourns into your mind.
His kind does not dream and it is his meditations that are disturbed but in such a way that keeps him locked in his thoughts.
He feels... hunted.
In his recollections of past events he moves through the Lorrimor home, convinced that some one is watching him, stalking him. Baradlon searches room to room, looking behind doors and in closets when he senses movement behind him... there is a flash of pain and then the room tilts. There is a feeling of falling and impact - the room rolls... or rather it is his head that does, right past his quivering body.
You groan in your sleep... paralyzed. You are unable to move, even to open your eyes. There is terrible pain as you feel sharp objects thrust into your body, your blood being drawn out a bit at a time... your heart races against the pressure but it only worsens the situation.
All the while you can hear a mournful flute dirge playing, leading you to the dark stillness of death.
For you all there is a feeling of gloating satisfaction before you are shaken to consciousness by terrible sense of dread... something is horribly, horribly wrong!
Erratically the bells of the Church begin to chime, shattering the foreboding quiet of the night.
Baradlon sits bolt upright on his chair, grabbing his sword. He stands up, and immediately scans the room for threats. What in the nine hells was that?
Jaru immediately dresses and heads downstairs to see the others. "Nightmares again. Disturbing," he mumbles rubbing the bags under his eyes.
"The bells. Is there an emergency, I wonder. We should go see what is the matter."
You rise and dress, the more paranoid among you taking weapons as you leave the house but there is no time to don anything but light armour if you want to hurry.
The town is filled with a thick billowing mist that moves slowly across the ground. Ravengro's residents are confused, rubbing at eyes and gently curse. Most stand outside their doors waiting for some greater explanation or gather to murmur in small groups. You can hear some running to and fro and then explanations from panting townsfolk that the priests don't know who has rung the bell and that there is nothing amiss.
You move through the town and up to the Temple of Pharasma to find an out of sorts Grimburrow impatiently explain to a young man that I don't know who rung the bell - just get along to bed! And tell anyone else wanting to ask to go to bed too!
The mist thins more and Father Grimburrow looks to you... his face darkens and a scowl forms but it is pushed away as his masters himself. Well, one can't blame you for wanting to investigate, I suppose, he says to you grudgingly by way of greeting.
Well, one can't blame you for wanting to investigate, I suppose, he says to you grudgingly by way of greeting.
"Given the recent prevalence of haunts in town and the dire consequences thereof, I would have hoped you would be a bit more interested in our work," Jaru retorts. "We'd like to take a look at the bells and then we would like to discuss our findings at Harrowstone with you."
The usually fearless Lament wakes with a start. She looks around for the horribly mournful flute player. Her bones ache as she gets out of bed, shaken by the nightmares.
She follows the group through town in a daze. She had seen so much in her past. Why was this place so different...so... Her thoughts trail off as the Father's words interrupt her thoughts.
Jaru feels any displeasure coming from the old man is likely due to disturbed sleep and answering the same questions over and over.
Father Grimburrow stiffens at Father Toths words. The younger Priest can sense the old mans rising ire, then Grimburrow gives a rueful snort. Seems I am short on sleep and patience both, he says by way of scant apology.
He calls inside for one of the junior acolytes to man the door. Come inside - we've things to discuss it seems.
He leads you inside and to his room where he offers anyone who wants one, a mulled wine.
Before you ask, I've no idea what happened with the bell. One of the acolytes found... This. He indicates a tarnished and twisted holy symbol of Pharasma on his mantle. It was found near the bell. I've questioned everyone here and I am certain some else has done this nights mischief - but how I don't know.
What have you to tell me?
What have you to tell me?
He nods wearily and slumps heavily into a seat. "My apologies, Father. Harrowstone is even worse than I imagined. I deployed nearly every resource I had and we still fell short of clearing even the main floor. The Whispering Way has enacted some ritual which has set loose every lost soul and restless spirit. Nearly every room has some form of haunt."
He gazes at the twisted symbol. "We had little rest as well. Our dreams were haunted... I dreamt that I suffered punishment as a blasphemer. Malformed spirals like this upon the chain used to beat me. Earlier, I had a dream that I was in a cell at the prison. I wonder if the ghosts of the prisoners haunt our dreams."
"There was one, Father Charlatan, that played the role of a priest to steal from the poor and desperate. Simeon, show him those items we found among the confiscated materials. Yes, this twisted mass of holy symbols. Could this have been his?"
Nighteyes follows the others silently, relieved to hear that the bell didn't herald any immediate danger.
Father Toth considers the holy symbols, trying for a minute to untangle them but is unable to and finally he gives up and hands them back to Simeon.
I can attempt an augury if you wish... I have the incense and the divining rods here.
Will Save DC 13
Simeon bolts upright, his hand clutching his chest, breaths coming hard and fast. But he calms himself quickly , Damnded spirits, leave my dreams alone!
He is about to return to sleep when the church bells begin ringing. Grumbling he meets the others downstairs and accompanies out into the night.
Handing over the jumble of holy symbols, he says "I'd thought of that as well, Jaru. Each of our finds may in fact have been the possession of one of our infamous prisoners...."
He subsides as the priest suggests an augury.
"I'd thought of that as well, Jaru. Each of our finds may in fact have been the possession of one of our infamous prisoners...."
I wonder if they can somehow be used against the ghosts..."
I can attempt an augury if you wish... I have the incense and the divining rods here.
"I would appreciate that, Father Grimburrow. Any guidance would be appreciated."