The girlmanages to look even paler than before, something of a feat given her makeup, as if the very act of speaking were exhausting her. Nevertheless she persists, slowly sitting up and accepting help from those of you nearest to her to clamber slowly to her feet. She continues her story even as she adjusts her clothing, wincing at cuts and bruises your healing didn't extend to mending.
Her voice is tremulous and her narrative somewhat halting.
"I'm Mika and... Monstrous, yes... Though it was, irony of irony, monstrosity that they accused us of."
She takes a slow, steadying breath.
"They came about a year ago. Maybe a little longer. Took up residence in the Leanin' in Toya's place after she didn't come home from scrounging one week. They were kindly, at first. Quiet but always there to lend a helping hand when some of the residents needed it. They could do things you know, priestly things and... and they had money and food. People started looking to them, you know, and most of us didn't notice which people were doing the looking."
Mika falls into step in the middle of your group, unconsciously huddling close to the middle of your formation and peering with terror at every shadow in the forest.
"We should have noticed, should have seen the looks they gave us. The little comments. The way we were never the ones they helped, we were never invited when they held their little private sermons on the glory of their Pure Lord."
She spits that last part like a curse, but also with an inflection it's clear she's referring to a proper noun, invoking a title.
((Ella, the Pure Lord is the name of a comparatively obscure divine. You were ware of Purifiers, as His priesthood was known in a general fashion but they were fairly rare as the religion was far from widespread. From what your memory dredges up, the Pure Lord's popularity peaked centuries ago when Delving was still primarily a defensive endeavor against the marauding denizens of the upper levels. The Pure Lord's sanctified warriors would lead or join cleansing Delves, often as response or retaliation to raids on the city from below. As the widespread practice of Delving culled the numbers of such marauders, the need for these types of retaliatory or precautionary Delves fell away, and with it the devotion of a fickle populace.))
Horrence you detect no deliberate inconsistencies to her tale, but she speaks quickly and without a great deal of narrative structure. Much of what she says relies on assumed knowledge, or is out of chronological sequence. Whether she is being deliberately confusing or is simply a mildly concussed, terrified and half-starved teenager in the throws of extreme trauma is difficult to discern, though you are inclined to believe her.
As the girl talks Horrence will take the jacket from the travellers clothes bundled up in his pack and drape it across the girls shoulders to give her some extra warmth. It will be too short for her, but he mutters "try to stay warm child" in between her sentences.
He nods as she speaks, trying not to push her too hard, but wanting to prise information out of her as (i assume) we walk back out of the wood.
"Who were they these people? What did they look like? What were their names?"
"We're going to take you somewhere safe, Mika," Ella says at the girl's side, arm round her waist, helping her if she'll allow.To the others, she'll explain, "As I understand it, the Leaning has been taken over by this faction. They had an armed guard outside, none too bright, and the house was far more fortified than you would expect, with bars on some of the windows. They're led by a bald, human man in his forties named Father Shiroq Lumin. He strikes me as smart, dangerous, manipulative. I'm confident every word he said to us was a lie. He doesn't trust the Ear of the People, and seems to have the Tenement under his thumb. He claimed though..." her eyes dart to Mika, and she pauses. "All sorts of things. Mika, I know we're asking you a lot of questions, but I promise we're going to take you somewhere warm, where you can sleep in safety. With good people who'll protect you. I know these questions hurt, but we really need to know - can you tell me, your friends, your sister. When you last saw them, were they alive?"
As she walks, she's going to Channel Divinity - Preserve Life and give Fodd an extra 7 points and Mika an extra 8 points of healing.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As the group walks Ragnor keeps his distance from the poor girl. While he feels deep warmth and care for her he knows that his strengths lie not in expressing it. He stays about 5-10 feet behind the group, nervously expecting to be attacked once more (6 perception for noticing signs of other people being around).
The walk between the trees is slow, the girl moving haltingly over the tangled roots, still unsteady on her feet despite now having been fully restored to health. Mika accepts the jacket, wrapping the clothing about her slim shoulders. She doesn't quite manage a smile, but her eyes offer a flash of silent gratitude before she continues. She answers Horrence's question first, before Ella has a chance to ask hers.
There were three of them, at first. The fa... Shariq did most of the talking. The knight, Lifin she would help out and I think a lot of the folk were impressed. You could tell she'd delved, maybe a lot. The thin one one barely said a word, but a lot of people respected him anyway. He just had this presence, you know? Like a fiddle string stretched taunt?
The edge of the wood approaches, and Ragnor moving backward is able to report no visible sign of pursuit. Mika's voice drops low, almost to a whisper as she delves back through her trauma and recounts the last few nights.
They came for us. Things had been getting bad for a while, really bad. People wouldn't talk to us anymore, would spit when we walked by. Everywhere we went in the tenement, everywhere Tyf's parents or Xaja's went, they'd stare or mutter under their breath. We, Tyf, Xaja, Rika and I were spending almost all of our time out in the treehouse by then. We couldn't stand it anymore, but the others they had to go back and when they did I came with them...
She takes another long, deep, shuddering breath before turning to Ella, her pale cheeks streaked with fresh tears.
They took them as soon as we got back. Just stepped out of the shadows and grabbed them. Our friends, our neighbors, people we'd known all our lives. Grabbing us like we were firewood. Rika's own father doing nothing to stop it even when it meant watching them drag us over what was left of Tyf and Xaja's parents, Rika's mother... There was so much blood...
Interpreting the looks of horror and concern as an invocation to stop talking she continues.
When, when we were being dragged over one of the bodies, one of the two men dragging Tyf he tripped, or stumbled I don't know. Tyf threw the other one to the ground and launched himself at the old man dragging me. Managed to knock him off balance and so I bit him... I bit him and ran. I ran and I left my friends there. Heard them screaming. Heard the sound of Tyf's bones breaking as that horrible man, the quiet one appeared from nowhere and hit him. Just once... Oh Gods, he died for me... they all did...
Ella passes the girl a handkerchief. It’s neatly pressed, and embroidered with silver thread. “You survived for them. You’ve told their story, to people who can help get justice for them. These men we’re with are strong and smart and powerful. They can stop it happening again.” She glances at Horrence, concerning brimming in her, hesitantly asking, “Perhaps enough questions for this evening? Unless there’s something that can’t wait to be told in the sunlight?”
Fodd marches at the head of the party protectively, sword still in hand and shield still half-raised. He can't help but hear Mika's story and his grip on his sword tightens until his knuckles crack.
“Yes, yes, maybe you’re right” say Horrence looking at Ella. He takes off his glasses and gives them a wipe, as he often does when in need of something to fiddle with.
”My dear girl, let us take you to the Delver’s Torch. You will be safe there, and I’m sure we can find you some fresh clothes and a hearty meal. After all you’ve been through it’s the least you deserve!”
Looking around at his companions he says, “Ahhh, erm, young Fodd, you also look like you’ve been in the wars- perhaps we all need a wee rest eh?!”
Fodd straightens his back hearing himself addressed. "I'm fine, honestly Mr Mattiford. If we need to rest, someone should stand guard. We are clearly dealing with dangerous and ruthless foes!" But the thought of returning to the inn and having a hearty meal causes his stomach to betray him, rumbling loudly.
The trees ahead grow thinner and more sparse as you work your way out of the forest-park and back to the familiar city streets of the district. Night still hangs heavily in the air, and most of the shutters in the windows you pass are barred against the darkness, emitting no light. Mika walks with you silently, clutching her meager protection against the night's chill. Her eyes are downcast and her steps, while regular, are tentative and uncertain. Clearly, the trauma she had experienced in recent days has left a deep mark.
The journey back to the Delver's Torch is uneventful, once the last of the trees is behind you. Walking in a tight group, with Mika at the center you present far too dangerous a prospect for even the most desperate footpad. Mika grows agitated and nervous once beyond the trees, constantly cranning her neck in every direction as if expecting the shadows to vomit forth attackers.
The shadows remain blessedly enemy-free and barring the sound of owls hooting along your route, you remain undisturbed all the way to the front door of the Delver's Torch.
With the group starting to reach the door Ragnor swiftly pulls the professor aside and speaks in a hushed tone that only he can hear
"Professor, something in this wood is amiss. The owls normally hoot during the mating season and that ended many full moons ago. I am not sure what this means but either something very sinister is occurring to the nature around us or those are not owls. I am not sure if we can trust anyone outside our party - something... foul is afoot. What do we do?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Horrence looks at Ragnor with a worried confusion. His brow furrows and his lips silently as though he were calculating a difficult equation while he mulls the information.
"An interesting observation my dear Ragnor. I do not doubt your knowledge of these matters and you are right to surmise that either something is troubling the nature around us, or someone is putting up a facade of some sort. I suggest we tread carefully and keep our wits about us. If we do not know who to trust that let us keep the information we have thus far close to our chests. I cannot imagine Joviar being mixed up in something so untoward, but who knows who else will be listening. Keep an eye out for anyone who seems unduly interested in our activities this evening, and I suggest we amend our story to smoke out any conspirators in our midsts."
As they get to the door Horrence will knock and shout "I say Javiar... Elin, Grigar? Do hurry up and let us in, we have the young lady we were so worried about. Nothing untoward, she had simply got herself lost in the woods."
The door to the tavern is opened, first a crack and then all the way as Griga verifies the identity of such late night visitors and then hurriedly beckons you inside. The room is much as you left it, albeit now completely devoid of patrons. Several of the chairs have been lifted up onto the tables, and others are pushed back along the walls. The floor is newly swept, and a mop with its attendant bucket of now filthy water can still be seen resting against kitchen door frame.
Fridi is nowhere in sight, the bar having ceased to offer beverages with the departure of the last patron. Elin however moves to greet you, all smooth motion and concerned elven eyes. He wordlessly beckons you into the room, indicating a circle of armchairs closest to the still flickering hearth fire. Griga takes one look at Mika's pale, bloodless face and at the newly healed battle damage you've all sustained and blanches, sprinting off muttering about tea and blankets.
Joviar, asleep in one of those very arm chairs beside an empty bottle of red wine and a stained glass stirs blearily awake as you approach, blinking large reptilian eyes to clear them of alcohol's lingering haze.
"This cannot bode well..."
He observes somewhat redundantly, indicating the chairs around him with a scaled hand. He shakes his head, as if to clear it and then concentrates for a moment, cocking his head as if listening. His frown deepens to one of true concern.
"There's something dark in the District's air tonight. Some foul whisper. Perhaps more than one. What fresh misery have you stirred?"
His voice tone isn't accusatory, despite the words. He just sounds tired and dispirited, as if the weight of the District's problems had long since brought him to his knees and each crawled step forward is simply a fresh agony.
Mika allows herself to be guided into an overstuffed armchair, sinking into its depths in a manner that makes her small frail form appear even more minute. She gratefully accepts a blanket from Elin, who moves noiselessly to her side and proffers it with a gentle smile. Looking about, she seems somewhat relieved, glancing from the bustling Griga to the smoothly gliding Elin and even to the reposed form of Joviar.
Still aching and buzzing with adrenaline from the fight, Fodd stands guard by the door, leaving the complicated discussion to the other, better informed and smarter adventurers. He stands ready, gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword, and occasionally bending awkwardly to peer out through the key hole.
Fodd, bent almost double in a way that compresses your stomach uncomfortably you press your eye up against the keyhole to try and catch a glimpse outside. Through the narrow and somewhat rusted expanse you a small section of the street outside. With the dead of night resting deep on the District, there is no one immediately about.
(( If you maintain the vigil, could you roll a perception check please? ))
"Thank you, Griga, but I wonder if perhaps some rest, upstairs, is best for our friend Mika here. I'd be happy to cover the fee of a room if you have one free," Ella says, trying to share a meaningful look with the dwarf. "There are only so many grim stories a night should hold."
Ragnor looks over at the battle-worn and clearly anxious Fodd and walks to meet him at the door.
Take a rest son, you've earned it. I'll make sure no one enters.
Ragnor pulls a piece of rope out of his backpack and casts snare in front of the doorway. Satisfied with his trap he sits back down in the corner of the room, leaving the talking to the less misanthropic folk within in the group.
Griga nods repeatedly at Ella, muttering about traumatizing children and ushers a gently but uselessly resisting Mika up the stairs with the practiced hand of a parent. The half-elven girl is unable to muster a smile, but does shoot you a profound look of gratitude, laced with deep and abiding concern for her friends, before disappearing from sight.
Elin raises a single perfectly trimmed eyebrow as Ragnor's snare settles into place before the front door, but says nothing more on the subject. Instead, he disappears into the kitchen only to return with a tray of steaming tea, which he proffers to each of you.
Joviar seems more fully alert now, having gathered himself from sleep's clutches. His eyes narrow as he witnesses Ragnor's incantation and, without further words, he stands and wanders over to the fireplace. Reaching inside, heedless of the flames, he fishes around inside the chimney and emerges, a moment later with a large, soot-blackened hammer. He leans it against the back of his armchair and settles back into place, eyes hard.
I take it enemies walk the district streets?
He asks, almost conversationally but with a hint of steel behind every syllable.
Fodd, your brief vigil at the keyhole doesn't detect any movement out in the dark street beyond. Whether this is due to the short duration of your stay, your lack of darkvision or simply because Joviar is over-reacting and no one lurks in the shadows is a mystery.
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The girl manages to look even paler than before, something of a feat given her makeup, as if the very act of speaking were exhausting her. Nevertheless she persists, slowly sitting up and accepting help from those of you nearest to her to clamber slowly to her feet. She continues her story even as she adjusts her clothing, wincing at cuts and bruises your healing didn't extend to mending.
Her voice is tremulous and her narrative somewhat halting.
She takes a slow, steadying breath.
Mika falls into step in the middle of your group, unconsciously huddling close to the middle of your formation and peering with terror at every shadow in the forest.
She spits that last part like a curse, but also with an inflection it's clear she's referring to a proper noun, invoking a title.
((Ella, the Pure Lord is the name of a comparatively obscure divine. You were ware of Purifiers, as His priesthood was known in a general fashion but they were fairly rare as the religion was far from widespread. From what your memory dredges up, the Pure Lord's popularity peaked centuries ago when Delving was still primarily a defensive endeavor against the marauding denizens of the upper levels. The Pure Lord's sanctified warriors would lead or join cleansing Delves, often as response or retaliation to raids on the city from below. As the widespread practice of Delving culled the numbers of such marauders, the need for these types of retaliatory or precautionary Delves fell away, and with it the devotion of a fickle populace.))
Horrence you detect no deliberate inconsistencies to her tale, but she speaks quickly and without a great deal of narrative structure. Much of what she says relies on assumed knowledge, or is out of chronological sequence. Whether she is being deliberately confusing or is simply a mildly concussed, terrified and half-starved teenager in the throws of extreme trauma is difficult to discern, though you are inclined to believe her.
As the girl talks Horrence will take the jacket from the travellers clothes bundled up in his pack and drape it across the girls shoulders to give her some extra warmth. It will be too short for her, but he mutters "try to stay warm child" in between her sentences.
He nods as she speaks, trying not to push her too hard, but wanting to prise information out of her as (i assume) we walk back out of the wood.
"Who were they these people? What did they look like? What were their names?"
"We're going to take you somewhere safe, Mika," Ella says at the girl's side, arm round her waist, helping her if she'll allow. To the others, she'll explain, "As I understand it, the Leaning has been taken over by this faction. They had an armed guard outside, none too bright, and the house was far more fortified than you would expect, with bars on some of the windows. They're led by a bald, human man in his forties named Father Shiroq Lumin. He strikes me as smart, dangerous, manipulative. I'm confident every word he said to us was a lie. He doesn't trust the Ear of the People, and seems to have the Tenement under his thumb. He claimed though..." her eyes dart to Mika, and she pauses. "All sorts of things. Mika, I know we're asking you a lot of questions, but I promise we're going to take you somewhere warm, where you can sleep in safety. With good people who'll protect you. I know these questions hurt, but we really need to know - can you tell me, your friends, your sister. When you last saw them, were they alive?"
As she walks, she's going to Channel Divinity - Preserve Life and give Fodd an extra 7 points and Mika an extra 8 points of healing.
As the group walks Ragnor keeps his distance from the poor girl. While he feels deep warmth and care for her he knows that his strengths lie not in expressing it. He stays about 5-10 feet behind the group, nervously expecting to be attacked once more (6 perception for noticing signs of other people being around).
The walk between the trees is slow, the girl moving haltingly over the tangled roots, still unsteady on her feet despite now having been fully restored to health. Mika accepts the jacket, wrapping the clothing about her slim shoulders. She doesn't quite manage a smile, but her eyes offer a flash of silent gratitude before she continues. She answers Horrence's question first, before Ella has a chance to ask hers.
The edge of the wood approaches, and Ragnor moving backward is able to report no visible sign of pursuit. Mika's voice drops low, almost to a whisper as she delves back through her trauma and recounts the last few nights.
She takes another long, deep, shuddering breath before turning to Ella, her pale cheeks streaked with fresh tears.
Interpreting the looks of horror and concern as an invocation to stop talking she continues.
Ella passes the girl a handkerchief. It’s neatly pressed, and embroidered with silver thread. “You survived for them. You’ve told their story, to people who can help get justice for them. These men we’re with are strong and smart and powerful. They can stop it happening again.” She glances at Horrence, concerning brimming in her, hesitantly asking, “Perhaps enough questions for this evening? Unless there’s something that can’t wait to be told in the sunlight?”
Fodd marches at the head of the party protectively, sword still in hand and shield still half-raised. He can't help but hear Mika's story and his grip on his sword tightens until his knuckles crack.
“Yes, yes, maybe you’re right” say Horrence looking at Ella. He takes off his glasses and gives them a wipe, as he often does when in need of something to fiddle with.
”My dear girl, let us take you to the Delver’s Torch. You will be safe there, and I’m sure we can find you some fresh clothes and a hearty meal. After all you’ve been through it’s the least you deserve!”
Looking around at his companions he says, “Ahhh, erm, young Fodd, you also look like you’ve been in the wars- perhaps we all need a wee rest eh?!”
I assume we are heading back to the inn?
Fodd straightens his back hearing himself addressed. "I'm fine, honestly Mr Mattiford. If we need to rest, someone should stand guard. We are clearly dealing with dangerous and ruthless foes!" But the thought of returning to the inn and having a hearty meal causes his stomach to betray him, rumbling loudly.
The trees ahead grow thinner and more sparse as you work your way out of the forest-park and back to the familiar city streets of the district. Night still hangs heavily in the air, and most of the shutters in the windows you pass are barred against the darkness, emitting no light. Mika walks with you silently, clutching her meager protection against the night's chill. Her eyes are downcast and her steps, while regular, are tentative and uncertain. Clearly, the trauma she had experienced in recent days has left a deep mark.
The journey back to the Delver's Torch is uneventful, once the last of the trees is behind you. Walking in a tight group, with Mika at the center you present far too dangerous a prospect for even the most desperate footpad. Mika grows agitated and nervous once beyond the trees, constantly cranning her neck in every direction as if expecting the shadows to vomit forth attackers.
The shadows remain blessedly enemy-free and barring the sound of owls hooting along your route, you remain undisturbed all the way to the front door of the Delver's Torch.
With the group starting to reach the door Ragnor swiftly pulls the professor aside and speaks in a hushed tone that only he can hear
"Professor, something in this wood is amiss. The owls normally hoot during the mating season and that ended many full moons ago. I am not sure what this means but either something very sinister is occurring to the nature around us or those are not owls. I am not sure if we can trust anyone outside our party - something... foul is afoot. What do we do?"
Horrence looks at Ragnor with a worried confusion. His brow furrows and his lips silently as though he were calculating a difficult equation while he mulls the information.
"An interesting observation my dear Ragnor. I do not doubt your knowledge of these matters and you are right to surmise that either something is troubling the nature around us, or someone is putting up a facade of some sort. I suggest we tread carefully and keep our wits about us. If we do not know who to trust that let us keep the information we have thus far close to our chests. I cannot imagine Joviar being mixed up in something so untoward, but who knows who else will be listening. Keep an eye out for anyone who seems unduly interested in our activities this evening, and I suggest we amend our story to smoke out any conspirators in our midsts."
As they get to the door Horrence will knock and shout "I say Javiar... Elin, Grigar? Do hurry up and let us in, we have the young lady we were so worried about. Nothing untoward, she had simply got herself lost in the woods."
DM: Deception check if needed for the above: 19
The door to the tavern is opened, first a crack and then all the way as Griga verifies the identity of such late night visitors and then hurriedly beckons you inside. The room is much as you left it, albeit now completely devoid of patrons. Several of the chairs have been lifted up onto the tables, and others are pushed back along the walls. The floor is newly swept, and a mop with its attendant bucket of now filthy water can still be seen resting against kitchen door frame.
Fridi is nowhere in sight, the bar having ceased to offer beverages with the departure of the last patron. Elin however moves to greet you, all smooth motion and concerned elven eyes. He wordlessly beckons you into the room, indicating a circle of armchairs closest to the still flickering hearth fire. Griga takes one look at Mika's pale, bloodless face and at the newly healed battle damage you've all sustained and blanches, sprinting off muttering about tea and blankets.
Joviar, asleep in one of those very arm chairs beside an empty bottle of red wine and a stained glass stirs blearily awake as you approach, blinking large reptilian eyes to clear them of alcohol's lingering haze.
He observes somewhat redundantly, indicating the chairs around him with a scaled hand. He shakes his head, as if to clear it and then concentrates for a moment, cocking his head as if listening. His frown deepens to one of true concern.
His voice tone isn't accusatory, despite the words. He just sounds tired and dispirited, as if the weight of the District's problems had long since brought him to his knees and each crawled step forward is simply a fresh agony.
Mika allows herself to be guided into an overstuffed armchair, sinking into its depths in a manner that makes her small frail form appear even more minute. She gratefully accepts a blanket from Elin, who moves noiselessly to her side and proffers it with a gentle smile. Looking about, she seems somewhat relieved, glancing from the bustling Griga to the smoothly gliding Elin and even to the reposed form of Joviar.
Still aching and buzzing with adrenaline from the fight, Fodd stands guard by the door, leaving the complicated discussion to the other, better informed and smarter adventurers. He stands ready, gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword, and occasionally bending awkwardly to peer out through the key hole.
Fodd, bent almost double in a way that compresses your stomach uncomfortably you press your eye up against the keyhole to try and catch a glimpse outside. Through the narrow and somewhat rusted expanse you a small section of the street outside. With the dead of night resting deep on the District, there is no one immediately about.
(( If you maintain the vigil, could you roll a perception check please? ))
"Thank you, Griga, but I wonder if perhaps some rest, upstairs, is best for our friend Mika here. I'd be happy to cover the fee of a room if you have one free," Ella says, trying to share a meaningful look with the dwarf. "There are only so many grim stories a night should hold."
Ragnor looks over at the battle-worn and clearly anxious Fodd and walks to meet him at the door.
Ragnor pulls a piece of rope out of his backpack and casts snare in front of the doorway. Satisfied with his trap he sits back down in the corner of the room, leaving the talking to the less misanthropic folk within in the group.
Griga nods repeatedly at Ella, muttering about traumatizing children and ushers a gently but uselessly resisting Mika up the stairs with the practiced hand of a parent. The half-elven girl is unable to muster a smile, but does shoot you a profound look of gratitude, laced with deep and abiding concern for her friends, before disappearing from sight.
Elin raises a single perfectly trimmed eyebrow as Ragnor's snare settles into place before the front door, but says nothing more on the subject. Instead, he disappears into the kitchen only to return with a tray of steaming tea, which he proffers to each of you.
Joviar seems more fully alert now, having gathered himself from sleep's clutches. His eyes narrow as he witnesses Ragnor's incantation and, without further words, he stands and wanders over to the fireplace. Reaching inside, heedless of the flames, he fishes around inside the chimney and emerges, a moment later with a large, soot-blackened hammer. He leans it against the back of his armchair and settles back into place, eyes hard.
He asks, almost conversationally but with a hint of steel behind every syllable.
(Sorry, I'm late to this, but I guess I'll roll perception to see if I saw anything before Ragnor's intervention? = 5)
Fodd, your brief vigil at the keyhole doesn't detect any movement out in the dark street beyond. Whether this is due to the short duration of your stay, your lack of darkvision or simply because Joviar is over-reacting and no one lurks in the shadows is a mystery.