A Dark Horizon: IC

[Hattish Thing]

A Dark Horizon

The wind blows over the desolate landscape, it's howl like the mourn of some unfortunate widower through the marshes, bogs, and creaking ruined houses. The land of Serinet was a blasted area, devoid of pleasant tourist attractions and beautiful weather. Here, there is only the dull thud of the cold rain and sleet beating upon cobblestone streets to a slowly maddening rhythm... Only the cries of the undead known to haunt the landscapes beyond the small walled settlements of the land... Only the ever-constant sense of fear that infects the air, and blows in through towns like the thick fog so common here. Serinet was a place of death and loneliness, seemingly forgotten by the rest of the world. Guided to this place by torturing dreams involving disembodied voices, and images of a strange staff... this dreaded land appears to be your destination.

---

The nightmares had been steadily growing more and more disturbing, turning what was once a mild annoyance into a full blown fear of sleep. The dreams were always quite horrific, but the one you experienced the night before was... different. It was more vivid, more physical, as strange as that sounds. You could almost feel what was around you. You sigh and rethink what you had dreamed of as you ponder over your breakfast. You had been standing in some strange marsh, a desolate and lonely place, all muddy and unpleasant. A thick fog covered the ground and reached up to your knees, and nothing was visible below the mysterious dark grey mist. You looked about, feeling something was watching you, your eyes flashing from twisted tree to twisted tree, the old and dead branches seemingly pointing somewhere over your head. Three dead and maggoty ravens that had been staring at you from the largest tree caw simultaneously, before flying over you, their forms dark against the full moon.
You turn quickly to gaze at what they flew towards, and what the trees had been pointing at, to see a large hill behind you. A massive church sits upon the hill, it's once proud stained glass windows smashed in. A horrifying mural depicting the ouroboras, a snake eating it's own tail, wrapping around a dull, milky, reptilian eye flashes into your mind quickly, before you are somewhere else.

You seem to be inside the large church now, tied to some dark wooden chair. The rope appears to be magical, for it radiates a dull grey. You look in front of you to see some horrific pit in the bottom of the stone floor. A pentacle of blood and candlewax has been drawn around the pit, and the bodies of many young men and women, naked and brutally slaughtered, lies within. There's a horrific sense of dread and rising fear here, before the terrible voices fill you head. They howl all at once, quiet and muffled despite their screams, as if the voices came fom underwater. "Help us!" "Serinet!" "The Serpent!" "Please!" "Neru, Neru, Neru!" The voices get louder and louder as an unnerving sound like a razorblade on some bardic violin. The sound rises, along with the shouts, until the caw of the three ravens pierces the air, adding to the tortuous cacophony. As it all got nearly unbearable, and you had began to slowly wake up, a final noise was heard. It was a scream of absolute horror and pain. However, it certainly wasn't yours. It sounded older, and wizened, and raspy. The scream couples with the familiar image of the ouroboras around the milky eye, before you woke up with a startle. After enduing the same dream, three nights in a row, you decided to finally head to this dreaded place... This, "Serinet."

Serinet was a small country north of here. It was once a fairly important land due to it being regarded as a holy place for both the church of Pelor, and the church of Hextor, both religions believing that their god had been born in this very country. Hundreds of years ago, great religious crusades raged on here. The poor natives had no real military, and were caught in the cross-fire, and very soon the native cities wee occupied by either force. Many people died, on all sides. Women and children were slaughtered in the name of the gods. After the marshes were choked with the dead, and after the soil was fetilized with flesh and blood, a treaty was made. Both churches would leave the area forever, and leave everything to the natives once more. The Serinetian people soon rebuilt, this time with tall walls and a capable militia.

Unfortunately, the land was tainted by the evil energy the tragedy produced. Those who weren't buried rose again for two weeks every month, a horrific consequence the gods had sowed upon their followers for their horiffic wartime acts. The land was cursed, it was said! But the Serinetians did not care. They were a hardy people, and lived their lives behind their walls, only occasionally making travels back and forth, from hamlet to hamlet. The people had become more and more reclusive, and over the years the negative energies had warped the landscape. Fog covered all, the dead walked often, and mysterious holy artifacts remain lost in the bogs, broken chapels, and desecrated temples dotting the land. The rain is constant, and cold, and the sun hasn't been seen in this place for many years.


---

All of you arrive in Bastion, after about two days of travel, be it by foot, or by caravan. The travel had been quite forboding, for none of you had ever truly experienced a land as gloomy as this. The pleasant skies had gone darker the closer you got to this small country, the rabbits and birds were less and less frequently seen, until their looked to be nearly no living things about. There were only the ancient and dying trees to keep you company, visages of malice seemingly carved into their twisted bark. Or maybe it was just your imagination, or this place. It seemed to have had an effect on you. There was little in the way of hope here. There were very few travellers along with you on this journey, and most ignored you. It's clear that foreigners weren't exactly well-liked in this land. About half-way through, it had started raining, which was as far as you can tell, a common thing here, for it hadn't let up. The journey was uncomfortable, but at least it took your mind off the nightmares which had appeaed every time you slept.
Now, the great looming twin gates into the city of stone stand before you. This place was called Bastion, and was the capital city in this tiny country. The walls were thick, the guardsmen frequent and well-armed. It's as if the people here were expecting some kind of great army to come riding down upon them at any minute! Twelve guards in half-plate look towards you, their pikes clutched tight in their hands. Six more gaze down at you from atop the wall, in two small circular guard towers, three per rampart. Huge ballistae are mounted to the towers. What an ominous sight the ballistae were! There were others around you, seemingly travellers alongside you. However, before the group can begin interacting, a figure that seems to be of importance steps out of a guard-shack near the entrance to the city. He's a tall man, 6.5 at least, clad in a dented and clearly well-used breasplate. A helmet, cracked and scraped, is held under his arm. A large greatsword hands at his back, and he looks upon the group with a look of confusion and boredom.
He lurches closer, and thats when the unusual thing about him becomes more apparent. At his left knee, a carved chunk of wood is bolted and strapped to what appears to be a stump limb. He was obviously some kind of warrior, and an olde one judging by the wound and graying hair. He speaks out to you all. "...Huh. We don't often get many traveller's 'round here. And certainly not this many at once! Uhh. Welcome to Bastion, I suppose. Capital of Serinet. Something tells me you're not here on... heh... touristy-like business, now are you? No one comes to Serinet for the sight-seeing." He awaits your individual answers, and a guard to his left, about ten feet behind him looks over at something. It's distracting. Maybe just a bird.

((Post your reply, and make a Listen Check, please.))

[Vhaidara]

Markin is a tall man, and muscular. His armor is light, but the heavy flail around his waist marks him as a warrior. The holy symbol of Hextor, the God of Tyranny, is tattooed on the right side of his face.
So, Balthira had finally seen fit to call upon his services. This Serinet was surely the mission his god meant for him. There he would find power both in knowledge and in relics. Now the nightmares made sense. They were visions from below. Well, he would not fail his god.
This realization had made him downright cheerful on the last two days of the journey home. He never spoke of them, of course. These people were hardly worthy of knowing that he was on a mission from god. Though he made sure that the Lady Decida was comfortable, as was his habit. Balthira had ensured that he knew to respect the weaker sex.

When they reached the city, he responded to the guard.
Aye, good ser. It is good to be home. Tell me, has much changed in the past month? Any word from the temples?

Listen: [roll0]

[blazinghand]

Decida is careful with her words. She doesn't want to draw more attention to herself than she already has by traveling, not since the dreams had gotten darker and deeper. Guards can be inquisitive, but their tongues wag as well as any others. Best not to mention the dark visions that terrify her night.

"I'm a mage in training, and I've come here to sell my services to the city populace and learn more about the ways of magic. I've been drawn here by my magic, and I must follow where it leads."

Her hand starts to pulse with magic, and she manages to prevent it from making any noise. Luckily, her gloves are thick, so her deformation is not visible. Decida is too distracted with appearing normal to pay much attention to her surroundings.

Listen: [roll0]

[NotScaryBats]

Six feet tall and very muscular, Katja is an impressive young woman of no more than twenty years. Her skin has a rough look to it and is very darkly tanned. She shaves her head. Her bright green eyes rarely blink, and she seems very aware of her surroundings. Thick black claws on both her hands and feet -- that she makes no effort to conceal -- further mark her as extraordinary. Katja dresses as monk and an adventurer. She wears a simple cloth tunic and pants, with no shoes. The pack on her back contains all of her possessions. There is no weapon hanging on her back or her hip, but perhaps the thick claws on her digits are not merely vestigial.

"I follow my heart, and it has brought me here, to my birthplace. Tell me: is the spider silk business still in bloom here?" Katja speaks precisely and deliberately, as though she has chosen each word specifically.

Listen: [roll0]

[Stanr]

Brandt is a half-elf, though he does his best to conceal it. Fortunately, he is tall and broad of chest for one of his race, and he keeps his fey ears hidden beneath a dark wool hood--excused by the never-ending rain of Serinet. A thick fur cloak drapes over his frame. Underneath, leather armor covers him. A bastard sword, quiver, and shortbow are attached to his leather baldric, and a club hangs from his belt. He also wears a traveler's pack, full to the seams.

When the guard-captain questions him, he responds, "Ah... here to visit kin." His voice is quiet for one of his size, and he seems unsure of his words. He quickly averts his gaze after responding. A poor lie, but the best he can muster. Brandt silently curses himself for not thinking of an excuse ahead of time.


Listen check:
[roll0]
Bluff check (if needed):
[roll1]

[TachyonBlade]

Along with the rest of the party was traveling a man who seemingly covered every inch of himself in a sort of worn out blue-brown cloak that didn't seem fashionable in any sense of the word. Only his face was visible, and it was quite pale looking, and it seemed... odd, for some reason, although it was perfectly human, nevermind the skin coloration. It was actually rather handsome and charismatic, but perhaps the paleness could sometimes set someone off.

This man was Sanguinius Eldrad, a long scholar of the necromantic arts, who had just begun his foray into the evil realm of practical necromancy by beginning the long process of becoming a lich. His reasons for coming into Serinet was actually twofold, with the dreams and nightmares being but just a single of his reasons. The other reason was because he needed to hide. Necromancers were not looked upon in a very nice fashion in this world, and he needed to establish a place where he could complete his rituals and research in peace, and where better than Serinet? He already loved the climate of the place, and nobody would look for him, or find him here.

But he answered to the old guard with confidence, and a voice that seemed young and powerful, but in a soft spoken way. Ticking off people was the last thing on his list, as he could do that after they were dead. "Ironically enough, I come to Serinet for a sort of sight seeing. I come to Serinet to live a peaceful life, away from all the cities and hustle bustle. I'm a bit of hermit, and I suppose I'm just staying here for a few days before I move on into the country"

It wasn't a lie, not really, but he wasn't telling the whole truth, which was the best kind of lie.

[spoiler]

Listen Check:
[roll0]

-2 to that

Bluff if needed

[roll1]

[blazinghand]

Decida raises her eyebrow at the heavily-armed half-elf, but says nothing.

Better not to stir trouble with someone who is armed and so bad at lying. If you can't lie, you have to be good at something else to survive, and that "something else" is often killing people. I hope this guy isn't unhinged.

She moves slightly further away from Brandt.

[Thokk_Smash]

A loud clanking fills the air as the last member of the little band hustles up. Large, wide, and all arms and legs, Helios comes to a stop just as the guard begins to speak. His armor is well-polished, from the greaves to the pauldrons, and his shield has few splinters. His heavy mace clanks noisily on his waist as he nearly trips over his own foot. Over the armor, he wears a light yellow tunic and blue breeches. The simple wooden sun symbol of his god rests lightly on his chest, proudly shown for the world to see.

His eyes scan the crowd in front with a curious gaze; for his longest trip from the house of Pelor's light so far, this seems to be a most interesting group of people. Ah, th' name's Helios, the man says with a heavy country accent. I'm a priest o'Pelor, here ta see other clerics in the city and, er, what did Lord Wyldon call it? Expand mah horizons, yup. Said it'd do me good after the last few days I've been havin'. He gives a bow of the head to anyone who meets his gaze, eyes friendly.

Listen check: [roll0]

[Regissoma]

Heather looks around quickly taking the scenery in and smiles brightly regardless of the atmosphere. Standing at 5' 7" with brown hair and blue eyes, with a bit of a small town country accent she introduces herself.

My name is Heather Mores. I came here to help my uncle set up his tailoring shop. Speaking of my uncle he should have already gotten here, but if he hasn't I am not too worried I've seen him take down a bear with just a flimsy dagger.

[roll0]
Yes, for a rogue having no listen is bad and this will be remedied soon, but for character wise I chose what was best.

[Hattish Thing]

((A quick theme for the scene and landscape, to set the mood a tad. What a dark and gloomy land... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFH2llKgFog)))

The Captain of the Guard moves forward, his wooden leg clunking on the cobblestone path with a solid thump. Rainwater falls upon him, falling off the wide-brimmed hat he wore to cover his face and scraggly beard from the water. A small tag at the front of his dull grey and bronze uniform reads, "Galder Gray". This must be the name of the tall man standing before you. He moves towards Markin first, knowing the man already. Markin and Galder met every once in a while, for Markin made frequent trips to and from the capital. However, this seemed to be the longest Markin had been away from the city in a while. Galder shrugs to his question before speaking quietly, so that the others won't hear him. Ehh... Not all that much, but I'd greatly appreciate if we didn't spend too much time with the socializing just yet. No post either, friend. The Witching Weeks started yesterday, hence the security. No messenger is dumb enough to go out these weeks. Now, can we hurry? I'd like to spend my night at home, with Sirah, and a big bowl of stew, rather than ending up some torn up corpse in a ditch. Get inside, Markin. If ya wanna talk, you can find me at the Sleeping Goblin. He smiles lightly, but it's clear he's quite stressed. The Witching Weeks were an incredibly difficult time for guards. He'll place a hand of his on Markin's shoulder before nodding and letting the paladin past him. Markin will be able to walk into the city, just past the incredibly thick stone walls. However, as he begins to walk inside, he could swear he heard.... something rustling between two large and gnarled trees about forty feet behind the others. Probably a rabbit... right?

Galder Gray will then move past his old acquaintance to meet the young woman beside Markin. Apparently she was some kind of mage. The Captain of the Guard sighs deeply before speaking to Decida. Ahh. I see. Magical type, eh? Well, there's not much opportunity 'round here for you wizardy types. Especially not now... You're quite lucky to have arrived here at all, actually. Most of the time we block the road up ahead... You're the last group we're going to open the gates for, so I hope you brought enough gold to stay the weeks here before we open gates again. I suggest you head over to The Sleeping Goblin tonight. It's cheap, low-rates and all that. Plus, there's sometimes a few nice people. Games and all that. He continues talking to her, but doesn't look her in the eye, instead he's looking to his left. He's always looking. An odd trait, but most likely useful for someone in his... position. He shrugs and steadies his nerves, before giving her the "OK" to walk in by waving his hand to a guard behind him. He speaks to her one more time before he moves on. Welcome to Bastion, friend. City of Stone. Keep your spells to yourself, and you should be fine. Decida will be escorted forward, but won't hear the rustling somewhere behind he.

Captain Gray will move again, heading down the line of strangers to approve entry into Bastion. He approaches Katja, the bald and clawed monk. He approaches her and furrows his brow, looking her up and down with a gaze depicting confusion and curiosity. It's not every day you meet a woman like Katja, after all. He tenses his fists and releases a few times, clearly the sign of a nervous tic. He had no idea who this woman was, or what she meant by Bastion being her birthplace. He'd remember meeting a woman like her, and he met just about everyone. The people all came through the gate sometime in their lives, after all. Erm... It is, actually, as ever. Are you a trader, miss? Or... He tries not to stare before he decided he really doesn't want to wait for an answer. With a sigh he quickly speaks before she has a chance to respond. Um. Nevermind, I don't really have time to talk. Welcome to Bastion, ma'am. He nods and lets her past, and as she walks through the gates, he'll speak back to her. Hope you find what you heart seeks, miss. He doesn't smile, but seems sot of wrapped up in his thoughts. Clearly she inspired some sort of curiosity in the Captain of the Guard. As she moves past, she'll definitely hear something move closer and closer to the group. It's still about thirty feet away, however. Perhaps some sort of wild animal.

He moves to Sanguinius Elrand now, already positive that this man was completely normal, and friendly. The incredibly well-worded bluff has him completely convinced. He seemed just like any other traveler to walk this way. The paleness was normal for the people here, for the sun was incredibly rare. He smiles brightly at the man before scratching at his beard. He had a bit of rainwater on his face from the way the wind was blowing. How unpleasant. He instantly allows the necromancer inside, without suspecting a thing. Welcome to Bastion, my friend. No one will bother you here, aha. I can't even remember the last time we had a celebrity around here... Nothing really happens in Serinet, but perhaps that's for the best, right sir? Sanguinius will be allowed to pass, and Galder doesn't even look back as the most-likely quite dangerous necromancer walks into the city of stone. Sanguinius won't be able to hear a thing, however, for the wind had picked up as the Captain of the Guard started speaking, distorting whatever might have been heard.

The man with the salt and pepper hair moves forward to talk to Brandt, already quite suspicious. The Captain looks over Brandt and mulls over some options in his head. The lie about having kin here was completely ridiculous. This stranger was too tanned, and nor were half-elves the kind to be accepted around here. He eyes the weaponry loaded on the half-elf and decides to speak. Oh? Really now? Kin? Odd... I've lived my entire life in this city, a whole forty-three years, and I've never seen a... your kind around here. He spits upon the ground, clearly unfriendly towards the half-elf. Galder already found half-elves detestable, and this one was particularly unpleasant. He didn't appreciate being lied to. You are going to stay right here, okay? I'm gonna go look at the others, and when I'm done with that, I'm gonna come back to you. While I do so, you'd better come up with a better reason for being here. I've locked these doors to others for less than your blatant lie... But you are the last batch of travelers. He sighs and glares at Brandt, before moving away. The barbarian is to stand there, and it's quite obvious that should the half-elf try to move, he might end up nailed into the cobblestone path by a ballista bolt.

Galder moves to the last individuals, ready to instigate conversation with them, when there's suddenly a cry for help coming from behind a gnarled tree about twenty feet away. A man lurches past the tree, his once finely made trader's clothing ripped and gruesomely torn. His arm and neck are badly wounded, and thick black blood oozes from the wounds. His skin and sinew can be seen hanging from his bite wounds, and small bits of blood-colored phlegm fly from his mouth as he gurgles his speech. The blonde trader calls out towards the others, desperate for some sort of assistance. P-Please! Help me... They... They're coming... Upon hearing the man cry out, the twelve guards move backwards, preparing to quickly get themselves inside. The strangers recently allowed inside will need to make a Balance Check, to avoid being tripped by the guards rushing backwards. The doors don't begin closing just yet, but the men in charge of pulling the levers are ready and braced to do so. The men manning the ballistae prepare to aim the massive crossbows at the wounded man. The Captain of the Guard draws his greatsword, before yelling at the others outside. Get back! Don't go to him. He's sick! One of them! The trader desperately tries to lurch forward, tears falling from his face as he sees the men he once trusted prepare to leave him to the monsters not far behind him.Wait.... I have a wife... Galder! It's you... I know you.. .please... Galder frowns, and it's clear he's now emotionally upset. He had known the trader well. Galder shouts one more time before moving backwards. Run! I'm sorry...

---

((So, PC's that were allowed in must make Balance Checks to avoid being trampled by the twelve guards rushing outside. Helios, Brandt, and Nameless are still outside, and can choose whether or not to go help the wounded man or not. It's up to them.))

[Regissoma]

Heather acting like a frail village girl with big frightened eyes tries to rush in through the gate. However, she is confused and distraught(if I spelt that right). Upon heading inside she speaks up in a slightly frantic voice:

"What is going on? What do you mean by one of them? Uncle didn't say anything about this. OH WHERE IS HE !!?"

[Thokk_Smash]

Captain! Shouldn't we go'n help him? He's hurt! The young cleric's first instinct is to rush to help the injured man, but the command from the captain jolts him into hesitant steps towards the door. After years of obeying older priests and only two days away from them, it's easy for him to slip into the habit of following directions.

[Vhaidara]

As he enters, Markin grins.
I can believe that. I need to see my father before nightfall, but I might come by and get you a drink later on.

Markin is jostled back by the guards, but attempts to push his way forward to the gate.
What is going on here? Are you going to abandon a citizen of this city, Galder? At least get the girl in. I will vouch for her, if need be.

Str check, if necessary, to get past the guards
[roll0]

[Stanr]

After his foolish lie, Brandt casts a sheepish glance towards the guard captain and then gazes at his feet. His stomach churns as he tries to come up with a better idea. He mutters to himself, "Think, stupid. Why would anyone come to this hell-hole?" He considers a few options--none of them good--and imagines he'll simply have to turn back, when the wounded man comes running towards the gate. The half-elf instantaneously reaches for the sword at his back, but quickly pauses to give Galder a considering look. He decides to draw his weapon despite the implicit threats from the guard captain. While wielding the bastard sword in two hands, Brandt turns to face the oncoming man, and takes a few strides toward him--careful to remain within a few seconds' sprint of the gate.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius took his hood off as he nearly got thrown to the ground and trampled, but managed to keep that from happening to himself, unlike one of the ... stronger fellows he'd traveled with. He'd been quite interested in their anatomy, especially the Half-elf's, and he'd give them a glance every once in a while to contemplate how their body tendons and muscles would have looked. Each individual muscle strand would be interesting to study, but he didn't have the time anymore. Well, he did. He'd already begun the process, so immortality was so close. Then he'd have all the time in the world.

But more in the present, he was slightly confused by the sudden appearance of the supposedly diseased man, and was kind of annoyed that he hadn't been allowed to take a glimpse. But he'd try to be on the safe side here, as it was obviously very dangerous. Until the more powerful, body changing effects occurred on his body, which wasn't a very long time away, he had to keep safe.

[Still_I_Rise]

Physical Description/Pic, so the rest of the group knows what I look like:
http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2014/012/5/7/pan_the_human_bard_by_davidlawrencedigital-d71x5ai.jpg

Silven Greenhearth is lithe and striking. His striking green eyes easily catch the glances of others, giving him an air of personal magnetism. He moves swiftly and with casual confidence, on the verge of appearing cocky. While at first this gives the impression of luxuriousness, on closer inspection one can clearly see on him and his garments the wears of travel. He carries a variety of items with him, but his most noticeable possessions are his trusty lute and masterfully crafted shortbow.

Rolls:
Listen: [roll0]
Know Religion (to identify the holy symbols worn by Markin and Helios) [roll1]


Silven took a few moments to survey the other travelers who had arrived here with him. They seemed to be a very diverse lot, he thought. For once though, he wondered if new experiences would really be worth the discomfort and gloom of this place - but, of course, he was not really here by choice. Those accursed dreams!

He dimly shook himself, preparing to step up and greet the Captain, who appeared to have been overlooking his existence. Foolish, foolish, he thought, what sort of a bard fails to make himself immediately noticed in a new town?

The appearance of the sickened trader, however, shut down his brief introspection for good. He quickly readied his shortbow - just in case - but then stood for a moment, torn between a desire to help the man and a realization that he didn't have a clue what he could do about it. After just a moment, he concluded that if the Captain, who obviously wanted to help, didn't think he could do anything, then he most definitely couldn't. This decided, he quickly slipped through the gate.

So much for a big entrance... Silven sidled out of the way of the guards, trying to keep an eye on the scene outside.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja was unsurprised to see something come out from behind the tree, though the unfortunate man was not what she was expecting. Still, she keeps her head and dextrously avoids being knocked over or unbalanced by the guards. Flowing with the group of people moving inside the city, she uses her height and bulk to stay towards the front of the group, near the gate -- she wants to see precisely what happens out there.

[blazinghand]

Decida is swept into the city by the crush of guards, and is shoved painfully between them as the press together to get through the gates. She gasps for breath and barely stays on her feet throughout the crush, but manages to avoid getting knocked over. As she steadies herself on the road inside the city proper, she tries to get her bearings and move further in, away from the city. She's shaking, and her hand pulses painfully.

Could that have been me, had I not resisted the curse? Could that be me, someday, if I lose control?

Decida moves free of the crush at the doorway, but stays in sight. She wants to see what will happen to him.

[Yas392]

The gates are closing. And the man is doomed no matter how much he begged. Perched high on the battlements, Lo was late for patrol and he was given more hours there. The sound of his captain's turmoil, he glances at his quarry. With his arrow ready, the strings twangs, the bolt flying to grant the tormented man a final peace.


Attack - [roll0]
Damage - [roll1] (+2 damage if he is undead)

[Hattish Thing]

Heather acting like a frail village girl with big frightened eyes tries to rush in through the gate. However, she is confused and distraught(if I spelt that right). Upon heading inside she speaks up in a slightly frantic voice:

"What is going on? What do you mean by one of them? Uncle didn't say anything about this. OH WHERE IS HE !!?"

Heather will be able to rush inside, easily sliding past the guards now attempting to make their way up the stairs to the ramparts. Four of them go to grab large cauldrons with black tops from sheds close by. It takes two men each to carry the incredibly heavy pots up the stairs. The rest look towards their Captain, despair and confusion in their eyes. Were they to close the door and leave their leader outside with the others? No. They must wait... Hopefully Galder and the others will be able to hurry inside, before whatever else makes it's way through the gates. The trained men move as fast and as quietly as they can, preparing for what would come. It's obvious that these men have spent many hours rehearsing for this moment under the watchful and experienced eyes of Galder Gray. A guardsman currently left without a job rushes towards her, to grapple her and press his gauntletted hand over her mouth. He whispers as loud as he can. "Quiet, please! We don't know what's out there, yelling might only make it angry..." Once he speaks, he'll let her go.

[roll0]


Captain! Shouldn't we go'n help him? He's hurt! The young cleric's first instinct is to rush to help the injured man, but the command from the captain jolts him into hesitant steps towards the door. After years of obeying older priests and only two days away from them, it's easy for him to slip into the habit of following directions.



Markin is jostled back by the guards, but attempts to push his way forward to the gate.
What is going on here? Are you going to abandon a citizen of this city, Galder? At least get the girl in. I will vouch for her, if need be.

Str check, if necessary, to get past the guards
[roll0]



After his foolish lie, Brandt casts a sheepish glance towards the guard captain and then gazes at his feet. His stomach churns as he tries to come up with a better idea. He mutters to himself, "Think, stupid. Why would anyone come to this hell-hole?" He considers a few options--none of them good--and imagines he'll simply have to turn back, when the wounded man comes running towards the gate. The half-elf instantaneously reaches for the sword at his back, but quickly pauses to give Galder a considering look. He decides to draw his weapon despite the implicit threats from the guard captain. While wielding the bastard sword in two hands, Brandt turns to face the oncoming man, and takes a few strides toward him--careful to remain within a few seconds' sprint of the gate.


Physical Description/Pic, so the rest of the group knows what I look like:
http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2014/012/5/7/pan_the_human_bard_by_davidlawrencedigital-d71x5ai.jpg

Silven Greenhearth is lithe and striking. His striking green eyes easily catch the glances of others, giving him an air of personal magnetism. He moves swiftly and with casual confidence, on the verge of appearing cocky. While at first this gives the impression of luxuriousness, on closer inspection one can clearly see on him and his garments the wears of travel. He carries a variety of items with him, but his most noticeable possessions are his trusty lute and masterfully crafted shortbow.

Rolls:
Listen: [roll0]
Know Religion (to identify the holy symbols worn by Markin and Helios) [roll1]


Silven took a few moments to survey the other travelers who had arrived here with him. They seemed to be a very diverse lot, he thought. For once though, he wondered if new experiences would really be worth the discomfort and gloom of this place - but, of course, he was not really here by choice. Those accursed dreams!

He dimly shook himself, preparing to step up and greet the Captain, who appeared to have been overlooking his existence. Foolish, foolish, he thought, what sort of a bard fails to make himself immediately noticed in a new town?

The appearance of the sickened trader, however, shut down his brief introspection for good. He quickly readied his shortbow - just in case - but then stood for a moment, torn between a desire to help the man and a realization that he didn't have a clue what he could do about it. After just a moment, he concluded that if the Captain, who obviously wanted to help, didn't think he could do anything, then he most definitely couldn't. This decided, he quickly slipped through the gate.

So much for a big entrance... Silven sidled out of the way of the guards, trying to keep an eye on the scene outside.

Captain Gray swears loudly at the others left outside begin shouting questions at him. Right now, the Captain wants nothing more than to save the trader and rush inside, but he knew he couldn't do both. It was a shame... Galder had known the trader quite well at a point in time. He used to wave hello and goodbye to the man as he made his trips to Chelmsbrooke and back. The Captain grips his large greatsword, Faithful, tightly as he ponders over his options. His knuckles go white from how hard he was gripping the hilt of his blade. With a pained look, he tuns his face from the trader and begins to rush inside. On the way, he'll try and convince the others outside to follow him. "Come on, come on! Leave him! He's not... He's not like us now. More will be coming, and we've no doubt caught their attention by now. ****! Come on!" He swears once more as the trader lets out a horrific and otherworldly howl, his voice echoing over the marshes. It was a frightening shout, known to terrify even the most strong-willed of men. A unique ability to undead of Serinet... a horrific howl. After groaning lightly, the Captain turns back around, watching the trader. This leaves time for the others outside to rush into Bastion, through the thick stone gates.



Galder's: [roll1]

Lieutenant: [roll2]

Guards (Grouping): [roll3]


Sanguinius took his hood off as he nearly got thrown to the ground and trampled, but managed to keep that from happening to himself, unlike one of the ... stronger fellows he'd traveled with. He'd been quite interested in their anatomy, especially the Half-elf's, and he'd give them a glance every once in a while to contemplate how their body tendons and muscles would have looked. Each individual muscle strand would be interesting to study, but he didn't have the time anymore. Well, he did. He'd already begun the process, so immortality was so close. Then he'd have all the time in the world.

But more in the present, he was slightly confused by the sudden appearance of the supposedly diseased man, and was kind of annoyed that he hadn't been allowed to take a glimpse. But he'd try to be on the safe side here, as it was obviously very dangerous. Until the more powerful, body changing effects occurred on his body, which wasn't a very long time away, he had to keep safe.

Sanguinius will be able to make a Spot Check, to see what is ahead. Should he succeed, he'll see what the others by Galder will. The trader finishes his frightening scream before an arrow comes flying down to him, shot from the ramparts by what must be some sort of frightened guardsman. The bolt flies through the air before embedding itself directly into the trader's eye, killing the man instantly. However... the man doesn't seem to stop, but undergoes a horrific transformation after only a few seconds of being undead. The thing growls before it's skin begins rapidly decomposing and flaking off in huge bloody flaps. An eyeball drops onto the floor, along with it's lips and facial extremities. Claws rip from it's fingers, destroying the tips of the monster's hands. Sharp teeth rip out of his gums, knocking the human ones to the cobblestone path. Now, a fearsome and disgusting beast stands before you, it's flesh making it apparent that this thing must be one of those cursed zombies so famous in Serinet. The monster's jaw stretches absurdly wide, ripping skin and destroying the muscles there. It gazes towards Captain Galder and Brandt, clearly marking them both down as potential targets. It will lurch towards the pair surprisingly quickly for a zombie and attempt a swing at Galder with one of it's now sharp and clearly infected claws. One of the guards atop the ramparts yells out, "Captain! Look out!"



It has the surprise round, for Galder had been too busy panicking and yelling and trying to get the strangers inside to truly form a defensive stanse. [roll4]



Katja was unsurprised to see something come out from behind the tree, though the unfortunate man was not what she was expecting. Still, she keeps her head and dextrously avoids being knocked over or unbalanced by the guards. Flowing with the group of people moving inside the city, she uses her height and bulk to stay towards the front of the group, near the gate -- she wants to see precisely what happens out there.


Decida is swept into the city by the crush of guards, and is shoved painfully between them as the press together to get through the gates. She gasps for breath and barely stays on her feet throughout the crush, but manages to avoid getting knocked over. As she steadies herself on the road inside the city proper, she tries to get her bearings and move further in, away from the city. She's shaking, and her hand pulses painfully.

Could that have been me, had I not resisted the curse? Could that be me, someday, if I lose control?

Decida moves free of the crush at the doorway, but stays in sight. She wants to see what will happen to him.

Katja and Decida will get a most unfortunate view of the brutal transformation that has occurred before them. This... thing was different than any undead they'd ever read about, for sure. The pair will be able to witness the monster move to strike at Galder, after clearly being killed by the bolt that came flying from a guard at the rampart. The sight of the once innocent man turned mindless monstrosity ought to most likely frighten or sicken the pair, if the howl didn't already send an adrenaline rush of fear through them. Decida is now inside Bastion, watching as the scene outside unfolds. A few guards panic, and begin closing the gates. In a few rounds, the great stone doors will be closed, locking anyone outside to their doom. Oh, what twisted sights this Serinet had to offer!


The gates are closing. And the man is doomed no matter how much he begged. Perched high on the battlements, Lo was late for patrol and he was given more hours there. The sound of his captain's turmoil, he glances at his quarry. With his arrow ready, the strings twangs, the bolt flying to grant the tormented man a final peace.


Attack - [roll0]
Damage - [roll1] (+2 damage if he is undead)


The bolt flies true and kills the trader, piercing right into the thing's eyeball, ending it's mortal life. Unfortunately, the late guardsman will find that the bolt may have simply made matters worse, for the monster had begun it's complete transformation once it's mortal coil had been shredded away. He'll be able to witness the full extent of the battle that is to come between Brandt, Galder, and the zombie-thing. However, the guard may be distracted by a far more spine-tingling sight. There, only a few minutes behind the trader, is the host horde that the trader must have attracted. There had to be about thirty zombies in there, all shambling and groaning, making their way to the noise and the howl that only one of their kind could produce. The sight is enough to make any man wish he was somewhere else. Some other guards notice the shambling horde as well, and quickly signal for the guards below to close the door faster!



1. Everyone make DC: 15, Vs Fear. The monster's howl causes this.
2. The doors are beginning to close, in less than four rounds, the way will be barred.
3. The trade transformed and is now attacking Galder and Brandt.
4. Get inside the gates before they close!

[blazinghand]

Despite her injuries, Decida realizes that this is a time for action, not cowering. The creature's unearthly howl tears at an animalistic corner of her mind, making her want to curl into a ball and hide. Decida has heard worse, though-- she hears worse every time she uses her magic. This undead monster is terrifying, but she manages to keep moving.

The guard is trapped outside, and will probably die unless he is helped.

"If any of you can find a way to ensare that thing, now's probably a good time!" She shouts. She steps as close as she can without getting crushed by the guards or going outside the gate, holds out her gloved left hand and conjures a thin film of slippery grease under and in front of the creature.

OOCCasting Grease. It lasts 1 Round/Level (so in this case, probably just until my next turn).

Any creature in the area when the spell is cast must make a successful Reflex save (DC 14) or fall. This save is repeated on your turn each round that the creature remains within the area. A creature can walk within or through the area of grease at half normal speed with a DC 10 Balance check. Failure means it can’t move that round (and must then make a Reflex save or fall), while failure by 5 or more means it falls (see the Balance skill for details).

[Vhaidara]

Markin hears the howl, but, rather than trembling in fear, it inspires him. He charges forward, his flail swinging free at the creature.
Someone grab Galder and get him inside! I'll hold off this beast!

If he can actually charge the monster, he will. I'm assuming he can't. If he does, add 2 to my attack rolls
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Thokk_Smash]

The fear washes over the inexperienced acolyte, but Helios somehow manages to shake it off. The flail-wielding man charges the zombie and for a split second the self-admittedly slow man realizes what that may entail, along with the tattoo on his face. Just ignore it fer now, Helios, the cleric tells himself nervously as he fumbles with his holy symbol.

By Pelor's light and grace, I c-c'mmand ye to flee! He presents his holy symbol as a flash of light emanates from it, hopefully sending the undead running to buy them enough time to get in. After doing so he starts moving towards the closing gate.

Turn check (with +2 from Glory domain): [roll0]

If the result is high enough, then (including the extra +1d6 from Glory domain): [roll1]

[Stanr]

Brandt looks on in terror as the trader transforms into an undead monstrosity and howls. He struggles to overcome his fear, muttering to himself indecisively as he attempts to work up the courage needed to face this creature. With his heart pounding, Brandt decides he must help the captain. He lets out a fierce war cry in words indistinguishable, then charges towards the monster, bringing his bastard sword down in a ruthless overhead arc.

"I will send you to hell, monster!"

Attack:
[roll0]
Damage:
[roll1]

[Regissoma]

Further back than anyone else hoping that no one notices her, or if they do to ignore her. Heather pulls out a bow and draws it cursing to herself in her thoughts. As she does so her eyes shift to a deep crimson red reflecting her silent killing intent, and her entire demeanor changes.

"Why are things always so ****ed up, I just wanted to try living a peaceful life. Now heres something trying to kill one of the guys I've been trying to get on the good side with through this trip, and I am not letting this happen."

Not caring for the once traders life and knowing that creatures in this world do not always stay down for the count, Heather releases her arrow into the once dead trader as soon as she gets the line of sight.

Using precise shot to reduce the -4 for firing into melee
[roll0]

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius moved forward just before he suddenly felt a wave of terror flow through him, stopping him in his place for several seconds, before he was able to fight himself back into total control, and what he saw made him slightly gleeful, as the trader seemed to have become an undead. Fantastic.

But there were worse things behind him, or it, as it was, that Sanguinius did not like the look of.

Theoretically, he could have forcibly taken control of the zombie quite easily, but it would have required a visible display of channeling Negative Energy, something he didn't want to do in front of the superstitpious lot in front of him. So he remained where he was, behind the gates.

[Still_I_Rise]

Hearing the terrible howl of the monstrosity that the trader has become is too much for Silven, bringing him to a complete stop as he wrestles with a terrible fear within himself.

OOC:
I'm petrified with fear for three rounds.

[Yas392]

The transformation of the man into a thing so far removed has simply jerks Lo away, vomiting bile from above the rampart and dropping down on the ground, covered by the parapet, hands moving and touching every part of his body trying to convince himself that he has not caught the contagion yet.

[Hattish Thing]

Decida's shout of strategy falls upon deaf ears, for the guardsmen are too busy with their own specific jobs to worry about a civilian barking orders. However, the mage's spell certainly gets the point across better. As the cursed voices begin filling her head with their agonizing moans, the spell takes effect upon the cobblestone path beneath the zombie. Grease, slick and brownish against the gray path forms, sending the creature into a confused panic. The zombie had never known something like this to randomly occur. The red rain that comes from the body-movers was normal, but not this... substance. It groans and attempts to reset it's core of balance, and maintain it's position as it stands. This might be why the undead thing missed it's mark so majorly. It's gore-soaked arm swings towards Galder, who's eyes widen as the thing approaches. The claws slash through nothing but the cold air, however, for it had lost it's balance due to the well-placed spell. It growls in anger as it tries to attack Galder again, this time moving to grab his shoulder and bite down hard, hoping to rip flesh and infect the Captain of the Guard.

Fortunately for Galder, that's when a heavy flail smashes straight into the woozy thing's head, the spikes embedding themselves straight through it's skull, sending pieces of broken zombie brains everywhere. Brandt, Markin, Helios, and Galder will end up getting sprayed in nasty zombie blood. It's thoroughly unpleasant, but at least the thing is dead now. Markin will be able to pull the large spiked head of the flail out of the beast, and what was once a trader begins to fall to the ground before it, slipping into the grease with a slam. The smell was absolutely horrid. Now that the monster that had originated the terrible scream is dead, those that were petrified in fear are now freed from the effect. The monster was terrifying, yes, like some unnatural blight sent from angry gods. But, in it's destruction, those that were once afraid of the messy undead find comfort. At least you could kill the thing's with a well-placed flail. Galder shakes his head and quickly begins to run backwards, attempting to wave at the others to follow him quickly. Helios does manage to get his casting up, but Markin's flail did the job too soon. Luckily, the aftereffect was just as valuable. The horde of zombies can be seen now, emerging from behind the trees in a mad cluster, smelling the blood of the trader. There were five, then fifteen, then thirty, before the undead stopped pouring in! The holy power Helios summoned does the job of keeping them away just long enough for the large stone doors to slam shut.

The boom of stone on stone is intimidating, and it rings with an air of finality. A few more guards have arrived on the scene, and assist in employing the heavy steel and wood bars to the door, ensuring that the only way up into the city was climbing the incredibly high walls. The way was shut, and nothing was getting into the city, or out. After the door has been barred, and the area calmed down a tad, guards begin moving more of those mysterious cauldrons up the stairs and onto the ramparts, to pour the contents down upon the restless dead. They appear to be pots full of some kind of acidic alchemical substance, a kind of industrial waste most likely produced by a resident alchemist. The heated liquid soon does the trick of melting away the zombies now piling against the doors. With a final CRACKOOM of thunder, and a brief yet magnificent lightning strike, the moan of the zombies seems to fade away. They were safe, all of them. The Captain will then call to the one guard throwing up all over the rampart. He'll call to him, and beckon for him to come down. "Lo? Was that your name? Come down, sir. Join us. First time with one of the undead?"Once Galder has calmed down, he'll move to address the party as a whole. I... thank you, all. That didn't quite go the way it was supposed to. But, it happens. It's not the closest I've ever been to 'em. But I ain't never seen them change in front of me like that. That was... wrong. He shudders and frowns before changing the subject. "Erm. Some of you look pretty ragged. If you like, you can follow me to a nice place I know. It's warm there, and there's drink.

So.. who's interested?"

[Regissoma]

Closing its eyes it relaxes a bit after the event and remembering that it is currently Heather proceeds to change its eye color back to blue. She looks around the party to gauge how things are for them to see if they need any comforting and smiles akwardly before speaking up.

I don't know about anyone else, but after something like that a drink sounds mighty good right now.

[Vhaidara]

Markin brings up the rear as everyone moves inside the walls, making sure everyone else gets in before him
So that's what the things look like. Damn, Galder. I respect you even more than I did before, now that I know what you lot have been up against.
He nods as Galder suggests a drink
I agree. I can go and see my foster father afterwards. I need a drink, I need to clean my flail, and I need to thank the Scourge of blessing my arm in that fight.
He pulls a cloth out of his bag and begins to wipe his flail down as they walk. If they walk.

[Yas392]

He nods at the correctness of his name from the roster. Just doing my duty, Captain. No, I've seen them prowling while I was moving between city and towns, delivering milk orders. Just one of them caught me off guard today. Lo shrugs at Galder's shaky voice. Well, I'd be. I accept your offer, Captain. I am literally parched.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius pondered upon the idea of going to the bar with them. He had drunk beer and mead once in his entire life, and it had been a rather heart warming experience. It had been a party at the local bar after he had taken his exams along with the rest. Of course, he wasn't sure if anyone of those people were still alive. Probably not.

He decided to take the Captain up on his offer, because in a few months, he wouldn't quite be able to drink or taste mead and food, exactly. "It would be a nice change of tones, considering whats... happened so far. And it might give me a chance to ask what that was, as I haven't heard much about these sort of happenings in Serinet. Not that its gonna make me go away, but its... certainly a topic to know." he said, as he pulled his hood back on, covering his dark hair once more in the shroud of dark blue.

[Stanr]

After rushing back inside the gates, Brandt sheathes his bastard sword. He takes a moment to readjust his pack and cloak while pondering what just happened. It was unlike anything he, and likely most of the others, had ever seen. The skin sloughing off in clumps, the monstrous claws emerging, the trader's last terrible screams... he shuddered. The half-elf was certainly glad to see the interior of Bastion, and lucky he hadn't been turned away earlier. He hoped that his attempt to rescue the captain had been enough to grant him the safety of the city. Brandt glanced at the other travelers who had been rushed inside. They looked like a dangerous lot, particularly the man with the brain-splattered flail. Freakish strong, that one. Stronger even than me.

After listening to the captain's offer of hearth and mead, Brandt nods. "Aye, I'm sure we could all use a drink. A strong one." He finally has time to admire the high walls of Bastion. They're the biggest structure he's ever seen, and his awe is easy to notice.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios shudders at the memory of the monstrous horde. He'd learned about the undead, sure (as much learning as he could take in, anyway), but seeing one up close and person is another matter entirely. And to see a man transform into one in front of his very eyes...terrible.

Yeah, some warmth would be great right abou' now, the man says. He doesn't really care one way or another about the drink, but some food would be right up his alley. How offen do groups of those undead show up? He eyes the man with the fist-tattoo for a second before looking back to Galder.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven slings his bow over his shoulder with relief as the monstrosity is destroyed and the others make it into the town safely.

"I'll take you up on the offer of drink, sir. I'm Silven Greenhearth, as I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I'm seeking to make a name for myself," he says gesturing to his lute, "so I hope there's a stage in the tavern we're headed to?"

[NotScaryBats]

Katja was safe inside the gate, but still became paralyzed in fear when the undead creature howled. She had never seen such a thing before -- at least not outside of her dreams.

Once the horror was dispatched, the mortals were inside, and the gates were closed, Katja felt safe again.

"Yes, I shall join you for a drink," she says simply in response.

[blazinghand]

Decida nods and follows the group. Getting somewhere to rest will be good, after the trampling she has taken.

[Hattish Thing]

Galder will reply to the bard and smile lightly, though it's clear in his eyes that he harbors much pain. What horrific things has this man seen in service to the people? He speaks. Heh. There sure is, friend. It'll be nice having a bardic fellow about again. Last one ran into the marshes fist time he saw one of them... He'll now begin escorting the companions. Now, the group will finally be able to see the sprawling mess of gothic houses and businesses, the doors mostly shut and sometimes even barred. It was evening now, the bright and foreboding moon shrouded by the layers of thick fog and dark clouds. Everlasting Torches have been placed on street-corners, or mounted on businesses to light up the gloomy way. It's majestic in a way, and certainly comforting to see the light of civilization here, a beacon of hope standing tall against all the darkness and gloom of the outside world. Bastion was beautiful, a tall castle looming in the northside, with the buildings nestled up tight beside it, like a shepherd watching over it's flock. The castle's thick and well-supported walls stretch all around the city, and guardsman patrol the rampart at every hour of the day. Four guard towers can be seen, large torches lighting them up and making their presence known. Galder leads the gathering of companions down several labyrinthine streets, talking as the rainwater falls, mixing with the sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Heh... Thank you very much, Markin. Once you've taken watch as long as I have, the things become... less than human. Ya don't feel bad for 'em. Probably why seeing Boris transform like that bothered me so much... Never... Never... He sighs and gulps before moving forward, changing the subject as the huge castle can be seen ahead.

He gestures towards the keep and speaks. Ah, there it is. Castle Stonehearth! No doubt you've noticed it already. The thing can hardly be missed, after all. The nobles of Bastion live there, along with Lord Markly. He's the one in charge of the place officially, keeps things running and all that. Nice man, sometimes comes over to visit us in the mornings. Why, just last week he brought me some of the best brew I'd ever had. Delicious stuff really. He continues down a path until a small board can be seen just outside a large building. The sign is quite old, and the lettering is difficult to read. The Sleeping Goblin! Nice place, even though Haster can be a tad morose... The Captain of the Guard walks into the place and waves. The tavern is well-kept and tidy, and a fireplace roars in the corner. A massive bearskin rug can be seen on the floor, the animal that provided the skin must have been enormous! There's many tables set out, but only a few patrons can be seen. There's a young woman sitting alone by the fire, reading a book. She looks quite tired, and her grayed hair doesn't quite match her youthful face, suggesting stress is rampant in her life. A balding and pudgy man dressed in bright yellow sits with two women on either side of him. He appears to be talking and boasting of some great deed done by him. He must be some kind of adventurer. A few traders and uninteresting individuals sit in corners, quietly talking to themselves. There's a small stage, but the curtain is currently drawn up, sealing off access to it. A thin and bug-eyed little man stands behind the counter, talking to what appears to be a friend of his from across the counter.

Galder rushes forward, throwing his arms out wide in the direction of the counter-man. Haster! My friend, hallo there! The spidery man's gaunt face lights up, and his attention is brought to the Captain. His voice is unique, and thoroughly strange. Too deep for such a small man! Galder? Is that you? Why hallo! I heard something happened at the gate? Is everyone alright? Always seems to be something horrid going on nowadays.. With a smirk, Galder replies. It's the Witching Weeks, buddy. Nothing to do but get drunk off yer ass and sleep it all off! In response, Haster looks over at the small crowd his friend had brought in. Speaking of drunk asses, who are these? Galder claps a bit and heads over to the largest table, by the wall and facing the stage, gesturing for the others to sit by him. Friends, Haster, so be nice. They managed to get in right before the gates went cold. Last group, too. Wasn't... entirely pleasant for them, as you can guess. Sooo. With that said, we'll need a whole bunch of ale! Aheh. Haster simply nods and calls two barmaids from a sideroom. The pair of fairly plain looking women move over to the table, and offer small menus to each of the characters now sitting by the table. Galder will look towards the group and sigh as this all goes on. Now..

I suppose I ought to explain this whole situation?

[Vhaidara]

Markin follows, thinking on recent events, including his dream. While he is glad to drink with Galder, he cannot wait to return to the temple and see his father. Then he could confirm that his dreams were from Balthira.

Lord Markly. Markin thought well enough of the man. He could be harder, but he ruled fairly, and that was better than some of the rulers he had heard about, who had been supplanted by his own order throughout history. Well, at least he had a well established order of law that Markin hoped to one day co-opt into his own.

His eyes flicked over to the young, grey haired woman. He would have to speak to her, and discover what ailed her. It was not right, that a woman so young should be so careworn.

Then the barkeep spoke up.
Good to see you, Haster. It has been some time since I was last here. Three years ago on my name day, if I recall. I am quite sorry about the table. I trust my father sent you money for the new one?

[NotScaryBats]

Katja is solemn and quiet during the walk through town. She tries to take in all the sights of her birthplace. Once inside the Sleeping Goblin, she takes a seat at the large table the Guard Captain indicates, and orders herself an ale. "Yes, I believe the situation here is more unfortunate than I had believed. There is talk about the haunted land of course, but I did not expect it to be so commonplace." She speaks in her slow, deliberate voice.

Though she has more to say, she will wait for the captain's explanation of the situation first.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius quietly listened to the Captain speaking, taking in everything that he was saying with a hunger to know. He was surprised that he didn't know what this "Witching Week" was, but it was acceptable, since he had been attempting to get here in a hurry, and had only done a preliminary background check of the place. In hindsight, that could have gone badly, but so far, it hadn't. Catalina should have informed him more about the place when she taught him geography and global politics back in college, but the hag was a terrible teacher, and knew nothing of efficient teaching. And she had hated him, but who cared, she was dead like the rest.

"Preferably so, Captain. Could we start with what this 'Witching Week' is?" he said, with a questioning tone.

[Stanr]

Brandt follows the others inside the Sleeping Goblin, but glances about nervously once inside. He seems unfamiliar with this type of establishment, as well as every building and structure they passed on the way here. Remaining quiet as Haster and Galder chat, Brandt follows the others to the table, continuing to look around at the other patrons. After seeing everyone else pull out a chair and sit, he does the same. He also removes his pack and sets it at his feet, but keeps his weapons on his person. At this point he also removes his hood, although his thick fur cloak remains draped over him. His pointed ears and deep green eyes are now visible. The muss of dirty brown hair that sits atop his head is thick, but the hair on his cheeks and chin is wispy at best.

The barbarian gives the barmaid a strange look when she attempts to hand him the menu, and after a moment of silence and stares she simply sets it on the table in front of him and moves on. He peers around at the group, and noticing that the others pick up the menu and look at it, does the same. He flips the menu over a few times, pretending to read it, then becomes obviously flustered and tosses it back onto the table. Finally, he calls out to the nearest barmaid, "A horn of ale." He then turns to Galder, leans forward, elbows on the table, and awaits the explanation with interest.

[Hattish Thing]

((During the Sleeping Goblin Scenes, posting order won't be enforced. It's not combat.))


Markin follows, thinking on recent events, including his dream. While he is glad to drink with Galder, he cannot wait to return to the temple and see his father. Then he could confirm that his dreams were from Balthira.

Lord Markly. Markin thought well enough of the man. He could be harder, but he ruled fairly, and that was better than some of the rulers he had heard about, who had been supplanted by his own order throughout history. Well, at least he had a well established order of law that Markin hoped to one day co-opt into his own.

His eyes flicked over to the young, grey haired woman. He would have to speak to her, and discover what ailed her. It was not right, that a woman so young should be so careworn.

Then the barkeep spoke up.
Good to see you, Haster. It has been some time since I was last here. Three years ago on my name day, if I recall. I am quite sorry about the table. I trust my father sent you money for the new one?

The barkeep looks up past Galder, as the Captain moves to sit down. Upon seeing the somewhat familiar looking face of Markin, he raises a finger, pondering over who this man speaking to him may be. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, he speaks. Markin...? Is that you? It's been ages since I've seen you around here... Where've ya been, son? He smiles lightly. The table's fine. Your father was good enough to supply me with enough to purchase a newer one. Still around today, if I can recall. I believe it's upstairs though, in one of the guest rooms. I haven't heard from your father in a while, though. Is everything alright? I heard he left town... But, I hear a lot of things. If you need anything, feel free to ask. He'll nod before turning to continue his conversation with the other man at the bar.


Brandt follows the others inside the Sleeping Goblin, but glances about nervously once inside. He seems unfamiliar with this type of establishment, as well as every building and structure they passed on the way here. Remaining quiet as Haster and Galder chat, Brandt follows the others to the table, continuing to look around at the other patrons. After seeing everyone else pull out a chair and sit, he does the same. He also removes his pack and sets it at his feet, but keeps his weapons on his person. At this point he also removes his hood, although his thick fur cloak remains draped over him. His pointed ears and deep green eyes are now visible. The muss of dirty brown hair that sits atop his head is thick, but the hair on his cheeks and chin is wispy at best.

The barbarian gives the barmaid a strange look when she attempts to hand him the menu, and after a moment of silence and stares she simply sets it on the table in front of him and moves on. He peers around at the group, and noticing that the others pick up the menu and look at it, does the same. He flips the menu over a few times, pretending to read it, then becomes obviously flustered and tosses it back onto the table. Finally, he calls out to the nearest barmaid, "A horn of ale." He then turns to Galder, leans forward, elbows on the table, and awaits the explanation with interest.

Brandt's curious actions will earn him quite a few stares from the poor and confused barmaid, but after a tortuously long silence, she gets the point and leaves to begin her task. So, Brandt will be left to listen to Galder's explanation in peace, hopefully not embarrassed too much!


Katja is solemn and quiet during the walk through town. She tries to take in all the sights of her birthplace. Once inside the Sleeping Goblin, she takes a seat at the large table the Guard Captain indicates, and orders herself an ale. "Yes, I believe the situation here is more unfortunate than I had believed. There is talk about the haunted land of course, but I did not expect it to be so commonplace." She speaks in her slow, deliberate voice.

Though she has more to say, she will wait for the captain's explanation of the situation first.

Galder settles down and orders himself a large spiced ale, resting for a few seconds before he begins to reply to her. Unfortunate? Not... not really. We're a peaceful town, for the most part. We have plenty food, water is easily gathered, and the people are happy enough. What you saw at the gates doesn't happen all the time, you know. It's actually fairly rare. We don't open the gates during the Witching Weeks, so no one ever gets hurt. It's difficult to tell when exactly the dead start their walk, though. So... sometimes we get caught off our guard. But, with any luck, and a bit of prayer, we won't lose anyone else to their claws.


Sanguinius quietly listened to the Captain speaking, taking in everything that he was saying with a hunger to know. He was surprised that he didn't know what this "Witching Week" was, but it was acceptable, since he had been attempting to get here in a hurry, and had only done a preliminary background check of the place. In hindsight, that could have gone badly, but so far, it hadn't. Catalina should have informed him more about the place when she taught him geography and global politics back in college, but the hag was a terrible teacher, and knew nothing of efficient teaching. And she had hated him, but who cared, she was dead like the rest.

"Preferably so, Captain. Could we start with what this 'Witching Week' is?" he said, with a questioning tone.

He shrugs a bit, turning his head to face Sanguinius. Well... Hundreds of years ago, the great War of the West occurred. The churches of both Pelor and Hextor wanted these lands for themselves, saying they was holy land or something silly like that. So, they gathered up their bannermen and came here. The battles were unpleasant, to say the least, and by the time it had ended, no one had a clear victory. The pair agreed to leave the land, and only send a few missionaries a year. We were given back our lands, and we continued what we'd been doing in the first place. However... the blood spilt cursed this land. Some say the gods were angry at the death that went about. For two weeks or so a month, the dead began to rise from their graves. From graveyards, to dirty marshlands, to in the middle of the land, they rose. It didn't matter where they were buried. However, we had our walls. So, for a while we defended ourselves from them, hiding behind our thick stone. We improved upon their designs as life went on, and now we have a pretty nice city to call ourselves. There's also Chelmsebrooke and Hemlock, two smaller towns out there. Walls and everything. We get by here, no matter what.

It's not called the Land of the Dead fer nothing.

[NotScaryBats]

"Have you ever heard of Ouroboras, a snake eating its own tail? I understand it is a symbol of some sort, but do not know if it has particular significance in this country." Katja hopes the question won't damage diplomacy too much. After a response, if she gets one, she will also say "Are there many abandoned sites in this land? Large churches, perhaps? As an adventurer, I have an interest in lost relics that may be sitting in marshes, collecting dust and slime that I could put to good use."

[Vhaidara]

He left? Why would his foster father have left? He must go up to the temple soon. Maybe there was a message. Maybe he would be could contact Balthira himself.

The dead, however. They were another matter entirely.
I still think we need to learn to drive them back. The only way we can reclaim the land that is rightfully ours is by destroying this menace.

[TachyonBlade]

He left? Why would his foster father have left? He must go up to the temple soon. Maybe there was a message. Maybe he would be could contact Balthira himself.

The dead, however. They were another matter entirely.
I still think we need to learn to drive them back. The only way we can reclaim the land that is rightfully ours is by destroying this menace.

Sanguinius immediately had several ideas as the paladin mentioned the control of the undead. He could have blurted them all out, and helped them, but what would that accomplish for him? Nothin- Wait, could he possibly use them as a means to grab control of all the undead here? That would let him leave the living here in peace, to do what they wished, as he amassed power and knowledge somewhere in the wastes. And that way, he could somehow keep them in check to make them avoid him later on.

Sanguinius nonchalantly spoke up from under his hood, speaking in his strong, but gravely voice once more "I could help with that. Undead are of a simple sort, lacking will in most cases, and can easily be taken control of. How would you like them all gone? Or even better, working along side you to till the fields, guard your homes, and bring the land back under control? Of course, that would require a nature-controller, or a Heathromancer, and with luck, I am both."


Bluff: [roll0]

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks to the man.
That sounds most interesting, good sir. Indeed, it would be better to control them than to destroy them. Even if we only took control of some of them, we could use that force to push out and expand the borders...
Yes, yes, yes! It was perfect! An unquestioning army of those undead beasts at his command! He would rule the realm, and there would be nothing to stop him.

[TachyonBlade]

Markin looks to the man.
That sounds most interesting, good sir. Indeed, it would be better to control them than to destroy them. Even if we only took control of some of them, we could use that force to push out and expand the borders...
Yes, yes, yes! It was perfect! An unquestioning army of those undead beasts at his command! He would rule the realm, and there would be nothing to stop him.

The paladin seemed to have bought his idea quite easily, and obviously, none of them knew that there was no such thing as a Heathromancer, and he'd pulled that out of his arse in a moment's notice. He was pretty gleeful about the whole thing now, since they weren't gonna really notice. Hopefully.

"It would be my honor to help the place that will soon be my home.", he said.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven looked longingly at the stage for a moment after entering the bar, but decided to settle in with the rest of these travelers first.

He read over one of the menus briefly, searching for any elven wine. In the likely case he doesn't see it offered, he instead orders a mug of common ale.

After hearing the "Heathromancer" speak up, he thinks for a moment, then nods slowly. "Yes, I see your point. It would be beneficial to enlist these creatures aid... However, I cannot shake the feeling that there is still something irredeemably wrong about those monstrosities."

He gives a sharper glance to Markin. "And I certainly can't see there being any justification for using them as an army!"

[Vhaidara]

He gives a sharper glance to Markin. "And I certainly can't see there being any justification for using them as an army!"

Markin glares at Silven
Would you rather we send our own men to die at the hands of these monsters? We wish to be rid of them, and what better way to do that than sending them to battle?

[TachyonBlade]

Markin glares at Silven
Would you rather we send our own men to die at the hands of these monsters? We wish to be rid of them, and what better way to do that than sending them to battle?

Sanguinius carefully sipped at his ale mug, and then felt the liquid go down his throat and into his body, and it felt... awkward. Totally different from when he was still totally living. Halfway reinvigorating, and halfway vile, and he kind of liked it. He then downed the whole mug.

He then looked at Silven, then at Markin. "Both of you have a point. Using the undead as an army is good, but it will also attract enmity from the others... "

[Yas392]

Out of his guard attire which is undistinguishable to all during the rampage, Lo is a more different man from the battlefield. Trading armor for a pair of common wears; green as the forest floors for his tunic and unruly brown as oak. His hair is touched by a mid shade of green. His cerulean piercing eyes open to the regulars who dwell in Sleeping Goblin. Earlier on, he excuse himself because he known this place in the back of his mind as he helped supplied the milk here along with many other who chose to contract with Mallon. Sorry for my tardiness. It would be awkward to be on job while enjoying a drink. I am sure you would not mind, Captain. Glancing at Haster, he waves. Hey Haster, I sure do hope you have enough milk to last you around a week. Betsy is getting grumpy if you keep milking her. The talk of controlling the undead has gotten his attention on the "Heathromancer" and the Paladin. The air responds to his unfilled mind before he took the invitation when he went to the forest for his daily meditation. Check the muscular and the bright man. He orders what he normally did, rotating between cuisines in the menu, his creativity as a chef taking precedence in a whispery voice as he takes pats Haster. Haster, could you please produce a feast for that table tipped with Cassil, Witchweed and a teensy bit of Frenzy Water? Exclude the captain, do a regular for him. Put it on my tab. I know you are acquaint with one of them. I just want to do a litmus test. They are not being truthful especially with the undead part.

[Hattish Thing]

Out of his guard attire which is undistinguishable to all during the rampage, Lo is a more different man from the battlefield. Trading armor for a pair of common wears; green as the forest floors for his tunic and unruly brown as oak. His hair is touched by a mid shade of green. His cerulean piercing eyes open to the regulars who dwell in Sleeping Goblin. Earlier on, he excuse himself because he known this place in the back of his mind as he helped supplied the milk here along with many other who chose to contract with Mallon. Sorry for my tardiness. It would be awkward to be on job while enjoying a drink. I am sure you would not mind, Captain. Glancing at Haster, he waves. Hey Haster, I sure do hope you have enough milk to last you around a week. Betsy is getting grumpy if you keep milking her. The talk of controlling the undead has gotten his attention on the "Heathromancer" and the Paladin. The air responds to his unfilled mind before he takes the invitation. Check the muscular and the bright man. He orders what he normally did, rotating between cuisines in the menu, his creativity as a chef taking precedence in a whispery voice as he takes pats Haster. Haster, could you please produce a feast for that table, exclude the Captain; do a regular for him, tipped with Cassil, Witchweed and Frenzy Water?

Haster hasn't been listening, seeing as the little man had been attempting to eavesdrop upon the others. He'd so far learned a tad about this "Heathromancer", and his plans for the undead. He's distracted by the sudden question, though, and ceases his listening. "Oh, um! Of course. Been a while, hasn't it, Lo? Still overly fond of milk, I see. We all pray for the day you find ale appealing. He jokes a tad, but it's quite forced and awkward. The strangers were beginning to get some looks from the others inside the inn, and Haster himself was more than a little bothered by the talk of undeath. With a sigh, he calls back to someone in the kitchens.



Sanguinius immediately had several ideas as the paladin mentioned the control of the undead. He could have blurted them all out, and helped them, but what would that accomplish for him? Nothin- Wait, could he possibly use them as a means to grab control of all the undead here? That would let him leave the living here in peace, to do what they wished, as he amassed power and knowledge somewhere in the wastes. And that way, he could somehow keep them in check to make them avoid him later on.

Sanguinius nonchalantly spoke up from under his hood, speaking in his strong, but gravely voice once more "I could help with that. Undead are of a simple sort, lacking will in most cases, and can easily be taken control of. How would you like them all gone? Or even better, working along side you to till the fields, guard your homes, and bring the land back under control? Of course, that would require a nature-controller, or a Heathromancer, and with luck, I am both."

That instigates quite a response in Galder. It's abundantly clear that he's not the kind to trust those who attempt to control the dead. "Are yo insane? Controlling the undead?" He listens to the short conversation between Markin and Sanguinius, his face growing more and more distrusting. "They were people once... friends. We're not... like them, not now at least. But that doesn't give us the right to go about controlling and desecrating their memory. The undead aren't pets, they can't be domesticated and controlled, unless dark magic is involved. Dark magic is... evil, friends. We don't tolerate the black magics here, and I highly suggest keeping yer talks of messing around with the dead to yerselves. Most people here don't see as many strangers as I do, and won't be as kind as I am." He shudders and speaks once more. "...What? An army? No. These things... they can't just.. they can't be unified like that. They don't work that way. The band together to hunt in swarms sometimes, just because it's easier for them that way. We don't have an army in Serinet. We don't have generals. We have guards, and high walls. And Lord Markly would appreciate it staying that way.

There are no enemies here. Just... unfortunates."

[roll0]


"Have you ever heard of Ouroboras, a snake eating its own tail? I understand it is a symbol of some sort, but do not know if it has particular significance in this country." Katja hopes the question won't damage diplomacy too much. After a response, if she gets one, she will also say "Are there many abandoned sites in this land? Large churches, perhaps? As an adventurer, I have an interest in lost relics that may be sitting in marshes, collecting dust and slime that I could put to good use."

He shakes his head in disapproval, clearly a tad irked at the thought of amassing some twisted army of death. However, the drinks arrive, and so he's distracted! He'll take a long drink from his spiced ale, before eagerly stuffing in a few peanuts for good measure. He makes sure to thank the barmaid and tip her before she leaves. He may not be educated, but he knows his manners. He turns to Katja, finding her conversation much more appealing. "The Ouroboras? Felran..." He thinks upon what was asked before taking another long drink, his eyes staring into Katja. What strange folks. "That's Felran's sigil. Do you know him? Is that why you're here? Well... if you are, I'm afraid you've missed him. The old goat went on about to Altarvi-..." Upon her next question, he furrows his brow, a tad disturbed. "Altarview Church... Been abandoned for a good long while now. They say it's haunted. There's... quite a few abandoned and mysterious places here, long forgotten. Probably best left that way. But... how did you know of Altarview? Felran must have sent you. I never can tell what he's planning..."

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven nods in agreement to what Captain Galder states.

"Captain Galder is quite right. The people would never agree to creating - or even controlling - an army of undead."

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius put on an extremely offended face as he looked at the captain with surprise. "Pardon me? Did you say Heathromancism and nature magic is dark magic? It is perfectly fine art that has been practiced by mages for centuries in colleges, and it has been used to save many lives in manufacturing accidents. Industries can use these undead as workers, and they require no sustenance. No money. Just a nature controller, or a heathromancer to have given them their instructions."

[Regissoma]

Heather after following the party and captain into the bar sits down quietly looking around and taking note of all possible exits and dangers in the bar. She closly inspects each person and makes mental notes of each thing that might be of interest. Sitting down she reads the menu and listens in to the conversation. Upon hearing one of the male party members suggesting controling undead her attention peaks. She smiles then at Sanguinius and looks at one of the bar maids to try and order another drink.


Oh I hope my uncle is ok.

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks at Galder.
Our friends are dead, but if their bodies can be used to turn the tide of what killed them, I think they would want us to use their remains.
Then the drinks arrive and Galder mentions Altarview.
Which gods were worshiped at Altarview?

[Hattish Thing]

Sanguinius put on an extremely offended face as he looked at the captain with surprise. "Pardon me? Did you say Heathromancism and nature magic is dark magic? It is perfectly fine art that has been practiced by mages for centuries in colleges, and it has been used to save many lives in manufacturing accidents. Industries can use these undead as workers, and they require no sustenance. No money. Just a nature controller, or a heathromancer to have given them their instructions."

Galder still breathes in deeply, annoyed at Sanguinius. "Well, pardon me fer not knowing all about your silly wizard stuff. I ain't ever heard of "heathromancers", but they sound like something particularly long-winded, so... definitely what a wizard would think up. I believe yer heathromancer stuff, but I really don't care. Using the dead as... as... some kind of slave labor is wrong!" He breathes deeply. "And what happens to the living men and women who require the work to feed their children? Or wives? No, your... suggestion would cause more problems than it would solve. Now... drop it, yer getting us funny looks." Sure enough, the others seem to be looking at the table with revulsion, except for the woman with grayed hair.

He glares towards Markin as well. "You should know better, you've lived here. You've seen the things. As fer Gods... It's sort of a mystery. The stained glass depicted Pelor, once. But there were rumors that a sect of men and women much worse than... Hextor worshipers, or servant of the sun god. Some say they worshipped a demon of sorts, in an underground area. But that's mostly nonsense. What is fact, is that a valuable staff was stored there once. It was a religious artifact, and was to be stored there for a while. Obviously, the priests never got to actually get it. Some say the undead got 'em.

That's what Felran left to do. He went out investigatin' the ruins. Old wizard-y fellow. Means well, but... he's not exactly the most well-liked person here. Most people look upon magic with fear, mainly due to thoughts like... controlling the undead, or things like that." He glares at Sanguinius once more.

[Stanr]

Brandt glances from face to face as they argue about the undead. This so-called nature-mage seemed quite insistent on the benefits of necromancy... Eventually, he quaffs his ale and sets the mug down, not gently. He speaks up. "This wizard, he went to Altarview in search of the staff?" The half-elf pondered that for a moment. Could this be the answer to his dreams? "Did he go alone?"

[Vhaidara]

Markin sighed. Galder was a short sighted fool. He may need to be dealt with, when the time came. And Markin would regret it. But he would do it.
Followers of the Scourge, consorting with demons? Never.
His eyes look over the group, daring anyone to challenge him.
Still, if these legends are true, it falls to me to investigate. I shall set out for Altarview on the morrow. If any of you wish to join me, I shall be at the gates at dawn.

[Yas392]

Lo listens to the words that escape the barkeep's mouth is not as casual as it seemed and ignore the weirdness of it, taking the joke. He appraises the party and smiles at Haster to assure him that there is nothing to worry about. Ahh, yes. I never told you this but I like ale, very strong ones. Just because I act as a ship to carry the milk to other inns and towns doesn't mean it's overall my favourite drink, it's more of Mallon thing, really. The smell is good and all, and the liquid is warm and decent. The part time guard and failed cook shakes his head. Oh, almost forgot about the servings. Make sure that the smell is appealing and tasty. It's not going to work if it's not foolproof.

[TachyonBlade]

Galder still breathes in deeply, annoyed at Sanguinius. "Well, pardon me fer not knowing all about your silly wizard stuff. I ain't ever heard of "heathromancers", but they sound like something particularly long-winded, so... definitely what a wizard would think up. I believe yer heathromancer stuff, but I really don't care. Using the dead as... as... some kind of slave labor is wrong!" He breathes deeply. "And what happens to the living men and women who require the work to feed their children? Or wives? No, your... suggestion would cause more problems than it would solve. Now... drop it, yer getting us funny looks." Sure enough, the others seem to be looking at the table with revulsion, except for the woman with grayed hair.

He glares towards Markin as well. "You should know better, you've lived here. You've seen the things."

Sanguinius wasn't very happy with how this was turning out, but he could do without the Captain. The Paladin could help him, which was ironic, really.

"Your choice, really. I was suggesting we control the undead, who I might add are not the people you once knew, terrorizing the lands outside, your land, so that each man could have his own piece of land, workers he doesn't need to pay working for him. There's more than enough land out there for everyone, just too many terrors. " he said, as he shrugged, and looked down his mug.


Diplomacy

[roll0]

[Stanr]

As Markin looks defiantly at the group, Brandt meets his gaze. "The Scourge is a god, but men are men. I wouldn't put it past one of your own to call on demons or devils, as many men do." He signaled to the barmaid before continuing. "Aye, I'll join you. I mean to find this wizard, demons be damned." When the barmaid arrives, he asks for another ale.

[Vhaidara]

Markin's gaze settles on Brandt. This man had offered a grave insult, but Markin knew it was born of ignorance. He would enlighten him.
Devils serve a vital purpose to the natural order. They punish those who deserve punishment. Demons, meanwhile, simply seek the destruction of all that exists. They are quite different creatures.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja ignores the talk of controlling undead, focusing upon the Captain's words and what they could mean in regards to her dreams. Markin seems eager to form a party and set out to investigate the church, and Katja volunteers her services. "Yes, this Altarview Church is precisely what I was looking for. I shall accompany you two to investigate, and with luck we shall find Felran."

[Hattish Thing]

Brandt glances from face to face as they argue about the undead. This so-called nature-mage seemed quite insistent on the benefits of necromancy... Eventually, he quaffs his ale and sets the mug down, not gently. He speaks up. "This wizard, he went to Altarview in search of the staff?" The half-elf pondered that for a moment. Could this be the answer to his dreams? "Did he go alone?"

Galder nods quietly and speaks. "Aye, that he did. Felran never was the kind to go with friends. Even when he came to the Goblin, he often drank with hisself alone. I only ever really spoke to the man when he was preparing to leave the city. He was the adviser here to Lord Markly himself! Pretty good one too. But mysterious... Very mysterious. Didn't have a wife, nor kids, nor any real friends here. At least, as far as I could tell. He left yesterday morning, and we haven't heard from him yet. I tried to tell him to stay, and this his mission could wait at least till the Witching Weeks had ended, but he was as stubborn as always.

I'm sure he's capable though, we needn't worry. Chances are he's resting up at Chelmsebrooke. Alterview is quite closeby. Never been there myself... Supposedly a nice place. Though they don't take as kindly to strangers as we Bastionites do."


Katja ignores the talk of controlling undead, focusing upon the Captain's words and what they could mean in regards to her dreams. Markin seems eager to form a party and set out to investigate the church, and Katja volunteers her services. "Yes, this Altarview Church is precisely what I was looking for. I shall accompany you two to investigate, and with luck we shall find Felran."


Markin sighed. Galder was a short sighted fool. He may need to be dealt with, when the time came. And Markin would regret it. But he would do it.
Followers of the Scourge, consorting with demons? Never.
His eyes look over the group, daring anyone to challenge him.
Still, if these legends are true, it falls to me to investigate. I shall set out for Altarview on the morrow. If any of you wish to join me, I shall be at the gates at dawn.

Galder shrugs, before chuckling a little. "No, ya won't, strangers. You seem to have a level head about you, miss... Katja? I believe it was? Please, don't encourage Markin's flights of fancy. They're dangerous, an' the boys far too imaginative for his own good. The gates are shut, and they don't open. Not until the Witching Weeks have ended. No citizen is allowed to leave, and the moment you stepped into this city, ya became citizens. Now, put all this talk of Alterview, and Felran, and controlling the dead ones behind ya. Maybe stay here for a while, get to know the people! We're not all as gloom and doom as we appear. We have a theatre east of here, I believe they're putting on some play in a few days. We have a sort of celebration during these weeks. We'll put up banners, and light candles for each of our own claimed by the dead. Poetic, really. Markin... Stay, and I trust you can keep your new friends out of trouble as well. He smiles, before cheerily taking another drink out of his mug.

The older woman looks over at Markin, and tries to make eye contact with him. It's clear she has something to tell him.


Lo listens to the words that escape the barkeep's mouth is not as casual as it seemed and ignore the weirdness of it, taking the joke. He appraises the party and smiles at Haster to assure him that there is nothing to worry about. Ahh, yes. I never told you this but I like ale, very strong ones. Just because I act as a ship to carry the milk to other inns and towns doesn't mean it's overall my favourite drink, it's more of Mallon thing, really. The smell is good and all, and the liquid is warm and decent. The part time guard and failed cook shakes his head. Oh, almost forgot about the servings. Make sure that the smell is appealing and tasty. It's not going to work if it's not foolproof.

Haster frowns before looking from side to side at the room. He didn't like this. "Ahah... I'm sure! Never found milk particulaly pleasant really. Good for making pies and such though. Speaking of pies, we managed to scrounge up quite the crop this year! The berry bushes out in Chamberlin Forest were quite bountiful... " In a much quieter tone, he adds. "Do we have to do this? I don't trust them either, but... It seems a tad excessive."


Sanguinius wasn't very happy with how this was turning out, but he could do without the Captain. The Paladin could help him, which was ironic, really.

"Your choice, really. I was suggesting we control the undead, who I might add are not the people you once knew, terrorizing the lands outside, your land, so that each man could have his own piece of land, workers he doesn't need to pay working for him. There's more than enough land out there for everyone, just too many terrors. " he said, as he shrugged, and looked down his mug.

Galder shrugs. Sanguinius's diplomatic pursuits had calmed him down, and the others in the tavern soon turn back to their drinks. All except the woman with the gray hair, who continues to attempt eye contact with Markin. "Hmph. I suppose there's some merit in your idea, but it'd take an awful lot of work. We're fine with how we are right now anyway. We don't lose many. This is how it's been for as long as we can remember."

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius carefully listens to the conversations of the others, and realizes that all of them are talking about the same staff and wizard he saw in his dreams, meaning they had also seen those dreams. Was this a coincidence? Likely not. "I've had the dreams about the staff as well, which was a pretty good coincidence as I was already on my way here. I shall join you as well then. But we'll wait until these Witching Weeks are over, as its probably safer then."

To use you all as meatshields, of course

[Hattish Thing]

Sanguinius carefully listens to the conversations of the others, and realizes that all of them are talking about the same staff and wizard he saw in his dreams, meaning they had also seen those dreams. Was this a coincidence? Likely not. "I've had the dreams about the staff as well, which was a pretty good coincidence as I was already on my way here. I shall join you as well then."

To use you all as meatshields, of course

Galder frowns and speaks to him again, his confusion and frustration rising. "Dreams? Staff? What? What is going on..." He licks his lips for a few seconds before speaking again. "No one is leaving. There is no way out of here, understand?" At that, he shakes his head and turns to his drink once more. The lady with the grayed hair begins to speak from the table she's at. Her voice is low, and awfully shy. "Well... not really, Captain. You and I both know there's other ways..." Galder groans and turns to face her. "Syl, stop. Please. You're going to put the wrong ideas into their heads."

[Vhaidara]

I'm assuming the old woman is the young woman with grey hair, since she's the only one who was mentioned

Markin stands.
Very well, Galder. But if Felran is dead when we get there, his blood is on your hands.
He walks over to the young woman and bows.
What ails you, my good woman? You look as though you have suffered greatly.

[Stanr]

When Sanguinius mentions his dreams, Brandt takes note but is careful not to mention his own. At least, not yet, and not in front of Galder. He then listens attentively to the captain, and sighs with frustration when he says they may not leave. The half-elf mutters under his breath, "A week of candles and childrens' stories. Impressive." When the woman speaks up, he turns his gaze quickly to her. "What other ways out?"

[Hattish Thing]

I'm assuming the old woman is the young woman with grey hair, since she's the only one who was mentioned

Markin stands.
Very well, Galder. But if Felran is dead when we get there, his blood is on your hands.
He walks over to the young woman and bows.
What ails you, my good woman? You look as though you have suffered greatly.

((You are correct. Now she has a name, Syl.))

Galder just sighs and frowns before watching Markin move to talk with Syl. The Captain and the woman with the graying hair lock eyes for a few seconds, and exchange some interesting and utterly unfriendly looks. However, Galder ignores her now and turns to the others. "You... mentioned dreams of a sort, friends?"

Syl turns her eyes away from Galder's, before moving her chair a few feet away from the other table. She smiles lightly as he bows, but it's clear she doesn't feel exceedingly comfortable talking to him. However, she does so anyway, in a hushed voice. She touches something in her pocket, holding it in the palm of her hand. The doors... They... They're not the only way out. I'm Syl. The crypt-keeper here. Er.. crypt-keepers wife. My husband was the first keeper. Um. Anyway, The catacombs stretch from beneath the city, and out. So... THere is a way out, but I'm... not allowed to let others in.

At the time Syl finishes her conversation, Haster suddenly speaks up. Erm... Attention, all at table 3! A feast, compliments of your friend Lo here, has been ordered for you. No... uhh... No need to pay for it, either. It's complimentary and all that. I'm sure you'd all need some good, hot food right about now. He smiles at the table seating the strangers, and the feast continues to be made.

[Vhaidara]

Markin does notice her reaction to him
My good lady Syl, you need not fear me, nor fear for me. I have naught but the highest regard for women, and would lay down my life in your defense. If you fear I will get myself killed, I have the might of the Scourge of Battle behind me, and have already felled one of the monsters.
Then she mentions a way out of the city.
Are the undead able to come in through this passage? Who else knows of its existence?

[Hattish Thing]

Markin does notice her reaction to him
My good lady Syl, you need not fear me, nor fear for me. I have naught but the highest regard for women, and would lay down my life in your defense. If you fear I will get myself killed, I have the might of the Scourge of Battle behind me, and have already felled one of the monsters.
Then she mentions a way out of the city.
Are the undead able to come in through this passage? Who else knows of its existence?

She smiles a bit, growing more comfortable with the paladin before continuing her speech. Well... thank you, sir. I must say it's been a while since I've met someone as polite as you. Most people think me some sort of witch. The crypt-keeper's widower, they call me. Not exactly the reputation a lady would desire, but... oh well.

No... No undead. They don't come there. But there are some other things, I think. I hear the strangest noises sometimes, when I go to lock up. THe catacombs end outside the city. At the end of the way there's a ladder, and you can climb out right onto the Cobblepath. Oh... but do you know what the Cobblepath is? But... erm... anyway, the guards know of it, as does Markly. But I have the key. I'd... need you to do something for me first.

[Vhaidara]

Markin returns her smile warmly.
Of course, my lady, whatever you need done, I shall aid you, on my honor as a knight.

[Yas392]

Haster frowns before looking from side to side at the room. He didn't like this. "Ahah... I'm sure! Never found milk particulaly pleasant really. Good for making pies and such though. Speaking of pies, we managed to scrounge up quite the crop this year! The berry bushes out in Chamberlin Forest were quite bountiful... " In a much quieter tone, he adds. "Do we have to do this? I don't trust them either, but... It seems a tad excessive."


Keeping the façade up, Lo laughs. Berries are just a minor sprinkle in our recipe. We do not put a lot of them into our pies. But I heard Wraecrast Island off Serinet coast is easier to harvest, they are also famous for wild berries. They are as bountiful as Chamberlin but you have to tread with care. Bigger version of the hunt there, the yield is good but frighteningly too bountiful, I'd say. Imitating Haster's volume, Lo face him eye to eye, thinking about the extremity of it. Think of it as a test. I was fed worst than this when I had overnight shifts. If your cook have not put any Cassil, tell them not to. I think Cassil is overkill. The other reason is that I want to protect the Captain. You'd seen how he react to the dead? Absolute Fear. Let me cart it to them personally.

The failed chef rubs the back of his head nervously. Ahh, no need. Lo stutters. It's just that you deserved it after you stopped the undead from demoralizing my brother's in arm.

[Hattish Thing]

Markin returns her smile warmly.
Of course, my lady, whatever you need done, I shall aid you, on my honor as a knight.

Her eyes glance downwards to the table now. Well... I... Hm. A few years ago, my husband, Jorgan, died. He... he killed himself, in the graveyard. With... rope, you know. And since he died, I swear I hear things when I pass that way. The people we put in the ground their are blessed, so they stay. But... Jorgan wasn't. They left his body uncleaned. I couldn't afford it the priests services. And... well, I think he's there. A ghost, or something. I don't... Her eyes seem sort of teary. I just know he's suffering out there, and... I need you to kill him. Er. Lay him to rest. I know once his soul's been laid back to rest, he'll finally be able to reach the afterlife... Please, take your friends, if you need to. I just need him to find peace, finally. In return, I'll give you the key.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius took a glimpse at Markin the paladin, and figured what he was doing. He held back a smile as he turned his eyes back to the captain, and continued on the suddenly massive charade they were putting on, to distract the Captain from the paladin and Syl. "Yes. As I was on my way here, I began to have somewhat distressing dreams, or nightmares more like, of a staff and Serinet as a place. I feel like it might have been the effect of me getting closer to the country, but I do not know." he said, staring right into the eyes of the Captain with his own dark eyes, surrounded by the palest skin all over his body, the skin at his face.

[Hattish Thing]

Sanguinius took a glimpse at Markin the paladin, and figured what he was doing. He held back a smile as he turned his eyes back to the captain, and continued on the suddenly massive charade they were putting on, to distract the Captain from the paladin and Syl. "Yes. As I was on my way here, I began to have somewhat distressing dreams, or nightmares more like, of a staff and Serinet as a place. I feel like it might have been the effect of me getting closer to the country, but I do not know." he said, staring right into the eyes of the Captain with his own dark eyes, surrounded by the palest skin all over his body, the skin at his face.

It's clear that Galder didn't find the glare comforting at all. With the briefest shudder, he continues to speak, turning away from Sanguinius. Ah. Nightmares? Never heard of that happening before, actually. I don't usually dream much at all. Must just be who I am. He takes another swig before sighing and standing up. Now... I have to go. I need to get my sleep, and I have a wife who'll be missing me, I'm sure. Night, all. Don't get any... thoughts, or stuff. He moves out of the table, and waves to the barkeep. Night, Haster. Haster simply nods, and in a minute, Galder has left.


Keeping the façade up, Lo laughs. Berries are just a minor sprinkle in our recipe. We do not put a lot of them into our pies. But I heard Wraecrast Island off Serinet coast is easier to harvest, they are also famous for wild berries. They are as bountiful as Chamberlin but you have to tread with care. Bigger version of the hunt there, the yield is good but frighteningly too bountiful, I'd say. Imitating Haster's volume, Lo face him eye to eye, thinking about the extremity of it. Think of it as a test. I was fed worst than this when I had overnight shifts. If your cook have not put any Cassil, tell them not to. I think Cassil is overkill. The other reason is that I want to protect the Captain. You'd seen how he react to the dead? Absolute Fear. Let me cart it to them personally.

Haster frowns, it's clear he wasn't happy with this idea, but he still went along with it. It's not like he really had a choice in the matter. I... alright. I usually don't send my gatherers out to Wraecast. The shore is rocky, and I'd rather not waste the expenses of buying a boat, just to have some careless boy run it aground. He continues to whisper. Now.. I know the Captain. He's not one for fear, but then again, I've never really seen him at work. It doesn't matter, I guess. You're... You got it, but you're taking the blame should it come to this. Not me.

[Vhaidara]

Markin's eyes widen, and his hands clench into fists.
That is a vile thing, for the priests to withhold burial rites. It would be monstrous in happier times, but with the Witching Weeks, it is downright criminal. I ensure that my foster father hears that this has been done. But in the meantime, if you can tell me where in the graveyard your husband took his life, I will gladly attempt to lay him to rest. And I am sure that some of these good people will accompany me.

[Yas392]

Haster frowns, it's clear he wasn't happy with this idea, but he still went along with it. It's not like he really had a choice in the matter. I... alright. I usually don't send my gatherers out to Wraecast. The shore is rocky, and I'd rather not waste the expenses of buying a boat, just to have some careless boy run it aground. He continues to whisper. Now.. I know the Captain. He's not one for fear, but then again, I've never really seen him at work. It doesn't matter, I guess. You're... You got it, but you're taking the blame should it come to this. Not me.

Hah, I do not have a reputation to tarnish. My reputation was already tarnished three-fold that it is darn believable it if I told them how bad my cooking is. This...His face slants, a compass point to where he would lay the food. ...is nothing compare to what I concocted in my spare time.

[Hattish Thing]

Markin's eyes widen, and his hands clench into fists.
That is a vile thing, for the priests to withhold burial rites. It would be monstrous in happier times, but with the Witching Weeks, it is downright criminal. I ensure that my foster father hears that this has been done. But in the meantime, if you can tell me where in the graveyard your husband took his life, I will gladly attempt to lay him to rest. And I am sure that some of these good people will accompany me.

She smiles, and as Galder leaves, her tone rises a bit. She seems quite grateful. Oh... thank you so much! I... I'm sorry I haven't more to give, but I have only myself now. Not many people are willing to hire a woman to work, especially not one as frail as I look. Keeping the catacombs doesn't pay well, and Lord Markly's been thinking of permanently shutting the doors. Which would leave me with nothing... It's all so difficult sometimes. Sorry, I'm sure you don't want to hear me talk. Thank you, so much. She pulls out a small lead key from her pocket, that she'd been playing with. Here... take it. I trust that you'll do the deed for me. With that, she sighs, looking down upon the ground again.

[Vhaidara]

He looks her in the eye as he takes the key.
If it ever comes to that, go to the temple and give them my name. I may not be popular there, but I am at least respected, as is my foster father. They will shelter you.
He puts a hand on her shoulder before he walks away and says
Don't worry. We will put your husband to rest.

Returning to table three, he sits.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have arranged for us to leave on the morrow. However, first, we have a task to perform. There is a spirit in the graveyard who did not receive burial rites.
He looks at the priest of the sun.
Are you familiar with the burial rites, good priest?

[Hattish Thing]

Syl will smile widely, before thanking him once more and proceeding to head upstairs to her room, leaving the tavern emptier than it was. The extravagantly dressed man still sits in his table with the two women, but most of the townspeople have left. Haster and Lo have stopped talking, and any second now the feast ought to arrive.

[Stanr]

Brandt gives the paladin a look of surprise and disgust. "Graveyard? These people should burn their dead, beneath the open sky. How else will they be freed from the mortal plane?" The barbarian is clearly not comfortable with the concept of burial. He shifts in his seat, then sniffs the air and looks over towards Haster, awaiting the feast.

[NotScaryBats]

"Very well, then," Katja agrees to help destroy the undead in the graveyard.

[Thokk_Smash]

So much to hear, so much to take in. The poor, slow Helios barely manages to keep up with it all, with hardly a chance to chime in or add his two cents. The talk of using undead unsettles him, as do the pale man and the tattooed man. The dead should stay dead, and damn the "benefits" or whatever that could be reaped from using their corpses as free labor. The mention of the staff brings the nightmares to mind; some of these people have dreamt of it as well? Maybe this was a sign from Pelor to join with them.

The tattooed paladin's question jerks him to attention. Ah, yeah, he says with a nod. Jest helped an elder preside over a burial th'other day. I'd be happy ta help lay him to rest.

[blazinghand]

Decida, who followed the group to the inn, orders bland porridge and weak ale. With a surge of energy that barely sets her hand tingling, she activates Prestidigitation to give the food some flavor. She cleans her wounds and gets the mud off herself as well-- might as well, since the spell lasts the rest of the hour.

The ale takes the edge off of her wounds. She winces as she feels her ribs, checking for breaks and tender spots. I'll have to do a better job of avoiding situations like that. Some are strong and powerful and trained for combat, but I am not. It's an easy thing to forget. She had always been forgetful, always had trouble focusing and remembering tactically relevant information. Deci had been masterful at crafting plans, and had always the chutzpah to execute where others stammered. Contingencies, rules, and best practices always seemed to elude her, though. Having so agile and forceful a mind that gives up structure for speed has its drawbacks, too.

She turns her attention to the others as they begin their discussion about the undead and the possibility of controlling them. If there's one rule Deci knows, and knows well, its not to meddle with unholy forces beyond your comprehension and power. Her taint (and her magic) stem from such powers, and one could only imagine what more they could do. This city seems to have done well enough by building its walls, but in time the undead would rule them all unless they were destroyed. And vile magic is all alike, undead or demonic-- you must kill the source to purge it. The talk of using undead as farmers and laborers is beyond her comprehension, though. Manufacturing? Undead tilling the fields? Ridiculous.

The words wash over her like a gentle breeze, until the gust hits.

The wizard. The dreams. The staff. Decida stands and walks over to the main group as the discussion turns to what brought so many people here so close to the witching. She engages Galder on his way out, as he steps out into the brisk cold. He could be useful.

"Let me clean that up for you, Galder," she says, and channels her magic into Prestidigitation, wiping the mud and grime from Galder. "You gave us all a pretty big scare down there, out in the open. We were lucky to all have been there, and for the soldiers and the walls to be ready to protect us. I actually got scuffed pretty bad just in the commotion. I can only imagine how rough it was for you. I don't want to keep you waiting, but I dreamed a dark dream about your friend Felran. I know that I alone would never be able to venture out of the walls-- not by the normal ways, at least.

And I wouldn't even try, either. It would be dangerous and foolish. I won't ask you to come with me, but I know those others there, who had the same dream and saw Felran in the same danger-- some of them are insane, but some of them are good, too. Like that fellow with the sun sigil. I want to know, though-- these people are going outside the walls, and I may well follow them if I'm recovered on the morrow. My magic slowed any beasts down, and it might keep some of them alive. And they ARE good people.

Can you tell me how to get in and out of the city? Or what an orouboros is? I shudder about the idea of being trapped outside the walls, frozen in horror as the undead bear down on me, like you almost were. Please help me, Galder. I know you're a good man, and you know I'm a good woman. What else do we have in times like these?"

She trails off, waiting to see what he says in the dim darkness outside the building. She knows where Altarview is, and maybe Galder can fill her gaps. She knows his weak points and what he wants to hear; all she has to do is say it.

[Hattish Thing]

Decida, who followed the group to the inn, orders bland porridge and weak ale. With a surge of energy that barely sets her hand tingling, she activates Prestidigitation to give the food some flavor. She cleans her wounds and gets the mud off herself as well-- might as well, since the spell lasts the rest of the hour.

The ale takes the edge off of her wounds. She winces as she feels her ribs, checking for breaks and tender spots. I'll have to do a better job of avoiding situations like that. Some are strong and powerful and trained for combat, but I am not. It's an easy thing to forget. She had always been forgetful, always had trouble focusing and remembering tactically relevant information. Deci had been masterful at crafting plans, and had always the chutzpah to execute where others stammered. Contingencies, rules, and best practices always seemed to elude her, though. Having so agile and forceful a mind that gives up structure for speed has its drawbacks, too.

She turns her attention to the others as they begin their discussion about the undead and the possibility of controlling them. If there's one rule Deci knows, and knows well, its not to meddle with unholy forces beyond your comprehension and power. Her taint (and her magic) stem from such powers, and one could only imagine what more they could do. This city seems to have done well enough by building its walls, but in time the undead would rule them all unless they were destroyed. And vile magic is all alike, undead or demonic-- you must kill the source to purge it. The talk of using undead as farmers and laborers is beyond her comprehension, though. Manufacturing? Undead tilling the fields? Ridiculous.

The words wash over her like a gentle breeze, until the gust hits.

The wizard. The dreams. The staff. Decida stands and walks over to the main group as the discussion turns to what brought so many people here so close to the witching. She engages Galder on his way out, as he steps out into the brisk cold. He could be useful.

"Let me clean that up for you, Galder," she says, and channels her magic into Prestidigitation, wiping the mud and grime from Galder. "You gave us all a pretty big scare down there, out in the open. We were lucky to all have been there, and for the soldiers and the walls to be ready to protect us. I actually got scuffed pretty bad just in the commotion. I can only imagine how rough it was for you. I don't want to keep you waiting, but I dreamed a dark dream about your friend Felran. I know that I alone would never be able to venture out of the walls-- not by the normal ways, at least.

And I wouldn't even try, either. It would be dangerous and foolish. I won't ask you to come with me, but I know those others there, who had the same dream and saw Felran in the same danger-- some of them are insane, but some of them are good, too. Like that fellow with the sun sigil. I want to know, though-- these people are going outside the walls, and I may well follow them if I'm recovered on the morrow. My magic slowed any beasts down, and it might keep some of them alive. And they ARE good people.

Can you tell me how to get in and out of the city? Or what an orouboros is? I shudder about the idea of being trapped outside the walls, frozen in horror as the undead bear down on me, like you almost were. Please help me, Galder. I know you're a good man, and you know I'm a good woman. What else do we have in times like these?"

She trails off, waiting to see what he says in the dim darkness outside the building. She knows where Altarview is, and maybe Galder can fill her gaps. She knows his weak points and what he wants to hear; all she has to do is say it.


Galder is outside, and had only been walking for a few seconds, his foot clunking beside his prosthetic oddly before Decida calls after him. He turns a tad to gaze at her from the path and listens to what she has to say, his arms folded over his chest. As her magic cleans up the large amount of grime, tinged with blood that wasn't his own, he smiles lightly. "Erm... Thank ya, Miss. I appreciate it. This magic stuff can be useful, I suppose, when not used to... control the dead, or any of that heathromancer stuff." He pauses and lets Decida continues, feeling he at least owed her time enough to listen to what she had to say. It's clear that as she continues, he gets more uncomfortable. These strangers brought strange questions, bizarre magic, and ulterior motives to the fairly simply city. Galder didn't quite like it, but he did find the spellcaster in front of him quite pleasant company. He seems a tad concerned about her wounds as well. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know ya were hurt! Are you quite alright, friend? Is there anything I can do to help?"

She continues speaking, and he stands there in the rain, breathing deeply. At least the rainwater had gotten warmer, and the wind was less harsh. "There's one other way... Through the catacombs, but I wouldn't suggest it. I mean, what if you get caught? Or something happens to you and your friends? There's rumors of giant rats and the like skulking in the catacombs, and I don't trust Syl, the crypt-keeper, as far as I can throw her." He sighs. "Even if you do manage to get out, what then? You'll be on the Cobblepath, outside, with no one but your stranger friends beside you. And a few of them already seem.... dangerous. The... Ugh." He frowns once more before looking down upon the ground and biting his tongue. He really wanted to just go home and sleep this whole thing away. "The Ouroboros is an ancient symbol meaning something like resurrection, or being reborn, through the process of self-harm and unpleasant stuff. It's just a symbol the priests at Altarview were famous for wearing on 'em. Rings, tabards sometimes. They were pretty open about it.

I ain't understand why you want to know about things like that though. The priests were bad business. I met their leader once, Father Mericious. Creepy old dude, weird eyes. He'd look you straight in the face and gaze right through ya... there was even some talk that... that they'd do things to people there. Travelers and the like. See, a while ago, my grandfather used to work the Cobblepath. He'd guide caravans from Hemlock to some of the churches still kept running. One of these was Altarview. One day, when I was about... oh, say eleven or something, I dropped my eaves on a conversation between my father and him. It was... scary. Grandfather was dying at the time, but he spoke of mysteries surrounding Altarview. Of screams he heard one dreary night. Of bodies carried into the place in bags, still wiggling. Of women-folk, torn to... " He shakes his head, obviously trying to clear it of unpleasant thoughts. "Bad things happened there, but that's all in the past. You don't need to head out with there and mess with the past. No one knows what happened at Altarview, and no one wants to know, trust me. That kind of information scares people. Please... just... let it go? Yer a smart type.

For me? For the sake of your lives?

---

Meanwhile, inside the inn, several barmaids come pouring from the kitchen, carrying various dishes of food and drink. Each individual seated at the large booth table will receive a large leg of some poultry, along with a delicious bit of wine. There's a few salad-like bowls, and bread for everyone. It smells absolutely delicious, and you're all quite hungry. What do you do?

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven stares longingly at the food for a moment, but before eating, calls over the the barkeeper (Haster?).

"Excuse me sir, but would will the stage be opening tonight? I usually like to perform before eating a great deal." His stomach growls noticeably. "Although perhaps I'll make an exception in this case... But at any rate, will it be open later?"

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius certainly wasn't hungry at this time of the hour, and usually wasn't hungry at most times, not since he began the ritual, but he still did need food for sustenance, so he decided to take a plate of food, and sit back down at his seat, watching the rest of the tavern with interest from under his hood. He'd talk to paladin once his food was over, and find out what he learnt from that woman. Maybe establish a sort of party or team, since they were gonna have to work together, no matter what. It felt weird, being so open minded. Or was it the food? Maybe both.

[Regissoma]

Heather after having two drinks looks at the food and grabs enough to feed herself. Thanking everyone for the food she will head to rest for the night as the todays events have slightly exhausted her. Going up to the bar owner Heather will say:

Thank you for the food. Where will be the closest place to rest or if I can rest here which room may I have?

If something happens as I am about to head to work I would change what I do, but I am just assuming we might be resting after this

[Stanr]

Brandt's eyes light up as the barmaids bring out the food. He ignores the salad, and grabs a few hunks of crusty bread, tossing them onto his plate. He rips off a piece of bread and stuffs it into his mouth, then empties his cup of wine in a few hearty draughts. Finally, he tears into the large leg of poultry with a fervor.

[Thokk_Smash]

As the food comes in, Helios suddenly remembers a woman that came in with the group; she looked injured, perhaps in the kerfuffle following the monstrosity from earlier. Ah, I'll be back in jest a second, he says to the barmaid who sets down the food. He stands up and looks around for the woman.

Not seeing her, he fumbles out of his seat and heads towards the door. Maybe she left?

He opens the door and sees the woman with Galder. The man had just finished talking when Helios came out, and the priest gives an awkward smile. Ah, sorry to interrupt. I jest thought th'lady might need some healin' is all.

He holds out his hands to offer, ready to put them down if she declines or says no. When she doesn't, he places his hand gently on her shoulder and holds his sun symbol in the other. Oh Shining One, by yer grace mend this poor woman's wounds, he intones softly as a soft glow emanates from his symbol and hand.

Sacrificing a 1st level spell to cast Cure Light Wounds: [roll0]

[blazinghand]

"I can see that your heart is in the right place, Galder. I'll think about what you've said. Thanks for sharing with me everything you did. For what it's worth, I don't trust them either, but sometimes there are things you must do, even if it seems foolish an scary. If I'm still here tomorrow, I'll let you know that I've stayed. If you don't hear from me, I'll have gone to face estiny. I'm gonna head back inside now, and you should get going as well, before you get completely soaked through." Deci heads back into the inn.

Seeing the others sitting around the table and for some reason not eating or drinking, Deci pulls up a chair, and sits down. She winces briefly as she sits, but realizes that the pain is gone, and smiles.

"I got pretty banged up back there, but many thanks to Helios for mending my wounds. Galder tells me we can get into and out of the city through the Catacombs, though it's potentially infested with giant rats. Hard to say whether Syl will help us or work against us if we try to do this. It'll drop us on cobblepath."

[Hattish Thing]

Haster looks over towards Silven, having had attempted to make himself look busy by shining some goblet. He pretended to be distracted for a few seconds before facing the bard and pondering the answer. He hadn't heard a decent song in ages, perhaps this place needed it. Might improve his mood. He nods slowly and speaks. Hmm... Know what, that's absolutely fine. After you're done eating, milord, I'll head over to open the stage up for ya. What songs do you know? He is, however, then turned away from his questions to the young half-elf in order to address Heather. Oh, absolutely. Upstairs. Rooms 4-12 are for your group. You'll only be staying a night, I hope? He smiles lightly, but it's clear he doesn't trust Heather or her friends.



---

Galder finishes his conversation with her and watches the young mage leave after Helios awkwardly pandered outside. The Guard will sigh deeply to himself, the rainwater falling around him. He'll smile towards her one final time and turn away, walking into the darkness of an alley, and going home to hold his family for a while. Decida and the others can feel free to make conversation around the table.

---

Meanwhile, miles away and outside the steely protection of Bastion, the bright and unfeeling moon can be seen reflected upon a large puddle in the muddy ground, where the feet of many travelers had stomped. It was recent, and must have been made just today. A large combat boot steps in the puddle, banishing the reflection as the water splashes away. The figure then continues up a small hill, to look over the surrounding landscape, and gaze upon Bastion in the distance. There he stands, a sentinel clad in thick iron plate, a large black cloak wrapped around him, a hood pulled back to reveal his salt and pepper beard, and slicked back hair. A long dark leather coat hides a fair amount of pouches and vials wrapped about him. Mogrym shifts his weight from his dark boot, to his dull metal peg-leg. He leans upon his ram-skull topped cudgel, looking over at the horizon sternly. His quarry had come this way, he knew it. A bolt of lightning crashes behind him, and thunder rolls in the sky. Mogrym Mcallabaster was coming after his prey, to bring back the dangerous man he was hunting... Dead or alive.

---

Back at the inn, the party might get a little spooked as the loudest bit of thunder yet rolls through the sky. But all was well, they were with friends, weren't they?

[Vhaidara]

Markin grabs a large plate of food and pulls up a chair near the Heathromancer.
So, good mage, what do you think of my little town so far?

[TachyonBlade]

Markin grabs a large plate of food and pulls up a chair near the Heathromancer.
So, good mage, what do you think of my little town so far?

Sanguinius looked at Markin, and twisted the left side of his lip into a half smile, before swallowing the food in his mouth. "Its a quaint and nice place to live, but in danger. I'll be frank. That captain is rather short-sighted, and is causing some troubles for himself. Superstitious too, since he thinks Heathromancy is necromancy, which is a terrible thing. Hopefully, your new friend wasn't as such?" he said, gently hinting at Markin to tell him whatever way out had spoken about.

[Vhaidara]

Sanguinius looked at Markin, and twisted the left side of his lip into a half smile, before swallowing the food in his mouth. "Its a quaint and nice place to live, but in danger. I'll be frank. That captain is rather short-sighted, and is causing some troubles for himself. Superstitious too, since he thinks Heathromancy is necromancy, which is a terrible thing. Hopefully, your new friend wasn't as such?" he said, gently hinting at Markin to tell him whatever way out had spoken about.

Markin frowns, taking a drink before answering.
She is simply a mistreated old widow, the poor woman. Her husband killed himself and was never given burial rights, so his spirit haunts the graveyard. I promised to ensure that he is put to rest. In exchange, she gave me a key to the catacombs. Which lead out of town.

[TachyonBlade]

Markin frowns, taking a drink before answering.
She is simply a mistreated old widow, the poor woman. Her husband killed himself and was never given burial rights, so his spirit haunts the graveyard. I promised to ensure that he is put to rest. In exchange, she gave me a key to the catacombs. Which lead out of town.

Sanguinius simply processed this information as he took a few more bites of food, suddenly feeling the necromantic power acting on him. So it was slowly going forward, wasn't it? But it was of no concern to the current time.

"A sad story indeed. Where is this graveyard? I may know something of burial rights, although its been a long time since I've done any of that. I'll see if my memory doesn't fail me. If I cannot remember it, the Cleric of the sun god over there might be able to help."



Knowledge (Religion) check:

[roll0]

[NotScaryBats]

Katja has no reason to suspect the people she is with, and begins to eat along with everyone else. She mulls over the talk of Altarview, the Staff, dreams and the like, without contributing to the conversation.

She doesn't drink the wine, still sipping her ale instead.

[Hattish Thing]

It is at this unfortunate moment when the interesting poison begins to take it's effect upon those who's stomachs proved too susceptible to the treacherous herbs mixed in with their food and drink. First, all those effect will begin to feel a tad weak, like suddenly a wave of exhaustion came over and washed them away. Following that, those who were effected will begin to feel quite angry and hyper-aggressive towards others around them. Haster watches over the group nervously, wondering and dreading what was to occur now. It's not like he really had a choice in what was to occur, however.

[Vhaidara]

Markin, feeling his temper rising, would normally restrain himself. But there was someone here who had wronged his mistress. So he stands, and marches over to Brandt, looming over the half-elf. His voice is raised, not quite a shout, but close.
You there, half-breed! Earlier you spoke of the honorable soldiers of the planes and the ravening beasts of the Abyss as though they were one. I will have satisfaction from you before the night is done.

Intimidate: [roll0]

[Stanr]

As Markin begins marching toward him, Brandt takes no notice and continues to eat. When the paladin begins yelling, he remains seated but meets his eyes with a steely gaze. After he finishes, the half-elf continues to hold eye contact, then slowly pushes out his chair, stands deliberately, and begins to speak. "I care not for the differences between your devils and demons. Both are vile creatures, as are their servants. And you speak of honor, yet even a half-breed has more than a devil's thrall." He pauses. "Now step away, or I will give you your satisfaction." The fur-cloaked barbarian stares at Markin in silent anger.

[TachyonBlade]

The necromancer sitting at the table from which the Paladin had just gotten up and left was quite puzzled by the sudden change in attitude. Very slowly, he turned his head to look at the paladin begin yelling at the half elf. He quite nearly facepalmed. Whatever the hell caused that?

[Vhaidara]

Markin's eyes bulge.
Were it not for the forces of the Hells, the Abyss would have overrun everything long ago! You have no right to speak of those bold heroes in such terms, mut.
And with that, Markin swings a fist at Brandt. Luckily, it isn't mailed, but Markin buts all of his unholy fury into the blow.

Attempting a Smite Good unarmed strike. Also Power Attacking for 1
Attack: [roll0]
Crit Confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit damage: [roll3]
If Brandt isn't good, take 4 points off of the attack rolls and 1 point off of the damage rolls. All damage is non-lethal

[Yas392]

Lo is just eating the unaltered food and drinking the ale that is paid for by the Captain before he left as he watches his plot unfold when the paladin verbal spitting escalates into aggressive behaviour from the effect of the spiced up food. This isn't suppose to happen, it is suppose to be a testimony of their reliability. Acting fast and on guard mode, he digs his backpack for a dense, near-watery consumable. The smell of it is the most smelliest of dungs and it's material would leave a woman screaming for a bug-killer due to the unpleasant feeling that is inherent when a spider shows up on your belongings. He covers his nose as it is coming out into the open. With his throwing arm, he hurls it at the paladin's kisser to try and stop his sinister advance on the half-elf, Brandt.


Touch Attack - [roll0]

[NotScaryBats]

Katja isn't a servant or willing host of any demonic or devilish blood, and knows nothing of the Blood War, so doesn't take offense to the paladin's vitriol. She begins to feel aggressive, nonetheless. "Men, stop fighting, this is ridiculous!" She says a bit too loudly and stands up in response to the punch.

[TachyonBlade]

Once more, Sanguinius came extremely close to banging his head on the table as the events began spiraling downwards. The cringe-worthiness of the situation he could imagine was gonna ensue was immense. However, he realized the comedic value of the situation, and reached over to an empty table which had its mugs still on it, and grabbed a filled one to drink while watching the shenanigans of the travellers.

[Hattish Thing]

Haster is completely and utterly confused. He didn't want this to happen, but he couldn't exactly say no to Lo. The guardsman sometimes overlooked the occasional missing housecat, or rat-flavored pot pie. He needed to be able to trust one of the guardsman to vouch for the healthiness and cleanliness of his sometimes less than savory meals. So, he'll duck behind the counter and spent this turn rummaging for... something.

[Stanr]

Brandt sees Markin's fist swinging toward him, but a moment too late. The blow lands squarely on the half-elf's jaw, sending him reeling to the ground. He quickly recovers, standing and turning to face the paladin. He spits blood at Markin's feet, then reaches for the club at his belt. He slips it loose and swings it sidelong at his foe's head.

Attack:
[roll0]
Damage:
[roll1]

[Vhaidara]

Markin, his ears ringing from the blow to his head, swings another blow at Brandt before collapsing.

And he swings again, which no provokes an AoO. Assuming it misses (I go unconscious if it hits)
Attack: [roll0]
Crit Confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]
Nonlethal, again. And then I take 1 damage and am bleeding out on the floor.

[TachyonBlade]

Seeing the supposed fistfight suddenly turn into a total knockout deathmatch, Sanguinius once more downed the entire mug of ale in his hands. He then put it down, and got up, and then walked right up to the two, no, three belligerents, and yelled "Calm down, you damned belligerent barfighters. Look what you've done. Managed to sully the bloody floor- no pun intended. Seriously, there's better ways to resolve this."


[roll0]

Diplomacy

Also, Brandt and... the woman, can't remember the name, are still raging, correct?

[Thokk_Smash]

Seeing the tattooed man go down, blood flying, Helios jolts himself into action. Stop that right now! he yells, putting himself between Brandt and the fallen paladin. There was no reason fer tryin' ta kill the man!

Kneeling down, he utters a small spell to stabilize the man before he bleeds out.

Cure Minor Wounds, heal 1 point of damage. Not sure if dice rolls work on mobile, so I'll hold off the CLW for when I'm at my keyboard. If someone wants to roll for me after he stabilizes, go ahead.

[Hattish Thing]

Well, on that bloody note, Haster pulls out an obscenely large wood and steel crossbow from beneath the counter and aims towards Brandt, panicking. As Markin's skull cracks, and blood lands everywhere, whatever patrons are left gasp and run up to their rooms or out the doorway, into the lonely streets. This had completely ruined his night. The bolt flies up, aiming to strike Brandt straight in the head, knocking him out. The bolt isn't sharp, but a large chunk of wood replaces the area where the sharp point would be. He shouts as he does so. Stop! Stop, please! You're killing him!

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] Non-Lethal + Instant Knockout.

Simultaneously, the unfortunate blob of horrifically rotten meal lands upon the now fallen paladin. It's completely and utterly horrid. There's some kind of mashed potato in there, with some milk mixed into the whole thing. A solitary slab of meat floats in the jar, the flesh having turned a sickly green color during the time spent inside the nasty thing. There's even what looks to be a banana peel stuffed in the canister! The pile of disgusting food lands all over poor Markin, covering his face down to his belly. He's now lying in a pool of his own blood, the most horrifically molded and rotted food lying upon him. Helios, the poor cleric, even gets lightly showered in goop. Markin is unconscious, but Helios is quite upright. He's required to steel himself against the terrible stench.

Wee?

((Helios, fortitude save please.))

[Yas392]

Seeing that conflict is going on and arms are out, it's time to confess. He takes a glass that he drank and bangs a spoon on the glassy curves.

STOPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!! If I got your attention, listen! The food that was cooked came from me! It was my idea to test the edibility of my food when I entrusted the cooking in the hands of another cook! I just wanted to see if the badness of my cooking could be amended. I thought it wouldn't be this bad! So stop fighting!


Diplomacy if needed - [roll0]
Intimidate if needed - [roll1]

[Hattish Thing]

Haster's eyes widen when it's revealed that Lo was going to completely and utterly bail him out. The innkeeper had seen what these strangers were capable of, and wanted nothing to do with it any further. Being able to sneak the occasional cat into a pie without worrying about guard's eyes wasn't worth getting killed by these people, or that maniac with the club. He shouts out! No! No! He lies, it wasn't me... He made me do it! Um... Um... Witchweed and, and! Bad things! He forced me to do it.. He tried to poison you all.. I don't.. He threatened me!

[NotScaryBats]

"Poison!? How dare you!" Katja growls aggressively, still feeling the effects of the rage-inducing herbs. "To what end did you poison me?"

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius's eyebrow's raised up to god like levels the minute he heard both exclamations, from Haster, and Lo the guard. His voice turned extremely quiet, but still seemed to resound over the rest of the room in terms of only sheer will and coldness. "You did what?", as he spoke to Lo.

In an extremely sarcastic voice, bordering on murderously so, he once again spoke "Care to explain yourself, Master Poison?". Of course, as he said this, he started to regain his grip on his fury, and reeled in his instinctive bouts of voices telling him to murder the man, then and there.

[Still_I_Rise]

[SPOILER=ooc]Well I missed a lot.SPOILER]

Silven waits for the bartender to finish his other conversation, then replies that he intends to stay the night. He regales him with a list of titles ranging from love songs such as "AvAlon" to dittys like "the red wagon." The odds are he is still going when all bell breaks loose with the others.

He turns and watches, bewildered. At the announcement of poison, he throws his hands up in the air.

"I don't want any part in this. But I think it would be best, on your first night here, to not get thrown in jail. Let's put our weapons away for the time being and see what we-you-can work out civilly."

[roll0] Diplomacy

[blazinghand]

Decida bolts back out the door as violence breaks out, with shouting, lethal weaponry, an arrow flying around her. She tumbles out onto the street, and runs off towards where she saw Galder going, hoping to catch him before he gets too far. Maybe he could resolve the situation, but either way, she didn't want to be there when someone decided she would be the next target.

She shouts into the rain as she runs, "Galder!? Where are you? and she looks for him in the dark stormy night.

Spot [roll0]

[Thokk_Smash]

The disgusting concoction splashes Helios somewhat, and the cleric recoils from the horrendous stench. Barely keeping his stomach where it belongs, he gets up and retrieves his backpack. Returning to the downed paladin's side, he takes out his waterskin and a rag.

Soaking the rag with water, he begins to wipe off the rotten mess from Markin's face. No need for the man to wake up smelling that stench after being brained. As he does, he says, Th'Shinin' One frowns upon such actions, sir guard. Poison should never be used, ever. Ah don't like wishing ill on others, but you deserve whatever you get.

Once the paladin is cleaner (odds are he'll need soap and more elbow grease to get it all off), Helios sets aside the ruined rag. Placing his hands on the paladin's forehead, he intones another prayer to Pelor. Oh Father of the Sun, I ask ye heal this poor man's wounds.

CLW: [roll0]

[Hattish Thing]

Decida will turn around to stare into the city, her eyes dotting from gloomy street corner, to darkened alley. A bolt of lightning crashes extremely close to the gothic castle nearby, lighting up the sky. However, her eyes were not yet accustomed to the darkness outside, and she won't be able to see the Captain of the Guard. He hears her though, for he tends to move quite slow when he can, due to his leg. Very soon the sound of him clacking and hobbling across the cobblestone can be heard, and he emerges from a nearby corner. Decida, dammit! I was getting something for my wife. What's going on?! A pastry bag is in his hand. He must have just exited a nearby bakery.

[blazinghand]

Decida will turn around to stare into the city, her eyes dotting from gloomy street corner, to darkened alley. A bolt of lightning crashes extremely close to the gothic castle nearby, lighting up the sky. However, her eyes were not yet accustomed to the darkness outside, and she won't be able to see the Captain of the Guard. He hears her though, for he tends to move quite slow when he can, due to his leg. Very soon the sound of him clacking and hobbling across the cobblestone can be heard, and he emerges from a nearby corner. Decida, dammit! I was getting something for my wife. What's going on?! A pastry bag is in his hand. He must have just exited a nearby bakery.


"There's a brawl back at the inn! I got out before anyone started attacking me. Someone said something about poison, and then they started fighting, then they drew their swords and crossbows. I think someone got knocked out or killed. We need the guard, before it gets worse!"

She points back in the direction of the inn.

[Yas392]

Lo grabs a chair, easing himself onto it. The others are expectants to a reason on his attempted machination as he anticipated. Thank you. All of you have my deepest apology. I know you cannot condone this. But hear me out! I would never dream of using any poison except alchemical substance that would urge someone to be truthful and cause discomfort at best. He is firm, never backing down even when he get unfriendly stares. It is just that I worried for the Captain himself. It's a nagging hunch. He never been that troubled prior to your arrival. And I have seen how some guests could be troublesome to his already worn state. My suspicions are confirmed when he exited. That's the reason why I need to check whether you have any ill-intent towards him.

[NotScaryBats]

"I cannot fathom why you would think your actions were a wise idea," Katja responds, flabbergasted. She clenches and unclenches her clawed hands, a grimace on her face.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius grimaced at the explanation that the guard provided, and he also couldn't fathom his reasons. But, Sanguinius was a Necromancer. And a damned good one at that. He could turn this to his own favor. He leaned in to Lo, and whispered "Run. To the crypt. I'll find you there in a few hours, and help you out. I promise. But you gotta run like the wind. I'll point the other's away. You got no choice."

He made his face look as if he were delivering threats, to cover up that he was helping Lo.

[Stanr]

Markin's second attack is another vicious one, and Brandt falls to the floor unconscious.

[Hattish Thing]

At this moment, Galder rushes into the tavern, a look of supreme annoyance plastered to his aged and weathered face. He looks upon the ground, towards the two unconscious and bleeding bodies on the floo, to Lo, currently being circled about and surrounded like a poor little rabbit, surrounded by prey. With a sigh, he assesses the situation for a few seconds, before yelling out. Alright! Everyone, sit down. What in the hell happened herre? Poison? What? Why are they on the ground. Erm... He looks at Helios now, not quite remembering his name. You there, do you have them under control? Are they okay? He crosses his arms and looks down to the others now. Will someone explain what's going on?b

[blazinghand]

Deci arrives behind Galder, but stands back and stays out of this interaction. She has done her part by bringing him, and doesn't want to potentially get stabbed or shot by standing between him and the brawlers. It looks like since she left they have fought themselves out, and Helios--thanksfully-- is still alive. Nevertheless, she's no warrior. Better let the people wearing armor sort this part out.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios nods to Galder as he walks over to the fallen Brandt. Ah'm takin' care of em. Markin should be up soon, but this one is gonna take a bit longer. Ah've run out of my strongest healin' spells. Maybe you could tell us how ta get to the nearest church from here.

And it was the guard over there, Lo, Ah think, he finishes with a gesture to the guard. he thought it'd be a good idea ta mess around with our food fer some forsaken reason. Said somethin' about bein' suspicious of us and needin' ta see if we had ill-will toward you. Tha' cook sounded like he knew about it, too.

With that he turns back to Brandt and kneels beside the fallen man. He checks his pulse, feels for any breaks or bruises aside from the obvious. Without more healing than what he has, he's not sure how soon the fighter can be back on his feet .
Nothing much Helios can do to help Brandt without more powerful healing. He'll do some Heal skill related stuff.

[Vhaidara]

Markin comes to spluttering. When he sees Brandt laid out in front of him, he grins. He's missing a tooth.
And that is what you get for pulling a weapon in a fist fight.
He looks around and sees Galder.
Thought you went home to the wife.

[NotScaryBats]

"What a wasteful display." Katja turns to Galder and says "It sounds like the cleric is right."

[Yas392]

Lo hesitates at Sanguinius's offer. He grimaces as he realizes that running makes him a cowardice and would rather see this end in good terms. And there is the prospect of maintaining the honor of the guards. He just could not trust this man blindly. There is something off. He nods at the cleric's words, withstanding the urge not to puke at the lingering chills that play at swaying his mind.


To not get sick - [roll0]

[Hattish Thing]

Helios nods to Galder as he walks over to the fallen Brandt. Ah'm takin' care of em. Markin should be up soon, but this one is gonna take a bit longer. Ah've run out of my strongest healin' spells. Maybe you could tell us how ta get to the nearest church from here.

And it was the guard over there, Lo, Ah think, he finishes with a gesture to the guard. he thought it'd be a good idea ta mess around with our food fer some forsaken reason. Said somethin' about bein' suspicious of us and needin' ta see if we had ill-will toward you. Tha' cook sounded like he knew about it, too.

With that he turns back to Brandt and kneels beside the fallen man. He checks his pulse, feels for any breaks or bruises aside from the obvious. Without more healing than what he has, he's not sure how soon the fighter can be back on his feet .
Nothing much Helios can do to help Brandt without more powerful healing. He'll do some Heal skill related stuff.

Galder walks in, clearly not wanting to be here right now. He sets his pastry, all wrapped up nicely, on a table nearby. He glares towards Lo, for he seemed to be the one everyone was circling. He listens to Helios and sighs greatly, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he ponders how exactly to react to this information. "The nearest church is by the castle. I can lead ya there after this, or simply call a cleric here. Thank you, sir, for taking care of these men and preventin' fatalities. Now. A poisoning?" He moves over to Lo, grabbing his large and well-used greatsword as he does so. He rests the end of the blade on the ground, leaning lightly on the hilt.


Markin comes to spluttering. When he sees Brandt laid out in front of him, he grins. He's missing a tooth.
And that is what you get for pulling a weapon in a fist fight.
He looks around and sees Galder.
Thought you went home to the wife.

After he does that, he'll turn his head lightly to Markin, icily replying. "I thought I'd be able to get a night to my wife, the first damn day of Witching Weeks. Instead, I have to come here in the rain, while my gift gets cold, to deal with some brawl and a poisoning. Markin... Why do these things happen to me. Whatever did I do tah piss off the big man above." His tone gets more and more warm as he speaks, till he jokes lightly.


Lo hesitates at Sanguinius's offer. He grimaces as he realizes that running makes him a cowardice and would rather see this end in good terms. And there is the prospect of maintaining the honor of the guards. He just could not trust this man blindly. There is something off. He nods at the cleric's words, withstanding the urge not to puke at the lingering chills that play at swaying his mind.


To not get sick - [roll0]


Galder begins to speak to Lo. "Lo. You've not been a guard in town fer long, but I know I explained what it meant to be a guardsman. What's.. What's this I hear about a poisoning?" The graying man will wait for a reply that will never come, for Lo begins to get absolutely sick. As Galder comes close, Lo begins to hurl all over the Captain's sword and boots. Galder pauses for a few seconds, sighing lightly as some other horrible thing happens to him this day.

[Vhaidara]

Well, the half breed saw fit to insult me, so I hit him. I won't deny that. Then he pulled a weapon. Bastard nearly killed me, but I got him.
Then he hears Galder mention poison.
What's this about poison? Haster's food isn't great, but I wouldn't go so far as to call it poison.
He shoots a grin at the bartender.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven shakes his head and steps up to the Captain.

"Let me help with that," he says, casting Prestidigitation to remove the vomit from Galder's clothing.

"I suppose I'm glad I didn't eat any of that food." His stomach growls again in defiance of his desire to avoid food poisoning.

"But I don't suppose you'd be willing to let us all discuss this over some plates of poison-free food?"

[blazinghand]

Deci picks this moment to weigh in. "From what I gathered, someone-- Lo, it seems-- ordered food for everyone, and the food was poisoned. Nobody seems particularly injured by the poison, though. The injured people were all involved in a fight, which makes it seem unlikely that there was actually a poison. I was not involved in the actual food consumption nor the ensuing fight, nor am I an alchemist, so I may have missed something."

[NotScaryBats]

Katja folds her arms across her chest, scowling. She has nothing more to say for now.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius backed up as the foolish guard decided to hork his guts out onto the Captain of the Guard. Perhaps not a great thing to happen for him. Perhaps he'd take his offer once there was no other option left to him.

[Hattish Thing]

Galder sighs and looks downward, his eyes closing for a few seconds as he just thinks. How did this always end up happening to him. Last time the Bruly boys decided to head out and desecrate Farmer Klayde's barn, he stepped into a rather impressively sized cow pie. There was the other time where he had to investigate rumors of some idiot trapped in the sewers. One of the other guardsman tripped and accidentally pushed poor Galder right off a tunnel end, straight into a vat of repulsive sewer waste. This kind of thing happened all the time to him, but the incidents somehow seemed to get stranger and stranger. There hadn't been a poisoning in town for ages. Not since a fairly notable crime that occurred years ago. A politician had poisoned the wine of two others, while they were debating. The two got so upset, a brawl ended up raging upon the stage in town hall! Hmm... He knew this poison. As the waste is cleared away from his boots by the helpful bard, The Captain of the Guard flashes him a nice smile. "Mm... Thank you there, friend." He turns to the Lo now. "Did you, or did you not poison these two? I'll know if you lie..."

[blazinghand]

Deci tenses up. If there were a time another fight would break out, it would be now. She thinks she can hear faint whisperings, as though a plot is coming to head.

OOC
Decida readies an action to cast grease at the weapon of the first person who attacks her, Galder, or Helios with a handheld weapon.

[Yas392]

Truth serum... Lo ekes out. Truth serum!!! Trying to... He looks at the alleged "Heathomancer", his face turning paler as dread in his stomach grows again. Even the tavern dim light in the encroaching night can shine on how terrible the guard's visage is. Eyes having black rings, mouth quivering, jaded green tousled. He comes to as though from a constant nightmare haunting him even in the waking. Of course, this is the result of having the heightened senses from the curse that can warn him of incoming omen. The curse of being part of nature. Even in inhabited, morphed lands, the hearing part of the sense is dulled but the gut feeling ('the taste') remains strong. The ability to 'taste' someone's aura by the circulation of the air. protect you....sense lies from them...not his fault... The weary eyes points Galder to Haster. just doing my duty...oh god... He runs, grabs a nearest bowl to puke in case he accidentally puke on his superior again.

[blazinghand]

Decida snorts. So he's going with lies rather than force, then.

"So you dosed 'em, but with truth serum, not poison, eh? Alright, let's say I believe you." Deci smiles a wicked smile. "Maybe you just wanted to know someone. You wouldn't use a harmful poison, would you?" She steps forward and grabs Brandt's mug off the table and refills it with wine from the other cups on the table and the wine bottle. She slides it over to Lo, as well as Markin's plate of food.

"If your truth serums are so harmless. drink up. Then eat the food. All of it. Now. And then we'll talk."

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios nods, then blinks in confusion. Does anyone know what, er, Witchweed is? he asks the group curiously. 'Cause that's what th'cook said Lo made him put into tha food. Is that part of truth serum or something?

[blazinghand]

Decida shakes her head. "I don't recognize the name. If it's a truth serum, though, he's got nothing to fear, and if it's a poison, he'll get as good as he gave."

She turns to the others. "Anyone know what it is?

[NotScaryBats]

"If it was poison, it was very weak because none of us was injured or weakened by it -- simple alcohol could have achieved the same result." Katja says conclusively. "In fact, the only harm done here was caused by him," the monk points at Markin, "whether it was because some 'poison' or 'truth serum' clouded his poor judgment is irrelevant to me because he threw the punches and was retaliated against."

She turns to the cleric, Helios, "And now the true victim here lies beaten to unconsciousness while you expended all of your healing energies comforting the aggressor in this situation. Shameful."

Addressing the room, "This entire affair was embarrassing and pointless. If you want to flay the fool who meddled with your food and drinks in what amounted to nothing more than a childish prank -- that went too far because of the brute who starting punching people, not the idiot who messed with the food -- then be my guests. I hold no ire for you, Lo." With this, the six foot tall woman with the shaved head has said her piece, and sternly looks about the room at her fellow travelers and the captain of the guard.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios, for his part, doesn't look the least bit ashamed as he steadily meets the woman's gaze. Aye, he threw the first punch, then the other guy pulled a weapon and nearly killed him. If I hadn't been here, he could've bled out; Brandt won't. There is no hesitation in his voice; to him, he had done what was right to the best of his knowledge.

[Vhaidara]

Markin bends in a bow to Katja.
My lady, I simply sought to teach the churl some manners. No permanent injury would have been done. It is he who drew a weapon.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius rubbed his eyelids as the rest of the people around continued their masterful charade of daftness. Thankfully, he himself didn't seem to feel poisoned, so perhaps he had received the long end of the stick. He moved backwards, took a seat, and continued watching the whole thing, without contributing one bit, except for some mental commetary.

[Hattish Thing]

With a few more incredulous looks of non-belief, the stupefied Captain of the Guard looks about. After listening to each individual in the group, he moves to sheath his blade yet again, and grab ahold of Lo's arm. Should Lo resist, combat will be entered. Should Lo go quietly, he'll gaze at the others, a look of warning and regret in his gray eyes. "Witchweed? A common drug here. Makes you all angry and stuff. Not a nice thing to be around. Who the hell played around with Witchweed? Lo? Really? A guard, like me? You should know better. By the gods. Did you people just blow in from Stupidtown? You come in, and within a day start poisoning and attacking eachother like wild dogs? Hmph. I can't kick you out of town, nor will I. I won't make you all suffer for the deeds of one rather stupid man. Y'all didn't do nothing, at least, most of you didn't. However, if I come back alerted that some strangers started brawling with eachother again, I will tan your sorry hides, and make shoes out of you lot." He frowns and jerks Lo's arm. "Now, he's coming with me. Don't you fellows have something to do? Or rest? Something? Just stay out of trouble." He rolls his eyes and proceeds out the inn, Lo in his arm.

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks around.
Well, does anyone want to join me in putting a spirit to rest before bed?

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven replies, "Why not let whatever task you speak of wait until dawn? I'm sure many of us could use a night's rest. As for myself, the only thing I'm joining now is the dinner table."

With that, he proceeds to order a specifically non-poisoned meal.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja shakes her head.

"It seems as though this man needs to be brought to the church for healing," Katja says, approaching Brandt. "I will help you take him," she says to Helios.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios begins to gather the insensate Brandt onto his shoulders. Thank ye kindly, ma'am, he says with a smile. Ah'll grab his arms if ye'll grab his legs. Galder said the church is near tha castle; er, does anyone know where the castle is?

[Vhaidara]

Markin steps in before Katja can reach Brandt.
Allow me, milady. I put him on the ground, so I'll carry him to be healed. And, as it happens, I was raised in the temple, so I know the way. Unless they moved it while I was gone.

[Thokk_Smash]

Markin steps in before Katja can reach Brandt.
Allow me, milady. I put him on the ground, so I'll carry him to be healed. And, as it happens, I was raised in the temple, so I know the way. Unless they moved it while I was gone.

Helios gratefully lowers Brandt to the ground so that Markin can pick him up. Not weak by any means, picking up a full grown man is still a challenge for the priest. Want any help carryin' him? he asks, voice sincere. And which temple were ye raised in?

[Vhaidara]

The following assume Brandt + gear weighs less than 235.5lbs. Otherwise, Helios still needs to help

Markin lifts the half elf onto his shoulders.
The Temple of Law, in the southern part of town.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja is willing to help carry the half-elf, but doesn't force the issue if Markin wants to do it by himself (and is capable).

She still accompanies the small group to the church, however.

[blazinghand]

Deci grimaces. "I've had enough of excitement for today. I'm going to sleep while I still can. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning through the Catacombs. They might be full of dead rats, and they'll exit onto cobblepath, but I need to see this dream thing through to the end. Anyone who wants to come with me, meet at this inn at dawn. Also, it's dark out there-- take this with you."

She casts Light on the front of helios' clothing and on Brandt's clothing.

[Vhaidara]

After Decida's statement, Markin turns to her.
No one is leaving through the Catacombs until that spirit is laid to rest. I gave Syl my word.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius grumbled about not getting enough ale in his system, but then he decided to use whatever time he had left in the night to fake sleep. He waved his hand to the rest, and looked at Haster with inherent tiredness in his eyes, faked pretty well, and asked "I don't wanna have to do with this anymore tonight. Where can I get a room?"

He'd stay in there for a couple of hours, then climb out the window to scout out the catacombs.

[blazinghand]

After Decida's statement, Markin turns to her.
No one is leaving through the Catacombs until that spirit is laid to rest. I gave Syl my word.

Deci raises an eyebrow. "You're not saying it's going to take you longer than the time between now and dawn to walk that corpse over to the graveyard, are you?"

[Hattish Thing]

And so, Captain Galder Gray will forcefully escort the treacherous guardsman out of the small inn, to be taken to the holding cell located in the guards barracks just by Castle Bastion. He's gone, now, leaving the party alone in the inn. Their needs will be happily met, for the poor barkeep was too shell-shocked to try anything even remotely fishy. He'd just watched a good friend of his most likely die! So, the group will be allowed to head up to their rooms, or gather a small group to go investigate the graveyard nearby, and put the restless dead to sleep.

[Vhaidara]

Markin makes his way to the temple, straining slightly under Brandt's weight.
For an elfkin, this bastard is heavy!

[blazinghand]

Deci says, "If you lot are okay carrying and checking out the graveyard, I am going to retire for the evening. I'll see you in the morning if you want to go through the catacombs."

She waits in the inn while the others get ready to leave or head upstairs to their rooms.

[NotScaryBats]

"You have proven your strength. If you want help, I will give it," Katja says to Markin in her deadpan voice, accompanying the half elf, cleric, and paladin to the temple.

[Vhaidara]

Markin shakes his head.
No need, my lady. Simply heavier than I expected. Wouldn't want you to hurt your hands lifting the brute.

[blazinghand]

Seeing so many people getting ready to head to the church, then graveyard, Deci second-guesses her decision. "Well, if we're all going to make a trip of it, I'll tag along, actually. I didn't have plans for this evening anyways."

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven will follow along once he finishes wolfing down his meal. Perhaps this means he heads straight to the graveyard to meet them there, eating his meal during their trip to the temple to have Brandt healed.

[Hattish Thing]

After the party splits, the inn seems to grow much quieter than it was. There's not many people there now, and the fire is slowly beginning to die down. Haster slowly rubs a mug with a wet cloth, content to try and scrub the thing into oblivion. Must be a nervous tic of his, this sudden desire to clean imaginary spots on completely clean looking dishes and mugs. He's trying to just stare at his work and ignore as many people as possible. This was not an average day for Haster. This was not an okay day, and the brawl was his first real experience of blood or battle. It grossed the poor little man out! Silven is left to eat his fairly filling meal as the others head up to their room, or take their wounded to the nearby church.

--- Timeskip

The small group exits the church hall. Luckily, they managed to find Father Hackett just before closing time, and the elderly and sort of creepy old priest makes quick work of healing Brandt's wounds, along with Markin's. Now, everyone will be feeling a whole lot safer, and much more comfortable. The man waves goodbye, and you find yourselves outside the large church, the heavy iron doors slamming behind them, as Hackett locks up. The graveyard lurks to the left of the church, a heavy iron gate covering most of it. You'd need to walk over there.

((Who's with the Ghost hunter group?))

[Vhaidara]

Markin bows to Father Hackett after receiving his healing
Thank you, Father Hackett. I'll come back in the morning to say goodbye to my foster father.

-----

At the graveyard, Markin goes to pull the gate open.
Alright, everyone, stay behind me.

[blazinghand]

Deci follows Markin closely, bothered by the darkness. She lights up her glove using a spell of Light, wondering if she made a mistake by coming along.

[Stanr]

I'm just assuming somebody explained the whole poisoning thing to Brandt after he regained consciousness.

Brandt stands behind Markin and Deci as the paladin opens the gate. A sense of unease washes over him, though he does his best not to appear bothered by the graveyard. His right hand wanders toward the hilt of the bastard sword slung across his back, seeking comfort in the weapon's weight, but he does not yet draw it.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven caught up with the group after eating. He seems to be in a much better mood now, and has his lute out, his bow sling over a shoulder. He fingers chords and seems on the edge of bursting out in song, a sharp contrast to the graveyard gloom around them.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja is quiet and wary as the group enters the graveyard. She is on high alert, her keen ears and eyes straining against the darkness of the night.

[blazinghand]

"I always feel just a little scared, going into graveyards at night," mutters Deci. "Every shadow seems a shade and every noise the sound of the dead walking. The mind sees things it thinks it may not. We are safe in these walls, however, so let's not be too jumpy."

[Vhaidara]

Markin turns with a smile on his face.
Don't worry ladies. There is nothing here to be afraid of. I've walked these paths many times before with my foster father, even at night.
Of course he had. They usually came to the graveyard to meet Balthira. It was too dangerous for her to come to the temple, and it was usually deserted here.

[blazinghand]

Deci relaxes a little. "Well, you can't blame a girl for being a little spooked after that business at the gate earlier today. Still, thanks for the reassurance."

[Stanr]

Brandt grins first at Decida and then Markin. "You comfort me, brave paladin. If some monstrous beast should attack, I know you will protect us." He lets out a friendly laugh. "But I will be right behind you. Come, let us put this spirit to rest for good and all." The half-elf pauses for a moment, thinking. "How... This woman, did she say how exactly we give this soul peace? I cannot speak to the dead, and know little of these burial rites. Perhaps we should wait for our priest-friend?"

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios is present, bringing up the rear with his shield strapped to his arm. Though they are inside the city, it never hurts to be cautious. Ah'm here, friend, he says with a smile. Between Markin and me, we'll be able ta put this poor soul ta rest.

[Vhaidara]

Markin chuckles.
Lady Decida, in my entire life here, I had never seen one of those creatures. Galder may seem lax at times, but that is because he must be. Otherwise the stress of his job would drive him mad in a fortnight. A more solid man would be hard to find.
In response to Brandt
I have some knowledge of burial rights, and we even brought a second opinion, in case the spirit is picky about which god's burial rights are performed.

[NotScaryBats]

"Do you all really believe these 'burial rites' will be anything more than slaying the undead abomination this man has become? Perhaps I was alone in this leap of logic...?" Katja says grimly.

[Vhaidara]

Markin gives Katja a look, confused.
Lady Katja, the impression that Lady Syl gave me was simply that her husband's spirit had not been put to rest. A ghost that wishes to receive a proper burial is not like the creature at the gate. Those are the result of ancient dark magics. This spirit is merely a man who wants rest.

[Hattish Thing]

The smaller group arrives towards their destination, the paladin confidently striding forward, opening the steel gates with a creak. And oh, what a sound it was! Like metal, grating against the insides of your ears. The gates had not been oiled in many a year, but had received much use. Some parts of the wall has even been peeled off, the paint fading all around the metal fence-work. The party will begin to pile into the place, a delicious smell of pine tree and wet, earthy soil seeping into your nostrils. The wind blew a tad, yes, but it seemed to be getting a bit gentler. Even the rain seemed a bit friendlier now, a bit warmer against your skin. Maybe the group was just getting used to it! The graveyard seems... off, however. They were naturally unnerving, graveyards, but the trees here looked menacing, the light from the large moon casting chilling faces, contorted in agony, against the brittle bark. Lanterns are lit, sitting atop small desk-like pedestals, protected from the weathering wind and rain with their tops and glass panes. Many graves are built against the walls, their tombstones somewhat faded from the rain, the ink hard to read. Two trees stand near the far end, a large and empty coffin set between them. It's broken, and seems to simply be there to honor someone, or something. A silvery looking noose hangs from one of the trees, a tiny tag at the bottom, with what was once a name.

As the party talks, they might suddenly find the lanterns go out completely. Impossible, right? They're covered! And all to go out at the same time? That couldn't have been a coincidence, could it? Was... was someone here? Watching? The question is quickly answered, for a disembodied voice soon accompanies the sudden absence of light. "Wh-o.... You sp--k.... B--ial r-tes.... Wh-- a-- you? Wh- A-- YOU HERE?! The voice fades in and out of audible hearing, and it's difficult to catch what the thing is saying.

http://i1051.photobucket.com/albums/s440/Singingnoodle/Graveyard.png

[Vhaidara]

As they enter, Markin takes a deep breath. The smell was relaxing to him. It brought back good memories.

As the spirit spoke, Markin stood his ground. A holy warrior did not show fear.
Spirit, I am Markin Abrang, Paladin of the faith of Hextor, Scourge of Battle. With me is a priest of the sun god, Pelor. We have come to give you last rights, at the request of your wife, Syl.

[NotScaryBats]

Katja feels that about sums it up, and she doesn't add anything. She looks around, trying to pinpoint the location of the spirit.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios jumps a bit at the voice, but sets his mouth in a determined line. Markin's declaration of his faith is taken with surprise and dismay, although being near the back of the group no one sees it. Questions fly through his head, but if Markin hadn't started something after hearing his faith, then Helios isn't going to start something now. Especially when there's a restless spirit to be put to rest.

He clanks up to stand next to Markin, nodding his agreement. Aye, Ah'm Helios Delv, follower of th'Shining One. Please, reveal yerself so that we can free you from this pain.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven blinks at the paladin's declaration of the two men's faith. How had he failed to notice that?

Nonetheless, he stands firm with the rest of the group, content to let the speaking be done by others for now. Burial rites were not his area of expertise.

[Stanr]

Brandt adjusts his stance uneasily and glances quickly around the graveyard, trying to pinpoint the location of the voice. Despite Markin's assurances that the spirit is just that, and not a creature like they faced at the gate, the half-elf keeps a hand on the sword at his back.

Listen check, if appropriate:
[roll0]

[blazinghand]

As the lights wink out, Deci squeaks in fear. Even her glove is no longer glowing. My-- my magic?! How is it possible?

Suddenly, she feels a roaring emptiness well up within her, like a thousand unspoken whispers behind her lips, bursting to escape into the world. She wrenches her head back and forth, and screams, no, gurgles. She can't scream. Her voice is caught in her throat. The pent up whispers aren't hers', but the dark magic within her, trying to consume her, trying to master her even as she masters it. They will kill you, Deci thinks. No, don't... She doesn't know which thoughts are hers, or the ghosts, or the darkness within her. The haunting whispers rise, and the fell malaise grips her mind harder.

The ghost is in front of her. That thing is doing this to me, it's making me hurt, she knows. She reaches instinctively for her spear before realizing she left it at the inn. Her fingers open and close around the lack-of-a-spear at her side. After a few seconds of useless wimpering, she reaches for her sling, but it's damp, damp with the rain she ran foolishly into earlier today. The slip of cloth slides between her fingers as she fumbles at her pouch of bullets, and suddenly it's gone in the darkness, against the wet mud and earth. She tries to grab it as it falls, and starts pressing her hands against the sodden earth, trying to find her weapon.

Decida's on her hands and knees and sobbing, grabbing at mud and grass in the rain.

Make the voice stop! she whispers. Then, she screams and twists her head skyward. Make it STOP!

[NotScaryBats]

Katja looks at the other woman in surprise, not understanding what just happened to her. "The spirit...?" she begins uncertainly.

[Vhaidara]

Markin turns as Deci falls to the ground.
Lady Decida!
He turns back upon the spirit, a fire in his eyes.
Foul spirit. We came here with peaceful intent, and you torment this innocent woman? Have you no honor? Cease your assault upon her, whatever form it may be taking, or I swear, by the Herald's mailed fist, I shall destroy your tormented sou!.

[blazinghand]

"I can't... I can't... ghosts!" sputters Decida. "Please, do the rites. Something about this place mixes strangely with my magic, and I can't stand it. It's the darkness, the nearness of death. I'll be better soon, but I can't... I can't right now.

Her hands ball up into fists in the mud. Why can't I use my magic? What's going on? Why -- death is here -- no. No, it's going to be okay. Why can't I use it?. She finds she's still grasping for her sling, but she's holding the mud-logged cloth already. She staggers to her knees. What am I doing?

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks at Helios.
Sun priest, I'm entrusting you to put this spirit to rest. I am going to take Lady Decida away from here. She should not have to suffer while you perform the rights.
He walks over to Deci and kneels down to take her hand.
Come on, get up. We need to get you out of here.

[blazinghand]

Deci reaches out and grasps Malkin's hand, suddenly distinctly aware that the man's hand is clean and hers is muddy from her flailing in the mud. She gets to her feet, no longer shaking. "My magic doesn't work here..." she murmurs.

[Vhaidara]

Markin's voice is surprisingly soothing for such a large man.
Don't worry. I'll get you to safety.
He helps her to her feat and, if necessary, puts her arm over his shoulder to help her get moving. He walks her towards the gate, still muttering little reassurances.

[Stanr]

With Decida's outburst, Brandt becomes all the more uneasy. He continues to glance around the graveyard warily. When Markin escorts the mage toward the gate of the cemetery, the half-elf adjusts his fur cloak and moves to the front of the group. Still surrounded by darkness, he yells out, "We bring you the gift of peace, spirit. Reveal yourself and you shall have it."

[Thokk_Smash]

Decida's outburst concerns Helios; she seems truly troubled, and the man wishes he could help. But Markin stepped up, and one of them still needs to perform the rites.

He steps forward, past Brandt, and speaks loudly, Oh troubled spirit, we only wish to spare ye the pain of lingering in this world. Please, show yerself so we can help ye.

[blazinghand]

Decida trembles in terror at the ominous silence of the ghost.

[Hattish Thing]

((I'm sorry guys. I've been really busy, so posting anywhere but a few sentences in Finding Players has been difficult.))

There's a terrible silence, a ringing present in each traveler's ears. The voice doesn't return, and for a good minute, nothing goes on save the continued beat of rain upon the gravestones and pavement. Some of the trees rustle lightly, but other than that, it's motionless. The tension is thick in the air, for this spectre didn't seem particularly friendly, and Decida was already panicking. After the group shouts out their last threat, a window of ten seconds passes by. Then, hell breaks loose! The ghost growls out, and several tombstones rip out of the ground, flying towards the group. "H-w dar- y-- INSU-T me s-! Wha- manner of bei-gs are y-u?! To both-r a spiri- in h-s res-ing place... You don'- kn-w tor-ent! Y-- don'- kn-w PAIN. YOU KNOW NOTHING." It's odd and echoing voice rasps forward, it's words mangled up as whispers cover most of his speech. However, his final cry is quite clear, and quite intimidating. The spectre doesn't appear yet, but wind picks up down across the graveyard, by the coffin and the pair of trees. For now, however, the group will need to dodge!

Roll a Reflex, everyone. DC: 15. If you fail, you take 1d4 Damage from a tombstone smashing into you.

[roll0]

[Vhaidara]

Marcus throws himself out of the way of an oncoming tombstone.
Come on, we need to get you out of here.
He mutters to Decida

[blazinghand]

Pieces of tombstome pelter Decida in the side-- she's too confused and disoriented to dodge. She grunts in pain as they draw welts and she starts bleeding again.

As they pull get to the entrance to the graveyard, she stops. "I will wait and watch from here. I've seen how this started, I am obligated to see it through to the end. You should go back. Our comrades will need your help."

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks concerned.
Are you sure, my lady?

[blazinghand]

Deci nods. "It is my duty to see finished what I have started-- and yours, too. I will be okay here. Go and do what is necessary."

She leans against the fence.

[Vhaidara]

He nods in retuen.
I will be back.
He turns and head back towards the rest of the group.

[Stanr]

Brandt attempts to throw himself out of the way of the bursting graves, but is too slow. A chunk of tombstone crashes into his side as he hits the ground, and he grunts in pain. He stands up with a groan as his hand moves the bastard sword at his back. "We're here to help you, fool spirit!" The half-elf turns to Helios. "Priest, how quickly can you perform the rites? I'm not sure my sword will be any help here."

[NotScaryBats]

Katja takes a tombstone to the chest. She is knocked off balance for a moment, but her thick skin prevents her from suffering any real injury. Recovering, the woman glares around the area looking for the source of the disturbance.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven ducks away from a tombstone, standing up straight and brushing back his hair casually as the onslaught ends. Unsure what to do, but certain that any attacks would be futileat best, he stands awkwardly off to the side, hoping the priest and paladin will be able to resolve this. Mainly to keep himself occupied, he lightly plays a pleasant fey song he learned during his time with the nymphs.

((If anyone knows the song Avalon, think that melody, but being played pianissimo and with no lyrics being sung. Not rolling perform because I'm on mobile and I don't think it would really matter, but if Hatter says to I will later.))

[Thokk_Smash]

Through a combination of sheer dumb luck and...well, just dumb luck, Helios stumbles out of the way of the brunt of the tombstones. Pebbles clatter on his armor as he fumbles with his holy symbol. He rushes forward, closer to where he thinks the ghost may be. He speaks, and as he does his voice becomes somewhat stronger, more confident. My friends, we must weaken the spirit first. Only then can I or Markin give it the peace it needs.

Oh restless spirit, through the blessing of the Shining One, I hope to help thee find release from this torment you find yourself in. He begins the chanting of the burial rites, keeping his holy symbol in clear view.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius twisted and turned, as the terrifying nightmares affected his sleep, making it pretty impossible to sleep. He awoke, and swung his legs over the bed, and looked out the window. Deciding there was no way he could sleep well, he sneaked out of the tavern, and quickly made his way to the catacombs and burial grounds.

[Hattish Thing]

Graveyard:

And so, the tombstone shrapnel flies about, bruising and battering the unfortunate individuals struck by the most definitively solid stone. The whole scene seems ultimately futile, the ghost quite happy to stay hidden away from the others, and pelt them with stone. It hungered for death, angered that it couldn't simply leave this world, and find the peace it deserved. He was a good man in life, but in death, his continued and tortured existence devolved him, to the point where he couldn't even remember his name. He needed to pass, he needed to die. Or else he'd continue to be stretched and corrupted, forced to endure the pain of existing between planes of being. The holy text was good, and kind, a gift from benevolent gods, presented by their humble servants. Helios trusted in his god to give him power, and so power was had. The holy text quiets the thing, and it slowly begins to take shape. First there's a dark spot between the two trees at the end of the graveyard, then slowly a more corporeal looking form slides into existence. The man floats above the ground, the rain passing straight through him, but he exists. He was a handsome man, with long and once well-groomed dark hair. His eyes are sunken in, however, his teeth rotted away. He wears gray pants, along with a dark vest covering a white undershirt. He's missing several fingers and toes, as shown by his bare feet, his boots nowhere to be seen. He looks upon the others, his neck stretched bizarrely, causing him to gaze at the party from an angle. He speaks, sadness and misery apparent in it's voice. "Please... holy man.... kill me."

Catacombs:


Sanguinius twisted and turned, as the terrifying nightmares affected his sleep, making it pretty impossible to sleep. He awoke, and swung his legs over the bed, and looked out the window. Deciding there was no way he could sleep well, he sneaked out of the tavern, and quickly made his way to the catacombs and burial grounds.

And so, while the others slept, Sanguinius made his silent way outside the tavern. He'll walk down the dark and lonely steps, perhaps feeling a tad sorry for himself. There was no one outside, and the air of hopelessness so resolute and common in this place might be getting to him. Eventually, after following the crusted and worn-down signs, he'll find his way to the catacomb door. It's a small but solid doorway, built into the wall of the city. It obviously leads underground, and a heavy padlock is seen hanging off it. A small shack looms right by it, a candle lit in the window.

[Thokk_Smash]

The sight of the man, the spirit, beaten down and despairing, sends a jolt of sadness through Helios. Bad enough that he died, but that the "good citizens" of this town willingly chose to leave his spirit unblessed...the priests of the town must have known what would happen. If only Helios were more than a mere acolyte; if only he had some clout to swing.

He shakes the thoughts off and returns to the present. This man deserves to move on, and Helios is more than willing to show him the way.

Helios makes his way to the now-visible form of the man, continuing to chant the holy script. As he approaches, he tries to remember the man's name. The spirit should be sent off with his proper name. He swore Markin had mentioned it on the way over here...Jar...Jol...Jorgen! That's the one.

He stops within arm's reach of the spirit, holy symbol still proffered and somber look on his face. Jorgen, of Serinet, he says, voice still confident with the strength of his convictions. You have suffered greatly, for reasons beyond your control. Through the clouds that shroud you, The Sun Father has seen you and taken pity on you.

He pauses for a moment, reaching out to hold a hand on Jorgen's insubstantial shoulder; an attempt at a personable farewell. He then closes his eyes to gather the holy energy bestowed on him, and proffers his holy symbol once more. Let his bright light surround you, and show you the way to your paradise. His simple, wooden holy symbol glows with a light even brighter than what had shone on the crowd of zombies earlier that day.

[blazinghand]

As the light grows, Deci approaches the scene. The ghost is calm, and so is she, for now. I shall see this finished, she thinks. The wood in the priest's hand glows with a divine light, and for a moment it seems like it is not a dark night but a bright day. Deci feels the light warm her bones, and wishes for a moment that she could be so grossly incandescent, so bright and shining in the dark. She watches in fascination as the priest says the last rites to the dead man.

[Stanr]

Brandt tries to hide his disgust, to little avail. The man's missing fingers, unsettling face, and distorted neck did not sit well with him, and the fact that he was talking while hanging from a gallows-tree was all the more unnerving. Despite his own discomfort and his desire to be away from this cursed place, the pathetic plea for death is more than he can stand. The half-elf swirls his fur cloak away from his right side and reaches over his shoulder to unsheathe the bastard sword at his back. Glancing back at the other's, he says,"Death is what he wants. Let us give him one last gift." With a stony face, he strides purposefully toward the man, but falters and pauses when he hears Helios's holy words. If the cleric's prayers do not destroy the ghost, he continues on, stopping only once he reaches the specter. Both hands on the hilt of his sword, he pulls it back and thrusts it upward through the man's gut and chest and out his back.

In the interest of speeding things up slightly, I added a contingency here. If Helios's turning outright destroys/frees the ghost, Brandt will stop. If the ghost is still "alive" and unsatisfied, Brandt will continue forward and attack. I'm assuming no attack roll is needed since he wants to die and he's helplessly hanging there.

[Hattish Thing]

The sight of the man, the spirit, beaten down and despairing, sends a jolt of sadness through Helios. Bad enough that he died, but that the "good citizens" of this town willingly chose to leave his spirit unblessed...the priests of the town must have known what would happen. If only Helios were more than a mere acolyte; if only he had some clout to swing.

He shakes the thoughts off and returns to the present. This man deserves to move on, and Helios is more than willing to show him the way.

Helios makes his way to the now-visible form of the man, continuing to chant the holy script. As he approaches, he tries to remember the man's name. The spirit should be sent off with his proper name. He swore Markin had mentioned it on the way over here...Jar...Jol...Jorgen! That's the one.

He stops within arm's reach of the spirit, holy symbol still proffered and somber look on his face. Jorgen, of Serinet, he says, voice still confident with the strength of his convictions. You have suffered greatly, for reasons beyond your control. Through the clouds that shroud you, The Sun Father has seen you and taken pity on you.

He pauses for a moment, reaching out to hold a hand on Jorgen's insubstantial shoulder; an attempt at a personable farewell. He then closes his eyes to gather the holy energy bestowed on him, and proffers his holy symbol once more. Let his bright light surround you, and show you the way to your paradise. His simple, wooden holy symbol glows with a light even brighter than what had shone on the crowd of zombies earlier that day.

The face of the poor spectral being lights up in familiarity as someone speaks it's name. That was it. That was his name! He hadn't heard it in so long, no one spoke of him. Never to him. He'd forgotten what he looked like, what people really looked like. He'd spent oh so long wandering the mists that he'd forgotten it. Forgotten everything... Soon, the shining and holy light begins to envelop the spirits ethereal body, the light eventually washing away the figure. By the time Helios finishes his speech, the ghost has been reduced to nothingness, his gaseous form melting away and swept into the wind. And then, there was a silence. It wasn't clear where Jorgen went, but there was a sense of rightness in the area. A happiness that hadn't been felt in such a glum place for a long time. Now, moved from it's position, the hangman's noose lies in front of the cleric, lightly radiating a blue magic. The deed is done, and the party may now choose to head back and rest, or head to the catacombs....

Helios has earned a magical item, it seems. The spirit left a small gift, the one thing it was tied to during it's time of torturous existence as a ghost. The rope. It was filled with a positive energy when he died, and now functions as a Rope of Climbing! (http://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/SRD:Rope_of_Climbing)

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios smiles in content and says a final prayer for the departed spirit. He notices the softly glowing rope with surprise, and then reaches down to pick it up. Thank ye, Jorgen, he says to the air with a smile.

He places the rope into his bag carefully before returning to the rest of the party, gesturing for Brandt to do the same. Now that we've put tha poor man ta rest, do ye all wanna go to the catacombs or to the inn? His accent has returned, now that he is not in an important situation.

[Vhaidara]

Markin looks to the priest.
You are a good man, priest. I think we should rest before we leave town though. You exhausted your healing magic earlier, and who knows when we will have a chance to rest outside of Serinet?

[Stanr]

Brandt looks relieved as the ghost fades into true death. With a warm smile, he pats Helios on the shoulder and says, "That was ably done, priest. I am impressed," as they walk back to the rest of the party. He sheaths his bastard sword, and answers Helios's question. "I agree with Markin. Especially during these Witching Weeks, I do not think we should travel ill-prepared. Let us get some rest. We can brave the catacombs and the land beyond the walls of Bastion tomorrow. I need to retrieve my belongings from the inn, as well." The half-elf adjusts his fur cloak to cover him more fully, then pulls up his woolen hood as he waits for a response from the others.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven smiles as the ghost vanishes through the priest's holy rites, and calms down noticeably. He slings his lute back on his shoulder, and speaks.

"I agree, some rest is in order before any further adventuring on our part."

[NotScaryBats]

"Yes, there is no sense in rushing off unprepared and unrested; we have been traveling all day," Katja agrees with the party.

[Thokk_Smash]

Helios accepts the praise with the bashful smile of one unused to compliments. Ah agree. Ah'll feel better about leaving after Ah've prayed fer more spells.

If no one else begins to leave, assuming that no one would object, he begins to walk out of the graveyard and back towards the inn.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius paused to look at the catacomb doors, and then towards the Burial Grounds, where the rest of the newcomers would likely be. Considering all the implications, he decided that he really couldn't stand the constant nightmares of sleep. Sure, in a while, he'd be troubled no more by sleep, but that was a while away.

And there was much to be gotten in plundering this temple. He looked at the door, and wondered how he could open it.

[blazinghand]

With the ghost gone, Deci approaches the group. "This was well done. Let's strike out for the inn, then. Some sleep would do us good, as we may have a long journey ahead of us."

[Vhaidara]

Markin nods.
I will meet you at the catacombs at dawn.
He heads for the temple to rest in his own bed.

[Hattish Thing]

And so, those heading to the inn will be able to carry on their journey safely and uninterrupted. Though the rain continues it's relentless barrage on the street, and the thunder rolls, there's a certain peaceful tranquility to the quiet city. The inn opens easily, though there doesn't appear to be a man behind the bar. He must have gone to bed. Which is certainly odd. Why wouldn't there be a guard or something to watch for strangers who might enter? Perhaps there just wasn't a lot of criminal behavior in Serinet. The others will be able to rest as much as they can, despite the nightmares that surely may come.

Meanwhile, Markin and Sanguinius begin heading towards the church at about the same time. Sanguinius, if you want to hide from the shadowy figure hidden by the darkness and rain, moving towards the church, make a hide check. Markin, make a spot or listen check, depending on whichever one you want.

[TachyonBlade]

Sanguinius noticed a figure heading towards him, in the darkness. He was unable to make out the exact features of the figure, but he guessed that he really didn't want to be seen by anyone at this time of the night, lest he be seen with suspicion. And he really didn't want that to happen, did he?


[roll0]

[blazinghand]

Finally back at her room, Deci lays herself down, thinks a silent prayer for dreamless sleep, and almost immediately is asleep.

[Stanr]

Back at the Sleeping Goblin, Brandt picks up his club and backpack that were left here after he was taken to the church. He tucks the club into his belt and slings the backpack over his shoulders. For a brief moment the barbarian considers sleeping beneath the stars, but the rain discourages him and so he remains inside. He unfurls his bedroll, setting it up in a corner of the common room, and throws a blanket over it. Then, he removes his weapons, armor, cloak, and boots, laying them neatly beside his makeshift bed.

[NotScaryBats]

Before heading off to bed, Katja takes a moment to speak quietly with Brandt.

"Brandt," the tall, clawed woman begins, "I do not know what kind of unscrupulous people we have fallen in with, but I would like to tell you now that should the paladin attack you again, you have my support. For what it is worth, I find you to be a worthy companion."

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven heads off to his room promptly, relieved to finally be able to set down his belongings and rest in an actual bed- a welcome change after the long travels he is accustomed to.

[Stanr]

Brandt sits on his bedroll, removing his last leather boot. When Katja walks over to him, Brandt tosses the boot aside, stands, and bows his head in thanks to her words. Doing his best not to notice the thick black claws protruding from her hands and feet, he says, "You are good to say so. I believe tomorrow we will all have the chance to prove our worth. When we face more of those monsters, I will be glad to have you at my side." He extends his hand to clasp the woman's forearm in an embrace of camaraderie.

[NotScaryBats]

She returns the gesture, her grasp rough beyond simple callouses. After this declaration of friendship, the strange monk goes upstairs and to her room.

[Stanr]

Brandt lays back down on his bedroll, hands behind his head. He contemplates the occurrences of the day--it was far more eventful than he was used to. Undead, poisons, ghosts... This land was too strange for him, but he needed answers. Answers about his dreams, about the staff. With the hope that the future would be simpler, and that his slumber would be peaceful, Brandt drifts off into sleep.

[Vhaidara]

Markin makes his way towards the temple, and sees nothing.

Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]

[Hattish Thing]

So, Sanguinius manages to blend into the surroundings by ducking around a small statue of some older man in dark robes, covered in crow waste, with small flowers left on his pedestal. Maybe this man was some kind of local hero before his death? It's a new statue, so Markin won't quite recognize it, either. Speaking of Markin, he'll be able to see the new statue beside the church, the large church doors closed before him. It's entirely up to you, what you'd like to do.

[Vhaidara]

Markin pounds on the door with a closed fist, hoping that someone is still awake enough to let him in.

[Hattish Thing]

The knockers to the small church are somewhat soggy, and wooden. They're not exactly the most pleasant thing to touch, so it's a good thing Markin simply knocked and battered the door. Sanguinius will be able to witness the happenings, but their doesn't look to be anything interesting occurring. After about two minutes of waiting, the large doors crack open, and a man dressed in some sort of tarp and apron. He's covered in paint, and speaking in a thick accent. "Wha? Wha' th' fack ye wan'? Yer not th' Father guy." It's incredibly difficult to understand, and the muscular man looks quite tired, and already angry at Markin for knocking so loud.

[Vhaidara]

Markin, though tired, knows that he probably just woke this poor man up.
My apologies. I was helping to put a spirit to rest that had arisen in the graveyard. I simply wished to sleep in my own bed this night. May I come in?

[Hattish Thing]

Markin, though tired, knows that he probably just woke this poor man up.
My apologies. I was helping to put a spirit to rest that had arisen in the graveyard. I simply wished to sleep in my own bed this night. May I come in?

The man blinks a tad, clearly confused and sleep-deprived out of his mind. He must be a worker here, or something. "Uhh... A spirit ter rest? Ye mean tha' rattlin' ol' thing was real? No facking way. No one believed me, ne, they din't. Though' I'd been a' me mushrooms again... Which I wasn't, if ye werk fer the Father here, ahkey?" He smacks his lips and scratches his straggly beard. "Well.. Uhh. Come in, I serpuse. Ne use in keeping ye ou' 'ere in th' cold." He'll let Markin inside the church and close the door behind him, locking it with a large key in his pocket. The smelly man continues to talk to the anti-paladin. "Say, ye look quite familiar, ye know. Don't ah know ye?"

[Vhaidara]

Markin steps inside.
You should. I've lived here most of my life. Markin Abrang, ward of the temple. And the spirit was certainly real.

[Hattish Thing]

Markin steps inside.
You should. I've lived here most of my life. Markin Abrang, ward of the temple. And the spirit was certainly real.

His eyes go wide, and he splutters a tad, before nodding his head to the side and shrugging. "Ah, okay. Tha' explains the 'hole 'aving a bed 'ere and all tha'. I was a tad curious, meself. Ah haven't been 'ere as long as most, so ah didn't spot ye as fast as most. Me apologies there, sir? I call ye sir righ'? Uhh. Ye know where yer room is and stuff, righ'? I sure don't." The church is fairly small, and a new coat of dark gray paint covers the inside. There's several benches facing a stage with a pedestal, with a tiny stained glass panel behind it all. Other than that, the building is fairly regular. A wooden door to the right leads to the Father's office, and a few small rooms of bedding.

[Vhaidara]

Markin nods.
Sir would not be incorrect. Good night, good man.
Markin makes his way to his room and turns in for the night.

[Hattish Thing]

The man leaves, and Markin will be left to his pleasant slumber.

---

Now, the night will pass fairly well. The dreams do come back, but they seem muted. Oddly weakened than usual, as if something was trying to stop the nightmares from reaching the party. How very strange. Anyway, Sanginius will be unable to enter the church now that everything is locked, but he will be able to return back to the inn and sleep.

As morning comes by, each of you post where you plan on meeting to be ready for your delve into the catacombs!

[Vhaidara]

Markin awakens early, and makes his way to the entrance of the catacombs. There he awaits the rest of the party's arrival.

[Stanr]

The dreams were easy this night. That's the first thought through Brandt's mind as he wakes early, after a surprisingly good slumber. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and runs a hand through his mussed brown hair, then stands and stretches. He slips on his boots, straps on his leather greaves, vambraces, and jerkin, then swirls his fur cloak about his shoulders and fastens it at the neck. Next, he rolls up his blanket and bedroll, placing them neatly in his pack. Finally, he swings his leather baldric over his shoulder and buckles it across his chest, before sheathing his bastard sword alongside his quiver and slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. With a yawn, he heads out the door and begins walking toward the entrance to the catacombs. Along the way, he pulls a piece of salt beef from his pack and starts to gnaw at it.

[Still_I_Rise]

Silven sits up from bed, stretches once, then almost bounces out of the room. He was always a morning person, but today even more than usual. Or more than usual, ever since those dreams had started, at least... last night had been markedly restful.

He gets a quick breakfast at the inn, then heads out towards the catacombs.

[blazinghand]

As the light of day shines through Deci's window and she awakes. She hears a whisper in her ear, a ghost of a ghost, but she shakes her head and the not-noise is gone. Soon, she is at the catacomb entrance. She reaches out for her companion via their empathetic link-- he's still outside the city, laying low-- and knows he will be waiting for her when she emerges the other side of the catacombs.

She arrives and sees Markin, Brandt, and Silven. She nods to them. "I suppose we should wait for the others. Better there are more of us, that we not get lost and fare better against rats and other such creatures as we go through these catacombs.

I'll tell you what I'm capable of in combat so that you get an idea of how I can be useful. I'm not a skilled warrior, but in my studies of magic I've come across spells that can aid us. I can use my magic to disarm an enemy or try to knock them over. I can also generate light and sense magical constructs, items, and spells. I need to be fairly close to an enemy to be able to do these things to them, but I'd rather not stand next to them lest the melee disrupt my concentration."

[Vhaidara]

Markin nods.
Always good to have a mage on hand. I for one am simply well trained with my flail.

[blazinghand]

Deci smiles. "We may well find your abilities more useful than mine, today. I'm not familiar with the undead in any significant way, and I don't know how or even if my magic will affect them. I'm sure I can disrupt their ability to walk, but that's about it. "