Once the Tengu was satisfied that everyone was well enough
to get back to the orc camp, the group began the trudge home, dragging the dead
ankegs and former-orc-commander-turned-corpse with them.
The rest of the night was spent in raucous celebration with
the orc tribe, both in honour of their kills and to mourn the dead from the
hunting party. Magpie made out the best
in the deal, managing to squirrel away and keep the orc leader’s falchion with
no one the wiser. Meanwhile Frelik
smoked the wyvern’s tail he’d salvaged before disappearing until the first rays
of dawn. When later questioned about his
adventures, he couldn’t remember a single thing.
The following dawn found the party mounting up and riding
out for the borders of the hold of Belkzen.
Luck was with the party as they worked their way along the Sunwall,
encountering nothing more dangerous than the rattlesnake that briefly took up
residence in one of Valeria’s boots.
In spite of this trial, Valeria managed to do some exemplary
hunting while they travelled, acquiring an albatross and turkey for the party,
which Yuri used in an old family recipe, cooking his famous succulent albaturk.
Off in the distance to the north, as they crossed what
should have been the border between Blekzen and Ustalav, they noticed a
windowless pillar of black stone rising silent and still on the horizon known
as the Cenotaph. Apparently, during the
reign of the whispering tyrant, the gates to the fortress had stood open,
allowing all manner of elite warriors and warbeasts to pass freely through. Since the tyrant’s defeat the gates had sealed
themselves and no one had been able to re-open them.
Later that evening the group found themselves entering a
tiny Ulstalavian town. A huge monolithic
structure stood about a half-mile outside the sleepy little town. It looked like it had been gutted by a severe
fire.
The sign next to the road declared this the hamlet of
Ravengrow.
A small river ran through centre of the town, splitting it
in two. The town was quiet while still
managing to teem with life. A light rain
started to fall as they passed the town limits and Yuri couldn’t help but
notice that most of the townsfolk seemed to be shooting them nasty looks and
closing their shutters as the party rode by.
In the centre of the town they found the only tavern. A sign hung over the door, depicting a
drunken, laughing demon.
“Ah,” Valeria sighed, “this looks like a fine place to find
a bed out of the rain for the night.”
Glancing around the drab little town, the rest of the party
had no choice but to agree. They entered
the establishment.
As they crossed the threshold, a robust, red-nosed man threw
his arms wide and exclaimed in heavily accented Taldane from behind the bar,
“Ah! Friends! Travellers!
I am Zokar! Welcome! What can we do for you!”
“Food. Rooms.” Valeria grunted, wringing her clothes out
over by the hearth.
“Yes! Come in! Rooms
good! Meals good! Drinks too!”
The innkeeper bawled, “This local specialty, Liquid Ghosts! It’s good, you’ll like it!” He babbled as he grabbed some battered
tankards and began pouring pints from the only tap. The beer was pale and tinted green. Also, it
glowed.
He handed them around with good natured slaps and
winks. Every single member of the party
hesitated, poking at their drinks, unwilling to be the first to try it.
“Made from real ghosts!”
The barkeep chuckled, winking at Olivine before carrying on, “You want
food? We have special: Vampire steaks! Ha! Get it? Steaks!”
The party stared blankly, “Hey,” he shrugged, “you know
where we live? If you can’t laugh at
terror... you die!”
After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Valeria elbowed him
in the ribs and grinned, “I’ll have one of those vampire steaks, extra bloody
if you please.”
The ruddy little man laughed heartily, “We also have corpse
chowder, extra chunky for you!”
“I’ll have some of that,” The bird man replied, smirking,
“I’m feeling a bit... peckish.”
The barkeep let forth a deep belly laugh and patted Magpie
on the shoulder, addressing the group at large, “Zo my friends, what brings you
to Ravengrow?”
“Travelling east, on a delivery errand.” Magpie replied, a
secret smile in his voice.
“Ah, passing through.” He replied sagely and with a little
sadness, “Didnt’ think you’d be coming here.”
“Why?” Valeria frowned.
The man shook his head, “Ever since the prison burnt down,
no one comes to Ravengrow.”
“Was it that big of a tourist attraction?” She asked.
“Lots of executions,” Zokar replied, “many famous murderers
and criminals...” He shook himself, “but
you’re hungry, I’ll get your food now.”
After many more unmentionable puns about the food as Zokar
served them, Valeria finally returned to the point, “So, Zokar, why does no one
come here anymore?”
“Most people do not see the need to travel from Ustalav into
the less civilized parts of the world.” He replied seriously before brightening,
“But you stay here tonight, ya? Very
reasonable prices.” He turned to Yuri, “I’ll
put your wagon and horse in the stables... You look like nice fellow, remind me
of my cousin Yuri.”
Yuri’s eyes flew wide and he grinned, “That’s because I am
your cousin Yuri!”
“Oh!” Zokar bawled, “And how is your mother?”
“Dead.”
“Is she undead?”
“No!”
“Good thing,” Zokar chuckled, “always have to ask here in
Ustalav.”
After much friendly yelling and backslapping the barkeep continued,
“Don’t worry about the locals, they are bit intimidated by strangers, but once
you spend money here they warm up to you.”
He waved a hand at a huge imposing structure across the square, barely
visible through the haze of rain, “That is temple of Pharasma, always good to
pay your respects when travelling in Ustalav.”
From there the rest of the night digressed into the group
drinking more pints of glowing beer as they listened to Zokar tell stories
about the history of Ravengrove. The
town grew up around the prison, known as Harrowstone, burned down around fifty
years previous, killing the warden, his wife and all of the inmates. The general consensus in the town was that
the ruins were haunted by many, many angry, unquiet ghosts, with only the
warden’s spirit standing between the souls of the murderous, lunatic inmates
and the rest of the world.
“Has anyone been up to the prison since the fire?” Valeria
asked.
“Mostly the children of the town play up there, also the odd
scholar who wants to prove/disprove ghost theories.” Zokar replied.
Magpie’s spoon suddenly seemed to leap from his hand, drop
to the floor and zip to the other side of the room. Magpie watched it go and sighed, “Can I have
another spoon, please?”
Zokar frowned, “Where is spoon I gave you?”
“Over there.” Magpie grumbled, pointing to the corner where
his spoon gleamed dully.
Zokar frowned, fetched a new spoon, smacked the bird between
the eyes with it and handed it over.
Zokar spent the rest of the night regaling them with story
after story of the horrors in town, each story trying to one up the next. Most of the group tapped out and went to bed
somewhere around the story about the one-armed werewolf who defended the virgin
mother of the count’s illegitimate child from an entire horde of banshees.
The next morning the group came down to a breakfast of
wolf-balls, eggs sunny side up and black coffee. As they ate, a dishevelled woman pushed her
way into the common room, bee-lining to Zokar where she began to speak and weep
at the same time.
Yuri tuned his ears, catching but a few words of the
conversation, namely ‘Isabelle’ and ‘missing’.
Zokar’s face took on a grim expression and he shook his head
as they continued to converse, denying having seen her.
The woman wept harder, looking outright distraught.
Yuri, thrilled by the sight of an attractive woman other
than Valeria, approached them.
“Oh, Yuri my cousin, this is Marta, she runs the general
store with her husband.” Zokar
explained, giving him a pointed look that told him plainly to keep it in his
pants.
“Hey, I told you, thanks to that cleric, I’m harmless.” Yuri
retorted.
“Don’t give me that, I know you... I raised you.” Zokar
snorted.
Yuri ignored him and smiled at the woman. She looked him up
and down once, “It’s personal matter, one of my girls, Isabelle, has been
missing all night. When people go
missing around here they don’t usually come back.”
“Where was she last seen?” He asked, “How old was she?”
“Fourteen, and some other villagers say their children are
missing too.”
Magpie tried to move towards them, but stumbled over a
random stool.
Yuri tried another smile on the woman, “Are you sure I
cannot be of help?”
She sighed, “Well, anything you could do we would
appreciate.”
Yuri frowned, “Did she like to play near the prison.”
“We told them not to go, but they are children.” She shrugged.
“What about the other children, do their parents know where
they’ve gone?” Valeria asked.
The woman shook her head, “Not really.”
“We will help you find them.” Yuri promised gravely.
A brief check around town revealed that four children were
missing: Isabelle, a slender blonde, Rorik, a portly red-headed boy, Wendell, a
thin pale boy, and Gerty, a plain, dark-haired girl.
Valeria set to tracking at once, scouring around the edges
of the village looking for signs of the children while Magpie and Yuri made
inquiries, quickly discovering that the group of children had gone to spend the
night in the haunted remains of Harrowstone.
Armed with that knowledge it was much easier to find their
tracks.
As the group made ready to head out Zokar stopped them,
“Hold on, are you really going to Harrowstone?” He asked.
“Yes.” Yuri replied.
“It... It really is haunted.” The inn-keeper said, “Maybe you should see
the priests first; stock up on holy supplies before going?”
“Oh yeah... good idea.” Davros agreed.
So they headed for the temple of Pharasma first, Akura
grumbling some rather blasphemous words in the background the whole time.
The church of Pharasma was a very well-kept building,
probably the best-kept in town, boasting plenty of stained glass. The group was met at the door by an ancient
priest who introduced himself as Voron Grimboro.
“What brings you to the most holy house of the lady of the
graves?” He asked somberly, obviously deadly serious about what he did for a
living.
“We’re heading to the prison to search for the town’s
missing children,” Akura explained, “we would like Pharasma’s help and blessing
before we go.”
“You are entering the prison?” The priest asked, gaze
settling briefly on Akura, “If you are truly here to help the town then
Pharasma gives her blessing, these are spirals of Pharasma,” He offered a
handful of swirling medallions.
Akura took them and bowed, handing them out to the group.
“We also have a few potions and oils if you need... as well
as vials of holy water.” The priest
offered.
The party wasted no time stocking up on stuff they might
need.
Once they were done they headed out towards the tower,
trudging through the miserable drizzle.
On top of a barren hill south of the city sat the walled
complex. To the southeast the wall had
long ago collapsed into a pool of water.
Inside the walls stood a massive two-story stone structure, looming
evilly out of the mist.
An old wood and metal gate sagged between a pair of stone
guard towers hanging wide open. Valeria
followed the children’s footprints through the open gate, shivering
uncontrollably as she passed the threshold.
The rest of the group followed her in, experiencing nothing.
A small brick house, its wooden roof sagging ominously,
stood in the courtyard between the wall and the main structure. The tracks led to the main building.
The group peeked through the windows of the warden’s house
first, but it looked like any disturbance would cause the place to collapse.
“It’s not worth going in, there’s nothing in there.” Magpie
stated surely, kicking the structure and walking away. A good section of the wall fell, landing
where the bird man had just been standing.
With a disappointed
little sigh Valeria led the way through the main doors of the ominous, two
story stone structure, ignoring the missing roof sections, barred windows and evil
gargoyles.
The first room was clearly once a large hall with a smaller
room on either side. The beams overhead
sagged quite a bit. The oaken doors on
the other side of the room were in eerily good shape, almost as though
something supernatural were holding them together.
Magpie steeled his courage and pushed open the doors,
following the children’s footprints.
And into the belly of the beast they went.
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