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28th day of Lamashan, 4710
Like every morning, the fog rolls into Carrion Hill, swallowing up the lower districts. Carrion Hill is a massive city built on a collection of ancient ruins that rise up out of the Wrythe, a massive marshland that lies on the southern banks of the Kingfisher River of Ustalav. For hundreds of years, it has changed hands from men to monsters and back again, once under the control of Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, and his undead armies. Gothic architecture rises high into the sky, claustrophobic alleys wind without and the entire city seems to be cobbled together piecemeal as buildings rise above others, windows open into other buildings, corridors end in sudden walls or reliefs of screaming gargoyles or worse.
Whether or not you've lived in Carrion Hill for a while, are passing through or just arriving, you find yourself walking through the Tangle, the most confusing and built-upon section of the Hill. No one else walks the fog-clouded streets with you, and it seems that no one else is out and about this morning. The entire city gives off an impeccable aura of desertion and fear. Dirty faces of children crowd window sills and cracked doorways, flicking away and disappearing after a glance. Cupboard shops built into the walls of the city remain unapologetically closed, and business carts lay empty and abandoned on the road.
On street corners near squares, small parks, gardens, on top of a box or not, stand men carrying lanterns, dressed in all black leather armor and chains. These are the Crows, the guardsmen of Carrion Hill. As you pass, closely or not, the guard calls out futilely into the morning fog, desperation in his voice-- he's maybe been at this for hours, alone, on the streets:
“Carrion Hill needs heroes! Men of stout heart and bravery are asked to come to Crown Manor with all haste, there to receive a task worthy of their skill and talents and a reward of suitable magnificence. Make haste to Crown Manor! Make haste!”
Crown Manor is the massive mayoral mansion of Carrion Hill that sits in the Crown district, the more affluent district of Carrion Hill that rises above the fog.
Tusk rode his shabby looking horse named Dusty through the wet streets of Carrion Hill.
He'd been here before as had many of his predecessors. The centuries of repeated occupation and the ruins in the vicinity made for a steady supply of work for a demon hunter.
It was for this reason that Tusk made sure to disguise himself as an old man-at-arms with a grizzled complexion including a large puckered scar on the left side of his very human features.
It was an old hunter's trick. Give the folks something to fix their attention on and forever after they would speak of the man with a scar and forget all the other details. It was the details that would get you identified and that wasn't something Tusk wanted.
A demon hunter always had to be worried of the people that might recall their passage and whisper the tale to the wrong soul.
Tusk didn't need his skills of investigation to tell that trouble flowed with the fog. The streets were more dead then normal and even the Crows were looking for carrion to feed a monster.
Tusk and his ancestors knew how to play that role. It was one of the basic solutions to monster hunting. Step in the monster's trap. Pretend to be dinner. Then cut your way out.
It wasn't his favourite plan but monsters often wouldn't show themselves unless you were willing to offer them a goat to feed upon.
If nothing else, the cries for heroes would mean some pay. Demon hunting wasn't usually a high paying job especially with the number of employers that hoped you wouldn't survive to collect your earnings.
With such happy thoughts, Tusk headed to the mansion.
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Kiptera, tired and feeling a bit grimy, rides into Carrion Hill. Again. The first time was just passing through as a caravan guard a month ago. Unable to find work heading in the direction she wanted, She took her meager pay and grumbled "Harumph, fills the belly and keeps employer contacts fresh." and backtracks to the last town, Carrion Hill.
Looking around as she rides ol' faithful Dimple, she thinks,
On street corners near squares, small parks, gardens, on top of a box or not, stand men carrying lanterns, dressed in all black leather armor and chains. These are the Crows, the guardsmen of Carrion Hill. As you pass, closely or not, the guard calls out futilely into the morning fog, desperation in his voice-- he's maybe been at this for hours, alone, on the streets:
“Carrion Hill needs heroes! Men of stout heart and bravery are asked to come to Crown Manor with all haste, there to receive a task worthy of their skill and talents and a reward of suitable magnificence. Make haste to Crown Manor! Make haste!”
She turns Dimple towards Crown Manor after recieving directions from one of the "Crows". "Yep, this'll do for now."
Kiptera ready and reporting in.
Ragnar shudders with cold as he trudges on in the rain. "Remind me again what I'm doing here", he thinks to himself morosely. As so often he's been chasing wind in his search to understand his powers. Absentmindedly he tries to set a sodden twig on fire, but it's too damp to even smoke. A wan smile creeps over his face.
The voice of the crier rouses him from his reveries. A mission, at last. Straightening his back, he moves with newfound purpose towards Carrion Manor.
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The journey from the Tangle into the Crown takes a few short moments as the dilapidated and strange buildings fade away into lavender-lined streets and beautiful two and three story mansions and townhouses. The fog melts away during the journey, transforming into rain in just a few short moments of silence. As the fog leaves, Carrion Hill's famous flocks of crows appear in the sky, circling the buildings yet never landing as if something is terrifying even the animals.
Crown Manor is an enormous fortress-esque town hall and mayoral mansion, and from it fly innumerable ragged tapestries and flags, all wildly different colors, some flags of nations and many not, many ragged down into scraps and some brand new. All of the lights within Crown Manor shine through the windows, a stark contrast to the utterly dark and seemingly uninhabited streets around it. As the fortified front gate comes into view for the first time, shapes come out of the fog from different roads and directions.
A pair of Crows stand at the gate, underneath the lip of the wall, smoking a pair of pipes and idly shivering in the cold.
Tusk watches the air and the pendants. He looks over the crows on the gate. He'd sniff the air but it would look odd in a human.
That didn't mean he was blind but then probably any of these other folks joining him on the ride to the gate weren't blind either.
None of them seemed to have that shiny quality of too much money and not enough miles. These were hard people. People that knew danger and hunted it.
Good people.
He, disguised as a scarred man-at-arms, rode up the crows and said, 'I 'ere ya have work.'
dottin
Strolling into the city streets in a nice day with some rain, [k]reminds me of my homeland for a moment, but I've seen more happy faces in a funeral than this town[/k]
“Carrion Hill needs heroes! Men of stout heart and bravery are asked to come to Crown Manor with all haste, there to receive a task worthy of their skill and talents and a reward of suitable magnificence. Make haste to Crown Manor! Make haste!”
Laughs out loud "Well by Erastil I must be lucky and blessed walkin' to a new town and I got a job already" as he makes his way to the Crown Manor.
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Kiptera looks up into the sky, shrugs off the rain and notices the others. She does a double take upon seeing Caelin and a smile the beats back the somber rain crosses her face. "Ha ha, Why Caelin as often as our paths cross I am still pleasantly surprised when I see ya. I take you are also here for the "easy" money? She turns and looks at Ragnar. Squinting her eyes and pursing her lips, she gives Ragnar a long hard look, "You look familiar, I believe Tanners Crossing, but please forgive me for not remembering your name. Glances at the scarred one, "I suspect we'll be formally introduce ourselves once inside. I'm Kiptera."
Kiptera glances around and gives the city background a meaningful look,
"This place is, indeed, in need of any kind of hero, Alive, Dead or otherwise. Let us hope we remain in the first catagory."
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The men look up at Tusk and the others, nod, and wave for those who want work to follow them out of the pouring rain. "If you're an 'adventurer'," one says, almost hanging quotations in the air with the fog of his breath, "then we've always got work. Come along."
They wave to a Crow inside, who unlocks the gate, and with a loud groan the gates are pushed open and the Crows are walking into Crown Manor, still dripping wet. "Vanton Heggry will want to see the lot of you."
Tusk grunted ascent at Kips attempt at humour. It was the grave type of humour that belonged to people that didn't need to pretend they had more notches on their blades then they'd earned.
Tusk watched the gates open and looked for an appropriate spot to tie up his mount or a groom to pass on the reins. He then took the saddle bags from his mount along with his backpack.
He knew that going before some major domo in travel stained cloak with pack and saddle bags would not do well for impressing people of his social skills.
Then, again, if these people were looking for nobility, they wouldn't be sending criers into the streets looking for adventures.
'Yeah, I've clubbed an ogre or two.' He looked back over the others. 'If he's the man that's hiring then I'll be wanting to see him too.'
Tusk follows the crow not bothering to wipe the mud from his boots as he entered the Manor.
Ragnar smiles blandly at Kiptera, unable to place her among the images swirling in his mind. Glad to get out of the rain, he silently follows Tusk.
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Kiptera dismounts and hands Dimple's reins to one of the more alert Crows. "If you be kind enough, please secure her and the other mounts to a dry spot, if any such exists, until we return. No need to unsaddle them unless you think we'll be longer than an hour." She checks absentmindly the gear stowed upon Dimple and whispers soothingly. Then turns and follows the Scarred One and the Familiar One into the manor, stomping her boots and shaking some the wetness from her.
She scrutinizes the Crows wondering if their morale is as low as the populace. Sense Motive or Perception
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Kiptera
The Crow takes your horse, nodding and pulling the animal along to a small overhang that's out of the rain. He nods at her as she leaves.
Your sense motive reveals that the Crows all seem to be thoroughly demoralized, many of them whispering to eachother in the corners of the Manor as you follow the others. You catch small glimpses of conversation, "Oh, poor Commander Garrus..." ... "...best of us..." ... "... we do without him?"
All
The Crow leading the group opens a large pair of darkwood doubledoors to reveal a long hallway lined with pillars, its roof an enormous caged skylight. The rain is running across the skylight, sending rippling shadows across the candlelit room. The center of the room is dominated by a long table with several seats, the tabletop dotted with several lit candles. A man, middle-aged, pale, dressed well and with short black hair and a long, neck-length beard sits at the far end of the table in a tall-backed chair. In the corners, lurking out of sight, stand several Crows.
The man straightens in his seat when he sees the doors open. "At least we’ve got a few backbones still upright in this place," he says, almost accusatory, and gestures to the seats. "Please, be seated."
Tusk nods at the invitation of the man. He gives a slight smile showing off the scar on his face.
He then walks to the middle of the table, drops his saddlebags beside a chair, and hangs his cloak on the chair to his left to drip. He sits slumped forward like a man with a curve in his spine.
He then looks around trying to remember what he can remember from the legacy of Carrion Hill and Vanton Heggry.
He also looks around at the furnishings and Vanton to see what they tell him of the current wealth and position.
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Tusk:
Carrion Hill is an ancient settlement that has traded hands many times, from Varisians to the minions of Tar-Baphon and otherwise. No one can truly say why people live on Carrion Hill-- they just always have, and the land seems to call to those who can take it. Built on top of hundreds of catacombs, the city is a hill because it covers complete other cities, each civilization layered on like another. Carrion Hill is known by some as the Boil or the Wart due to its unusual shape and the quality of the city life itself.
As for Vanton Heggry, he's the mayor of Carrion Hill. He's generally well liked, but rumor says his health has been slowly failing over the years he's been in office. The stress is slowly wearing him down.
Crown Manor was once a fortress, a final defensive position for those who ruled the city to take when it was under siege. As such, the room you're in seems to be extremely sturdily made, from the iron reinforced bars holding up the skylight to the darkwood doors lined with lead. The table itself is bolted down to the floor, and disused weapon racks, some empty, some repurposed as candelabras, line the walls. It's sparse and dark and inexpensive-- the trappings of the room, such as the wall carvings or the tiling suggests it's been this way for several years, maybe decades.
Tusk watched the man and prepared to be told a web of truths.
'Look in a man's cupboard and you'll learn a man's worth.' That had been the advice of the third Tusk. Tusk always thought the third was a bit more philosophical then most of the other Tusks.
Of course, it could be the result of the third having spent several years in monasteries chasing down demons among the faithful. You spend enough time among philosophical folk and some of it is bound to rub off on your brain.
'course, looking around this place it was pretty clear the cupboard was pretty bare. It would give a good way to judge the honest of this mayor. Promises of rich purses of gold looked like more gold dipped copper.
Honesty would likely come in the plea of doing good for good sake. The 'you should be paying me for chance to be a hero plea'. Tusk hated those, not because the Legacy meant he was poor but he knew how much tax money was probably collected in a burg like this and being squandered at some level. Someone was eating well.
Then there had to be all the fortune hunters thinking of digging into the layers below this crypt for that lost fortune. They probably left a fortune in the shops above if not eaten up by thieves with promises of guides and maps.
Tusk watched the man and prepared to be told a web of truths.
'Look in a man's cupboard and you'll learn a man's worth.' That had been the advice of the third Tusk. Tusk always thought the third was a bit more philosophical then most of the other Tusks.
Of course, it could be the result of the third having spent several years in monasteries chasing down demons among the faithful. You spend enough time among philosophical folk and some of it is bound to rub off on your brain.
'course, looking around this place it was pretty clear the cupboard was pretty bare. It would give a good way to judge the honest of this mayor. Promises of rich purses of gold looked like more gold dipped copper.
Honesty would likely come in the plea of doing good for good sake. The 'you should be paying me for chance to be a hero plea'. Tusk hated those, not because the Legacy meant he was poor but he knew how much tax money was probably collected in a burg like this and being squandered at some level. Someone was eating well.
Then there had to be all the fortune hunters thinking of digging into the layers below this crypt for that lost fortune. They probably left a fortune in the shops above if not eaten up by thieves with promises of guides and maps.
Smiles at Kiptera"The fact yer here old Kiptera means there is some easy money to be made, let's just hope we don't deal with things that are not our own" as he pokes her with this elbow "Tanner's Crossing was a mess indeed" laughs out loud "So good fella Tusk were have I met'cha before?" he looks at him with curiosity and then looks at Kiptera again "Oi! Kiptera ya meet this fella before?" after invited to take a seat and listening to t he few words "Oi! I got some more then backbone if you need some old man" as he laughs at his good joke "Let us hear what troubles you or this place"
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The man straightens in his seat when he sees the doors open. "At least we’ve got a few backbones still upright in this place," he says, almost accusatory, and gestures to the seats. "Please, be seated."
She glances at the Crows in the corners, looks for another exit and the windows briefly. She doesn't hide that glance. Turns to face Vanton Heggry, "Thanks for the hospitality." and takes off her damp duster jacket and brimmed hat, places it beside the chair and makes herself comfortable. Observers will note she surprisingly wears no armor, just warm traveling clothes, a machete and a belt with some bulging pouches. "Shush Caelin, Lets introduce ourselves first before the bantering and bravado." Kip pauses for agreement from the others.
"My name is Kiptera Stiresong. I am a skilled Forest Guide and occasional caravan guard. Just finished a job and passing through when I heard your Crows crowing. And allow me to introduce my jovial friend, Caelin. I am curious as what you've been doing for the last couple of years..."
When Caelin, Tusk and Ragnar are done introducing themselves, Kiptera speaks again.
"Please tell us what brings such a quiet desperation to your city that no citizens will rally to its cause nor flee its walls. Did I simply get lucky when I rode in unmolested? Perhaps something less obvious but more sinister?"
Ragnar takes a chair and sits down, then looks intently at Heggry. "I am Ragnar Thorkelsen" he says. "I have some magic powers and am willing to put them at your disposal. Now what is your trouble?"
He looks appreciatively at the room's furnishing. "Built to last, eh? I like that. People are so shoddy in their workmanship nowadays."
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The man nods. "I am Vanton Heggry, mayor of Carrion Hill. Welcome to Crown Manor; Though, I wish I could greet you on a less dire occasion...
Ragnar:
"Crown Manor was built in the olden days as the pinnacle fortress of the Hill. It's found good use since, as both a town hall and a final bastion.
After a moment of settling, Mayor Heggry begins to speak. "Thank you for attending in our hour of need... Carrion Hill has a long history of battle, yet always before, its enemies have attacked from outside our walls. We are fortified to defend against such attacks, but now we face an entirely different threat. Our enemy is already here, dwelling in the tunnels and catacombs below, and surfacing to strike without warning." Heggry stands from his chair and begins to pace the room as he speaks, motioning to a Crow along the wall. Hurriedly, the man brings a rolled up paper map and unrolls it along the surface of the table-- on closer inspection, it's a large, worn map of Carrion Hill. He waits until the adventurers in the room move to see the map closely before continuing.
"The first of these attacks occurred early this very morning, when something huge came up from below in a part of the Tangles called Slipper Market..." He presses his finger into the map, gesturing to a location.
"It partially destroyed a building and killed a half dozen locals before retreating into the ruined structure. The Crows were swift to reply, led by our own Commander Garrus, but when they arrived, they were slaughtered to the last." At this, the Crows along the walls grow grim.
"Since then, the thing has moved on, surfacing no less than three times in different parts of the city," Heggry says, tapping his finger along the criss-crossed maps of the Tangles, "Crushing buildings from below and slaying anyone it finds inside. I’ve got the entire force of the city watch in reserve, and with each new event they respond quickly, but the damage is always done by the time they arrive. Already there is talk of war and invasion, but I still believe that what we face is a single horror. If we can only figure out what it is, we might be able to defeat it."
He pauses, as if empowered by his words, and regards the group in front of him carefully. "And this is where your group comes in-- the horror has moved on from its initial point of entrance, but if you can explore the ruins in Slipper Market, perhaps you can find some sort of clue to tell us what it is we face. I cannot spare any of my Crows to aid you, for they are needed in keeping order in the streets, but if indeed you can find something... anything... about this monster from below, I will pay you handsomely: 1,500 gold for solid information, and twice again that amount for aiding in defeating the horror."
Tusk looks at the map where the mayor points and then looks at the other people around the table. He tries to look and see if there is any sign of fear in the people at the mention of a creature that can destroy buildings.
Tusk whistles at the mayor's mention of the money.
'You actually got that much money on hand to pay us?'
Tusk waits and listens to the Mayor's answer and then he asks, 'Now, Mayor, is there anything your Crows have told you of the creature that you're not telling us?'
'Well Mayor, it seems you've got yourself quite a rat problem. It's a good thing that I'm experienced rat hunter.'
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Tusk looks at the map where the mayor points and then looks at the other people around the table. He tries to look and see if there is any sign of fear in the people at the mention of a creature that can destroy buildings.
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Kiptera leans forward to also study the map. Curious anticipation is written on her face and body language. She glances back to Mayor, "By any chance, are there experts with knowledge or maps of cities buried under this current one? or barring that bit of extreme luck, any professional delvers to be found within the city walls? And if not, I'd like to contact any who might've gone below: such as beggars/thieves/homeless. She continues to lean forward to study the map and awaits for any answers for her or Tusk's questions.
She snaps her fingers. "I accept that very enticing offer, but we'll need support and supplies while seeking that information or death of said monster. First off: Copy of this map. 2nd: While so employed, boarding and care for horses. 3rd: Is there a house of healing or similiarly quick recovery of wounds within the walls or is there another group employed that we could pool resources?"
Kiptera leans back and closes her eyes in thought. Tchhing and clucking to herself as the Q&A continues. Clearly she has committed to this endeavor and is mentally planning the expedition.
Tusk nods at Kiptera's questions.
"Of course we'll help" Ragnar blurts out without thinking. "That monster has got to be stopped." He blithely leaves the strategic planning to Kiptera, who is obviously more competent.
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'You actually got that much money on hand to pay us?'
Mayor Heggry nods. "It's a large sum, but, no one else will do this job. They're all simply too terrified. It's money well spent."
Tusk waits and listens to the Mayor's answer and then he asks, 'Now, Mayor, is there anything your Crows have told you of the creature that you're not telling us?'
"Whatever emerged to destroy the buildings was certainly the size of a giant, judging by the extent of the damage it inflicted, but those who saw these events have difficulty describing it—- it was as if the buildings were pulled apart from within. Some few who saw more say that the creature itself was strangely hard to see, as if it kept to the shadows or were invisible. And, it leaves behind a rotten smelling slime when it goes. It's done so in all three attacks."
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"By any chance, are there experts with knowledge or maps of cities buried under this current one? or barring that bit of extreme luck, any professional delvers to be found within the city walls? And if not, I'd like to contact any who might've gone below: such as beggars/thieves/homeless."
"Carrion Hill lies on the foundations of dozens of cities... there are no complete maps of the Hill to date, and the amount of hidden chambers, catacombs, passageways and subterranean caves is rumored to be unlimited. The number of adventurers who go underneath are beyond my knowledge, as going into the darkness below is generally a suicidal act, but I do know that the Pharasmen, the priests of Pharasma, travel underneath as a ritual every month to slay the undead who have awakened in their tombs below. And if you'd like to contact any of the unfortunate homeless of Carrion Hill, it's as simple as walking into an alleyway in the Tangles or the Filth."
She snaps her fingers. "I accept that very enticing offer, but we'll need support and supplies while seeking that information or death of said monster. First off: Copy of this map.It is immediately deployed into Kiptera's hand by a waiting Crow, who smiles courteously and disappears back into the shadows.
"2nd: While so employed, boarding and care for horses.
"Of course."
3rd: Is there a house of healing or similiarly quick recovery of wounds within the walls or is there another group employed that we could pool resources?"
"No other groups, I'm afraid, but the Ossuary Church of Pharasma should be able to take care of your needs. It's the enormous white church that's looming over us right now. If you mention my name to one of the bishops there, you should be able to work up a tab with them. Mentioning you're hunting undead won't do, and they might be offended. Barring visiting their cathedral, Carrion Hill is known as the Island of 10,000 Temples for a reason."
'Well Mayor, it seems you've got yourself quite a rat problem. It's a good thing that I'm experienced rat hunter.'
"Of course we'll help" Ragnar blurts out without thinking. "That monster has got to be stopped." He blithely leaves the strategic planning to Kiptera, who is obviously more competent.
"Excellent. Any more questions? I have Crows ready to escort you to the Slipper Market, or to other locations, if you choose."
"I don't mind doin'some exploin''round all this place" looks at kiptera "The best darn explorer ya can find, I'll trust me back on this good old lady" laughs a bit for his joke "Serioosly now Kiptera is a great tracker"
[b]'Slippery beasty. Comes out the ground, destroys buildings from the inside, hard to see because it sticks to the shadows or is invisible. Yup, yup, you got yourself one impressively big rat.
'Well, I guess if the money is good and your taking care of our mounts, it sure can't hurt to go for a look see at what you got in your backyard.
'I'm in too, Mayor.
'I ain't sure that I'll be able to slay this here beasty but I'll do my damnedest to put a name and face to it.'/b]
Tusk gathers up his cloak and pack. He adjusts a few things from the saddle bags to his backpack and pockets. He prepares to leave the rest with the Crows assigned to look after his mount.
'Travel light but travel armed.' That was the advice of Tusk the First. Tusk the Fourth improved on that with his words, 'You can find what you need if you look hard enough.'
Tusk knew that while everything had value, often the weight of carrying something you might need was far worse then spending a couple minutes scrounging where you found yourself for a suitable replacement.
Good weapons were always worth their weight and Tusk packed several.
He had a repeating crossbow with spare clip and extra rounds for range. He had a pair of flails for doing the double tango. He also had a pair of sickles for when slicing was better than pounding. A nice shield when it was prudent to play it safe instead of fast and hard.
His preference was for his mailed spiked fists. Nothing quite satisfied as pounding the snot out of something with your fists.
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Kiptera purses her lips and opens her eyes. Lastly, since we are now within your employ and also because it just makes good sense, I'd like a room dedicated to this mission. A semi-permament place to consolidate everything we find out, fact or rumored. Not to be morbid about this, but in case we encounter difficulties returning, any knowledge gained is an increased chance of survival for the next group.
Kiptera turns to the others, "Thanks for your confidence, all part of my training, especially the retreat, recover, report back part. Yep, since we don't know where/when this beast will strike, lets gear up first then I'd like to pay a visit to the Ossuary Church of Pharasma. They have knowledge, possibly maps, and probably our lives if we aren't careful."
She pats her belt pouches, then looks at the Mayor. "I'll start an accounting of funds right now, I'll drop your name like a armorers anvil but sometimes information costs. May we have a script or a bit of coin in case the Church requires donations prior to enlightening us poor misguided souls? Please send a Crow along with us if trust is not yet between us."
She summons one of the Crows to her side with the expectation of compliance. Tasks him to bring her mount to the entrance, so she may unpack her combat gear. She then starts putting on gear in a side room or perhaps right there. Once finished, she waits for the others and heads to the church to pay her respects and possibly start a tab.
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"You may use a side room in the Manor," he offers. "The library should do nicely for your needs, for now. I'll have a group of servants prepare it for you."
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"Do make haste to the place where the beast surfaced in the Slipper Markets, though. One of the men reporting back said something about 'the tunnels' and I would like to know what might be down there."
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Kiptera nods her head in acknowledgement. "Unless there is an active monster rampaging, we need to be forewarned of any other threats that may lie below. I suspect we'll do a brief foray into the tunnels after the church visit. Wish us luck but more importantly, make sure we prepared.
She appears confident in her abilities, no rush to her actions but an efficient use of effort to don and prep. She awaits by the door for the others.
Assuming the others are with her
She enters the church's main entrance, and approaches the first Pharnesman requesting an audience with the organizer of Pharnesman forays below.
'Not to worry Mayor. We'll make haste and we'll hunt your rat for ya.'
Tusk follows along with Kiptera to the church.
"Glad someone can hunt rat's I'll stick to the monsters and other more intresting foe's to vanquish" pats Tusk in the arm "Unless the are the kind of rat's that have to legs you can count on my help" winks makin'him notice he is joking and then smiles "Well let us go visit our new lodgin, find the tavern and a warm bed before we leave to work"
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As the group travels to the Ossuary Church, the rain continues to pour out of the greying overcast sky and the streets continue to be empty.
The Ossuary Church is a large, imposing building, sheet-white on the outside. As the group approaches, it's obvious-- the entire outside of the church is decorated with thousands of crumbling humanoid skeletons, each arranged extremely carefully and artistically. The doors are huge and beautiful, a carving depicting an enormous bone gate on it.
Inside the church, the ceilings and walls are covered in beautiful trailing frescoes of Pharasma's boneyard, of an enormous dark plain on an alien world with millions of queued individuals, giant black crystal spires, and prominently an enormous blue moon that hangs in the center of a dome, eerily leering down from its position in the painting at the people below.
All of the Pharasmen dress in woolen gray robes with large hoods pulled up. As Kiptera asks a question of an acolyte, a group of men carrying a large black wooden slab with a sheeted figure laying it pass by slowly, one reciting texts of Pharasma, the others chanting at the end of each passage. Each of them is clutching a dagger. The procession disappears into a side room before the man can finish his directions to Kiptera, and the group is off again through the ossuary church.
Eventually, the group finds the correct room-- an enormous room dotted with maps along the walls dominated by a large square table covered in the same. Along the walls are weapon racks full of hammers, maces, mauls and sledges, supplementary weapons to the dagger each Pharasmen clutches. The room is empty save for one broad-shouldered man who is reading a book while peacefully sitting in a large stone chair, his hood up. This, it would seem, is the man in charge of the forays into the world below.
Tusk studies the maps while listening for the questions that Kiptera has come to ask.
Ragnar studies the weapons with a bland smile, eager for some action.
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Kiptera steps in cautiously, surveying quickly the rooms contents. She approaches the hooded gentleman sitting upon the comfy stone chair. "Good Day to you Sir. May we have a moment of your time? My name is Kiptera Stiresong. The folks alongside me are Ragnar, Caelin, and Tusk. The Mayor recently tasked us to investigate the attacks upon the city by some kind of slime monster, that always come from below the city. I hope you would be willing to share your expertise and sage advice." Kiptera stands at ease, right hand clasping the left, her focus on the gentleman before her.
Kiptera focuses on the conversation with him and only glances briefly at the distractions upon the wall. Her questions will be:
1)What is the Churches stance on the monster from below?
2)Could we expect active support from the church; either healing or actual representative?
3)Passive support such as consulting for directions or maps below, locations to avoid, monsters likely to be encountered.
4)What would you require in return for our request for support?
Kiptera turns to the others and inquires, "Does anyone else have questions before we head to the market place tunnels?"
Tusk looks up and adds, 'Are there any legends or stories of the creatures that have been spotted in the city below or came with some of the invading armies.? Are there any cults or religions that you may have heard trying to stick their noses in your backyard? Any governments or religions with a recent axe to grind against the city or someone like the Mayor?'
'Also, I see that you have some of the wounded and dead here. Could we be allowed to look at the wounds on the bodies and their clothes? Did you gather up any weapons that might have been used on the creature? Sometimes there is a bit of skin, hide, hair, or other items that can help identify a creature.'
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Kiptera steps in cautiously, surveying quickly the rooms contents. She approaches the hooded gentleman sitting upon the comfy stone chair. "Good Day to you Sir. May we have a moment of your time? My name is Kiptera Stiresong. The folks alongside me are Ragnar, Caelin, and Tusk. The Mayor recently tasked us to investigate the attacks upon the city by some kind of slime monster, that always come from below the city. I hope you would be willing to share your expertise and sage advice." Kiptera stands at ease, right hand clasping the left, her focus on the gentleman before her.
He asks for proof-- and then quiets himself as he notices the seal on the map Kiptera gained earlier.
The man looks up. A massive scar dominates the right side of his face, cutting across his eye which is a pure, ugly white. He looks aged, and worn, like a well-used blade.
"Greetings. I am Soldier, and this is where the Pharasmen plan out their inquisitions into the world below. What questions do you have?"
Kiptera focuses on the conversation with him and only glances briefly at the distractions upon the wall. Her questions will be:
1)What is the Churches stance on the monster from below?
"It should be destroyed. I've just only heard rumors, myself. Not long enough to plan out an inquisition. More information must be gathered."
2)Could we expect active support from the church; either healing or actual representative?
"Men and information must still be gathered, and equipment prepared. The priests here will be more than willing to help you for meager donations, so do not hesitate to ask."
3)Passive support such as consulting for directions or maps below, locations to avoid, monsters likely to be encountered.
"I'll share with you some of my maps from below. They decorate the walls-- take your time to peruse upon them, perhaps? For monsters to look for, watch for the cloth in the dark. Dark Creepers use the catacombs under Carrion Hill as a pathway up from their nightmare civilization beneath the earth. Beware the stench of death, for ghouls travel with it. Never let the fire go out."
4)What would you require in return for our request for support?
"If you can kill the beast, that'd be good enough for us. Our job is to keep Carrion Hill's tunnels safe; a hard bargain, but when it can be done without us putting ourselves in danger, we're grateful."
Tusk looks up and adds, 'Are there any legends or stories of the creatures that have been spotted in the city below or came with some of the invading armies.? Are there any cults or religions that you may have heard trying to stick their noses in your backyard? Any governments or religions with a recent axe to grind against the city or someone like the Mayor?'
"The undead come with the territory. I try not to learn their history; it makes me sick to my bones. As for religions... I can't think of any besides the occasional cult of the Old Gods. They crop up every now and then, and every now and then, we find a group of them slaughtered in the tunnels."
'Also, I see that you have some of the wounded and dead here. Could we be allowed to look at the wounds on the bodies and their clothes? Did you gather up any weapons that might have been used on the creature? Sometimes there is a bit of skin, hide, hair, or other items that can help identify a creature.'
"I'm not quite up on the situation, but I don't believe any dead are here from the site. At least, not yet. Any dead you need to look at, however, when they arrive, can be arranged."
'Then that figure, I saw the acolytes bringing in. It wasn't from the earlier problems today? I mean, what has happened to the body of...um..what's his name, Gar...Garrick...no that's not right...Gar...Garum Masalsa...No, that doesn't seem right either...head of the Crows...got killed today...Garrus...that's it...Commander Garrus.
'We'd heard word that he and half a dozen others were reported killed in the first creature attack and more in the next two attacks.
'I mean, this is the only church around for miles and you deal with the dead. So, where are the bodies?
'Have any acolytes been sent to retrieve the bodies?'
"Undead... I only hate evil fey more than them but that'enough to spu my blade to action" turns to Kiptera "I have gotten better by wondering a lot, but I got no better skills then you for scouting Kiptera I trust you can make best of those maps" looks at Tusk "You have pretty much all basic questions covered, but I still have not heard answer to most of them" gazes upon the pharasman "It is best then to present us to any witness and if you be kind enough to tell us the usual spots the undead roam, particular areas of certain "intrest to cults" and place of the last encounter with the creature with Commander Garrus" as he starts counting some coins inside his belt pouch.
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Kiptera thanks Soldier for his forthrightness and willingness to assist. She palms a few coins from her belt pouch (a couple of silver and one gold picked randomly) and places them gently on the table. She surveys the maps, identifying the one that is under the marketplace. She pulls it from the wall, helps herself to a blank scroll and starts sketching a copy.
Knowledge Engineering
Knowledge Geography
Knowledge Dungeoneering (Hey she spends a lot of time on the surface!)
Profession (Surveyor)
As she does so, she turns back toward Soldier "What works best to thwart the ghouls and cloakers? Weapons of choice and tactics?"
Knowledge Dungeoneering
Upon completion of copying the tunnels under marketplace (reviewing but not copying the other maps for familiarity), she thanks him for his assistance and awaits for the others to complete thier questions and any possible offers of sending a representative but she wont press that last issue.
Tusk nods as he listens to Caelin and Kiptera.
Ragnar is all set to go.
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'Then that figure, I saw the acolytes bringing in. It wasn't from the earlier problems today? I mean, what has happened to the body of...um..what's his name, Gar...Garrick...no that's not right...Gar...Garum Masalsa...No, that doesn't seem right either...head of the Crows...got killed today...Garrus...that's it...Commander Garrus.
Soldier looks and shrugs. "I didn't know he had died. This is a rather large church, and people die. I can't be expected to know about every single passing, but I don't believe that any have arrived from the site yet."
'We'd heard word that he and half a dozen others were reported killed in the first creature attack and more in the next two attacks.'I mean, this is the only church around for miles and you deal with the dead. So, where are the bodies?
'Have any acolytes been sent to retrieve the bodies?'
"Carrion Hill is sometimes referred to as the Island of 10,000 Temples. I don't think we're the only church around 'for miles' as you put it, friend. I would hope an acolyte has been sent to retrieve the bodies, but I wouldn't want to lie to you."
Kiptera:
Soldier nods thankfully and places the coins in his coat pocket.
"It is best then to present us to any witness and if you be kind enough to tell us the usual spots the undead roam, particular areas of certain "intrest to cults" and place of the last encounter with the creature with Commander Garrus"
Soldier thinks for a moment. "Hm. That's strange... I hadn't thought of it until now. I know the first place the creature appeared would be the Slipper Market. That's where Commander Garrus was killed, I believe. Recently we'd received reports of strange sounds through a sewer grate and were going to investigate until we got tangled up in that mohrg debacle, and now of course the name of the place that sewer grate was is... the Slipper Market. You may find all of those things there, waiting, beneath the ground. I'd be careful."
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Kiptera thanks Soldier for his kindness and professional assistance. She takes another look around, "We'll be heading down below, if we find anything of interest, or changes to the map, I'll make sure you are updated." She turns to leave and says to her comrades, "We may want to pickup some tallow or wax to plug our ears in case we encounter Cloakers. They have emit sounds which play havoc on some folk. Can't really think of anything to combat Ghouls."
She turns to head out to the marketplace, to pick out last minute supplies (ie tallow candles, torches, disposable weapons) and start the delve below.
Her posture is very business-like, her pace is hurried. "I want to get in, do a little scouting and get back out before nightfall to keep our risks to a minimum. and yes I know its always dark below, THEY probably know when the sun is out and not likely to be AS active until they hunt at night on the surface."