The Haunting of Harrowstone

Unlike his companions, Balta faced little issue with the gloom of Ravengro's evening. There were times he was thankful for his parent's ill conceived bedding, as being partially elf did have its perks. Leading the group, he'd keep a lookout for any sign of trouble, often pausing to signal for them to stop. Though, there was little that seemed to bother him for too long. A passing cat, a light breeze, a sudden, cool drop of water on his forehead. Nothing threatening, at least.

The graveyard was indeed a touch spookier at night, given the long, grasping shadows that reached out from every tombstone like the arms of a hungry beast. To a man used to the dark alleys and less-traveled paths of a major city, shadows posed no difficulty. It was the eerie feeling of being watched that bothered him. Stone eyes of many a gargoyle, perhaps some unseen spirit peeking out from its grave. It left the fighter on edge. But, for the most part he did not let such trepidation show.

That is, of course, until he passed by small group of old, weathered tombstones. Most of them bore faces so battered by the elements that their inscriptions had worn away. But one... one of them caught Balta's eye. It's face was clearly legible. Carved stone with an inscription that bore a message meant for their small group.

Maleficent Adalene Button

Come to my world, and be as I; as I am now, soon you will be; embrace your end and witness me

Died 4661 AR

Immediately, Balta placed a hand on the shoulder of the young alchemist, bringing her to a halt and directing her gaze toward the eerie sight. "You... do not have a relative named Maleficent... do you? he asked, speaking in a hushed voice as though not to raise alarm. His left arm pointed out toward the gravestone, though as his gaze returned to the etching... it was gone. The face of the tombstone appeared just as the others, weathered, abused, illegible.

"Ah... hah... haha... ah... just curious. You see."

It was a whooooole other story for Kevin, who felt at home when entering the graveyard. Just being around him might make one feel slightly more at ease, with how he was taking this in, in such a calm manner.

As he came upon the two, he'd note how Balta was reacting to one of the tombstones nearby. Coming over in a silent manner, he'd stand behind them, while peeking over their shoulders to see what had gain their attention. As Balta spoke up, he'd at once understand why they were stopping before this one. He'd speak not a word, as was most common for him by this point, as he played the silent third wheel on this little get-go.

As they ventured through the dark and shadow infested Restlands, Millie would indeed take comfort in the ease Kevin seemed to have in the otherwise spooky cemetery. In fact, both of her companions appeared to be taking the otherwise spine chilling atmosphere in amazing stride, which of course made her feel less tense and weary. Then again, it’s not like any real hauntings were going on that they should be worrying about.

Or so she thought.

When Balta’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, Millie craned her neck to peer at the red headed half-Elf with a curious look before the name he voiced caused her back to go stiff and her steps to cease immediately. “How... How do you know my full name?” She asked, the look of surprise as genuine as it could possibly get as she turned to face him. Few aside from very close family members knew her full name, and even then they would always refer to her by the nick-name that she insisted all call her by due to it fitting her bubbly persona far better than Maleficent. There was no possible way Balta could have learned it in their meeting years ago, as even the Professor himself was unknowing of her full name.

Following the gesture he made with his arm, the weathered and illegible tombstone was regarded for a moment and then passed off as merely that as her eyes locked back on Balta, as if waiting for some explanation.

The Knave's eyes shift back and forth, an uneasy grin all he had as means of an answer. The inscription had been there clear as day. Yet suddenly it was gone. Completely gone.

Yep. He was no longer feeling as confident as he had been. Spooky tidings and the like never quite sat well with someone who was used to threats in the form of flesh and blood.

"I ah... arm... lucky guess?" he tried and failed, the fact that he was lying rather apparent.

"I... saw something on that stone there... it had your name on it." he said, eyes shifting. He didn't want them to think he was mad, but then again it would likely be useful to explain any magical goings on to his companions. Balta wasn't the type to be the guy who kept quiet about being bitten by a zombie or something goofy like that.

Millie stared long and hard at Balta as he gave not one, but two answers! The first she easily saw for what it was, a nervous and makeshift lie due to being put on the spot, but the second managed to bring her attention back towards the weathered tombstone he had gestured towards before. “What did it say?” She asked Balta while moistening her lips, which had gone dry upon entering the Restlands, before taking timid steps forward to outstretch a hand as if to touch the grave marking. Before her fingers could grace the stone however, the Alchemist recoiled her touch whilst calculating the possibilities that’d cause such an occurrence. Or rather, what could possibly reveal her full name. Was it a spell? An enchantment? No... Such couldn’t possibly reveal that personal of information.

Turning abruptly, which caused her navy blue cotton dress to flair, Millie looked upon Kevin, who had otherwise remained silent throughout the seemingly harmless ordeal. “Kev-Kev..” She began, the nick-name being one she suddenly decided to settle upon. For some reason... It just sounded right. That, and she had a habit of giving such pet-names at random. “Have you ever seen tombstones that reveal... Personal... Information?”

The question was a longshot, but if there was anyone who knew the dead best, it would be a follower of Pherasma. Perhaps he could shed some light on this situation, or at the very least, prove that Balta wasn’t going mad.

". . .Kev-kev?" He asked, seeming a bit confused on why she was calling him that. Maybe she was so off-put by what she found, that she was forgetting his full name? Yes, that HAD to be it. Addressing her, he'd with a curious glance as he seemed a bit lost on what she was getting at. "What do you mean by personal? Some do show they were a loving mother. . .where they were born, where they died, the normal stuff. Why do you ask?"

"If you're meaning more personal things, like what they do in their spare time, not often. It's mostly short and sweet, focusing on the big information that people want the world to know about them."

"Well... this stone held her full name along with a message about visiting Millie here, or someone else, at the end. It was all rather pleasant, actually." As though he was gonna remember the sentence in detail. He only saw it for like 10 seconds. "And for the record, Krevin, I rather like 'Kev-Kev'."

With a sigh, the fighter pressed on, deciding it best to leave the spooky scary stone behind them and move on to their destination. "Right, well let us not dwell on it too much. Just have yourselves at the ready in case anything decides to pop out at us." Balta drew his warhammer into his right hand, gripping it tightly. Dude wasn't gonna get jumped by some spooky types, no sir. Not without a fight, at least.

It was only after Kevin started answering Millie’s question that she realized just how vague she had been with her wording. Of course tombstones would have personal information on them, she thought, as was sort of the point of the stone makers within a cemetery. But why did this particular one have her name on it, and that message? Shoulders slumping, as she was no further to an explanation as to how Balta had learned her name--and apparently her full name at that!--a simple and silent nod was given towards the Cleric before she, too, decided to leave it be.

For now, that is. She’d be having a little chitty-chat with the Knave at a later point about what exactly he saw.

Until then, Millie heeded his words with being on the alert. Having a hand near her belt, which contained several glass vials of the explosive variety, she’d follow the half-Elf’s lead as they continued their way down the fog covered path towards the Professor’s grave and the false crypt they were here for.

Rounding the bend, no signs of the gravediggers at Professor Lorrimor’s grave could be seen, and upon closer examination of the site, it would appear that no further disturbances have been made to dishonor Petros Lorrimor’s’ final resting place. Then again, the late hour is still quite foggy. The crypt itself appeared to be a free standing granite mausoleum, the roof of which is decorated with a pair of leering gargoyle statues. A single stone door with a rusty looking lock sits in the mausoleum’s south facade.

Having traversed the foggy darkness without peril, the heroes briefly take pause to choose their next course of action. An echo of ravens’ chorus can be heard cawing nearby.

Map:

The three intrepid adventurers certainly had their work cut out for them. A journal full of hints as to the true nature of the professor’s death, a collection of arcane tomes of dark and mysterious origins, and a small fortune awaiting each of them. Certainly there was little to do but sit about and wait the month out.

Well, that would be the case were these three not as determined, clever, and attractive as they were capable. That very night they sought out the false crypt described in the professor’s journal. The path was dark and eerie, though the night brought with it only a thick fog. Onwards the trio ventured, finding their way to the foreboding gates of the local cemetery. Dark, discomforting, and home to the dead, it certainly made the perfect ambush site. Though, to the great relief of our brave heroes, no ambushes, attacks, assaults, rapes, murders, maimings, or tortures impeded their progress, thus leaving them all more or less unscathed.

There was a curious case of Balta, who prior to his experiences in Ravengro had had very little interaction with the supernatural, and the ghostly text viewed on the nearby gravestone. But such things have already been discussed.

The crypt itself proved just as welcoming as the surrounding graveyard. Which is to say it was anything but. It’s door was held in place by a broken lock whose appearance gave the adventurers cause for alarm. Weapons drawn, they proceeded into its depths.

Thanks to Kevin and his orisons, Millie became the team’s mobile light source. What was once dark, dank and disconcerting was now well lit, dank and disconcerting.

The first chamber was of little interest, for it showed only signs of someone’s comings and goings, but it provided nothing else but a pair of mundane gargoyle statues and a set of doors that lead further in. Carefully, the group made their way down into the burial chamber, still on the alert as ever. With no bones scraping along the stone or shuffling of zombified feet, the coast was altogether clear. The emptiness of the room came as no real shock, though there is something about a dead-silent crypt that can still cause a tingle to play along one’s spine.

It was in the center of the crypt that the main source of interest lay. An ancient sarcophagus with freshly disturbed dust resting on its surface. Someone had clearly been there ahead of them, but the sarcophagus still held a good many magical items. Through Kevin and Balta’s combined strength, the lid was pushed aside, slamming into the stone with a bang loud enough to wake the dead. Figuratively speaking, of course.

No dead men rose to the occasion, instead a pair of giant, yucky, ooky, nasty giant, big, hugely big, way too big for a bug, centipedes came meandering down the stairs looking for a meal. They clearly had no intent of talking things out like the trio would have preferred, and sadly, the encounter escalated into violence.

The fight was quick and had few causalities, the worst of which being Kevin who found himself splattered in all manner of bug guts. Oh, and the centipedes died too, but nobody really cares about a pair of centipede corpses in a resting place for human remains. The groundskeeper may have a hell of a time cleaning that mess up.

The return trip home was just as eventful as the trip to the cemetery, which is to say little happened. Kevin’s every squishing step was enough to evoke a string of constant giggles from Millie, which in turn caused Balta to snicker as well. So, the three returned, victorious from their mission, supplies in hand, needing a bath, and fairly fatigued from the day’s events. Kendra, as good as host as one can be, eagerly attended to their needs and saw to it that the ooze coated cleric was scrubbed clean.

The few remaining minutes prior to bedtime were spent identifying and documenting what they discovered: A series of arrows, a number of potions, and a strange planchette that appeared to be needed for contacting spirits. Their find spoke only of further encounters with the undead, which was more than enough to put them ill at ease.

Sitting behind the Professor’s fancy mahogany desk, Millie was finally taking a breather from all of the bookwork and studying she had otherwise been doing for the past several hours. Weight propped up on her elbow, her cheek rested lazily in the palm of her hand while the other held an inkpen inches above a blank page of her journal. Glasses propped up on the top of her head, the alchemist was all but exhausted after all of her efforts so much that she was even debating on delaying this journal entry. She wouldn’t of course, but the temptation was certainly there.


Toliday 2nd, Arodus 4711 AR

Location: Ravengro, the Lorrimor Manor’s Study
Roughly 5:00 p.m.

Why hello again dear Fogwolt Brownbook. I do sincerely apologize for all the rough handling and use of you over these past.. What has it been... Eight hours?! It was for a noble cause, and you bravely stuck it out, not even once disappointing me in your valiant efforts to contain all the information I have scribbled into your pages. I foresee a wonderful future, you and I. Oh the juicy things you will soon contain as this adventure goes on.

But I digress. As I’m sure you now know, much has transpired since I have arrived in Ravengro for the Professor’s funeral. There have been angry mobs, shocking revelations, journeys into false crypts, and information gathering galore! But I dare not skimp on any of the finer details while they are still fresh in my mind from our most recent discoveries and adventures.. The real question of course... Is where to start?

Having left the Lorrimor manor late last night, Balta, Kevin and I ventured to the Restlands to investigate the false crypt that was mentioned in the Professor’s will.

Read: Copy from the Professor’s Journal Entry

"Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items."

Having arrived, we discovered a rusty lock that had been melted open by acid\ yet left to appear locked. I suspect it was the Professor’s doing, as he was rather fond of that particular spell and method when dealing with simple locks. Entering inside the mausoleum, we discovered it to otherwise be empty and dark, filled with cobwebs, spiders and lots and lots of dust. There was a trail that I determined was left by Petros Lorrimor that we found once inside that brought us deeper into the crypt to a large stone sarcophagus!

Just after having decided to open the sarcophagus, we were attacked by two giant centipedes who just barely caught us off guard! Balta heroically vanquished the disgusting vermin so heroically, causing their gooey and gushy entrails to fly and splatter all over poor Kev-Kev. It was absolutely disgusting, and a tad bit nauseating, but the Cleric persevered stoically. It was unfortunate however that he was the only one of us to be wounded in the entire encounter.

But it was all for a treasure beyond treasure! For once the centipedes were dead, the things we discovered in the cache, well... Lets just say that we’ll be set for fighting against all sorts of evil and undead things. Enchanted arrows, potions and scrolls... I shiver now even to think of what will come to pass in this town within the next month, and do sincerely hope, dear Fogwolt, that we will not have to use them.

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Going back to the Lorrimor manor and getting some rest, and for some a much needed bath, the next morning was spent further researching this Whispering Way. The professor’s library proved to be rather helpful with studying the topic, yet I fear if we wish to learn more of Harrowstone, beyond what I know of the place that is, we’ll need to try another library. Lady Kendra was kind enough to suggest several places to try, yet warned us of the locals being rather untrusting.

Speaking of Lady Kendra, she has been nothing but the best Hostess that a traveler could ever hope for! Never before have I been so pampered by her servants in this large house, with every meal provided and need taken care of. In comparison to cold nights near a fire or a stiff bed at an inn, this is paradise! The bed sheets are made of fine silk, and even my laundry and belongings are washed, pressed and folded in my absence. I do wonder, Sir Fogwolt, if it is a way for the Lady to keep herself preoccupied as to not think of her father’s untimely death. I shall be sure to spend some genuine time with her later this evening upon our return to keep her company.

Back on topic now! I do have a bad habit of rambling amongst my scribbles and notes. This morning I have spent much time researching the Whispering Way, and from all of my work (with thanks of course to the Knave and Kev-Kev who did marvelously with finding me books and journals throughout the manor) I have compressed what I have learned into cliff notes.

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Well, as much as I do enjoy your fine and silent company Fogowolt, I fear that I must bid you farewell for the time being. You see, after being cooped up all day doing the bookwork and studying until my eyes bleed and my hand cramps, I have have every intention on putting little of the remaining sunlight to waste! I do sincerely hope that Balta and Kev-Kev will be able to hold out.

Rest well, dear Brownbook. I shall write in you soon~

Blowing on the ink of the last few words she had scribed to ensure the page was dry, Millie clapped her journal shut before stuff it and other varies gear into her backpack. Once she was packed up, the young and now antsy Alchemist scampered out of the study to search the Manor for Balta and Kev-Kev. Once finding them, she would insist with persuasion and puppy dog eyes combined that they leave post haste to adventure Ravengro.

Being seen off with a wave from Lady Kendra, our heroes find themselves standing at the end of the long gravel driveway with a map in hand and the decision of where to visit first.

OOC:

Balta took a moment to stretch his limbs as they finally got outside into the late afternoon sun. He was rather unused to extensive periods of study, but it served a greater purpose. They had information on their potential enemies and now they had the opportunity to learn even more.

"Well then, where to?" he asked his companions, his eyes darting off in every which way in search of the nearest location to visit. "Hmmm... well... I'm open to suggestion, but I can't help but feel we should pay a visit to the town hall. You know, speak the sheriff, get an idea of just how badly we can expect things to go with the villagers. Perhaps even see if they have any records dealing with Harrowstone." he says, glancing down to the map. The fighter shifts about on his feet, clearly eager to get out and burn off some energy.

"It would be a good place to start, along with making it clear what our intentions are with the local force within town." Commented Kevin aloud to Balta, agreeing with this course of action. "Though if I may ask Millie. . .do you think the sheriff is to be trusted, or should we expect him to be thinking along the same lines as that mob was thinking?" The Cleric asked her, wondering how big that mobs thought process extended within this small town. He was hoping it wasn't too big.

Either way, his armor would be along with his weapon, cleaned and shined, and rid of bug guts. He figured if they ran into anything again today, he'd have to prove himself. The fight last night had been troubling he figured, with how restless he was in his sleep last night.

Millie was pretty much bouncing in place with excitement of where they were going to go first. After having spent the past eight hours cramming information into her noggin, who could blame the gal? She had pent up energy that needed to be burned, which would more than likely come at Balta or Kevin’s expense. Holding the map of Ravengro, her golden hues darted from place to place whilst trying to decide. There was only so much sunlight left, and so very many places to see.

“Oooh, there are so many choices! Where to go, where to go. Hmmm...Mmm... Aah.... Well....” Hearing the Knave’s suggestion of seeking out the Sheriff first, Millie wrinkled her nose in protest before shaking her head, which caused her red curls to bounce. “No no no no no. Don’t make me sit through a loooong and dull conversation; I wanna’ go somewhere fun first!" Turning the map around so that the other two could see, she’d point near the bottom left at the river. “Lets go to the memorial statue, since it’s sooo close! Please please please?!” Tapping the paper, Millie all but had the map shoved in the two’s faces with her excitement. T’would likely be an interesting walk for all of them to say the least.

Hearing Kev-Kev speak up in agreement with Balta however had Millie sulking with a pout of her bottom lip. She was about to get overruled, wasn’t she? When questioned on the Sheriff’s motives, the map was lowered and rolled up as she pondered over it. “Well, I think marking him as untrustworthy would be a tad bit unfair without meeting him first. From what Lady Kendra has told me, he seems to be a by-the-books sorta’ guy. I think at best we should remain guarded and mindful.”

As usual, Millie's excitement proved to be verging on chaotic. And as usual, Balta was doing his best to placate the girl's unending enthusiasm.

"Right, well, fine. I do suppose a bit of sight-seeing wouldn't hurt." he said, placing either hand on Millie's bouncing shoulders in an attempt to bring her back to his level.

"Very well, but since this is your trip, you get to lead the way. And if it's not nearly as exciting as you hoped, then you don't get to complain." He released her shoulders, turning to Kevin as though looking for some backup.

Fun, the fighter and the cleric get to play babysitter to the alchemist. She has two dads.

No homo.

No homo indeed.

As it seems they were giving into Millie for now, the young man would let out a small sigh, before nodding in agreement. "No rush. . .some sight-seeing might give us an idea on where to go after we do the others we had planned." He stated, musing the idea over in his head before glancing at Millie.

"So then, where to first? Somewhere useful I hope?" He asked, a part of him not wanting to be boooored to tears with things he wouldn't care to remember later on in the coming month. Then again, every place was worth scoping, if it helped them figure this whole death dealing.

Millie’s puckered pout immediately turned into a bright smile when Balta caved into her wishes. He was such a great guy. Bouncing up and down happily once more, which once more would cause the contents of her backpack to jingle and slosh, she stashed the map away before pointing down the southern road. “That way!” She declares with a sing-song voice before leading on with a gay little scamper.

She could be so excitable at times.

“What I’ve read about Ranvegro said that the memorial is near the river near the base of Harrowstone. Can you imagine? We’ll finally get a glimpse of the prison from there! Anyways, apparently the statue commemorates all the soldiers who died the night of the fire, and also is a depiction of Warden Hawkran himself! Oh how positively fun this will be; I don’t know what you’re so worried about Knave~” Millie spoke and chattered on before finally looking over her shoulder towards Balta and winking.

The day proved to be a decent one for taking a stroll however, as for once patches of dull blue sky could be seen peeking through the curtain of clouds that blanketed the land. Crows would caw their annoying songs as Millie, Balta and Kevin passed by the farm fields that dotted the land further out from the heart of the city. Eventually they’d reach a fork in the road that was marked by a huge post jutting out of the ground. Upon closer observation of the thing, they are able to conclude it’s a source for local news in Ravengro. Various postings are listed up on it, some old and weathered to the point of being unable to read them, and others that looked to be far more recent. Nothing too extravagant can be garnered from the post, beyond a request for a local for some abled farm hands to help out for a day for pay. Beyond that, the rest seemed outdated.

Choosing to continue on with that fresh bit of information in their mind, they’d continue down the south road until finally following a path that broke off towards what Millie insisted was more than likely the monument. Passing through a thick grove of trees and following the bend, the sound of rushing water up ahead proved the Alchemist’s guess to be correct. With the trees thinning as the path rounded out to the memorial sight, the looming view of Harrowstone on the nearby bleak hilltop could finally be seen.

Ahead, Ravengro’s most distinctive landmark--beyond the prison, of course--was spotted. It was a 25-foot tall, moss covered stone statue that overlooked the grey waters of the river beside it. The statue depicts a proud, muscular human man dressed in leathers and wielding a truncheon--the depiction of Warden Hawkran, as Millie earlier described. Growing closer to the large monument, something very frightening would immediately catch the trio’s eye. Across the front of the memorial was what looked to be blood. There wasn’t a lot of it, but what little there was had been completely splattered across the stone’s front. The peculiar thing however, beyond the grotesque sight that is, was that on the statue’s base, a large red “V” was scribed in vitae.

As if perfectly (read: horrifyingly) timed, the prison on the hill let out a low, rumbling moan as a chilling wind picked up to blast the heroes as they peered onward.

"I don’t know what you’re so worried about Knave~" Oh, nothing. He had nothing to be worried about except for say... a cult of murderous necromancers, a potentially haunted old prison in which everyone died in the worst way possible, and a set of arcane tomes with secrets best left undisturbed that he was apparently put in charge of. Nope, nothing at all.

"Well, it's not that I'm worried, per se. I'm simply... goal oriented... aye." Whether or not that made any sense was beyond anyone, but Balta was not about to admit his immediate concerns.

The trip went by pleasantly enough. When the sun was out, the countryside looked a bit less dreary. It was still miserable little Ravengro, but a sunny, miserable little Ravengro at least.

"I suppose if we need coin we can work some farmer's field for a day. Not that I'm eager for manual labor, myself, but the thought is there." he said, looking to his companions. The thought of the three of them, all clad in armor with weapons at their sides and taking time out of their day to lift and bail hay was amusing. That kind of work was for suckas.

Pressing on, the statue came into view. It's towering, stone face and depiction of the long-dead warden was certainly inspiring if penal system administration is something you aspire to. Needless to say, the fighter was not impressed. "Die horribly and they'll give you a monument for anything. These people must have been desperate for something to celebrate. Next thing you know, they'll erect a statue of the man with the largest beer gut. Or the woman with the most cats. Grumbling, as always, he made his way around to the front, falling silent at the big, bloody 'V.'

"Ah... erh... do we know anyone that 'V' would... fit?" Off the top of his head, they hadn't encountered anyone or anything with a 'V' name.

All time for pondering was immediately cut short. The horrible moan and the sudden arrival of chilled wind brought all manner of thought to an end. Frozen in place, the fighter simply stared up at the distant prison. His hand raised up over his shoulder, grasping the hilt of his greatsword out of sheer instinct. "Well then, it seems as though we're not wanted here..." Chewing his lower lip, Balta inched closer toward the water's edge. "GET FUCKED, YOU GHOSTLY TWAT!" He roared in response, shouting back at the prison and its moaning spookiness. It wasn't a reaction even he had expected out of himself, but Balta's usual response to fear was very much fight as opposed to flight.

What was Kevin doing during this entire bit? Noooooooooooooothing! He was acting like his normal self, merely being silent as he followed behind the two of them as they went down the way Millie wanted to at the moment. He would listen to what the two were saying, smiling a bit in envy as it seem they were rather close. During his travels it was hard to make friendships with others, due to always being on the move. . .or when he was standing still, it was within the least socialable spots in the entire town. That and he was sleeping during the day, and awake at night too!

As they came before the statue and Balta asked about the name, he'd give a small shrug. "I cannot recall any such name myself."

Before he could think much further on the subject, the moaning would greet them causing him to become alert and now fully awake as of now. His hand would go to his sword, looking about them as he expected some sort of ambush from ghouls or whatnot. As it seemed to just be the wind, least he was hoping on that as he wasn't eager for a fight, he'd loosen up a bit. . .and almost face-fault when Balta did that.

"NOOOT to be rude. . .but if that was a restless spirit, I rather we not make it more moody then it is already. Trust me. . .making spirits more mad is a bad thing, and they do that blasted scare you when you least expect it scenes."

While at the information post, Millie found herself agreeing with Balta’s spoken thought of working for money. The trip here was particularly draining for her, and truth be told, she wouldn’t mind offering her skills in order to make some money. “Well, it could help us learn more about Ravengro, and perhaps build trust with the people, right?” It was a goodly suggestion followed quickly by a charming smile. “Plus maybe we could pick up on some rumors by asking around.” Smart Millie, very smart.

When they arrived at the statue that looked to be covered in blood, Millie’s attention first went to the surrounding area to see if there was a body or something that could have left it. Alas, there wasn’t. The sight of the crimson fluid that coated the statue did have her covering her mouth while approaching to get a closer look. Adjusting her glasses while leaning in, she reached out a finger to drag across the stained stone before righting herself to examine it closer.

“It’s dry... Though the color... Why, I couldn’t imagine it to be terribly old. Earlier today, if that? I’d imagine it would have been cleaned if it were otherwise discovered and report--” Having been voicing her observations aloud on the statue itself, Millie froze in place before whirling to face the distant prison ruins when it moaned eerily. The chilling breeze didn’t much help with things either. Looking around, having likewise expected something to jump out, she’d likewise ease up, especially after hearing Balta straight up yell right back. Doing her best to stifle a giggle, she’d otherwise lose it when Kev-Kev piped in.

Yep, when Millie gets scared, she laughs like a loonie.

Settling down, she’d pull her glasses up to rest atop her head before wiping an eye. “Yeah... So... That’s Harrowstone. And here we have a very... Bloody statue with the letter V on it.” Pausing to think if she knew of a V name off hand, nothing initially came to mind. She’d have to go through her notes later to see what she could find.

Pulling out her journal, several pages were flipped through before Millie finally came to a blank one. Producing an inkpen, the alchemist started to scribble down all her observations. Mouthing what she was writing, a large V was finally drawn in likeness of what was on the base of the statue before she’d look up and around. Hugging the open journal against her bosom, her eyes shot this way and that as if she were searching for something.

“Help me look around, perhaps we can see where this came from, what caused it, find a clue or something!” If they were indeed the first ones to stumble upon the memorial in this state, then perhaps they’d be able to find something.

Taking in long, deep breaths, Balta slowly calmed himself. Kevin spoke wisely enough. If something truly was in the wailing mood and altogether supernatural, would it be a good idea to insult it? Well... maybe. It's momma certainly was fat and it needed to be informed of this fact. Of that Balta was certain.

Pondering for a moment, he looked to both his companions, offering only a small grin as a means of apology for his outburst. Balta never was one to enjoy being scared. The last person who had tried received a broken nose as reprisal. That poor, poor serving maid.

Millie's suggestion to look for clues was worthwhile, and so he set about carefully walking about the immediate vicinity of the statue. He examined the way gravel and dirt appeared, looking for signs of someone's comings and goings. But, no dice. No clues, either.

With a helpless shrug, he returned to the center of the small clearing, staring plainly at the large 'V' as though it would simply tell him its secrets.

Instead of helping to search for clues, Kevin's eyes would be darting all over the place. Something was going to happen. There was going to be another monster. No way was he going to get bug guts all over himself again! No sir. Frowning a bit as they went about searching stuff, Kevin would make sure to stick close to them, incase they started to move off again.

"I have this feeling we're going to get into another fight, yet again. . .I'll keep watch while you two look 'round the place." Kevin explains to them, sounding calm and cool at the moment. This wasn't NEW to him, but it was a bit unsettling still. For now he'd keep his wits about himself, not wanting to fail them yet again, like he had in their first encounter.

Despite searching the area thoroughly, or at least what she thought was a well enough job, Millie gave a sad shake of her head as she turned up empty handed. Looking back towards Balta, it didn’t seem like he found anything either as he stood staring at the crimson V with a look of utmost confusion.

Nearby, Kevin’s attention, albeit somewhat distracted by the moaning that came from the prison ruins, remained alert enough to see if anything was approaching for an attack. After several long moments, he determines all to be fine before lowering his guard.

“It’s been too long since when the vandalism had occurred to find a warm trail it would seem. Perhaps another look around tomorrow may reveal something new, but I fear if it should rain all hope of tracking would be lost.” Millie spoke up, being the first to break the silence as she approached the statue once more. Standing near the Knave, she’d lean in slightly further to view the list of names that was written upon a plaque that had been smeared with blood. Much of the words were so gooped up with the dried fluid that it was hard to read all the names.

“Well... I’ve had my pick of ‘fun’ spots to visit for the day..” Looking between Balta and Kevin, Millie furrowed a slender brow. “Shall we go to visit the Sheriff now? I’m sure he’d want to hear all about this...” Pausing, she’d quickly add. “Unless you had another idea or suggestion?”

"The sheriff might not be a bad idea now..." he said, nodding toward Millie and her suggestion. "...I'm sure they'd like to know about this, perhaps they can even have someone watch the area... or something." shrugging, he looked to Kevin.

"And what do you think, Krevin? Would the priests like to know as well? I'm not sure if this is a matter of religious concern or not, but at some point I'm sure someone got dead enough for this to involve Pharasma in one way or another." There was a distinctly large amount of blood present. Granted, it could just as easily belonged to a cow instead of a human.

They can alert everyone.

"With everything going on, I rather we get as much information we can, so I can do one big letter to them." He answers them, scratching at his chin a bit as he knew he might be staying here for longer then a month now. Hell, at this rate they might even send others from the church to aid him. If any were even nearby that was. Doubt it.

"I think we should leave now and find the man, tell him what we know, then go from there with whatever we can find out from him." Kevin says with a small nod, waiting for the other two now.

Sitting at the small writing desk that decorated her room, Millie Button dropped another sugar cube into her cup of hot steaming earl grey before dipping her pen once more into the vial of ink. Having her journal opened to a fresh clean page, a furrow of her slender red brows was had as she best thought on where to start writing. Much had happened since her last journal update, afterall.

“Wealday 3rd, Arodus 4711 AR
Location: Personal quarters in Lorrimor Manor

Greetings again, dearest Fogwolt Brownbook.

Oh how overjoyed you must be, due to how consistently I’ve been marring your pages over the past several days with inked thoughts, research, and the occasional doodle here and there. Certainly I have had quite the extensive collection of journals in my time, but I dare say I’ve yet recalled any who have started off with such a bizarre mystery as the one I’ve been pouring into your papery depths. Be proud, Sir Fogwolt, for it is not everyday that I find favor in one of my many, many, many... Many many journals.

But enough of praise and recognition for the time being. It would appear that much more has come to transpire since the last time I have recorded anything within your pages. As I’m sure you recall from the last entry I made that a trip was in order after having spent hours upon hours researching various topics of seemingly important information, and oh what a trip it was!

Having decided to start out by paying a visit to Ravengro’s most notorious landmark, the Harrowstone Memorial, we were welcomed by quite a grotesque sight. The 25-foot-tall moss covered statue that overlooks the river--a depiction of Warden Hawkran as I have been told--had been splattered all over in what was concluded to be blood! There were no signs of foul play nearby, nor could a set of footprints or trail be distinguished amongst the other rubble and tracks that countless have left in their visits. Needless to say, the trail had gone cold. The only other bit of pertinent information that we were able to garner was that whatever caused this ghastly show of vandalism... Well, it had happened quite recently.

After happening upon such a scene, Kev-Kev, Balta and I decided it was best to pay a visit to the local authorities. Making our way into the heart of Ravengro, it didn’t take long to find the Ravengro Jail. Sheriff Benjan Caeller was in, as we had hoped, yet our visit and information about the blood soaked memorial was not taken too kindly. It would seem that Lady Kendra’s warnings of the townsfolk being untrusting has been, unfortunately, true. Benjan Caeller was quite suspicious of our whereabouts since the Professor’s funeral, and even appeared unpleasantly surprised when we informed him of our plans to remain in Ravengro for some time. Also, if I may be honest with you Fogwolt, I don’t believe he fancied our red-headed companion in the slightest bit. In fact, I dare say out of the three of us, it was Balta who took the bulk of his ire. Hopefully nothing comes of this pointed mistrust.

Moving on after our visit to the jail, we thought it best to spend the remainder of our evening at none other than Ravengro’s tavern. The Laughing Demon, as it is so called, proved to be a rather warm and friendly atmosphere in comparison to the rest of this dreary town. The owner of the establishment, Zokar Elkarid, holds the philosophy that the best way to meet the horrors of the world is with jest ‘for if one can laugh at the worst life has to offer, there remains little to fear.’ An odd philosophy if I do say so myself, yet I commend his forthgoing attempts to do such. Zokar certainly does his best to live up to such an admirable philosophy, as can be seen through his clever usages of names for food and drink on his menu.

Speaking of drink, there was quite a bit to be had that evening if I do recall. Through glowing green ale, we chatted with Zokar and some of the other tavern-going patrons about vast and varied subjects. Eventually however our conversation turned to that of Ravengro, or rather Harrowstone in particular, where we discovered a rather curious rumor. They say that Harrowstone’s executioner still guards the execution balcony on the western side of the prison! On some nights, his scythe can be seen patrolling the balcony on its own, as if carried by an invisible spirit.

Of course, being the ever curious lot we are, Sir Fogwolt, we just couldn’t pass up such a tempting offer, and at night at that! Adorning our bravery, and several more gulps of liquid courage, Kev-Kev, Balta and I set out to prove the rumor to be just that.

Or so we thought.

The walk to the allegedly haunted prison wasn’t too terrible. Oh sure, the eerie shadows, moaning wind, and creeping chills were quite a nasty combination to weaken one’s resolve, but onward we pressed in the name of science! Or rather, that was [b]my[/] reasoning. Upon reaching the gates however, we had our first odd happening. And by we... I mean The Knave, who found himself quite shaken simply by walking through the sagging wood and metal gates of Harrowstone. The sensation left Balta shaken for quite a few minutes however, which coming from the battle hardened warrior, was somewhat unsettling to see.. After a group hug of encouragement however, we were eventually able to continue on, albeit a bit more timidly.

Eventually reaching what was concluded to be the warden’s personal homestead within the prison grounds, short time was taken to explore it. Despite the fact that nothing was found within the decaying walls and crumbling foundation--namely due to it being pilfered long ago--a rather unfortunate accident, involving large chunks of falling rubble and yours truly failing to avoid them, kept us from further exploring the house. I must admit now that if it wasn’t for Kev-Kev being there, and his divine powers... Well, the remainder of that night would have been exceedingly painful. Do be sure to remind me, Sir Fogwolt, of the debt I truly owe him.

Despite all of this and continuing to press on, exploring the prison grounds of Harrowstone eventually brought us to the destination we originally sought: the execution balcony. A large, rectangular block of stone rested on this weather-beaten rise, while ruined wooden benches lined the eastern wall under a row of tiny, barred windows above. Making our way up the moss covered steps slowly to see if we could catch sight of this floating scythe that we heard so much about, we saw.... Nothing. Merely the execution block.

Choosing to approach the stone, however, proved to be our silliest idea that entire night.

Once near the block, a set of skeletal hands wielding a rusty old scythe suddenly materialized right in front of Balta and Kev-Kev, and without a moments hesitation, it swung to attack! Spurred to battle, both the Knave and Kev-Kev drew weapons and wasted little time on defending themselves. Physical blows landed by the two proved to do little to quell the rage of the Headsman’s Scythe however, yet thankfully the bombs I had on me were quite handy. In fact, and I don’t mean to boast of course Fogwolt, I dare say the majority of the damage was dealt from my bombs.

On a side note, I can’t wait to further develop and experiment with my bombs. Flames are quite effective when it comes to destroying a threat, but what if I were to use an acid component? Or something that could blast out jagged frozen icicles? Or maybe even deafening sound waves! Oh the possibilities are endless!

I digress, dear Fogwolt. Upon causing the scythe to drop and clatter to the ground lifelessly, we--Namely Balta and I, as Kev-Kev wished to retire after that encounter--collected the weapon and brought it back to the Laughing Demon to deliver to Zokar. Telling our triumphant tale and showcasing the trophy we had as proof, a round of drinks was purchased for the entire tavern before we too found our way back to the Lorrimor Manor to rest for the night.

So there you have it! The current recount of what has transpired thus far with my stay in Ravengro. Things certainly require more investigating, and perhaps further exploration is in order... Whether that be Ravengro or Harrowstone at this point is yet to be determined.”

Finally taking a break from all the writing, Millie flopped back in her chair whilst letting out a dramatic sigh. Rubbing her wrist absent-mindedly, the alluring scent of eggs and bacon soon wafted through the air, hinting at breakfast likely being served somewhere downstairs. Hardly one to pass up such a delightful smell and offer, she quickly placed her pen back into the vial of ink before pushing out from behind the writing desk and scampering towards her door without a moment’s hesitation.

Once out in the hallway, it wasn’t long before one of the housemaids directed the red-headed Alchemist towards the promise of another elaborate breakfast.

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