"Books may hold great knowledge," Valagard puts in, giving Airyc a curiously intense look, "and that knowledge translates into power which may be used for good or for evil...and only for one of these things, sometimes." She takes another sip of brandy, her expression grim. "I agree with Miss Cranea: we must investigate these tomes – they may well be responsible for the professor's strange behaviour. Not every book is simply a book."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard all about them pop-up books," Airyc said dismissively. He looked down at his bicep and flexed, muttering under his breath, "I got yer power right here." In truth, the Half-orc had seen the power of books on display many times over while accompanying the Professor, but now that he had passed, Airyc didn't have to fain interest in them.
"Books contain information, and the free flow of information is the only safeguard against tyranny." Kledge states from behind a bookshelf somewhere.
"LeCroix is right, I might be able to figure out what had your father so worried in those books, if your could get them for me." Kledge says to Kendra a couple moments later, still behind a bookshelf, but the sound seemed to come from near the ceiling this time.
Kledge is like a kid in a playground near books.
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TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited March 2012
Kendra saddens at Lecroix's request. "I fear I do not know what my Father has done with those vile tomes. On the night of his death, he hid them all while I was off buying supplies for the Manse. Unfortunately, when I returned, he set off for Harrowstone, and I did not think of them at the time. After his death though, I searched the home for those books, hoping to find some clue as to what he was doing, but I could find neither hide nor hair of them. Though I DID find a small oak chest hidden in his closet. I have been fearful of trying to open it. Not due to the key missing or lack of trying, mind you, but that the Professor always trapped his most precious secrets, usually with some... destructive magic, like a self immolating fireball spell or a caustic acid trap. I believe M'Ser Drell and Kledge could vouch there for me..."
"As for what books they were, dear Cranea, I fear I do not know. I heard my Father muttering something about Whispering People, or something about an Undead Eye. I even gasped once when I heard him saying something about a being that hailed from the Far Realm, that most alien of worlds. But he always assured me no harm would come to us. Whenever he was done with them, he would hide them from my sight.."
When Kendra heard Drell's exchange of the matter, she sighs. "I do not know what my Father was doing late at night. When I asked him, he would merely get infuriated, prattle on about Whispering Folk, then go back to his studies, or writing in his journal if he was nervous. I never disturbed him in that state, since I knew he was stressed by something. I always thought it was because he retired. But if I knew he was to befall his fate at Harrowstone, even Father would have had a challenge to leave the Manse. We Lorrimors are known to be stubborn when we're pushed to our limit,s they always say. As for Harrowstone, its a dreadful place. Some burnt out prison that the town was built for some 50 years. The folk here say its haunted by the spirits of the prisoners or some such. I never was really interested in such a place. Its just ironic my Father would die not from such paranormal activity, but by a simple loose statue no one ever would consider impressive..."
LeCroix's cough did not go unnoticed. "Ah yes, Councilman Vashian was supposed to have arrived by now. I wonder where he..." Kendra queries, when suddenly there came knocks from the front door. Kendra, surprised by the knocking, lets out a soft gasp, almost knocking the platter off of the table.
"That must be him. I will be right back. Allow me a moment to greet the Councilman and let him in. If you would excuse me..."
Kendra rushes out of the room, leaving the heroes to their own thoughts...
Valagard:
History Check: Success
Kendra's speaking the truth. Harrowstone is a ruined prison— partially destroyed by a fire 50 years ago, the building has stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
As for the rest of the information regarding Harrowstone, you managed to recollect a time when you studied in Ioun's many archives in Caliphas. Apparently, from the century old tomes that were kept in storage, Harrowstone was built 117 years ago. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conf lagration. It was only through the self-sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro. Unfortunately, that was as far as you could possibly remember regarding that occurrence. If anyone should know more of it, its possible someone in Ravengro would know...
TiamatZ on
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
edited March 2012
Undead eye? Well I've got two of those. Drell pushed the thought from his mind, nursing his brandy as if it were a baby bird. "Well if he's put one of his 'safeguards' on the chest, I know from experience it won't be easy to get in to."
He remembered the acid burns all too well from when he tried to dip into the professor's brandy while on watch.
"But before we go breaking into things and chasing whispering eyes and whatnot, we should probably hear what the professor himself wanted done with it."
He raised his eyebrows at the knock, smiling over the top of his glass. "Speak of the devil."
As Kendra goes to answer the door Cranea sits in contemplation of what was mentioned. As a Witch of the fey (even though a young one), Cranea was privy to certain magical circles and information, she was sure that she had heard of the Undead Eye and the Whispering people somewhere. She finished her tea and wracked her brain for answers.
This was the first time Airyc had heard any mention of how Petros had died, and it only left him with more questions. He cleared his throat to get attention, "He got done in by a statue? Isn't the point of a statue that it stays where you put it?" The former bodyguard knew plenty of people that had been grievously injured by statuettes, and most of the time it was because Airyc had swung it at the victim.
LeCroix stayed put in his seat. "Good point, Airyc. Never knew Pete to be clumsy; maybe someone pushed the statue? From the looks of that crowd at the funeral, he hadn't made a ton of friends here. Doesn't matter now, I suppose, but maybe we could head up to Harrowstone later and see what we can see. I think Pete deserves that at least." The ranger paused for a moment, then picked up his first train of thought, "Now statutes? Statutes are dangerous. I've known several men that died to aggressive statutes."
GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
edited March 2012
"You mean the pygmies of the Statutian isles? The professor told me they were a peaceful people". Drell looked at his glass. Maybe he'd finished that first one a little quickly...
"Harrowstone is a queer place to be sure," she agrees, "and it would be folly to dismiss the rumours of it being haunted as mere superstition. There may be more to the professor's death there than mere coincidence, or even mortal agency." Valagard purses her lips. "The events surrounding the conflagration which gutted it raise a number of questions whose answers have so far eluded the historians: what was the warden's wife doing there when the fire struck? And why did it conveniently do so immediately after the inmates had rioted and seized the dungeons of Harrowstone?" She sits back. "Granted, the town of Ravengro very likely owes its continued existence to that fire, just as it owed its existence to the prison itself before that, but it was a peculiar incident all the same. Mister...LeCroix, was it?...is right to propose we take a closer look at Harrowstone when we get the chance; Petros had to have some reason for paying a visit to the place himself."
What the Iounite doesn't mention is that, quite apart from other considerations, she is oddly curious to lay eyes on Harrowstone; she feels almost drawn to it, in a way.
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TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited March 2012
Cranea:
Arcana Check: Success
You can regale the tales of what the Professor told you in your travels together. Knowing that your glade to be a safe place to keep secrets, the Professor indulged what he knew of the Whispering Way to your ears only. Whether you had merely forgotten them or perhaps due to the Professor's own arcane abilities, you soon could not remember much of those tales. But Kendra's story suddenly caused you to remember, a single memory come flooding from the deep recesses of your mind...
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in Ustalav for thousands of years.
Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer.
The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers—the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
Exact details on the society are difficult to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering the release of the Whispering Tyrant. Agents often travel to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts or undead menaces to perform field research or even to capture unique monsters. Their symbol is a gagged skull, and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead.
Special: The party gains 600 XP total (100 per PC) for researching everything regarding the Whispering Way (in this Act though)
Drell:
History Check: Success
Very little famous death-by-statue incidents have occurred throughout the realm. One such famous (and humorous) tale though, was that of Belaphor the Vile, an Orcus high priest that proclaimed he could not be killed by any man or woman. And for a time, many believed in his self proclaimed prophecy, as no one could best him in battle. This caused him to raid and pillage many cities and churches with little impunity or fear. Of course, that ended when a group of adventurers infiltrated his secret fortress. The fortress was a maze like structure, causing them to get lost within hours. Frustrated by their turn of luck, the warriors of the band let loose their frustrations on a nearby perched obsidian statue, hacking and whacking away at the large gargoyle statue. Soon though, the force of those blows caused the statue to fall over, and crash to the bottom of the floor below them with a sickening splat. Curious, the heroes look over the perch, only to spot the Orcus cultists, as well as one large bloody smear. It seems Belaphor had not die by any man or woman, but by mere accident and happenstance. SInce then, Belaphor's 'crushing' defeat was told by many a bard across the land.
Kendra soon returns to the room, with the portly Councilman you've all met before at the funeral.
Image of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount:
"Ah, you're all gathered, I see." Vashian stands in the doorway to the living room. The frown is in no way concealed, and he looks at all of you with mild disappointment. Even Airyc could see the man did not approve of strangers getting involved in local matters, but thankfully he tried keeping it to himself. He steps up to the table, pulling out a scroll case from his pocket. Professor Lorrimor's seal is unbroken. He shows it to all of you - a gesture of its validity - before he breaks the wax and opens it up.
A small iron key falls out of the case, rattling against the table. Vashian pays it no heed, as he unfurls the scroll and starts to read.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child."
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask."
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans."
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a chest in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause."
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor — please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of twenty five platinum coins, for a grand total of two thousand five hundred gold coins worth. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will."
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4715 of our lord Kelemvor.”
Vashian's expression doesn't change throughout the reading. When he is finished, he looks at Kendra, who nods. "Thank you, Vashian." I ... I can take it from here."
With a curt nod, Vashian leaves, and closes the door behind him before making his way back home. She looks at all of you. Her expression has changed; her eyes are still puffy and the hint of tears are still there but there is a smile. "I...I don't know if I wish to sell the mansion or stay here... but... I will know in a couple of weeks."
"If you... if you stay for the month as my father asked, will you stay here in the mansion with me? We... I have enough rooms for all of you."
Kendra notices the small key. "That... that must be the key to my Father's chest. I...I'll go get the chest. Please think about staying..."
She leaves the living room, leaving you all with time for thoughts.
The words 'Whispering Way" seemed to echo in Cranea's head as Councilman Hearthmount spoke, getting louder and louder until the flood of information came rushing back to her. She could not explain it exactly, but it seemed Lorrimor had locked the information away within her mind using some minor spell. Not a powerful one, but one easily overlooked if one didn't know what exactly to look for. It was actually quite embarrassing that a witch could be so easily enthralled, but then again, this was Petros . . .
Sudden fear drove Cranea to her feet and she chased after Kendra. "WAIT!" Cranea yelled after the young woman, "If those tomes are about what I think they're about then you shouldn't retrieve them un-assisted." Cranea placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Those tomes are vile things, and I don't know how much your father taught you about the arcane, but going up to collect them on your own could be dangerous if handled incorrectly," Cranea said softly, extending her hand to Kendra, "I am very sorry if I seem frightfully rude right now, but you were most precious to Petros, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you while you were under our care. Please, let us err on the side of caution and allow us to retrieve the books for you, I promise that we won't hide what we find if it concerns your father directly."
If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
After the young woman and the dryad had left the room, Drell slumped into his chair with a sigh.
"Ugh. Babysitting. The worst kind of work." He raised a hand to Airyc. "No offence."
"I don't know what you're complaining about. You know what I heard? I heard about a free place to stay for a month, with the promise of some serious coin one month from now. And you know what we have to do? Accept the free room, and then carry books to a school. A school that the bookworm here surely knows like the back of his hand." LeCroix laughed and slapped Drell on the back. "I don't know about you, but this is probably the best mission that Pete ever sent me on."
As Cranea and Kendra begin to off to get the chest, Kledge jumps to follow them "Hold up, I'm sure I can you two out!" And spending time alone with two lovely ladies wouldn't be bad either.
Airyc gave a scoff, "Babysitting?The Professor just put us in charge of watching over the two things that were most important to him. Instead of belly-achin' you should be honored. If you can't handle that, then leave now and I'll keep your share."
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
"Money comes and goes, while honour's just what they give you if they lack the money. It's experience that's important."
His eyes took on a wistful sheen. "See as much of the world as you can, before you die. And I'm lucky enough to keep seeing it after."
"Making sure that the professor's last wish is carried out is the least any of us can do," Valagard declares, giving Drell a pointed half-glare as she shoulders her hammer and moves to follow Cranea, Kendra and Kledge, guided by professional curiosity and the desire to get a good, early look at the ominous chest, if nothing else.
The Half-orc was just a few steps behind Valagard; if this chest was half as dangerous as Cranea made it sound, then as Kendra's new bodyguard it only made sense for him to be there. He decided to leave his axe in the main room, "Make sure that doesn't go anywhere," he called over his shoulder to whomever stayed.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
edited March 2012
Drell smirked at LeCroix and jerked a thumb at the abandoned axe "And now we're babysitting weapons."
LeCroix smiled back. "I'm going to bet the axe can take care of itself. I'm more completely sober, but still less drunk than normal, and I could swear I heard you say you were dead. Not that I'm judging, mind you. I've got nothing against the dead per se. Just need to know if my brains are in danger of being eaten."
GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Suddenly serious, his smile dropped as he shifted uncomfortably. "Well I'm not dead dead obviously. I still need to breath and eat and sleep and whatnot." He waggled his fingers for what he hoped was emphasis.
"And I'm not the other kind of dead either. The professor said it wasn't necromancy but... 'nega-animus'?" Drell's look of confusion matched LeCroix's.
"The professor had a mortician take look at me, who confirmed that, in his words, I'm "dead as a deer in an otyugh pit""
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TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
The discussion between Drell and Lecroix is shortly interrupted, as Kendra (and company) soon return, with a small chest, made of oak in her arms. Though Airyc insisted on carrying it, Kendra merely stated to the Half-Orc that she was well capable of carrying something that wasn't too heavy (not to mention that she would rather carry it personally, what with it being a Lorrimor heirloom of her father's). Its edges are laced in iron - an indication of its sturdy construction. The front of the chest has a small lock; the key on the table bears the same color and workmanship.
She places it on the table and reaches for the key. When she attempts to open it, however, she hesitates; her fingers shake with both excitement and fear. She looks up at you all, before she lowers her head and holds out the key. "Who...any volunteers? I fear I might trigger the trap in this con...condition." she remarks sheepishly...
LeCroix looks around at the others. "Well, I triggered my fair share of traps with the Professor, so at least I have some experience with the consequences." LeCroix takes the key from Cranea, "Here goes nothing." He slowly puts the key in the lock and concentrates on not looking nervous.
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
LeCroix:
Thievery Check: Success!
Kendra steps back, allowing Darius some room to focus. As the Ranger inserts the key, he finds it is a perfect fit. It clicks open without incident. He hears a sudden click, a cacophony of whirrs and clicks as the gears turn, and the chest soon opens. Upon the top of the chest, Darius spies what appears to be a small incendiary trap, designed so as to incinerate all of the contents held in the chest should the lock be tampered, rendering everything useless to the thief. He also spots several old tomes inside; on top lies a relatively new one, and it bears the phrase "READ ME NOW!" in bold letters. Four other tomes could also be seen. Three of these have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to a one Montagnie Crowl.
Kledge Black:
You know Montagnie Crowl is a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
The fourth tome, covered in rich purple containing a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center, has a note indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a famous judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse (although the note in question asks for this delivery in particular to be handled discreetly, and includes an address; most assuredly that of the judge's home).
"Hmm, these are the tomes my father had worked on? They look rather... less... foreboding than what the folks around here kept rattling on about, don't they?" Kendra inquires, confused that people would accuse her father of Necromancy.
Kledge picks up the book with the note and takes it to a chair, where he sits and begins to leaf through it. "I wonder what the antiquities professor wants with those three times."
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited March 2012
As Kledge skims through the book, he is introduced by the familiar handwriting of the late Professor. He soon realizes that this book was Professor Lorrimor's journal. As the Artificer skims through the pages, he finds that they are mostly bland day-to-day activities of his actions throughout the town, yet some entries were circled with red ink. The last entry dated seventeen days ago, on the day of the Professor's death.
Journal Entries:
Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Two Months Ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Kelemvor must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Kelemvor used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
Valagard frowns as she eyes the tomes. "Antiquities professor? Would that be this Montagnie Crowl?" She gives the volume bearing the brass scarab a closer look. "And this one isn't meant to be taken to the University at all? Strange..." The dwarf's voice trails off as she considers this particular tome, wondering if there's any historical significance to it.
"The Whispering Way," Cranea said with a hint of fear in her voice. "That group of necromancers has plagued this realm for ages. Petros told me of them on our travels, but for some reason the memory of those talks . . . slipped my mind until now."
Cranea reaches down into the chest. "It is apparent that the good professor may have met with foul play, we must look through these books to see what is mentioned of the Whispering Way and what plans they may have toward Harrowstone." With that Cranea picked up a book and began to study its pages.
"We must hurry though, whatever Petros was worried about, it seems like it will happen soon. We may have to go out there ourselves tonight."
"'Whispering Way'? Miss Cranea, you are not making..." Suddenly, Valagard falls silent as something appears to dawn on her. "Oh." A slightly flustered blush lends some colour to her pale features. She can imagine what her old teachers would have to say about this – about her, more importantly –, and it certainly wouldn't be something kind.
And so it ends...or does it? Anyway, she's going to join Cranea in picking through the tomes as well if this skill check proves sufficiently enlightening.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Rising from his seat, Drellethenne's brow furrows as he listens to the two women pick through the books.
"Necromancers? 'Plaguing the realm'?" the eladrin interrupted, his voice grave. "'Plans toward Harrowstone'?"
He paused, an excited smile spreading across his face.
"Now that's more like it!"
Airyc gave a sigh, "Our job is to take a book back to the library?" He rolled his eyes and went to go lean against the nearest wall in a position he'd mastered over the years to yield maximum comfort. Really, it wasn't anything to be surprised about, but Airyc was hoping to be guarding something more flashy and treasury than a bunch of old books.
Valagard's reaction caught his attention and he raised an eyebrow, "You've run into these guys before or something?"
Before the dwarf could answer Cranea spoke aloud as she began to look through the books.
"The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in Ustalav for thousands of years." she said matter of factly, "Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. Their most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer."
"The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers—the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about. However, exact details on the society are difficult to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering the release of the Whispering Tyrant. Agents often travel to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts or undead menaces to perform field research or even to capture unique monsters. Their symbol is a gagged skull, and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead."
Cranea shuddered, as if merely speaking about such dark things cast a dark shadow over her soul.
"If they are active here, then they might be up to something at Harrowstone. We should comb through these books quickly to see if there's anything useful, then we should probably investigate the site just in case."
With that, Cranea went back to searching through the books.
If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
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TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited March 2012
Valagard:
History Check: Failure
Nothing comes to mind when you scan the cover of this book. If anything, the book is rather new (give or take a couple of years), so it has no historical significance whatsoever.
Cranea & Valagard:
Arcana Check: Success
Other than what the Dryad has already told you about the Whispering Way, none of the books hold any detail of that sinister cult.
Instead, the books depict a number of topics that are deemed... unethical to the common man. They are as follows:
-On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on the Material Plane that possess remote ties to the Far Realm, a realm that is both alien and lethal to any outsider, regardless of their alignment or intentions.
- Serving Your Hunger: This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the dead goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins.
Passive Religion (Valagard): Urgathoa (ur-guh-THO-uh) was an ancient, utterly amoral, hedonistic goddess, concerned only with satiating her own interests regardless of the consequences for others. She was once a mortal woman full of a thirst for life, and somehow in death she found the strength to tear herself from Kelemvor’s endless line of souls and return to the Material Plane, becoming a divine being and the world’s first undead creature. Her existence is a corruption of the natural order; some say her first divine footprints upon the soil of the Material Plane birthed plague and infection, and the first shadows and wraiths were born of her breath. Nothing is known as to what happened to the ancient goddess, as she has since disappeared into the deep recesses of the Astral Plain. The current god of the Undead is Vecna.
- The Umbral Leaves: This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Torog, the god of pain, torturers and jailers.
Kendra gives a slight yawn, and checks the nearby, artifice-designed clock nearby. "Oh my, An hour past the middle of the night. Have we been awake this long? I fear we might have to continue these discussions on the morrow. As I said before, the Manse and its rooms are available to you, should you accept to stay. Otherwise, there is a nearby Inn should you wish to rest there."
When she heard Cranea's insistence on going to Harrowstone tonight, Kendra almost pales. "Do...do you think its wise to go to Harrowstone at this time of hour? Even IF there are spirits, would the ruins not prove hazardous to your well being. The ruins have been untouched for more than 50 years, yet I would still wager there might be a loose rock or two that's capable of a collapse. Perhaps in the morrow it would be best..."
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"Well we're hardly going to find any ghosts or necromancers when the sun's shining on the place, are we?" Drell gave a morbid grin.
"What she said," the dwarf assents in response to Airyc, frowning as she stares at the scarab tome. She should have some idea of what this is, but she doesn't; that will not do, of course, so she carefully flips it open to take a look at its frontispiece and title page. "It doesn't look like the Way is mentioned in any of these books," she continues eventually, looking through the other ones now, "but they are vile enough on their own. We wouldn't have been able to make those villagers leave so easily if they knew what exactly the professor had been reading, I'm sure – sacred texts, such as they are, dedicated to a dead goddess who is said to have been the first undead being in the world, and to have birthed the first plagues and wraiths besides?" Valagard puts down the tome, dusting off her gloved hands and shaking her head. "As an ordained cleric of Ioun, the conservation of all knowledge is among my prime charges, and there is Petros' last will to consider as well, of course – yet part of me wants to see these things burned, and be done with it."
Another, smaller, darker part of her is strangely intrigued by them, on the other hand, but she doesn't say that aloud.
"I agree with you mistress Valagard, these tomes are horrid things, but I'm sure that the place we are bringing them to has sufficient protection both from the books themselves and those who would want to steal them."
Cranea looked at the same . . . time device Kendra pointed to earlier, setting down her book and approaching it cautiously. She was always entranced by the concept of clock-work devices and their various usages. "So this thing says how late it is? Hm, very well, I guess it would be wiser to inspect the ruins of Harrowstone when it's brighter out."
If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten in your presence.
"Personally, I wouldn't object to our setting out for Harrowstone now," Valagard says truthfully – she isn't one to mind the dark –, "but if the rest of you would rather wait until the morrow, then the morrow it is."
"Well, according to this journal, the our late Professor died while investigating at night. While I agree we should set out soon, I think it best if we waited till the morrow so as to better prepare ourselves for the obvious dangers that we are likely to face. The Professor was quite skilled and something laid him low, least we could do is properly prepare." Kledge states to the group, pointing out the journal entries.
Kledge then spots the clock and drops the journal making his way over to inspect it. "My, the workmanship on this is fantastic! W-would you mind if I inspected it further, I promise to put it back together, and if there are any leftover parts, it will still fully function, I swear!" Maybe i could get it to shout the time I wonder ... nah, shouldn't do that wouldn't want it yelling in the midst of the night ...
Posts
"LeCroix is right, I might be able to figure out what had your father so worried in those books, if your could get them for me." Kledge says to Kendra a couple moments later, still behind a bookshelf, but the sound seemed to come from near the ceiling this time.
"As for what books they were, dear Cranea, I fear I do not know. I heard my Father muttering something about Whispering People, or something about an Undead Eye. I even gasped once when I heard him saying something about a being that hailed from the Far Realm, that most alien of worlds. But he always assured me no harm would come to us. Whenever he was done with them, he would hide them from my sight.."
When Kendra heard Drell's exchange of the matter, she sighs. "I do not know what my Father was doing late at night. When I asked him, he would merely get infuriated, prattle on about Whispering Folk, then go back to his studies, or writing in his journal if he was nervous. I never disturbed him in that state, since I knew he was stressed by something. I always thought it was because he retired. But if I knew he was to befall his fate at Harrowstone, even Father would have had a challenge to leave the Manse. We Lorrimors are known to be stubborn when we're pushed to our limit,s they always say. As for Harrowstone, its a dreadful place. Some burnt out prison that the town was built for some 50 years. The folk here say its haunted by the spirits of the prisoners or some such. I never was really interested in such a place. Its just ironic my Father would die not from such paranormal activity, but by a simple loose statue no one ever would consider impressive..."
LeCroix's cough did not go unnoticed. "Ah yes, Councilman Vashian was supposed to have arrived by now. I wonder where he..." Kendra queries, when suddenly there came knocks from the front door. Kendra, surprised by the knocking, lets out a soft gasp, almost knocking the platter off of the table.
"That must be him. I will be right back. Allow me a moment to greet the Councilman and let him in. If you would excuse me..."
Kendra rushes out of the room, leaving the heroes to their own thoughts...
Valagard:
Kendra's speaking the truth. Harrowstone is a ruined prison— partially destroyed by a fire 50 years ago, the building has stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
As for the rest of the information regarding Harrowstone, you managed to recollect a time when you studied in Ioun's many archives in Caliphas. Apparently, from the century old tomes that were kept in storage, Harrowstone was built 117 years ago. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conf lagration. It was only through the self-sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro. Unfortunately, that was as far as you could possibly remember regarding that occurrence. If anyone should know more of it, its possible someone in Ravengro would know...
He remembered the acid burns all too well from when he tried to dip into the professor's brandy while on watch.
"But before we go breaking into things and chasing whispering eyes and whatnot, we should probably hear what the professor himself wanted done with it."
He raised his eyebrows at the knock, smiling over the top of his glass. "Speak of the devil."
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
It's fun to fail at skills
"Whats a Whispering Eye?"
What the Iounite doesn't mention is that, quite apart from other considerations, she is oddly curious to lay eyes on Harrowstone; she feels almost drawn to it, in a way.
You can regale the tales of what the Professor told you in your travels together. Knowing that your glade to be a safe place to keep secrets, the Professor indulged what he knew of the Whispering Way to your ears only. Whether you had merely forgotten them or perhaps due to the Professor's own arcane abilities, you soon could not remember much of those tales. But Kendra's story suddenly caused you to remember, a single memory come flooding from the deep recesses of your mind...
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in Ustalav for thousands of years.
Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer.
The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers—the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
Exact details on the society are difficult to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering the release of the Whispering Tyrant. Agents often travel to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts or undead menaces to perform field research or even to capture unique monsters. Their symbol is a gagged skull, and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead.
Special: The party gains 600 XP total (100 per PC) for researching everything regarding the Whispering Way (in this Act though)
Drell:
Very little famous death-by-statue incidents have occurred throughout the realm. One such famous (and humorous) tale though, was that of Belaphor the Vile, an Orcus high priest that proclaimed he could not be killed by any man or woman. And for a time, many believed in his self proclaimed prophecy, as no one could best him in battle. This caused him to raid and pillage many cities and churches with little impunity or fear. Of course, that ended when a group of adventurers infiltrated his secret fortress. The fortress was a maze like structure, causing them to get lost within hours. Frustrated by their turn of luck, the warriors of the band let loose their frustrations on a nearby perched obsidian statue, hacking and whacking away at the large gargoyle statue. Soon though, the force of those blows caused the statue to fall over, and crash to the bottom of the floor below them with a sickening splat. Curious, the heroes look over the perch, only to spot the Orcus cultists, as well as one large bloody smear. It seems Belaphor had not die by any man or woman, but by mere accident and happenstance. SInce then, Belaphor's 'crushing' defeat was told by many a bard across the land.
Kendra soon returns to the room, with the portly Councilman you've all met before at the funeral.
Image of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount:
"Ah, you're all gathered, I see." Vashian stands in the doorway to the living room. The frown is in no way concealed, and he looks at all of you with mild disappointment. Even Airyc could see the man did not approve of strangers getting involved in local matters, but thankfully he tried keeping it to himself. He steps up to the table, pulling out a scroll case from his pocket. Professor Lorrimor's seal is unbroken. He shows it to all of you - a gesture of its validity - before he breaks the wax and opens it up.
A small iron key falls out of the case, rattling against the table. Vashian pays it no heed, as he unfurls the scroll and starts to read.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child."
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask."
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans."
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a chest in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause."
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor — please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of twenty five platinum coins, for a grand total of two thousand five hundred gold coins worth. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will."
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4715 of our lord Kelemvor.”
Vashian's expression doesn't change throughout the reading. When he is finished, he looks at Kendra, who nods. "Thank you, Vashian." I ... I can take it from here."
With a curt nod, Vashian leaves, and closes the door behind him before making his way back home. She looks at all of you. Her expression has changed; her eyes are still puffy and the hint of tears are still there but there is a smile. "I...I don't know if I wish to sell the mansion or stay here... but... I will know in a couple of weeks."
"If you... if you stay for the month as my father asked, will you stay here in the mansion with me? We... I have enough rooms for all of you."
Kendra notices the small key. "That... that must be the key to my Father's chest. I...I'll go get the chest. Please think about staying..."
She leaves the living room, leaving you all with time for thoughts.
Sudden fear drove Cranea to her feet and she chased after Kendra. "WAIT!" Cranea yelled after the young woman, "If those tomes are about what I think they're about then you shouldn't retrieve them un-assisted." Cranea placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Those tomes are vile things, and I don't know how much your father taught you about the arcane, but going up to collect them on your own could be dangerous if handled incorrectly," Cranea said softly, extending her hand to Kendra, "I am very sorry if I seem frightfully rude right now, but you were most precious to Petros, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you while you were under our care. Please, let us err on the side of caution and allow us to retrieve the books for you, I promise that we won't hide what we find if it concerns your father directly."
"Ugh. Babysitting. The worst kind of work." He raised a hand to Airyc. "No offence."
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
And spending time alone with two lovely ladies wouldn't be bad either.
His eyes took on a wistful sheen. "See as much of the world as you can, before you die. And I'm lucky enough to keep seeing it after."
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
"And I'm not the other kind of dead either. The professor said it wasn't necromancy but... 'nega-animus'?" Drell's look of confusion matched LeCroix's.
"The professor had a mortician take look at me, who confirmed that, in his words, I'm "dead as a deer in an otyugh pit""
She places it on the table and reaches for the key. When she attempts to open it, however, she hesitates; her fingers shake with both excitement and fear. She looks up at you all, before she lowers her head and holds out the key. "Who...any volunteers? I fear I might trigger the trap in this con...condition." she remarks sheepishly...
...and he crits it. Was there ever any doubt? But seriously, a +4 is the best Thievery skill we have? I'll take a feat to fix that soon.
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Kendra steps back, allowing Darius some room to focus. As the Ranger inserts the key, he finds it is a perfect fit. It clicks open without incident. He hears a sudden click, a cacophony of whirrs and clicks as the gears turn, and the chest soon opens. Upon the top of the chest, Darius spies what appears to be a small incendiary trap, designed so as to incinerate all of the contents held in the chest should the lock be tampered, rendering everything useless to the thief. He also spots several old tomes inside; on top lies a relatively new one, and it bears the phrase "READ ME NOW!" in bold letters. Four other tomes could also be seen. Three of these have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to a one Montagnie Crowl.
Kledge Black:
The fourth tome, covered in rich purple containing a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center, has a note indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a famous judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse (although the note in question asks for this delivery in particular to be handled discreetly, and includes an address; most assuredly that of the judge's home).
"Hmm, these are the tomes my father had worked on? They look rather... less... foreboding than what the folks around here kept rattling on about, don't they?" Kendra inquires, confused that people would accuse her father of Necromancy.
Journal Entries:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Two Months Ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Kelemvor must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Kelemvor used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
So it begins.
Cranea reaches down into the chest. "It is apparent that the good professor may have met with foul play, we must look through these books to see what is mentioned of the Whispering Way and what plans they may have toward Harrowstone." With that Cranea picked up a book and began to study its pages.
"We must hurry though, whatever Petros was worried about, it seems like it will happen soon. We may have to go out there ourselves tonight."
And so it ends...or does it? Anyway, she's going to join Cranea in picking through the tomes as well if this skill check proves sufficiently enlightening.
"Necromancers? 'Plaguing the realm'?" the eladrin interrupted, his voice grave. "'Plans toward Harrowstone'?"
He paused, an excited smile spreading across his face.
"Now that's more like it!"
Valagard's reaction caught his attention and he raised an eyebrow, "You've run into these guys before or something?"
"The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in Ustalav for thousands of years." she said matter of factly, "Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. Their most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer."
"The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers—the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about. However, exact details on the society are difficult to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering the release of the Whispering Tyrant. Agents often travel to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts or undead menaces to perform field research or even to capture unique monsters. Their symbol is a gagged skull, and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead."
Cranea shuddered, as if merely speaking about such dark things cast a dark shadow over her soul.
"If they are active here, then they might be up to something at Harrowstone. We should comb through these books quickly to see if there's anything useful, then we should probably investigate the site just in case."
With that, Cranea went back to searching through the books.
Nothing comes to mind when you scan the cover of this book. If anything, the book is rather new (give or take a couple of years), so it has no historical significance whatsoever.
Cranea & Valagard:
Other than what the Dryad has already told you about the Whispering Way, none of the books hold any detail of that sinister cult.
Instead, the books depict a number of topics that are deemed... unethical to the common man. They are as follows:
-On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on the Material Plane that possess remote ties to the Far Realm, a realm that is both alien and lethal to any outsider, regardless of their alignment or intentions.
- Serving Your Hunger: This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the dead goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins.
Passive Religion (Valagard): Urgathoa (ur-guh-THO-uh) was an ancient, utterly amoral, hedonistic goddess, concerned only with satiating her own interests regardless of the consequences for others. She was once a mortal woman full of a thirst for life, and somehow in death she found the strength to tear herself from Kelemvor’s endless line of souls and return to the Material Plane, becoming a divine being and the world’s first undead creature. Her existence is a corruption of the natural order; some say her first divine footprints upon the soil of the Material Plane birthed plague and infection, and the first shadows and wraiths were born of her breath. Nothing is known as to what happened to the ancient goddess, as she has since disappeared into the deep recesses of the Astral Plain. The current god of the Undead is Vecna.
- The Umbral Leaves: This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Torog, the god of pain, torturers and jailers.
Kendra gives a slight yawn, and checks the nearby, artifice-designed clock nearby. "Oh my, An hour past the middle of the night. Have we been awake this long? I fear we might have to continue these discussions on the morrow. As I said before, the Manse and its rooms are available to you, should you accept to stay. Otherwise, there is a nearby Inn should you wish to rest there."
When she heard Cranea's insistence on going to Harrowstone tonight, Kendra almost pales. "Do...do you think its wise to go to Harrowstone at this time of hour? Even IF there are spirits, would the ruins not prove hazardous to your well being. The ruins have been untouched for more than 50 years, yet I would still wager there might be a loose rock or two that's capable of a collapse. Perhaps in the morrow it would be best..."
Another, smaller, darker part of her is strangely intrigued by them, on the other hand, but she doesn't say that aloud.
Cranea looked at the same . . . time device Kendra pointed to earlier, setting down her book and approaching it cautiously. She was always entranced by the concept of clock-work devices and their various usages. "So this thing says how late it is? Hm, very well, I guess it would be wiser to inspect the ruins of Harrowstone when it's brighter out."
Kledge then spots the clock and drops the journal making his way over to inspect it. "My, the workmanship on this is fantastic! W-would you mind if I inspected it further, I promise to put it back together, and if there are any leftover parts, it will still fully function, I swear!" Maybe i could get it to shout the time I wonder ... nah, shouldn't do that wouldn't want it yelling in the midst of the night ...