Hidden 1 yr ago Post by rivaan
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Kosara
Tiefling, Warlock (Celestial), Level 03
HP: 13/ 21 Armor Class: 12(15 Mage Armor) Conditions: N/A
Location: Town’s Square (F16->G12)
Action: Use Sacred Flame on Cavendish(6 Radiant Damage/ DC15 Dex)
Bonus Action: N/a
Reaction: N/a

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To Kosara it appeared that by choosing to guard the right side of the cage and facing the unseen dangers of rats in trees armed with crossbows that for the record really really hurt and were rather pointy, she was missing on the action some, given the nature of the shouts and things being heard from the other side of the cage where the rest of the group was apparently tussling down with Cavendish… actually that might have been a wrong word for it, but Kosara cared not. She heard Daisy proclaim the bars finally giving way and it was quite right they did! People were already getting out of the cage so that was good, time to get back into the action.” Great!” She exclaimed as she spun on a heel and making her away nimbly between the flames and Daisy, barely noting the heat on her left side as she did so. To her quite right surprise she heard Kathryn exclaim that to quote ‘He’s down’ and ‘to get him’.

Now, Kosara was many things, but somebody who could ignore the comically suitable situation, the irony and the hilarity of it all was not one of them. She through the people and the distance saw Kathryn standing by and over a Cavendish that was wrapped in a net on the ground, the others moving over to him to give him a suitable kicking him while he was down retaliation for all the evils, stupidity and baseless accusation he was slinging around… also probably for being evil wererat that was apparently turning people in town into more wererats… One thing at a time, Kosara’s mind could process only so many focuses at once.” Ha!” She exclaimed in borderline unholy( or maybe holy) glee at the sight. She really wanted to be over there and give him a good kick or two between the legs as grandpa taught her, but she was away and there were more dangers and she chose to stay at the square just in case the civilians needed help here. Cavendish was a bit hard to hit with a Celestial blast right now, but Kosara had her ways.

“Sacred Flame!” She shouted as the golden radiant energies focused on her before rocketing into the air and descending down onto Cavendish’s prone form like a beam of radiant light.

@Sigil tagged!
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Sigil Literary Hatchetman

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Big, roaring flames continued with their same intensity from its sticky, aromatic positions within barrels or spilled haphazardly across the cobblestones of the Township's center. Lighting conditions remained the same from recent moments; light bright enough to pick out detail around the cobblestones, with contrasting darkness as one enters the trees surrounding them. Past the sudden rustle of leaves upon the ground a few seconds prior, the area seemed quiet.

This quiet, such as it was, stood relative to the dull roar of flames and sounds of both physical and magical combat occurring in the best illuminated portion of the battleground, as well as the labored breathing, occasional jeers, and issuances of pain from the people fighting thereabouts. In short, while nothing could be casually heard from the darkness of the foliage, there were reasons why this perception could be inaccurate.

Cavendish was not having a great night. He maintained his wererat form, but he was damaged in several places physically, not to mention the psychic damage foisted upon him throughout their fight. Undead rats still clung to him, maintaining attacks upon his form that were pointless to cause actual damage but did what they might to distract. He was on his feet, if wobbly and covered by a partially damaged net. One hand still clung to a broad hunting dagger, though his main maintained his shortsword. He might yet be able to cut free with one good slash. The fight wasn't over.

It wasn't even over when a cloud of radiant fire settled around him. How he was able to maneuver himself out of the way of the descending plumes of OUCH was beyond his capability to fully understand, but maneuver he did. Unfortunately, this meant that no radiant flamey stuff affected his hempen bindings, either. He was pissed. In addition to this, he was starting to look worried.

Daisy, Lea, and two other townsfolk filed out of the cage, with lots of assistance among themselves. Daisy didn't quite know what to think of the last exchange she had with their potential saviors, but that part of it was done and she was getting getting the other non-combatants away from the fight with help from her coworker, Lea. The path they had chosen was the same one as Cecily, Beppo, and the Fisherman, even though it brought them clear across the square. It might have been notable that Daisy retained possession of Baronfjord's sword. She was not advertising this fact.

At this point, all of the prisoners had vacated their cages and were either moving to exit the area or were long gone.



New Round


@Arty Fox Baronfjørd - Time to kick the round off.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Arty Fox
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Baronfjørd "Blackberry" Chedgusah
Dragon Born, Monk (Astral self), Level 03
HP: 9 / 24 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: C12
Action: Punch (Hit: 14, Dmg: n/a)
Bonus Action: Punch (Hit: 15, Dmg: n/a)
Reaction: N/A
Ki: 0/3
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They were so close, he just knew it! BlackBerry watched Cavendish over the top of his fist as the grotesque shape of the man, wrapped in the rat-corpse filled netting, wobbled uncertainly on his feet. The others in the group had moved forward as well to concentrate upon the ruffian; to his left Victoria and Marita, apparently charging through the fire, had arrived brandishing their own weapons and magics.

At Lady Kathryns order he wasted no time and began his attack. BlackBerry lashed out with an attack, a fiery limb surged forward over the mass of rats in front of him and collided with a small ‘crunch’ and a ‘squeak’.

He had hit a rat caught in the netting! The damn ruffian’s feverish wriggling attempts to cut himself free with his shortsword had worked to his advantage, and BlackBerry’s blow had done nothing apparently.

Biting down on the the annoyance, Blaclberry fired off another attack that hit with a ‘pop’. The limb came back and revealed he had hit yet another one of the rats! The little corpse bouncing and taunting him from the netting.

“Stand still and take a hit.” He ordered furiously.

Fire rocketed in from behind only to also miss. If they could just get one or two more hits in this whole tirade would be over.
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@sigil ready for guard 1 to lend a hand and kill off Cavendish plz :)
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Guard 1
Location: ??
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Crickets. In the distance, crickets could be heard chirping. Granted, nowhere near the ongoing fight; there was simply too much in the way of crackling fire and shouts from most of the parties involved, but the crickets which were not so close to the battle were singing their song to the foggy, full-mooned night. Most importantly, wherever Guard 1 is and whatever he's up to, the crickets don't seem to care very much.

<chirp chirp>

<chirp chirp>

<chirp chirp>



@Dragoknighte Marita is up. Good luck.
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Marita Bärbel
Human, Cleric, Level 3
HP: 13/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: Concentration - Shield of Faith, Inspiration (1->0)
Location: C10->B11
Action: Attack: Cavendish
Bonus Action: Spiritual weapon (-A?10, Attack: Cavendish)
Reaction: N/A
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Thanks to Kathryn's timely net usage, they finally had the Constable pinned down to where they could beat him to a pulp. At least in theory. Despite his extremely vulnerable position, he somehow managed to remain as slippery as ever. Perhap it was a side effect of his pact with the dark powers. Or maybe he was just so much of a slimy coward that he could slip out of the grip of Wee Jas herself, at least for awhile. She would see to it that he did not evade Hell any longer.

Marita ran through the rats and brought her mace down on from on high, aiming to cave his head in. During this brief moment they both made eye contact. In his cold eyes she saw anger that he was in such a predicament in the first place, desperation to be free and yet that same smug sense of self-superiority he had carried with him since they first met at the town gates not 2 days prior. Conversely, what the constable was met with was a gaze of contempt for the small rodent at her feet, fury that was colder than the bitter autumn rain, but above all else: Judgment. The light of the flames in that moment reflected more brightly from her mace than any point in the battlefield, as if giving her strike the boon from her god to vanquish the twisted abuser of the law before her. And as she brought down her mace to mete justice, Cavendish managed to roll out of the way. He had managed to buy himself that much more time to potentially turn this battle back around.

Is what he might have thought before he suddenly found himself unable to breathe. The spiritual dagger had struck just after her mace and planted itself directly into his trachea. The warlock struggled and writhed, spitting up blood and burbling as blood spilled from the wound in his neck, but he was unable to do anything about his imminent demise. Marita stood up and stared at him, looking rather unsatisfied despite landing the finishing blow. It was then that for the first time she spoke directly to the Constable.

Nis khach nis chasks uzosk kamnim.

The infernal tongue dropped with the weight of a curse rather than a mortal's sentence. Almost as if it carried the same kind of divine authority as her magic. After her first and final words to the crooked lawman, he finally stopped his struggling and lay still, eyes open and cold like a marketplace fish. All in all it was a rather anti-climatic end for one with such grand ambitions as him, but Marita didn't let her guard down just yet. All the visible threats had been dealt with, but there was still the massive mystery at hand of the guardsmen and what exactly was going on with them.



Infernal translation: Burn in the Nine Hells forever.

@Sigil Victoria's turn if combat's still going
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Weather: Tiny sprinkles of near-frozen precipitation reflected the fire like thousands of tumbling pinpricks of light, visible through the omnipresent fog, disappearing long before they reach the ground. The air seems milder here, however. The warmth of exertion and unchecked fire might play a role in this, however. There is barely any wind now, as if the Township itself holds a nervous breath in, unsure if it is safe to exhale.

Time: Nighttime. The night was yet young when this fight began so it couldn't have progressed very far, but it feels much later.

Ambience: The white noise of crackling fire played as the dominant sound of the battleground. Blood was still hot under one's skin from the battle, hammering in the ears of the combatants as the only competition to the fire's constant murmuring. If there was any saving grace to the environment, it was that there was plenty of warmth and light about - at least among the cobblestones. Blood, breath, and fire took the majority of one's perception, and adrenaline hadn't yet calmed enough for the wounded to feel the full brunt of their injuries.

*****



Blood poured from Cavendish's throat. He seemed more surprised about it than anything else. This turned quickly to shock as he lost strength in his legs and collapsed to the ground. The net still covered him, damaged though it was, but most of the undead rats which had covered him had already succumbed to other attacks from the group, collateral damage soaked by disposable puppets. With the life draining from the creature who had once been a respected enforcer of Law, those remaining ceased their actions.

There was still life, in the most temporary of meanings, left in the Constable. His hands grasped impotently at the chiefest of wounds which had downed him, as if futilely attempting to keep the blood within his neck; the impulsive actions of a man who did not wish to leave the living world just yet. Cavendish could not maintain his hybrid rat form any longer. He was too close to his own demise. This offered him a last look upon the world with human eyes, which teared up in a swirl of emotions. Maybe regret was one of them. None but he could say, and he wasn't speaking.

Not that Cavendish wasn't trying to speak. He most assuredly was, but only the most gruesome of wet consonants could bubble through the blood which seeped from his lips and down the sides of his face.

"Yes. We did have a deal," spoke a deep, resonant voice in the Common tongue. It did not originate from any one place, seeming to echo within the minds of those present as much as from any tangible location. "I have honored our deal. You will honor it, too." An encompassing darkness fell over the town square, blotting out the firelight but keeping precious, clear illumination over the unfolding scene. Time might as well have stopped, except for the grotesque and inevitable passing of the Constable. "You have accomplished most of my latest task. I grant that you did try. You paid with your life for the attempt. I might not be cross about this, except that your death was caused as much by your arrogance as your task."

Cavendish weakly held one hand up, motioning as if to complete a somatic component for a spell. Or maybe a wordless supplication for help. The disembodied voice responded, "We still have an agreement, yes. You have paid your portion of service with your life. Now..." A sense of wrongness permeated the rapidly thickening air around the Constable, "You will continue to repay your debt with your soul." It was not menacing of tone, nor retributive, nor even with a hint of sarcasm. The voice was calm. Respectful. Blunt, businesslike, but not particularly cruel. "I would have given you more earthly tasks to perform. In time, I still might. For now, I claim what is mine."

Tendrils of inky, necrotic blackness rose from the ground. What rats remained in the area scattered, leaving only the dead in their wake. The undead ones ceased to function, dropping to their sides or simply collapsing under the weight of their overly damaged bodies, now that animation left them. The liquid-black wisps were confined to the immediate area of Cavendish's mortal form, undulating briefly as they attained their full height of approximately three feet, before straightening, and lashing down the fallen Warlock. They pulled his wrists and ankles out as far as they would go and bound his torso immovably, like a man being staked out to die, but did not stop there. Every place that one of them touched him began to decay. It was rapid. A few seconds at most. Cavendish regained his ability to vocalize now, and he did, screaming with tortuous wails of putrefying agony. As his flesh melted away and muscles turned to maggot-ridden sludge, he kept screaming. When the fleshy parts of him fully disintegrated and he was left as a sticky skeleton, he kept screaming. It wasn't until his bones became pulverized matter that the noise faded, and even then, psychic echos continued for a moment more. All that was left of the Constable was a pile of clothes, equipment, dust, and a few scraps of bone. Some phalanges and a moderate amount of his skull were still recognizable as such.

The darkness lifted a little. One could tell a distinct, lightening gradient, but only up to a point. Then the voice came again. "Your minds and souls are fresh. Even a little naive, except for one of you. Perhaps two. Potentially quite capable, if mentored properly. I would entertain an arrangement." It paused, allowing whatever emotions to process among the group before continuing, "I have peered into you all, far enough to know that such an arrangement would be better for you than opposition. Even indirect opposition."

"Priestess, who struck the final blow - you have older loyalties that would appreciate being reacquainted; entities with whom I might communicate. The sizeable warrior fled responsibility of clan and community for the illusion of safety, leaving nefarious things to fill the vacuum left behind. Those once friendly turned opportunist and you became a liability to them. If only they knew where you've been, now deprived of your protector. Devil-spawn, you draw your power from a creature you call family, but who manipulated you away from your home for its own purposes. It can be easily erased from this world if I so chose. Sylvan-blooded, do you think these people would tolerate you if they knew what you were, or why you are trying to amass power for yourself? And the crippled Dragonfolk - I know what resides in your nightmares. It hasn't forgotten about you. It never will." The voice, as it went from speaking about one person to the next, was still heard by all present.

"It took you long enough, but you have tasted victory this night. You will be hailed as heroes, for now. I shall give you time to consider an arrangement. You would receive answers you need and fix problems you face. And yes, there is power to be taken. It would be preferable to accept this offer before the World Born Dead takes notice. For now, enjoy the rest of your festival." The voice faded away at its last sentence. The prevailing light of the area was restored, and the great pause that overtook the area lifted. The fog was less oppressive, thinning to something more reasonable for the temperature and season. A previously unnoticed weight was cast from the Township. Even the flaming tree was a little cheerier to behold.

The burning carcasses of the Wererat Abominations, however, could not be helped. The stench of their smoldering husks was remarkable.

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Kosara
Tiefling, Warlock (Celestial), Level 03
HP: 13/ 21 Armor Class: 12(15 Mage Armor) Conditions: N/A
Location: Town’s Square
Action: N/a
Bonus Action: N/a
Reaction: N/a

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Twas done! Evil Cloverwish guy was defeated by the combined efforts of the party present and apparently finished off by the grand and mighty Marita and her demonic finishing words. After all the stupidity, evil plans and possibly endangering the entire town, he was laying on the ground, cursed blood pooling underneath his slack form. Kosara was a bit far to hear the wet sounds coming out of him, but she saw him and his final moments… and then something off happened as darkness and evil voices descended… or ascended or side stepped or just appeared. Who the hell knew, but in any case, Kosara looked around in alarm at the spooky voice that was now monologing.

At least evil monologues were revealing that this was Cavendish’s patron… Which put Kosara on alert and made her very very twitchy in her looking around in alert and then the screams started and Kosara’s already strained mind from her experiecnes earlier just went into full panic and preservation state, the white tiefling pressing her hands to her ear in desperate attempts to silence the throes of absolute torment that were happening to their recent enemy, but it wasn’t enough… She couldn’t suppress the screams, no, they tore into her psyche like a hot knife through butter, borderline snapping the cords of her mind in the process as she fell onto her knees and curled up, still trying to silence it all.

As the screams finally ended, Kosara’s poor mind was still reeling from the experience. The entity… the presence spoke to her and in that one crucial point where she’d just break… her mind realigned as it had done a number of times before. Terror and psychological trauma pushed down, hidden beneath the layers of her cheerful childish self, everything ignored as a means of her own mind to protect itself from remembering her traumas or facing things she wish not recall. And like that as the voice faded and the town was freed of it’s unknown weight and presence, the entity was entirely erased from Kosara’s mind, hidden down in with the rest of the worst trauma triggers from tonight. She blinked a few times, stood up in confusion and looked around.

Conclusions reached from what info her mind was piecing together again, she brightened up and cheerfully jumped up and down, her long white braid swinging around as she did, singing a funny tune.” VICTORY!” She proclaimed loudly, golden sword pointed upwards. Night might not have been over, but the current battle was!
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Kathryn Pyke
Human, Battle Master, Level 03
HP: 15 / 31 Armor Class: 19
Conditions: N/A
Location: Town Square
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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To Kathryn's surprise, the net had actually worked. She had full intentions of taking advantage of the constables restrained state. Hoping to unleash heavy punishment to the constable, she began to draw her new hammer. It was hard to think of it as hers, but she was now responsible for making sure it was no longer used for malicious purposes. So she figured that made it hers. By the time the shaft had cleared her belt, the deed had been done by the party's Cleric. Cavendish found himself choking at the party's hand and powerless to stop it. Marita had taken a magical spiritual blade, and had opened up the constable like a piece of meat. Kathryn watched. Not in horror, nor with sympathy or malice. This was not the justice she had in mind for the constable, but with his evil deeds, it was still justice. She did wonder how the Sheriff would take the party killing his cousin. And, this would likely be the end of the biggest problems this quiet little town would face. "Conniving Bastard." Kathryn mumbled as he choked.

She almost regretted opening her mouth not long after. When the voice spoke, Kathryn froze. She felt small in her ill fitting armor, as if she was shrinking, and the weight of all of the metal threatened to crush her. There was no outward Malice, but the tone held a sort of... undertone to it. As if every word was a threat and promise. As if saying, you do not want me as your enemy. You do not want me to show what I do to people who are not my friends. Kathryn had seen some pretty gruesome events. The razing of her home ranking high up there. But even the cruel fate that many in her family keep saw failed to compare to what she saw now. The way Cavendish seemed to rot away before their eyes, experiencing all of it. What she was witnessing, was a fate that seemed far worse than death. The way his flesh melted from his bones, eroded to dust, and broke down to be one with the dirt between the stones.

Then... The offer came. A potential arrangement. There was nothing such a creature of evil could offer Kathryn that she couldn't either get herself, or would be worth siding with something so... Vile. The thought of Cavendish passing through her mind. His corruption to the monster he became. She would never want to live a life such as that. That would be too much for her. But... she still found herself listening. Listening to the words this being spoke. She couldn't get them out of her head. She wasn't weak willed?! And she wasn't desperate for anything! She hoped... There were... temptations though. The way it brought up Ser Lucas. And those who had stabbed her and her family in the back. Last time they came... She had a fortress, knights, veterans of a hundred battles to protect her. Magic far past her comprehension even. She had her parents who spent their lives to buy her time to flee. Her uncle who fought to fend off those who would pillage her home. She had Ser Lucas, and the other veterans of many wars by her side. And Ser Lucas, being by her side until mere weeks ago. Fallen only to time itself. There were those from the Codswealth family who could care less of her state. And others who would gladly take her head. Some for petty revenge, others to make sure there was no contesting the ownership of her family lands. She remembered the mercenaries Ser Lucas had fought. One of them being the previous owner of the armor she wore now shy of her old colors. The ill fitting, body filled husk of metal. One of the few things that make her feel safe, and sick at the same time. She was still scared. Not as much as she used to be, but the thoughts lingered. It had been nearly two years since any sign of tracking had been seen. And so much distance was covered. But two years was nothing compared to the time she had fled. And the distance was nothing compared to how far she had come. What could this vile creature offer that had any chance to improve her situation, or to lessen her fear? She had almost responded such a question, when she noticed Kosara.

She was on the ground, scared. Kathryn moved to assist her friend, but found herself unsure what to do. What terrified her even more... Was how quickly the tiefling bounced back. As if nothing seemed to have happened. It made Kathryn worry about how much Kosara was pushing down. "Are you okay Kosara? That looked... upsetting." She took a moment to pause, and looked at the rest of the party with a worrying gaze. One thankfully not visible through the visor of her helm. She rested the hammer on the ground, shaft up, blunt end resting comfortably on the stone. She unstrapped her shield, and attached it to her belt. And began work on her helm. The dented, scratched, and beaten mess of steel putting up a fight again. But it was off before too long. She looked at the rest of the party, now wonder on her face. They had banded together, rather messily, and defeated the evil over the town. But there were still questions to be answered. Some old, some only coming to light in the last few moments. She wondered how many others considered this power. How many thought that their abilities were not up to the par they needed them to be. How many of them were considering that extra kick to get what they wanted. And in that curiosity, there was concern. Firstly, becyause she worried who would take that offer. And secondly, because she was considering it. A chance to hurt the Codswealth's like they hurt her. For stealing her home, taking her family away from her. For refusing her a life outside of that of fear, and worry. Everything had been taken from her, except an old man who had spent his dying years trying to hold out a little bit longer in a slim hope to prepare her for the real world. With no hope to ever return home. Let alone restore her family name.

"I think we need to take a moment, an enjoy this victory." She spoke softly to the party. "Even if things are a bit... weird. This is a good win. Afterwards, we should sit down and talk over a few things." She needed to know where the party stood on the patron. She needed to know what they meant by those deep words. The ones that cut into her, like how they likely cut into the other members. And they needed to figure out the last few puzzle pieces to this mystery. There were still missing people. There were still the goblins. Even if they were only a minor piece. There was what Cavendish said about the beasts. Kathryn turned to the closest one, the one Cavendish had stabbed and killed. She was trying to figure out what the constable meant by the creature being familiar. She took a couple steps, her steel clad feet landing on the ground with thoughtful intent. As she stepped closer, she couldn't place it. She couldn't put her thumb on it. She looked down on the burning husk, and couldn't place what the constable meant. Was it some sort of mind fuck he had presented to the party as a distraction? With her hands free, she grabbed an arm from the beast with both of hers, and began to drag it out of the inferno. She had to drop it a couple times to avoid getting burned herself. "Including these." Kathryn said with a strained voice with a final tug, pulling the creature free of the flame. And jumping back to avoid the loose burning tar like substance that aimed to catch her feet.

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Sigil Literary Hatchetman

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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Township Square
Action: Skill Check (Arcana x2)
Bonus Action: .
Reaction: N/A
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Almost totally bereft of spellcasting ability and having fully tapped out her Bardic abilities, Victoria did not want to get into another fight so soon. Hence, when the voice reverberated through her brain without actually speaking, her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. The words cut into her, speaking just enough truth to cut to her center while still allowing her plausible deniability if questioned about it later. Naturally, she assumed that everyone had heard the words spoken about her, as she had heard the whispers of everyone else's secrets. Or hints of secrets. And of course, the reference toward promises of things fixed, problems handled, etc., even if it also came with a threat lurking nearby. She did what she did for her own reasons, neither righteous nor ignoble in nature, and she would harm no one that she did not absolutely have to to ensure that her goal was met. But this? A contract with an unknown entity that just casually destroyed one of its own acolytes? And what was the payment for the boons offered?

The truth was, Victoria was tempted. She already toyed with forces that many found abhorrent (unless they needed something), and had been exposed to many stories about people given choices like this. Admittedly, it usually didn't work out for the mortal in the end. But, if such a person was very clever or was able to bargain back out with something the entity in question wanted even more, they might walk away with a scrap more power, completely off the hook. But therein led to a different sort of problem for Victoria. She had once jumped into a poor decision, and this became a focal point in her life, around which everything following took heavy and direct influence. No, she just couldn't. There was still time to handle it on her own.

The mental decision against it was followed swiftly by a sudden, sharp sensation in her midsection, like a sharpened hand of ice gripped her entrails and drove her to her knees. Maybe it was a coincidence. Then again, is was equally likely that she was a Bugbear alchemist. It left as quickly as it came, prompting Victoria to wonder if this was indeed related and not an unsubtle reminder of the wounds she received during the fight. So she picked herself up, barely registering the anguished call from Kosara yet responding with a glance and nod when she recovered.

Victoria rose, surveying their surroundings. It felt like everything was over for now, but she knew full well that there were at least two more armed wererats out there someplace and she was not in the best condition to fend them off. The situation hinted that they had run off to save their own hides. Right then it would be an acceptable outcome, if potentially temporary. As Kathryn pulled the smouldering body out of the fire, it was met with a flare-up of the pitch fire. This tiny increase of light extended Victoria's vision just enough to make out a lumpy shape sitting to one side of the short road leading to the Municipal building. It was a fleeting moment, but enough to pique the Bard's curiosity. "I'll just be a moment," she said absently.

A couple of steps brought her to the dusty remains of Cavendish, who happened to be in her way to her actual destination. She knelt carefully and snatched up a rhombus-shaped shard of the late Constable's bony remains and slipped it into a pouch. She might boast an interesting collection, given time and opportunity. But this wasn't her overall goal. Studied steps brought Victoria to the edge of the light, leaving only her outline visible to those back in the square proper. She went to one knee, opting for a quick stand if necessary, and set her sword down in easy reach while she inspected her find.

"Knapsack?" she said softly and with surprise. A "A nice one, too." She unbuckled the main section and looked inside. It contained books, mostly, as if the owner attended a large city's institute of higher learning. She gingerly slid one out and opened it with caution. What dim light there was allowed gave way to a revelation. Rituals. These were rituals. Skimming a few pages, Victoria was delighted to see that she understood some of them. In an mostly academic way, but she could process some of the information reliably. "Later, when it's safe," she whispered. There were a few more things in here; ritual materials and inks, chalk, etc., but most of this mundane when compared to the knowledge inside of the books. This piqued the most studious of her curiosities. Victoria pocketed some of the sundries but lifted the knapsack up, recovered her sword, and returned to the rest of the group.

"Our adversary was a learned man, else he was attempting to become one," he started, attempting as optimistic a voice as she was capable. There was no sense adding to the situational weight if she could help it, and morale was one of her profession's bailiwicks. "He likely also planned for an expedient getaway, given that this was packed up and ready to go, closer than reasonably nearby." She smiled, giving a look around at her recent associates (all of whom were still alive, if in various states of disrepair) and the flaming carnage around them. "I believe this qualifies as our act of altruism for the season," she continued, her voice light and noncommittal as if speaking with humor in mind. "But permit me my point of selfishness, if you would please? I so enjoy quality leather, like this ...ridiculously well crafted knapsack." It was an accurate description. It looked like the kind of container designed to keep spellbooks safe, quite possibly because it was designed for the purpose. "Also, I can make use of the knowledge inside, I am quite certain. Whatever clues we may glean from these materials, I intend to retain them. It is my sincerest hope that we might puzzle out a little bit more than we now know; I could not place another wiggly, asymmetrical piece upon the table, myself." She supposed it was due in part to her excitement at her find. Nobody was perfect, after all. Not even her, regardless of the positive opinion she might have for herself. Her history had definitely revealed that to her, reminders of which crept up daily. Her flaws, however, did not extend to the physical, noted by the dappling of Wererat Abomination fueled firelight across her delicate but hardset half-sylvan features, an expression of excitement and genuine curiosity making her eyes sparkle and face flush. Victoria picked up one of the books to give it a better look in the more favorable light, skimming a page or two. Then she reminded herself, "Later, later." They were not in a good place for academic perusal - yet.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Arty Fox
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Arty Fox

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Baronfjørd "Blackberry" Chedgusah
Dragon Born, Monk (Astral self), Level 03

HP: 9 / 24 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A

Location: Township Square

Action: N/A

Bonus Action: N/A

Reaction: N/A

Ki: 0/3



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Fear and horror brought his mind to a crashing halt. Silence descended upon BlackBerry, his eyes frantically tracing across the ground at the meagre remains, the belongings, and last traces of Cavendish.

Then Voice, that awful, terrible voice, speaking from everywhere and nowhere at once then continued. He had tried to trace it but had been left spinning, wildly glancing without any success into the surrounding walls of darkness that had descended upon them all. The voice had spoken awful truths of the others, he didn’t have to guess hard as to who was who in the voices monologue.

BlackBerry felt his heart stopped when The Voice referred, quite obviously to him. The words held no real threat or information but only confirmed with terrifying clarity what he always feared. He stopped breathing.

“It hasn't forgotten about you.” The Voice explained.

His eyes locked into the far, far distance. His eyes locked onto the Thing pulling him away from the present and deep into the darkness of memory.

“It never will.” The Voice promised.

Its Still Here. It still hungers.

Kosara’s screams swiftly followed by almost horrifying optimism broke him from his horror induced trance. Fingers first began tap, tap, tapping against his thumb. He then gave a quiet but sudden gasp as if he had been held underwater for too long. Immediately he clamped his mouth shut to against the smells of soot and burning flesh, so acrid it almost stung the back of his throat.

“What in all the hells was that?” His voice shook.

Breathe in through the nose. Breathe out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. He managed to hold fast against the waves crashing inside memories.

Lady Kathryn appeared to have been the first of them all to get her bearings back and he watched with some admiration as she promptly got to work trying to drag one of the grotesque bodies away from the flames. In his mind Lady Kathryn absolutely had the right idea to get something productive done now and worry about the horrifyng ramifications of what they had just seen and heard later.

“Yes.” His smile wavered at the edges. “I suppose we should but …ah aha well I think you might all forgive me if I bow out of any barbecues. Does anyone have someone to deal with the fire, by chance?”

Blackberry stepped forwards a little closer to the pile of cloth and bone despite the fear. A dead man was a dead man after all, and without further need of any worldly possessions. He allowed Victoria the first pick of spoils and noted with some surprise that she plucked a bone from the pile. He wasn’t certain he wanted to know what she had planned for it. There wasn’t too much else to the remains that BlackBerry could find as he gingerly sifted through them with the tips of his fingers, searching for anything that might be a clue. He kept the astral limbs up and ready for any more attacks that might arrive.

The task gave his mind space to hunt through The Voice’s offer. It seemed to be the usual affair of offering for a service, but to what? The words ‘World Born Dead’ rattled in his skull but met no answer for the moment. Perhaps some peace and a bit of space would give him time to think better and discuss with the others. The idea was…tempting. He was already scraping the bottom of the barrel on leads and people who would or even could help. He found nothing of obvious note to him in the pile other than a dire warning.

BlackBerry turned away from the pile and instead focused on the short-sword that had drifted his way at the end of the fight, at the end of Cavendish. It gleamed, almost flickering itself in the firelight and reminding him that he was unarmed again. A quick check confirmed that the hostage he had given his own short-sword to was no longer in sight which he could only be slightly annoyed at. He let out a little ‘huff’ but resigned himself to picking up the short-sword deciding it better than to remain unarmed right now.

The short-sword was in much better condition than his own old, dented, and sometimes blunt one had bean. The crimson leather of the hilt was smooth and tight, the metal shone and when tilted on its side revealed a razor sharp edge. It was a viscous sword, and had likely been in service for quite sometime with the evil man before him, but with it in hand BlackBerry felt at least a little more sure of himself. He made a mental note to inspect it a bit more later when there was time for it.

“One would doubt that Cavendish has little to say on the matter. He shan’t be using it again at the very least, and there appears to not be much else left save dust, bones and possibly a trinket or two.” He shrugged as Victoria laid claim to the back she had found past the battle field. “Unless the ah…being, or what have you, has any ‘Earthly Tasks’ for the ruffian sooner than we should hope or even expect.”

“For now though, it would appear we are to be left to our own devices.” He paused a moment, eyes still resting upon the remains of Cavendish. He gave the short-sword a testing swing. “For now at least, unless anyone has eyes on those other guards? I for one haven’t seen hide nor hair of them since the battle began.”

Fire. Battle. Death. It would be a lot to explain to anyone else watching or even the rest of the town as to what had just happened.

“Would it perhaps be too much or even somewhat crass to hope they had been in the trees?” He sheathed the short-sword, pleasantly surprised to find it slotted into the sheathe almost perfectly. “Do you need a hand at all Lady Kathryn? Or anyone else at all? How are we all?”

There were many other question he wanted to ask.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Dragoknighte

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Marita Bärbel
Human, Cleric, Level 3
HP: 13/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: None
Location: Avonshire Town Center
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A
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The sudden onset of darkness set Marita on edge. She as well as everyone else was too worn out to deal with much more in combat, let alone any great powers of evil that may have decided to disgrace the township with their presence. Fortunately for them, it did not appear that it had a corporeal form with which to threaten them, but this brought into clarity for Marita how out of their depth they were at the moment. However, one other point stuck out to her from the final conversation Cavendish had with his patron, that he had mostly accomplished what he had been trying to do, and that was still the biggest pain point in her understanding of the situation: just what exactly was the constable trying to do over the past few months? If she couldn't figure it out, chances were that the next mortal this being managed to manipulate into doing its bidding would be able to finish it without much difficulty, which could spell disaster.

That said, Marita watched on as Cavendish rapidly rotted and melted away. It was a grisly sight, but she had seen more than her fair share of carnage, the more offputting aspect of the destruction of Cavendish was how disgusting it had been. Perhaps she should have been expecting it given the nature of lycanthropy being spread along with the the filth that the flesh abominations arose from, but the sight of flesh turning to maggot-ridden sludge made her stomach churn more than the screams of anguish or tendrils of darkness.

Marita's body tensed up when the voice turned its attention to the party. Catching the attention of such an entity could only bring trouble upon their heads, and she had had more than enough of that over the past few days. She listened to its terms and looked at each of the others for their reactions to their offers, if there was any. It was actually very relieving personally that she had already told the others early on about her past to some limited degree; she didn't have to worry about getting outted against her will by a shadowy patron of disease and vermin.

As far as the deal offered to her, she at most gave it half an unformed thought. The cleric was far more sympathetic to the likes of devils than most people, let alone clerics of Law deities, but her experiences with outsiders made her a fair bit more knowledgeable and tolerant of their tactics than the others here. Was it trying to imply that it could reunite her with a family member or old friend who survived? She did miss her family, but it wasn't something she desperately wanted, especially not from something she just watched melt its servant. There wasn't much that it could offer her at this moment that she'd be seriously tempted by.

What she was more interested in was if it held any sway over the others. Kathryn, Blackberry and Kosara all reacted with varying levels of severe psychological distress, completely normal for those who have not had many dealings with the profane. Oddly enough, she was the only one directly offered anything, the others were attacked at perceived weaknesses regarding their pasts. Unsurprisingly, Victoria handled this turn of events the best out of the rest, Marita couldn't tell what she thought of it, but knowing the bard, she likely at least considered the offer being made. Victoria had shown herself to be the type to easily refuse chances at personal gain. The presence's words about their little necromancer also was the one that piqued her interest most. She knew from the moment she met Victoria that she was a bad omen, but it had simply been her intuition up until this point. She never would have expected to receive validation from a source like this, but it was perhaps the second most valuable thing it told them in its short time there. It wasn't likely that the others paid much attention to that since they were too busy dealing with the rest of the trauma of the situation, but Marita wouldn't forget and she'd pry out the meaning of those words from the bard one way or another.

When the voice finally left and they were left to their own devices, she wasn't entirely sure where to go from where they were. From the outside perspective, they had successfully saved the township and potentially the rest of the harvest festival as well as accomplishing the mission the Sheriff had sent them on and more. But as far as Marita was concerned, they hadn't won much of anything at all. The root of the issue hadn't been dealt with, and it was only a matter of time before something else sprang up to take its place. But what exactly they could do, if anything was a massive question mark.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to take stock of the situation. At this point, she doubted that the guards were still around after the previous display. If getting shouted at by your boss wasn't enough to get you to actively engage in the battle, watching him be ripped apart by the dark forces he wielded definitely wouldn't stoke the flames of morale. On the part of the cleric, her appearance was an absolute mess. The outfit she wore was completely ruined, burned and covered in blood and viscera. She'd need to thoroughly bathe to get the dead rat smell off of her. But compared to most everyone else, she was better off by far. The only wounds she had suffered during this entire mission were a few burns from her march through fire, and they would heal rather quickly.

"I'm fine." Marita replied to BB, as she quickly fixed up her hair. "Unless someone needs immediate medical attention, we should get some people to help control this fire before it burns the entire town down, then we should check in on Cecily."
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Sigil Literary Hatchetman

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Weather: The air is still an interesting shade of chill in the foggy autumn night, but the harsher edge seems to have been blunted from the wind. The barest sprinkles of rain fall here, but almost infrequently enough to make one wonder as to whether there was actual precipitation in the first place, though if one craned their neck upward, they would see the same fleeting reflection of firelight in the tiny droplets as a few moments ago. Maybe it's just the roaring fire, but the weather seems to have relaxed a little bit.

Time: The night time is the right time.

Ambience: The fire is still a-firing, and thanks to the damp weather recently it doesn't seem to want to spread any farther out, either. Still, the light and warmth are noticeable and not completely unwelcome. The initial shock of the battle is wearing off at this point, allowing minds to question possible injuries and bodies to report their state of readiness. The overall feeling for many is OUCH. Another piece of luck - no one has immediate, life threatening damage. Otherwise, the place seems quiet, overall. Even the rats, or most of them, have scurried away to parts unknown.

*****


The once living husk of the Wererat Abomination settled onto the cobblestone ground with a fleshy slap after being freed from its fiery Bastille. It was horribly burnt, as one might be after sitting in a pitchy blaze for a while, and in fact was still partially on fire. With most of the hair seared away, there were three obvious qualities of the corpse that anyone present could detect: 1) The creature was constructed of several different parts, stitched together with coarse but tight, wax-string cording. 2) Contrary to the other myanthropes who were knocked unconscious or killed, these things did not return to a more human form. 3) A burly, hairless wererat is truly ugly as hell.

In contrast, the gnarly smell of burnt wererat hair is significantly worse than that of the porkfat and aromatic woods that continues to waft in from the west, even though it is severely blunted by the crisp, acrid vapors of burning pitch.

Those giving passive interest in the possible locations of the Guards have come up with nothing; neither hide nor hair, spore, obvious track, nor bit of errant flora to give up their proximity to the group. There have been no threats of attack forthcoming, either. It seemed that the Wererat Guards were still at large, doing what wererats tend to do best when not under the subjugation of a more powerful being: Surviving.

The town, aside from the cooking and the burning, held little in the way of other overt stimuli. On the one hand, random screams could no longer be heard from differing, random directions, but also no one dared to poke their heads out of their homes to see what fresh hell awaited them. Prudence, possibly. Or cowardice. Maybe a bit of both. Of course, the fact that the town center was difficult to see from most of the rest of the town might have something to do with a lack of immediate fire response.

Then again, another factor to consider is that the Municipal Building had the best view of the Township Square. Absolutely nothing had come from that direction, not even spiteful words from other guards, militia, nor thankful adulation from town officials. Certainly not a volunteer fire brigade, hauling buckets and other firefighting accoutrements.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Shoe Thief
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Kathryn Pyke
Human, Battle Master, Level 03
HP: 15 / 31 Armor Class: 19
Conditions: N/A
Location: Town Square
Action: Investigation Check
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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They all seemed to be trying to process what happened in their own ways. Some did so by passing over the remains of the constable for loot, others by trying to take control of the situation. There was still caution, the other guards were still about. Blackberry had asked if she was okay, Kathryn took a moment to catch her breath before answering. Trying to figure out where she had seen the beast before. Parts were... uncomfortably familiar. "I'll... I'll be okay. I don't suppose you can place where these two came from?" She asked before looking over to the second one, burning to a crisp. "Well... this one at least." This was a moment she really wished her mentor was present. He had life experience that she simply lacked. Maybe he could figure this out faster than herself? Maybe he wouldn't have let things get as bad as they went. Less casualties, better focus, and maybe he would have confronted the constable sooner. Before he could enact his plans. Would he have avoided Cavendish when he casually threatened them? Or taken him up on his offer to face him out of sight. Could he have won? There was no way to tell. But now, she was here, and both Ser Lucas and Cavendish were dead.

Marita had brought up organizing people into a fire brigade. There was solid reasoning there. Though the fire wasn't spreading yet, there was no promise things would stay that way. Checking on Cecily was also a good idea. After the night the party has had, they needed to make sure everything and everyone that was left was holding up okay. Kathryn pulled the strange looking stone from her belt pouch and held it up. "We could let Mallard know things are better. That Cavendish is dead, and his goons have fled. And that a fire brigade needs to be organized. I think we have other things we should be focused on." She turned back to the municipal building. She hoped it had answers. Maybe that is where the guards fled too? Maybe that is where the rest of the missing people are? She didn't know for sure. But it seemed to be Cavendish's place of operation. So it was worth checking out. "I don't think this is over just yet. But I think we're getting close." She tried to say confidently. But the longer this went on, the more she felt out of her league. She held few skills outside of her ability to fight, and to muscle through situations. She was gaining experience here, but Cavendish was clearly a few tiers above her. She'd need to improve herself.

In that moment, dots began to connect. She looked down at the partially burned remains of one of the beasts. She paused as all of the dominoes began to fall into place, the clues beginning to make sense. She recognized scars of workers of those who do hard labor. Tools, supplies, trade skills, the whole thing seemed odd. But it wasn't until she saw the marking on the forearm that pieces began to really sink in. "Uafás na n-ifreann thíos." She mumbled in her clan's old tongue. She didn't remember the exact translation, but she remembered it being associated with atrocities, abominations, and horrors that should never be brought to light.

"They're people..." She followed up with after taking a moment to catch her breath. "They are made from pieces of... people." She was reminded of the screams at the beginning of the night, and wondered if these were those attacked. And why no more were needed. She wondered just how many people these creatures were made from. She turned back to the constable's remains, and decided the fate he got was not harsh enough. And he would never have to face those he betrayed with his merciful death. She was angry, disgusted, and wondered what could turn a person into something so evil. She realized, they still had time to figure that out. She figured there was more than just corruption from the patron that spoke to the party. What drove this man of the law to do such vile things.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by rivaan
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Kosara
Tiefling, Warlock (Celestial), Level 03
HP: 13/ 21 Armor Class: 12(15 Mage Armor) Conditions: N/A
Location: Town’s Square
Action: N/a
Bonus Action: N/a
Reaction: N/a

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The suddenly overly happy tiefling looked at her half giant friend with big excitable eyes and joyous innocent, but confused expression and tilted her head.” What do you mean? What was so upsetting?” She innocently asked in confusion, seemingly unable to understand what Kathryn might well be referring to. After all, Cavendish had crumbled to dust as the finishing blow had struck him, they were all in victory celebration phase now. All should be good in this story worthy of a bard recounting it in taverns! Mayhaps the start of their own glorious epic that would take place over meriad of events and locales!

“Ohh right!” Kosara suddenly exclaimed in realization and bolted past Kathryn to the place where Cavendish’s meager remains laid, passing past V who had taken a shine to a rather nice knapsack it seemed. Ignoring the happenings around, Kosara was precision focused on a singular thing that had briefly came to mind as she recalled the constable. She used her sword to rummage around what was left of their adversary until the weapon moved the thing she was looking for which she quickly snatched off the remains and displayed to the others. It was Cavendish’s amulet.” It’s adorable! Also possibly evil, but still adorable! It's possibly evil or cursed, but it might summon that adorable little rat too! Maybe it's adorable evil rat, but point still stands, we should check it out later!” She proclaimed, showing it to the others. Kosara was NOT putting it on, even she wasn’t that stupid. Putting on suspicious pieces of jewelry that bore symbols related to were beasts and other magical schenanigans was a bad idea. For all everybody knew it was a medalion of a cult… or just e regular trinket… or magical trinket. Possibly CURSED magical trinket. So, no putting on the adorable medallion.

“Hmm, the fire? Ohh yes!” She nodded, realizing that the burning force of life and destruction would probably do bad things to the local town. Granted the wet trees weren’t burning all that well so it might just go out on it’s own before long, or it might just continue to burn until it leaves the park. Yes better get something to deal with it.” You are right, indeed.” The tiefling agreed and hopped and jumped over back to the square paved center by the fountain, looking at the people who had just survived the fight with them.” To everybody present and cage free, we need to start fighting the fire and be fire fighters!” Kosara proclaimed loudly, booming her voice with prestidigitation to make sure she was heard.” So, does anybody here have experience with fighting fires to help here with this?… How do we even put out burning pitch!? I can snuff out small flames with magic, but some of these are not small at all! Looking for help and ideas!” The loud tiefling requested, looking at the surrounding townies that had escaped the cages, completely and utterly ignoring a certain comment made and realized about the nature of the abominations they fought.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Sigil
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 10 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Township Square
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: .
Reaction: N/A

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Victoria was just fine with the idea of heading back to someplace with walls and good lighting, for the obvious protection and ease with which she may study her new prize. The fire was beyond her ability to affect, and while she might have some core skill to track over land, it was highly unlikely that she could be of much help with locating the wererat guards who seemed to have eluded them. Even if she had her Morty ready and animated, it fell beyond its senses and cognitive function to play the role of bloodhound. Basic animations were a multitool, not an omnitool.

Furthermore, popping into the Municipal Building at night in her condition seemed like a huge risk, considering that the group was fresh out of a pitched battle and were not at their best, by far. Maybe everyone had fled. Or, as a tiny part of her mind suggested, there could be survivors among the missing inside. Or treasure! Both were respectable arguments. However, a personal factor came into play when Marita mentioned Cecily. They had people that they came here to help, specifically. Little Lizbeth, back at the Bed & Breakfast, was promised her aunt back. Victoria saw Cecily head down the western thoroughfare, supporting another townsperson with a small entourage and that strange fisherman bringing up their rear. She could travel in that direction to meet with the survivors and tell them the good news. Then reunite the L'Roses.

"Very well, then," piped Victoria, very near to cheerfully. She carefully replaced the book she was just perusing back into the haute knapsack and secured it closed, after which she slung it over her shoulders. It was with a little too much enthusiasm, as the jostle reminded her of her injuries with sharp notes. All the same, it didn't blunt her apparent optimism as she adjusted the straps to better suit her frame and readied herself to move. Her sword found its sheath, her violin its case, and that case slung low about her side. It was a shame that her very jaunty, bardy hat was not present; she would have liked to flourish it upon her perfectly coiffed, red-auburn locks (even post battle it shone with a healthy, silky bounce), but one must endure these little obstacles to live the life of an Adventurer.

Upon recovering her fine, charcoal cloak, Victoria sauntered to Marita with a smile. "My, but you look underdressed for the occasion." She offered over her garment, keeping a welcoming look about her visage and studying the Cleric with her sylvan, crystal-blue eyes. "Please do borrow my cloak. I would bet that it highlights your naturally flaxen hair admirably. Oh! And I might have something in my trunk that would fit you, if you haven't an appropriate spare set of clothes. Do you like purple?" Her smile flashed into a grin for just a second, equally warm as it was mischievous.

"I agree with Marita," announced Victoria, as if she had been asked to weigh in on an issue at a Town Hall meeting. "We came to rescue Cecily. I say we complete that first, but..." Her face gave a look of consideration, "We will eventually have to take a peek inside the Municipals. It seems the right thing to do." She nodded, adding her two coppers to the discussion. The Municipal Building would still be there later. Preferably, to her thinking, with the morning light.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Marita Bärbel
Human, Cleric, Level 3
HP: 13/18 Armor Class: 18 Conditions: None
Location: Avonshire Town Center
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A
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Now having had a moment to better organize her thoughts, Marita tried to lay out all the courses of actions they could take and the pros and cons of each. The issue most immediate in their vicinity was the fire. Strangely enough, despite potentially posing the most widespread damage to the township, it was likely of least concern to handle. Everything was soaked from the rain and the flames didn't appear to be spreading. Furthermore, nobody here really knew how to deal with burning pitch. That said, it really did not sit with her right to ignore it and assume that all would be fine based on that little evidence.

The second problem at hand was the location of the wererat guards. They were far too much of a risk to allow them to run around unchecked, unfortunately they were probably long gone, and finding them would take far more manpower than just the 5 of them. This one they would probably just have to let go until it came back to bite them in the arse.

The third option they could choose to pursue was visiting the Municipal Building and seeing what was going on over there. This proposed the most danger to them immediately. That building was a massive unknown in what they would find, and everyone was at the very least exhausted from the two fights they had had already been through today. On the other hand, there was a decently high chance that that's where the guards had fled to, and they might be scrabbling to abscond with anything of value/incriminating. The building would still be there tomorrow, but not necessarily everything/one inside of it.

And lastly they could attempt to track down the various people they had befriended. Various people had been suggested and they couldn't do all of them at once (without splitting up entirely, which was too risky even with the Constable dead), but the end result would essentially be the same no matter who they went after. In the grand scheme of things, this would accomplish the least, but they would personally know that their actions tonight did more than just 'save the town' in the abstract. They would need to check in on Lizbeth and Mallard eventually, but this was much less time sensitive.

Now that she had their options laid out like this, her thinking on what they should do aligned much differently than her initial instincts told her. She would like to be able to not have to only pick one, but that wasn't a real possibility for them. It was at this time that Kathryn made the discovery that the abominations they had battled were made of people. The cleric turned towards the half-giant, and in doing so, her foot accidentally knocked into one of Cavendish's gloves. Ash pours out of the garment, but in the ash was the glint of gold. Her eye was drawn to it almost immediately. Although she wasn't motivated by treasure as Victoria was, Marita did love jewelry and fine wear. Quietly, she picked out the ring from the ash. She would need to thoroughly wash it before she would consider wearing it, but far be it from her to simply leave it discarded.

That bit of avarice aside, Marita approached Kathryn to looked over the corpses she had been inspecting. Up until now she hadn't thought about where the things had come from, but she wasn't surprised about this finding in the slightest. Misshapen and rodentlike as they were, the things were far too humanoid to be stitched together from the likes of livestock the way Morty was. Cavendish certainly was not the type to let something as trivial as ethics get in the way of constructing puppets for his command.

"It's likely that this is what happened to those that disappeared and never turned up again." A statement that those with more tact would likely not have said, but there wasn't use in skirting around the topic now. "Perhaps if we had known about this weeks ago we could have been able to stop this, but at least their remains are no longer being desecrated." A statement that could be interpreted as offensive to Victoria, but even if Marita had been thinking about the bard's emotions, she doubted that even the bard would think that what Cavendish had done to create the flesh golems was anything but profane.

Speaking of Victoria, she directly approached Marita and offered her cloak. The half-elf was all smiles and friendly helpfulness, but her words could very easily be mockery. Marita narrowed her eyes and tried to suss out her intentions. Victoria was not as unreadable as she usually was, likely because of the encounter they had just had. She seemed to be forcing herself to act more cheerful than she really was. In a way it was similar to Kosara but intentionally rather than as an act of cognitive dissonance. Perhaps the bard was more shaken up by what had been said to her than she let on. After all, if somebody was likely to try to throw her out, it was the law cleric. Marita concluded that V was not acting out of malice right now and would treat her gesture as such.

"No thank you, I'd rather not ruin your clothes as well," she responded flatly. Not interpreting the words as an attack didn't mean that she was going to attempt to muster the kind of facade of friendliness that those like V were capable of. "And on second thought, I think it's best if we visit the Municipal Building as soon as possible. We're in no shape for another confrontation like the one we just had, but I have a feeling that if we put off going there even until morning, we'll miss out on something important. If we come across something we can't handle, we will just need to prioritize escape before combat."
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Arty Fox

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Baronfjørd "Blackberry" Chedgusah
Dragon Born, Monk (Astral self), Level 03
HP: 9 / 24 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Township Square
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A
Ki: 0/3


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BlackBerry moved away from the Constable remains and out from beneath the trees fiery canopy heading towards the fountain at the centre of the townsquare. All things considered they had come out relatively unscathed and the fight could have gone a whole lot worse than it had done, he supposed. While thankfully he hadn’t taken any lacerating attacks he could feel several large bruises already starting to form around his torso making it hard to breathe, and warning him loudly against moving anywhere fast. Blessedly, there were no rats clawing for his ankles making it easier for him to step over and around the twisted remains of the not so lucky ones.

BlackBerry tried not to grimace as he wiped the dust from his finger tips on his dishevelled robes and decided that he needed to be away from the remains of Cavendish. It was still hard to think that the Constable had been man, very much alive and kicking barely a few minutes ago, now reduced to nothing but ash and bone in a few moments. The screams still echoed in his ears and the image seared into his mind.

As he moved past the still lit barrels, their horrid stench filling his nostrils for a moment, his eyes wandered over to Marita. He wondered what the strange voice had meant by ‘Older Loyalties’. Perhaps something related to the holy symbol she wore? Or the ‘heretical reasons’ she mentioned for leaving her home. Out of all of them The Voice seemed to only want her even if only possibly as proxy for others, and then for the rest of them it had offered only either a threat or comment before it’s actual offer of…power and answers. A very nebulous reward. Suspicion held his eyes on the Cleric for a moment longer while she pulled her hair back into place.

What did she say to the man at his death?

BlackBerry was then violently dragged to the present by Kosara bellowing into the night for help with the fire, and crashing through unhelpful suspicions; disembodied voices weren’t known for their trustworthiness, especially when they turned people to dust.
“Well, that is one way to get the message out.” He turned his gaze upward to the pitch black clouds above and met only the smallest droplets of rain falling on his face. They couldn’t count on the rain for any help this evening it seemed. “Perhaps piling some dirt upon it would do? Best bet would be to ask Mr Mallard if possible as he seems the sort to know. But do let’s get to somewhere of some safety first, and then find our way back to him. I may have been tenderised but I would rather not be cooked as well as a slab of meat.”

Coming to the edge of the fountain BlackBerry saw only shadows of ripples and orange petals of reflected fire. It was too dark to guess how deep the fountain really was but given the size of the Beasts he could only assume that it was deeper than it looked. He heard Marita behind him lay out her idea to head to the Municipal building squatting nearby just beyond the boundary of trees and walls of the Township Square.

“Something important? Such as a clue as to what all this was in aid of? It does seem like a sound idea. If we do decide on such course of action, heading to the Municipal building I mean, we might yet have a stroke of luck and be able to avoid another confrontation. With the ring leader taken care of I doubt the remaining ruffians would dare to make any further attacks any time soon. Likely they are still reeling from his defeat and the ones we saw seemed none too eager to lend a hand during the battle either.” BlackBerry turned away from the fountain and shot a venomous glare towards the looming shadow of the municipal building. He lowered his voice with an almost paranoid feeling that even now they were all being watched by unseen eyes from the buildings hollow windows. “If we do come across any of Cavendish’s remaining thugs then we might, just might, have a chance of bluffing our way through any more fights. If we play our cards right that is.”

Momentarily he wondered who they might run into if they were to head there. They were just as likely to meet a collection of frightened fools left to slow the party or any other would be attackers while the rest fled, as they were to meet an armies worth of were-rats armed to the teeth.

“The problem arises, however.” BlackBerry continued as he rolled his shoulders and then whined at a horrid stabbing feeling from his left. “If they were to have another Beast or two, whatever ungodly creatures they may be, hidden away somewhere, none of us are in any state to fight them so. Or more appropriately end their suffering”

The very idea that the Beasts had once ordinary people twisted and mangled into such rancid forms made his stomach twist and lips curl with disgust. Even he had heard of the disappearances the town had been suffering as of late and as Marita pointed out what lay before them was the likely result. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the thought.

“A horrid fate to suffer. Do you recognise any of the…uh” He approached Lady Kathryn as he tentatively tried to find the most suitable word. “Victims?”
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The pitch-blaze crackled on with constant intensity, sizzles and pops forming an irregular cadence in the otherwise stillness of the chilly, flickering night. Even the once heavy roar of the tree which burst into flames quieted somewhat as the majority of easily consumed leaves were exhausted, leaving a giant, spindly-armed torch in its wake. With luck and the damp conditions of the evening it had not spread to the other trees, and the sticky blaze upon the cobblestones had not moved appreciably enough to give additional worry than was already present. Call it a stroke of luck in an otherwise down situation.

The prisoners, all of them freed from their hastily constructed wooden cages, had already made their way out of sight by this time, all headed along the western road away from the town center. Though a Halfling was among their number, the "guests" of the right hand cage were making excellent time escaping as a group nonetheless. Horror makes for a powerful motivator, and some carrying might have been involved. If the nerve-wracked survivors heard the call to come back, they weren't responding.

This was not to say that someone hadn't heeded the call to assist. A cry of FIRE can get people running, even in horrible situations, it was a primal beckon. Though it did not seem that anyone was going to show at first, but as the party discussed options as to how they might handle the continuing conflagration, the first of tentative steps made their way nearer to the Township Square. A muttering of cautious voices could be heard from the far side of the eastmost spilled flame; casual inspection showed wavy orange illumination on a few of the locals' faces, and hands carrying tools repurposed as weapons. And some kid who picked up a dropped Guardsman's spear earlier that day (great parenting, there). Scattered questions split through the air, each having something to do with the level of safety present for them: "...they're gone? Are they dead? Did you kill the ratmen? Where's the Constable..?" Others wept, for their fear, losses this night, and sheer stresses of living through terrors that an agrarian society was simply unprepared to face.

All could tell that an otherwise intangible weight had lifted from the area, like a great emotional breath could be taken in relief from a trauma they were uncertain was torturing them - until it finally let up. Many let tears of relief fall. but that jackass kid with the appropriated spear caught sight of the flaming Wererat Abomination who had fallen back onto the barrel and gasped, "Eewww! What is that? It looks like someone shaved a bear and left it in the oven!" This got a couple of nervous chuckles from the townsfolk, right up until they caught sight of what he was talking about. One of them vomited into his hat. Another vomited into the first man's hat, too. Others started in alarm, but one corralled them into some sort of applicable action.

"Pine tar fire. Come now, let us get sand first, water after it's down," he suggested abruptly. The others, given something to do that did not involve shaking in their boots, fell in line. Throughout the chaos of the last few hours, having a task that they could handle readily gave a sense of control they were lacking, even if the task was relatively simple. The first man gave a wave in Kosara's direction before heading back off to locate buckets and fill them with the appropriate materials. In retreat, one could clearly hear the query of, "...and where in any Hells is the fire brigade?" Mysteries abound this night, apparently.

*******

The search of Cavendish's dusty remains does in fact net a set of keys, which Kathryn was able to find in a rather conspicuous spot (for keys), but the search did net other things. In and around the body lay a nicely crafted dagger with matching sheath, 50 gold coins of the realm (a rarity in a place like this as the common coin is a silver Argent), the sheath for his shortsword, a belt with covered holster for (what used to be) his hammer, and a whip with curious metal slivers braided into the fall and popper of said weapon. The powdery former Constable wore a set of leather armor standard to the Guards of this area, though this one was now scarred by necrotic energy, and a brass insignia suitable to be worn as either a badge or cloak pin bearing (among other things) the title CONSTABLE.

*******

The keys present numbered six, each of which were similar in construction and heft. All blackened metal on a ring of the same material, and as it turned out, all completely pointless as the party approached and entered the Municipal Building. To start, the gates on the main wall were open. Not thrown wide open so that one may guide a laden wagon inside, but just enough so a Human-sized person might step through. Maybe even a plump one. Entering is an easy enough affair.

This far away from the fires outside and behind the walls, lighting is almost nonexistent. The full moon provided just enough light not to stumble over what is directly in front of one's feet. Those with a viable light source or active darkvision are greeted by something less expected - Neglect. The courtyard between the walls and the front of the building proper bore the appearance of a once decent spot, now turned shabby from a lack of upkeep. Bits of trash and scraps of wood lay scattered among the unmown grass and ill-tended bushes. To the right side of the courtyard is an open-front stable with eight stalls, two of which contain horses in dire need of care. And a good shoveling. They look miserable. There stood a spot nearby which may have had carts, wagons, or the like, but now stood empty, save for some wheel tracks, bereft even of grass.

The main doors to the front of the building were also open, this time battered open. The red-painted wooden doors splintered around where a door lock might have been. They open without a struggle, but with a startling, tinny squeal of hinges that begged to be oiled. What they reveal within is an awful continuation of what lay outside.

This was far worse than neglect. It was a willful and long-term vandalism of a place which was once the seat of civil authority for the region. There were no internal doors visible. None standing, anyway. Ripped from frames which stood as regular apertures in walls which had long been defiled with copper-brown stains and gruesome handprints. Trash littered the floor in places, kicked into piles in larger rooms or shuffled into corners. There were the usual features which one may expect to find within a Municipal Building; a small courtroom, a town hall style meeting place, a couple of studies for persons of official occupation, all of which were ransacked and destroyed. There was even a decently sized room containing records, either pressed into books or tucked away in scroll cases - or what was left of them. Pieces of things ripped or used as impromptu personal cleaning devices, treated in the same manner as the rest of the building.

Sounds of tiny feet and shuffling garbage could be readily detected off and on as one progressed through this place. It was unnerving, given the evening everyone had just experienced, but nothing could be detected except for the occasional rat. Normal looking ones, perfectly comfortable in these environs. Otherwise, there were no signs of life.

But what was worse in this place was the smell. It was urine and rot, mixed liberally with the oppressive reek of mold. It seemed to get stronger the farther one went back in the building. As near as one could tell, far behind the courtroom in this building stood a mostly intact armory. It was still a hotbed of neglect, but less rubbish littered the room here and it was not entirely cleared out of useful things. Two sets of leather armor remained, as well as several truncheons, a couple of spears, and a decent enough light crossbow. Three shortbows remained as well, and a fair amount of ammunition for the ranged weapons. The place could use a good dusting, overall. But that smell got so much worse here. It was like a butcher's shop left to fester.

The highest concentration of this came from a single, closed door (possibly the only one left in the building), toward the back of the armory.

The aroma shifted into something resembling embalmed death as the door opened, revealing a set of stone stairs descending into a pitch dark basement. With light applied or with darkvision, it revealed much the same sight, this being dark splotches and streaks of something once liquid, dried to flaky stain upon the walls and steps. The descent of these fetid stairs brought with it another sense of quiet, if not calm. Not even the rats wanted to be down here, it seemed. The scent of rot and wrongness persisted, reaching a crescendo as the steps opened into a wider area, still just as devoid of a light source of its own. Maybe it would have been for the best if sight was left unused. Sadly, between the party's ability to see in near total darkness and the magical, light bearing hammer, this could not go unseen.

A grievous outpost of the Abyss, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, met the eyes of the party. Regular prison cells lined the walls of this circular room, some with guests inside and some without. None of the bodies were moving. Some were in advanced states of decay. Some were only partial corpses. One was split cleanly in half, lengthwise, from crown to crotch, hollowed out otherwise. Another was merely a torso. In one corner, a bucket of eyeballs of various different sources floated in dark liquid. Hands occupied another one. Scents of preserving fluids mingled with the rot here. In the center back of the room, away from the staircase, sat a series of three raised tables. Each were soaked and stained in corpsefluids of various kinds, but one, only one, still held an occupant, of sorts. There were assembled but not attached, many select portions of reclaimed body parts, all thick of muscle and all bearing the same myanthropic features of the Abominations from the fight in the Town Square, above. It was incomplete. Still, even in death the bodies had not reverted back to (Demi)Human form.

Symbols and ritual circles were painted all over the floor here, and there remained a few trappings of lengthy ritual work. There were tools here, created no doubt for legitimate medical purposes but obviously not wielded by the hands of a healer.

There was no resistance to the party's entrance, nor egress. No traps to be sprung. Nothing that impeded any of their movements whatsoever. This building was, like the many dead in that basement, simply discarded after it failed to be useful anymore.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by rivaan
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rivaan

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Kosara
Tiefling, Warlock (Celestial), Level 03
HP: 13/ 21 Armor Class: 12(15 Mage Armor) Conditions: N/A
Location: Town’s Square - > Municipal Building
Action: N/a
Bonus Action: N/a
Reaction: N/a

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All things considered for everybody’s well-being and luck Kosara’s loud nightly proclamations and calls for aid in combating fires turned out a veritable bounty of helpful people. Now if they were here to help or to confirm state of townly security was a whole other matter that Kosara wasn’t paying to mind especially since some people did indeed have the agency to begin arranging the fire fighting brigade. Good for em, protecting their own home from the possible fire menace! Granted they could have done wit ha bit of self agency on fighting eldrich horrors beyond mortal ken, but that was already over with( for now anyways).

With town’s continued existence on the map, barring a freak fire surge that overpowers the fire fighting efforts and the dampness that was everywhere, the party’s free reign to head to the Municipal building to investigate the nest of evil was given a go. Kosara had wanted to check it since the very first day, but other stuff always happened and then it wasn’t safe to venture out. Now she could see what was with that place! And see she did! Only… she kinda wished she could unsee it now. Place was a nightmare fuel and it showed where everybody who went missing ended up as. There were so many remains of people scattered about. It was a butcher place and a mad wizard’s experimentation lab in one. She grimaced, hiding her mouth and nose with a peace of her shirt, pulling it up in the process to filter at least some of whatever they were breathing here.

Sadly besides the remains of death, place was barren of life… No ratmen that she could see to stop them. It was a victory in the end, just not quite as conclusive one. They didn’t know what the plan was or who were the big players, Kosara’s mind entirely filtering out a certain voice encounter that send her into a near existential crisis cascade. That said, she wasn’t liking the ritualistic symbols here… Not that she knew what they were from the get go, but she just didn’t like it.

“ We need fire… A LOOOOOOOOOOOOOT OF FIRE...” She commented, looking around.” Also… anybody knows what the major religion in the area is and their temples? We need some more experts…?” She suggested, getting help with dealing with the aftermath on this and some divine intervention on cleansing this place might be incredibly well received especially from the locals. If there was one thing Kosara learned from the priestesses of Sune, it was that people liked them, she hoped it was the same for whichever local god or goddess.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Shoe Thief
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Shoe Thief The Real Shoe Thief

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Kathryn Pyke
Human, Battle Master, Level 03
HP: 15 / 31 Armor Class: 19
Conditions: N/A
Location: Town Square --> Municipal building
Action: Regretful Corpse Looting
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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Kosara's ignorance of her own breakdown was concerning to say the least. She worried about her good friend, and worried what would happen to her should she keep having these breakdowns. She was clearly not doing well, and Kathryn hoped to help her friend. But she was unsure how to. Was Kosara's behavior a result of trying to keep a positive tone when things were not well? She wished she know, or understood these sorts of topics more. "Kosara..." She hesitated, and eventually dropped it. "I uh... Nevermind." That seemed to work best for now. Kathryn was in no position to help her friend other than be available to her. Plus, she seemed rather amused with the... Evil and cursed artifact that Cavendish had in his possession before being turned into the pile of cloth and bone bits. Thankfully, Kosara was a lot more on top of the fire situation than Kathryn was. Using a magical booming voice to call out for aid and help with the fire. And to Kathryn's surprise, many showed up to their aid. Many armed with whatever could be mustered up. She saw spears, mallets, knives and an assortment of tools. Not soldiers, nor guards, nor a fire brigade. Just people who wanted to see their home make it to daylight hours. Kathryn turned to the rest of the party as they discussed the plan. "Marita's right. We need answers, and we still need the fire brigade. Too many of the guards got away. If we wait, they could destroy what leads and information we may still have to discover." The ability to disengage was also appealing. Kathryn was in rough shape, but there were those in the party in far worse shape. Kosara and Blackberry were near death more time than her liking would allow. Victoria was far from a front line fighter and had taken some blows already. Marita was hard to gauge, but she seemed like if she was struggling she wouldn't let it show for as long as possible.

"We're on the final leg of this people." Kathryn called out, looking a bit worse for wear herself. Blood soaked through several points between the rusted links of her armor, bits have been chipped away from blunt force and sharp blades. And what felt like a potential bruise on her face from where the constable attempted to take a cheap shot on her, but her helm deflected the blow well enough. "We're going inside to find answers, and to find the fire brigade. The rat man have been defeated. Those not killed running as far as they can from here. We will be back as quick as we can." Kathryn wondered how many realized that those beasts used to be their friends and neighbors. Kathryn wondered just how bad the damage would be. How many wererats there were, and just how many people have gone missing. She hoped they would find them.

Kathryn turned to the remains of the constable. He had now been picked rather clean by the party, but she wasn't here for loot. She wanted to make their mission go as smoothly as possible. She had no idea what to expect once inside, but she figured it was a safe bet that the constable had some keys. She figured it was an even safer bet to assume he had all the keys, or some sort of master key to the building. She found the key ring fast enough. Six comparable keys, that to her best knowledge, were definitely keys. She hoped these were all they needed to get about. It would seem odd if the constable locked himself out of places to his own building. Then again, he clearly wasn't thinking in the best of ways leading up to his demise. Then that is when she started to get sick with herself. Much of her gear was run down, ruined, and the best gear she owned she had pulled off corpses. It wasn't so bad when it was just a nice blade or some coin here or there, but when she had to start wearing armor from those killed in rather gruesome fashion, the idea of looting a body had left a sour taste in her mouth. But Ser Lucas and herself could never afford anything that would fit her. So when she saw the dagger, her first thought was how pretty it was. Blades and weapons were like Jewlery to Kathryn. The really nice ones held her attention, and she wanted it. It even came with a nice sheath. She slowly pulled the dagger and sheath doing her best to ignore the remains of the constable, having a look of either panic, or trying to resist puking, before getting the sheath and Dagger out and tossing it into her bag. Letting out a deep breath she was glad it was over. In another comparable series of events, the belt that could comfortably hold the hammer also looked nice. And also soon found a place in Kathryn's bag.

Then she caught it. The pouch of gold. Her eyes widened, and she opened it to see what had to be roughly 50 gold. This was more than Ser Lucas's entire savings. Between that, and what she had on her person, she may be able to properly replace her gear. Her armor at least! She could finally have a nice set of armor that was hers and hers alone. No corpse thoughts, something she felt not only protected in but safe! She wanted badly to keep it to herself. It could solve so many of her problems having this sort of money. But then she thought of the other party members. How much they have fought, how much this fight had quest had cost them, and how many of their own problems could be addressed with this sort of money. No... she couldn't keep it to herself. Even if she really wanted too. She prepared to stand, before taking note of the constable's badge. Her face soured as she looked at it, took it, and threw it across the town square. "Bastard." She mumbled to the remains of the corpse as she held the gold in one hand and turned. "Blackberry, there's a sheath for that blade. May come in handy for ya." Kathryn said trying to get her mind off of just rifling through a corpse for loot.

Kathryn walked up to Marita. She seemed rather responsible herself, and seemed like an honest woman. Even if a bit blunt at times. She seemed like the best person to give this task. "Marita, I have a favor to ask." She gave the Cleric the bag of gold, not wanting to hold onto it for herself. In big part, for her shame in wanting to keep it for herself. "The constable had this on him. I think we need to talk about what we're going to do with it. But I don't think now is the time. But I think you're the most qualified to hold onto it until the time is right." Kathryn didn't risk saying it out loud what the contents of the bag were. Though she held respect for her party members, some were louder than others, and others were a bit more self serving than others. Now was not the time to talk gold. Once the Cleric took the gold, Kathryn would wait and listen if she had more to add or ask, otherwise, Kathryn would make her way to the gate.

Reattaching her helm to her head, and attaching her shield to her arm, she walked past the hammer she set down and strode towards the gate. Her posture was relaxed, though much of it was keeping limber, ready to react should the need arise. Kosara was in the lead a bit more than Kathryn would have liked, but the tiefling could take care of herself rather well. The place looked almost... abandoned. That was somehow more unsettling than anything Kathryn expected to find. The only signs of life being a pair of horses that Kathryn took note to stop and take care of on the way back out. Right now, they needed to get inside. Though she felt pity for the poor beasts. Stepping into the open doors, the glow of the hammer lit up the room just enough to see. She wondered what she could do in this situation should she not have the hammer. A torch maybe? Always an option. But she'd have to forgo a weapon, or her shield. The hammer that she now cared for would server her well. Inside was worse, but closer to what she expected. The place looked like it had been ravaged by wild animals. Doors and furniture destroyed, was this all those two beasts they fought? She feared what else may be present here. And to her surprise, nothing but rats. Maybe this all was finally over?

The smell stuck out the most. She wished she could do something about it, but with how much of a challenge it could be to breath with a steel helmet on, it was rather hard to block airflow even more to lessen a smell. As Kathryn walked through the armory to look about, she saw the leather armor, and did briefly think of taking it. It would be cheaper to replace, and she wasn't bad with fighting with lighter weapons. But she wasn't that good either. What did catch her attention, was the crossbow sitting off to the side. She opted for it, being much more comfortable looting from an armory than a corpse, and decided she was carrying a lot. And when she had the chance, she would reorganize her gear some, and likely offer off the crossbow to someone else int he party should they be better suited for it. The more she thought on it, the more she realized that maybe she wasn't the best pick for it. But like the gold, this could be brought up later. With a quiver of bolts on her back with the cross bow, she set off for the back.

The horrors that set upon her made her want to heave and hurl. She had to agree with Kosara, the best thing they could do would be to burn this place down. She may have had a point on getting experts, but Kathryn was beginning to regret not going with the plan from earlier in the day, and just burning this place to the ground. She dropped the shield to the ground, and put the hammer back on her belt. Her steps were full of intent and purpose as she stepped towards the third table. The table with the third and she hoped final beast. The incomplete pile of parts. She wasn't sure if it was a need to make sure the incomplete beast could never rise, or to make sure it was infact not alive, but as she pulled the newly acquired crossbow off of her back and loaded a bolt into it, she stepped within ten feet of the creature, and fired a single bolt into the side of it's rat beast head. Nothing happened. She set the crossbow onto her back, and walked back over to her shield. In this moment of shock, she was unsure just how successful they actually were. She just hoped that it was over.

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