Ella, your glance upwards reveals a cloudy sky with only the occasional star visible here and there. Though you cannot see it, some sixth sense inherited from your Goddess unerringly directs your gaze to the patch of dark sky where clouds obscure the waxing gibbous moon. Your whispered prayer releases a trickle of divine power, the evocation flowing into Horrence with the faintest pulse of moonglow.
In the dark, you can discern little of the features of the man before you but your experienced healer's gaze is sufficient to read posture and gait. The man is tense, every muscle corded with stress and, if your judgement is correct, in some pain.
Fodd, with exaggerated care born of a lifetime of clumsiness you manage to pick your way through the roots for a few moments before Ragnor's torch flares into life, casting firelight about the forest. The flickering torch dispels the darkness immediately around you, but casts shadows in every direction. Rather than an enveloping wall of blackness around you, there are now a hundred pools where the torch light doesn't reach,. quivering in time with the flames at the top of the brand.
You reach out with your [Tooltip Not Found] attempting to detect the presence of being of pure evil. You sense nothing, but with the trees providing complete concealing cover in every direction, this could mean little.
Ragnor, stepping into the forested park you allow your senses to flow out from you in silent communion with the plants and animals in the immediate vicinity. It is not a conscious thing, nor a magical one. You simply calm your mind and empty it, allowing the rhythms of natural life to flow over your consciousness. At first you sense nothing unusual. The sounds of a forest in the evening hours as they should be, the rustle of air through the trees and the clicking of insects proceeding as you would expect. Yet after a few moments, a pattern emerges in your awareness. A gap or diminishment of the sound in an easterly direction, as if a part of the forest were emptier than expected. Your sense of the land suggests, with ominous predictability, that the unnaturally quiet glade lies in the precise direction of the treehouse.
Running her hands over her arms, where hairs have raised in the dark night air, almost as if she could dampen the fizz of divine magic by the physical action, Ella calls out to the man. "Bles... Good evening, sir. This is the home of the little ones Xaja, Tyf and Rika, I think? The Ear of the People has sent us to help with the search. I don't think I'm amiss in saying you need some help, don't you sir?"
Ragnor tenses slightly as he senses they might find more than just an empty treehouse. "Corryn. Fodd. We must move swiftly but with caution. The trees are telling me that something is amiss up ahead. Be sure you are prepared for battle."
A thrill of fear and excitement rushes through Fodd on hearing Ragnor’s words. Without hesitating he hefts his battered shield over his torch arm, draws his slightly bent short sword and steps protectively in front of his companions.
”Whatever danger we face, I will not falter!” he says, he voice barely breaking at all, then marches forward as fast as he dares on the treacherous footing.
At Ragnor's invocation, you feel a low almost sub-audible growl vibrate through your very souls. Somehow, every footfall you place begins to unconciously avoid the dry leaf, the brittle branch or the mud of long memory. Guided by some third instinct, your steps become silent and unremarked, leaving less trace than the weakest of breezes. Instinctively, you all sense that should you wish to, your bodies would naturally hug the shadows to move forward in near total stealth.
Fodd, moving forward, your shield raised and your shortsword clutched in meaty hand, you are the first to cross the invisible threshold. From one step to the next, you go from nervous to gripped in utter, mind-numbing terror. Pure fear assails you. Not the localized, specific fear of any given threat but a kind of panopticon of dread, battering your mind from every side. Your deep seeded, animal instincts rise up, attempting to usurp control and send you fleeing back the way you came.
Ragnor and Corryn you see Fodd suddenly go pale as a sheet, but are unable to stop yourselves taking the extra step and suddenly you too are buffeted by feelings of purest terror.
(( Wisdom saves against frightened please everyone.))
Ella, the man cocks his head slowly to the side at your greeting and question, his features still largely hidden to your human eyes. There is a long, uncomfortable pause which drags on for so long that you believe he may not have heard you, though your speech was perfectly audible. Finally, just as you might be considering speaking once more, he replies in a low voice dripping with the crude consonants and abbreviations of the working underclass.
"S'nothing can be done for em. The pointy eared half-breed has those kids and if they ain't dead, more's the pity for em. You tell that lizard Ear of yours his help ain't welcome in the Leanin' no more, and neither are his jumped up flunkies. "
He concludes the speech by spitting loudly off to the side and even in the darkness you can feel his furious, fevered gaze burning into you.
Horrence looks the man up and down briefly trying to assess whether or not he might be a threat (DM- not sure if you want insight 14 or perception - that minus 2).
with a quick nod behind him to reassure Ella, he steps forward toward the figure, peering at him over the top of his glasses and says:
"Yes, ahhh, as the young lady says, we are looking for signs of where the young ones might have disappeared to, and we understand one of their friends may be of assistance. Now, if, as my friend here says, you are in discomfort I'm sure we can do something to aid you, but I would dearly appreciate it if you were to let us pass, as this is a matter of some urgency. There's a good fellow, what?!"
Horrence looks aghast at the mans statement and explains: "My dear fellow, I'll have you know that I have served this community for over three centuries, and I not intend to stop now. We are here because we care about the children and want to see them returned to their worried mothers and fathers. Now, the predicament you suggest sounds deeply troubling, and so I would be grateful if you were to stop with the cryptic nonsense and tell us what you know about their whereabouts."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Well aware that prolonged pain can cause some folk to retreat into misery, and others to retreat into rage, Ella glances briefly around as Horrence speaks, squinting into the candlelit rooms of the tenement and straining her ears for the footsteps or breath of anyone else approaching through the street.
Horrence, as you step up closer to the man you are able to discern more of his features. He's of early middle years, with the wiry, whipcord physique of a laborer for whom every second meal is a question mark. His clothing isn't particularly dirty, but neither is it in great repair. A homespun cotton shirt beneath a tunic sewn from two clearly mismatched pieces of fabric, atop common brown britches. The club on his belt is, on closer inspection, new and of reasonable quality. A length of polished wood tapering toward a leather wrapped grip from a larger end bearing three nasty looking spikes. Your instant assessment is that the man knows how to handle himself in a bar fight or street brawl, but likely more from a hard life of questionable company than from any formal martial training or innate genius.
His initial reaction of dismissive rage wilts only slightly as you step up to him. Being confronted by an irate old-timer two thirds his size appears to scramble temporarily what cognitive processes he has at his disposal. His face cycles briefly through anger, contrition, confusion, then back to anger with a brief sojourn at fury before finally settling on relief as his brain finally produces the solution arrived at for centuries by those with a simple job when confronted with unexpected complexity.
"You wanna gab about our dead kids? Ain't my problem, but you sure as spikes ain't comin' in to poke your noses around."
He takes two steps back and bangs on the door in a sequence of five irregular knocks with the handle of his club.
"Oi, tell the Father some of the Ear's minions are here about Xaja's lot."
He then turns around to glare at you both, clearly unwilling to be engaged in further conversation now that he's elevated the problem above his own head.
Ella, you glance about but discern no one approaching via any of the alleys around you, nor down the street on which you stand. All is quiet. From where you're standing on the street, the candle-lit windows of the tenement reveal little but grubby and cracked ceilings and the occasional close line pole extended out beyond the window, though none of these appear to be bear clothes at present.
After about six minutes of waiting, the left of the two tenement double doors opens and a man emerges to join you and the guard on the street before the tenement. A shorter than average man of slight build, he wears a simple homespun robe with a lowered hood in undyed fabric, bound by a belt of corded rope. A human in his mid-forties, he is completely bald, and indeed appears hairless, smooth skin marking where eyebrows would normally lie. He has a wide, generous mouth and sad, watery eyes. As he passes, he whispers a word of encouragement to the amateur door guard, laying a hand on his shoulder. The guard smiles broadly in response and stands a bit straighter, affecting an air of vigilant watchfulness in every direction.
The man approaches you and greets you with a sad smile.
"Forgive us, please. The tenement mourns our recent losses and emotions are frayed beyond bearing. We do not offer the welcome we should. My name is Shiroq Lumin, though some in the Leaning insist on calling me Father. I am truly sorry that you have made your way across the district only to be greeted with a harsh welcome, and news that your help has arrived too late. Yet I'm afraid I can offer little else. Tif, Little Rika and Xaja are dead, and their parents are insensible with grief. I cannot permit them to be disturbed, even by those with the best of intentions. "
Upon hearing Shiroq speak Horrence’s can feel his heart breaking. His mind flicks back to his own children and the sense of loss and grief overwhelms him. His brow furrows and he shakes his head, trying to figure out how so much misery can be inflicting the place he loves to dear. He turns over the logic in his head, unable to accept the words with which he has been confronted. With a sigh of confusion he says,
”My dear fellow, I too have felt the pain of losing a child. It is a suffering that no one should have to bear. I am sure you are only seeking to protect those whom you care for, but how can you be certain it is too late- surely there must be a chance they still live? If so we must hurry, and if not, then whoever did this unspeakable deed must pay the price.”
Insight check to see if he is lying about the kids fate and the reason he is not letting us in: 7
Poorly suppressing a gasp of surprise at Horrence's admission, Ella speaks quickly to try and cover the sound and reassure the man simultaneously. "I can assure you Mister Lumin. We have no intention of causing further distress to the families of the children. Quite the opposite. Look at us - we're not gossips, we're not threats. But we're not powerless either. And if the children have passed on, surely there is logic in leaning on others who may perhaps prevent further little ones disappearing."
((DM: Do we recognise him at all?))
Ella's also insight checking the **** out of this bloke : 25
Father Shiroq Lumin listens to Horrence's appeal in silence, nodding sympathetically but with a helpless air until the last sentence, at which point his soft runny eyes appear to sharpen with renewed focus. Horrence, you struggle to get a read on him. You have known men who looked and spoke as he does throughout your long life, and they could be kind or cruel, generous or avaricious. Certainly the man appears fully earnest about his reluctance to have you disturb his tenement community.
He then turns to you, Ella and listens with the same patience. Once more, you detect a palpable intensifying of attention as you describe yourself as not being powerless and your potential as allies in preventing this tragedy happening again.
I can see your desire to help us is genuine, and as you both say there is still the matter of justice and prevention to consider. Now that we are alerted to the danger we can defend our own, but how many others out there might fall victim? I very much wish therefore that I could invite you within, but it is simply out of the question. The parents, you understand?
He pauses for a moment, face a lament for his impotence in being able to assist you. Then he says,
Perhaps a compromise that meets your needs but protects the victims relatives? I have spoken to each of them for hours, to hear their grief and between their tales and those of the other residents who do me the honor of confiding within me their knowledge and fears, I believe I could provide you a fuller picture of what happened here than any. A picture colored by grief, but not utterly obscured by it.
Ella, as he speaks you regard him carefully, reading what you can of his expression and posture in the poor light. Like a painting hanging askew at the smallest angle, he triggers your unease and suspicion for reasons you can't define. You have, even in your young life, spent more time around the grieving than anyone could be asked to. You have seen the dead and dying, and those who are forced to carry on. Certainly all the noises being made here today match up with those, and you can identify no single reason the hairs on the back of your neck yearn to stand and your palms itch, but something about the words of the man before you is raising your hackles.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"That would be wonderful," Ella says, trying her best to fake a smile ((Deception check = 11)). "Our companions are expecting us to return very soon, so why don't you just tell us the essentials, so we don't disturb anyone. We understand that there is some suspicion over a half-elf mage called Mika. Why don't you tell us what we need to know about her, and why you think the children are dead, and then we'll be on our way?"
Purest terror rises like a tide around you, swelling until it is a tsunami poised to crash against the levy walls of your psyches. It assails each of you with fears dredged up from your subconscious, filling the night with impossible monsters amalgamating phobias known and unknown. For a moment, paralysis and flight seem the only options, your knees trembling with the desire to turn and flee.
Fodd and Ragnor, each of you cast off the onslaught. Somehow, your minds pile sandbags against the breaches in the curtain walls around your psyches and the visions, the horror, the heart-stopping terror, recedes. One foot in front of the other, you advance until suddenly the terror is gone.
Ragnor, as you pass out of the terror you spot three small figurines. Dolls of twigs really, lying against the base of trees facing outward into the zone where the fear consumed you.
Perhaps sixty feet ahead, right at the edge of your darkvision, the trees thin somewhat and you can see the outline of the glade where stands the treehouse.
Horrence, still somewhat lost in thoughts of his own loss, says:
"I understand you are simply trying to protect these families, and as my companion says, we would welcome any light you can bring to bear on the situation. Yet, if I may at least give my condolences to their parents before we leave, and offer what little I have left to aid them, I would be most grateful. We will not delay them long."
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== Ella and Horrence ==
Ella, your glance upwards reveals a cloudy sky with only the occasional star visible here and there. Though you cannot see it, some sixth sense inherited from your Goddess unerringly directs your gaze to the patch of dark sky where clouds obscure the waxing gibbous moon. Your whispered prayer releases a trickle of divine power, the evocation flowing into Horrence with the faintest pulse of moonglow.
In the dark, you can discern little of the features of the man before you but your experienced healer's gaze is sufficient to read posture and gait. The man is tense, every muscle corded with stress and, if your judgement is correct, in some pain.
== Ragnor, Fodd and Corryn ==
Fodd, with exaggerated care born of a lifetime of clumsiness you manage to pick your way through the roots for a few moments before Ragnor's torch flares into life, casting firelight about the forest. The flickering torch dispels the darkness immediately around you, but casts shadows in every direction. Rather than an enveloping wall of blackness around you, there are now a hundred pools where the torch light doesn't reach,. quivering in time with the flames at the top of the brand.
You reach out with your [Tooltip Not Found] attempting to detect the presence of being of pure evil. You sense nothing, but with the trees providing complete concealing cover in every direction, this could mean little.
Ragnor, stepping into the forested park you allow your senses to flow out from you in silent communion with the plants and animals in the immediate vicinity. It is not a conscious thing, nor a magical one. You simply calm your mind and empty it, allowing the rhythms of natural life to flow over your consciousness. At first you sense nothing unusual. The sounds of a forest in the evening hours as they should be, the rustle of air through the trees and the clicking of insects proceeding as you would expect. Yet after a few moments, a pattern emerges in your awareness. A gap or diminishment of the sound in an easterly direction, as if a part of the forest were emptier than expected. Your sense of the land suggests, with ominous predictability, that the unnaturally quiet glade lies in the precise direction of the treehouse.
Running her hands over her arms, where hairs have raised in the dark night air, almost as if she could dampen the fizz of divine magic by the physical action, Ella calls out to the man. "Bles... Good evening, sir. This is the home of the little ones Xaja, Tyf and Rika, I think? The Ear of the People has sent us to help with the search. I don't think I'm amiss in saying you need some help, don't you sir?"
Ragnor tenses slightly as he senses they might find more than just an empty treehouse. "Corryn. Fodd. We must move swiftly but with caution. The trees are telling me that something is amiss up ahead. Be sure you are prepared for battle."
Ragnor withdraws his scimitar and shield and then casts Pass Without Trace
A thrill of fear and excitement rushes through Fodd on hearing Ragnor’s words. Without hesitating he hefts his battered shield over his torch arm, draws his slightly bent short sword and steps protectively in front of his companions.
”Whatever danger we face, I will not falter!” he says, he voice barely breaking at all, then marches forward as fast as he dares on the treacherous footing.
Ragnor follows, roughly 5 feet behind. He moves slowly and quietly, listening for any signs of danger.
== Ragnor, Fodd and Corryn ==
At Ragnor's invocation, you feel a low almost sub-audible growl vibrate through your very souls. Somehow, every footfall you place begins to unconciously avoid the dry leaf, the brittle branch or the mud of long memory. Guided by some third instinct, your steps become silent and unremarked, leaving less trace than the weakest of breezes. Instinctively, you all sense that should you wish to, your bodies would naturally hug the shadows to move forward in near total stealth.
Fodd, moving forward, your shield raised and your shortsword clutched in meaty hand, you are the first to cross the invisible threshold. From one step to the next, you go from nervous to gripped in utter, mind-numbing terror. Pure fear assails you. Not the localized, specific fear of any given threat but a kind of panopticon of dread, battering your mind from every side. Your deep seeded, animal instincts rise up, attempting to usurp control and send you fleeing back the way you came.
Ragnor and Corryn you see Fodd suddenly go pale as a sheet, but are unable to stop yourselves taking the extra step and suddenly you too are buffeted by feelings of purest terror.
(( Wisdom saves against frightened please everyone.))
== Ella and Horrence ==
Ella, the man cocks his head slowly to the side at your greeting and question, his features still largely hidden to your human eyes. There is a long, uncomfortable pause which drags on for so long that you believe he may not have heard you, though your speech was perfectly audible. Finally, just as you might be considering speaking once more, he replies in a low voice dripping with the crude consonants and abbreviations of the working underclass.
He concludes the speech by spitting loudly off to the side and even in the darkness you can feel his furious, fevered gaze burning into you.
10
Horrence looks the man up and down briefly trying to assess whether or not he might be a threat (DM- not sure if you want insight 14 or perception - that minus 2).
with a quick nod behind him to reassure Ella, he steps forward toward the figure, peering at him over the top of his glasses and says:
"Yes, ahhh, as the young lady says, we are looking for signs of where the young ones might have disappeared to, and we understand one of their friends may be of assistance. Now, if, as my friend here says, you are in discomfort I'm sure we can do something to aid you, but I would dearly appreciate it if you were to let us pass, as this is a matter of some urgency. There's a good fellow, what?!"
(Persuasion check: 5 plus guidance: 1)
(Following on as DM post came at same time)
Horrence looks aghast at the mans statement and explains: "My dear fellow, I'll have you know that I have served this community for over three centuries, and I not intend to stop now. We are here because we care about the children and want to see them returned to their worried mothers and fathers. Now, the predicament you suggest sounds deeply troubling, and so I would be grateful if you were to stop with the cryptic nonsense and tell us what you know about their whereabouts."
(If you want it, intimidation check: 17)
Well aware that prolonged pain can cause some folk to retreat into misery, and others to retreat into rage, Ella glances briefly around as Horrence speaks, squinting into the candlelit rooms of the tenement and straining her ears for the footsteps or breath of anyone else approaching through the street.
Perception check = 6
Horrence, as you step up closer to the man you are able to discern more of his features. He's of early middle years, with the wiry, whipcord physique of a laborer for whom every second meal is a question mark. His clothing isn't particularly dirty, but neither is it in great repair. A homespun cotton shirt beneath a tunic sewn from two clearly mismatched pieces of fabric, atop common brown britches. The club on his belt is, on closer inspection, new and of reasonable quality. A length of polished wood tapering toward a leather wrapped grip from a larger end bearing three nasty looking spikes. Your instant assessment is that the man knows how to handle himself in a bar fight or street brawl, but likely more from a hard life of questionable company than from any formal martial training or innate genius.
His initial reaction of dismissive rage wilts only slightly as you step up to him. Being confronted by an irate old-timer two thirds his size appears to scramble temporarily what cognitive processes he has at his disposal. His face cycles briefly through anger, contrition, confusion, then back to anger with a brief sojourn at fury before finally settling on relief as his brain finally produces the solution arrived at for centuries by those with a simple job when confronted with unexpected complexity.
He takes two steps back and bangs on the door in a sequence of five irregular knocks with the handle of his club.
He then turns around to glare at you both, clearly unwilling to be engaged in further conversation now that he's elevated the problem above his own head.
Ella, you glance about but discern no one approaching via any of the alleys around you, nor down the street on which you stand. All is quiet. From where you're standing on the street, the candle-lit windows of the tenement reveal little but grubby and cracked ceilings and the occasional close line pole extended out beyond the window, though none of these appear to be bear clothes at present.
After about six minutes of waiting, the left of the two tenement double doors opens and a man emerges to join you and the guard on the street before the tenement. A shorter than average man of slight build, he wears a simple homespun robe with a lowered hood in undyed fabric, bound by a belt of corded rope. A human in his mid-forties, he is completely bald, and indeed appears hairless, smooth skin marking where eyebrows would normally lie. He has a wide, generous mouth and sad, watery eyes. As he passes, he whispers a word of encouragement to the amateur door guard, laying a hand on his shoulder. The guard smiles broadly in response and stands a bit straighter, affecting an air of vigilant watchfulness in every direction.
The man approaches you and greets you with a sad smile.
== Ella and Horrence ==
(Wis save = 14 for Fodd)
Upon hearing Shiroq speak Horrence’s can feel his heart breaking. His mind flicks back to his own children and the sense of loss and grief overwhelms him. His brow furrows and he shakes his head, trying to figure out how so much misery can be inflicting the place he loves to dear. He turns over the logic in his head, unable to accept the words with which he has been confronted. With a sigh of confusion he says,
”My dear fellow, I too have felt the pain of losing a child. It is a suffering that no one should have to bear. I am sure you are only seeking to protect those whom you care for, but how can you be certain it is too late- surely there must be a chance they still live? If so we must hurry, and if not, then whoever did this unspeakable deed must pay the price.”
Insight check to see if he is lying about the kids fate and the reason he is not letting us in: 7
Poorly suppressing a gasp of surprise at Horrence's admission, Ella speaks quickly to try and cover the sound and reassure the man simultaneously. "I can assure you Mister Lumin. We have no intention of causing further distress to the families of the children. Quite the opposite. Look at us - we're not gossips, we're not threats. But we're not powerless either. And if the children have passed on, surely there is logic in leaning on others who may perhaps prevent further little ones disappearing."
((DM: Do we recognise him at all?))
Ella's also insight checking the **** out of this bloke : 25
== Ella and Horrence ==
Father Shiroq Lumin listens to Horrence's appeal in silence, nodding sympathetically but with a helpless air until the last sentence, at which point his soft runny eyes appear to sharpen with renewed focus. Horrence, you struggle to get a read on him. You have known men who looked and spoke as he does throughout your long life, and they could be kind or cruel, generous or avaricious. Certainly the man appears fully earnest about his reluctance to have you disturb his tenement community.
He then turns to you, Ella and listens with the same patience. Once more, you detect a palpable intensifying of attention as you describe yourself as not being powerless and your potential as allies in preventing this tragedy happening again.
He pauses for a moment, face a lament for his impotence in being able to assist you. Then he says,
Ella, as he speaks you regard him carefully, reading what you can of his expression and posture in the poor light. Like a painting hanging askew at the smallest angle, he triggers your unease and suspicion for reasons you can't define. You have, even in your young life, spent more time around the grieving than anyone could be asked to. You have seen the dead and dying, and those who are forced to carry on. Certainly all the noises being made here today match up with those, and you can identify no single reason the hairs on the back of your neck yearn to stand and your palms itch, but something about the words of the man before you is raising your hackles.
"That would be wonderful," Ella says, trying her best to fake a smile ((Deception check = 11)). "Our companions are expecting us to return very soon, so why don't you just tell us the essentials, so we don't disturb anyone. We understand that there is some suspicion over a half-elf mage called Mika. Why don't you tell us what we need to know about her, and why you think the children are dead, and then we'll be on our way?"
== Corryn, Fodd and Ragnor ==
Purest terror rises like a tide around you, swelling until it is a tsunami poised to crash against the levy walls of your psyches. It assails each of you with fears dredged up from your subconscious, filling the night with impossible monsters amalgamating phobias known and unknown. For a moment, paralysis and flight seem the only options, your knees trembling with the desire to turn and flee.
Fodd and Ragnor, each of you cast off the onslaught. Somehow, your minds pile sandbags against the breaches in the curtain walls around your psyches and the visions, the horror, the heart-stopping terror, recedes. One foot in front of the other, you advance until suddenly the terror is gone.
Ragnor, as you pass out of the terror you spot three small figurines. Dolls of twigs really, lying against the base of trees facing outward into the zone where the fear consumed you.
Perhaps sixty feet ahead, right at the edge of your darkvision, the trees thin somewhat and you can see the outline of the glade where stands the treehouse.
Horrence, still somewhat lost in thoughts of his own loss, says:
"I understand you are simply trying to protect these families, and as my companion says, we would welcome any light you can bring to bear on the situation. Yet, if I may at least give my condolences to their parents before we leave, and offer what little I have left to aid them, I would be most grateful. We will not delay them long."