La Maison Soloumbre: Night of April 10th

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Nathan of the FoS
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Moral Machivelli wrote: "However, a closer inspection may clear that up" The Borcan brother turns to Verredak "May I, Brother?"
"Best leave it be," the Falkovnian says shortly. "Handling it might prevent certain kinds of analysis later."
OOC, Is the ring sunk into the mud atall? If it is, that might help to establish (Vaguley) When it was dropped. If it was within a short space of time, it would still be relitivly clean, whereas if it had been there since the start it might be coverd with mud by now.
It's actually not in the mud at all; it fell into high grass and is being supported by the grass, perhaps three or four inches above the ground.
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton stands a bit behind the other freed "captives". The situation turned out to be bad. A good thing they found out that ring. At the time, he didn't even care that much for what the others would think for him spying on them.
His mind was racing to his hidden spellbook, deep in his backpack in the room. The spellbook with his most beautyful and powerful spells; each one of them is an exercise for the mind to memorise and very useful.

The spellbook... the spellbook he had taken so many pains to compose; The spellbook containing powerful enchantments, necessary divinations, useful illusions. The spellbook containing spells to create and control undead.

OOC> Sense Motive DC 16 to see that Draxton's mind is not on the scene. If you beat the DC by 5 you understand also that he tries to hide the fact.
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Post by Pamela »

At the mention of abduction, Gertrude blanched, looking around at the tents. How could we have not heard anything? Charms, or magical means of holding them… She nodded slowly at the Borcan’s suggestion that it might not have been a recent event. Perhaps I’d arrived just after? She looked suspiciously at Buchvold and Serd. How long had they themselves been out here? And had they tried to distract her while their allies…?

No surely they wouldn’t be allowed to go now…

Unless they’re being watched, to see what they do, and where they go…


“But then if there are kidnappers, how did they get in without interrupting the wards? And if they’re brothers, what about their own rings?” She paused, wondering whether to divulge the news about the strong divination that had been cast. How would that have figured in all this?

As she considered it, a small smile quirked across her face at the mention of the statue’s popularity. She looked up at it ruefully, thinking, More popular tonight than probably any time since the Fraternity’s moved in…

She was silent at the names Vedarrak offered, fully understanding his hesitation over involving the Shadowcloak. “If you wish, I could stay to watch the ring? I’m afraid my upbringing didn’t train me for the great outdoors,” she remarked wryly, gesturing at the tracks. Otherwise, I am more than willing to try to follow you in your search if it will not impede your efforts.”
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton shaked his head in agreement. "I'll wait here too. I'm quite old for tracking I'm afraid. And of course, I would like to keep Professor Kingsley some company in these troubled times."
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Dirac nods, swallowing at the mention of the Shadowcloak's name but otherwise collected. "Very well, Marcos," he says. "I'll be back shortly."

He jogs to the house and disappears within.


Two or three minutes later he emerges with the strongly-built Vos ranger-cum-Brother Grabek Krakul, and the slight but ominous figure of Exalted Brother Roeccha behind them. Dirac gesticulates widely, showing Krakul where Crow found tracks; as they come within earshot the Vos is speaking.

"...the weather is miserable, of course, but the spoor should be quite fresh."

Behind them, Roeccha glances across the company, his gaze resting on each in turn but lingering nowhere. "The ring?" he asks, almost conversationally.
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Post by alhoon »

Draxton nods towards the ring. "It is here exalted brother". He seems more composed now; paying more attention to those around him and what is being said. Still he understans that anyone skilled in such things could understand that he is laboring under a dangerous secret.
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude turned at Draxton’s offer, her expression neutral as she nodded. Keep me company indeed… She recalled his letters to her of months before. I hope he doesn’t hope to ally me in any cloak-and-dagger schemes, she thought to herself, as she recalled the letter slipped under her door back in Nevuchar Springs. It seemed his interest in such behaviour was still in place. He does look a little shifty, she thought to herself. I’ll bet he had a good time explaining why he was wondering around invisible among Brothers tonight. Talk about suspicious behaviour…

When the burly ranger appeared, Gertrude hesitated, wondering whether moving out of the way would help or just further damage whatever trail they would be examining. She resolved to remain in place; whatever ‘damage’ she had done, was done, and they would ask her to move if they thought it would help. She said nothing herself; Dirac would surely have relayed her own words on the matter if he thought it of any value.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Moral Machivelli »

Buchvold is still silent. He is trying to work out under what circumstances aring might fall off someones finger, and at that angle. After a while, he experements with his own ring, trying to see how it might fall in that way.

OOC. Any joy? Buchvold will keep on trying diferent ideas untill one works.
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Post by alhoon »

OOC> I think it was placed there or the brother wearing it disappeared and it stayed behind. FoS rings are not made in a way that allows them to "slip".

IC> "Can't we use some divination or something similar to detect if it is indeed a ring of one of us or a faux? Would it be possible that one of us gathered here has any spell that would allow him or her to see what happened here a little time ago?"
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

"Of course," Roeccha says, squinting at the ring through a small crystal lens. "It is a genuine ring, or an exquisite forgery. Father Shadowcloak will know, certainly. Is there any reason not to move it now, Brother Krakul?"

Krakul, inspecting the scene closely with Dirac's help, grunts distractedly in reply. "Uh...what? I don't think so." Stooping to press the grass with one massive hand some fifteen feet away, he says, "It was cast from here, I think. Someone came--fifteen minutes ago? That would square with the alarm, and it can't have been too much longer or the traces would be gone entirely. He stood here, moving very slightly, for a few minutes, then ran..." Standing, Krakul points. "Toward the perimeter. I would guess an un-dead of some kind."

"Why?" Roeccha asks, taking the ring in a handkerchief and slipping it into his coat pocket.

Krakul grins, his hard yellow teeth showing in his beard. "Would you walk here on a night like this...barefoot?"
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Post by Rotipher of the FoS »

Crow stands aside to observe the flurry of speculation and activity which his hypothesis has spurred, savoring a smug moment's professional pride in how -- much as at the Manoir, five months previous -- the vipers still seem susceptible to his steerage, provided his words are couched as well-reasoned and productive suggestions. Their academicians' habits at work, no doubt, to routinely accept knowing statements from "colleagues" at face value: scholars in general are universally accounted easy marks by charlatans, and with good cause.

(The bard, for whatever it's worth, rather hopes the trespassers had been foolish enough to abscond with one of the Brethren. If whoever set off the security-alert is affiliated with Van Rijn, their keeping a captive is likely to permit the vipers' formidable divinatory magics to locate them -- no matter their precautions -- in which case, the Fraternity (and he) will be one step closer to recovering the Doomsday Device plans. But he is far less convinced this is an abduction than his goading words implied: the renegade transmuter is unlikely to have been so heavy-handed or stupid.)

Still shielding his makeup -- as waterproof as Lamordian chymists could make it, but there are limitations to everything -- from the drizzle, the spy looks from one companion to another as they await Dirac's return. Kingsley's speculations and wariness are admirably true-to-form, as are the Borcan's stubborn fiddling in defense of an already-debunked theory. The bard chuckles inwardly at Serd's obvious discomfiture; if Nevuchar Springs was any example of the Richemulouise merchant's "tradecraft", he'll likely be answering some pointed questions vis-a-vis his own necromantic leanings, in the near future. Nor are you hiding your guilt half so well as you did then, 'old goat': a down side to cheating in your social duels, that your parries fail you if you've no time to fortify your guile with spells? Serves you right, if they do catch on, to choose as tawdry and tiresome a path to power as you did....

As for Vedarrak, the bard doesn't focus on the Falkovnian for more than a few seconds at a time. Partly because he senses the man is dangerous, and has already struck Vedarrak from his mental list of the more likely suspects to be Van Rijn's mole ... and partly because, though Crow is not consciously aware of it, something in the man's military bearing makes his own spine straighten itself unconsciously, slight shoulders square at attention, tense nerves jittering in anticipation of yet another dressing-down or blow. His anger that Brother Paolo should deride his instrument of choice, the previous night, had had deeper roots than he knew; Serd's not the only man among their tableau, to have defiantly pursued the one brand of magic and talent which had expressly been forbidden him.

Suddenly wary for his guitar-case, Crow is checking the integrity of the oilskin outer wrap he'd sheathed it in, before exiting the window, when Dirac at last returns, accompanied by the shalach-ti and a hulking figure who sweats profusely in Souragne's heat, even in the rain and night. Voros, the bard places the accent, and a sensible choice to further interpret the various suspect tracks. The bard nods respectfully to the new arrivals, then listens in as the backwoods-born Krakul relates his own findings, which Crow will provisionally credence, unless and until he finds reason to doubt the burly ranger's word.

Bare feet were hardly proof positive of undeath, in this clime -- shoes are far from universal amongst the destitute sharecroppers of Souragne -- but to go out unshod after dark is to court snakebite, to say nothing of the area's infamous foot-rotting infections. And few natives willingly ventured out of doors in the rain, when death rode, in any case. Still, something in the ranger's report rings dischordantly: if the trespasser is indeed one of the bayou-realm's abundant Obedient Dead, i.e. a zombie, then it has no business "running", unless it was endowed with atypical mobility by its creator ... or unless it is no indigenous undead at all, but some foreign type imported by Van Rijn.

"Those two didn't go barefoot," Crow points out, in reference to the other tracks' hobnailed imprints. He gestures to the tracks he and Brother Dirac had followed from the Maison window to this point. "What can you tell us of them? And were they here at the same time as the barefoot figure? If they weren't conspiring with the creature after all, but merely passed by and scared it off, perhaps they caught a glimpse of our intruder."
"Who [u]cares[/u] what the Dark Powers are? They're [i]bastards![/i] That's all I need to know of them." -- Crow
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Rotipher of the FoS wrote:"Those two didn't go barefoot," Crow points out, in reference to the other tracks' hobnailed imprints. He gestures to the tracks he and Brother Dirac had followed from the Maison window to this point. "What can you tell us of them? And were they here at the same time as the barefoot figure? If they weren't conspiring with the creature after all, but merely passed by and scared it off, perhaps they caught a glimpse of our intruder."
"Eh? No, those are the prints of Brother Lorenz and Father Mikkelson," the Vos says, his nose still near the earth. "The prints fall above those of our bare-footed friend here and here...he runs with the stride of one perhaps...six feet in height, or a bit taller. So!"

He and Dirac make their way into the gloom, peering at the ground; Roeccha stares after them for a moment, then shrugs slightly and turns toward the Maison.
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

On that anticlimactic note the impromptu union seems to have broken up; given the arrival of more expert investigators for the two main leads which have appeared, it seems that the presence and participation of those remaining is no longer necessary.

Vedarrak excuses himself and turns back toward his tent, leaving Serd, Kingsley, Buchvold, and Crow together at the scene. The rain has abated, and the full moon peeps from among the torn clouds, spilling ghastly clear illumination across the garden.

A brother, perhaps taking advantage of the break in the weather, approaches, the moonlight making his blond hair silver and casting odd shadows over his owl-like face; it's Brother Perrison. Looking at the four of you, he licks his lips and speaks.

"Hullo," he says, his voice oddly cheery. "Nasty night, isn't it?"
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Post by Pamela »

Gertrude listened to Krakul’s account of the tracks, praying that the suspicious ones were distinct from her own. She was unable to identify even those, as she looked back on the path they’d made towards the shrine. She looked back at the mention of undead, suddenly fearful, though careful to not let this show on her face. How did it get here? Surely it would have triggered the alarms on entry- but then where would it have been hiding? Or did it come in the daytime?Is that even possible?

As Crow pointed out some other prints, she waited to hear remarks about her own. It was with some relief when the Voros ranger left with Dirac, and Roeccha returned to the Maison. “So now what do we do,” she wondered aloud, unsure as to what the wisest course of action would be. The comfort of warm dry shelter and a stiff drink was tempting, but she didn’t relish having to explain herself to a room of strangers. She looked up, as she realised the drops still falling about her were from the drenches leaves of the tree and not the clouds. She smiled at the full moon; Zherisians appreciated a clear view of the heavenly bodies, rare as it was.

She looked over warily at the blond’s approach, till she made out his features. Full moon will bring out the lunatics, she thought as she smiled at Perrison. “Certainly not the most pleasant, no… Did you happen to see anything yourself, Brother?” She was curious to see whether he’d speak any sense, or mutter warnings or perhaps offer them another Tarokka reading.
His only real danger is if stupidity is contagious and lethal. In which case, we’re all dead…-Gertrude
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Post by Nathan of the FoS »

Llana wrote:She looked over warily at the blond’s approach, till she made out his features. Full moon will bring out the lunatics, she thought as she smiled at Perrison. “Certainly not the most pleasant, no… Did you happen to see anything yourself, Brother?” She was curious to see whether he’d speak any sense, or mutter warnings or perhaps offer them another Tarokka reading.
"See?" he repeats, blinking as if to illustrate the action. "No. What did you see, Sister?" He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is different--deeper and more confident--although his expression remains cheerful and vacant as ever. "I see Air, Earth, Fire and Water," nodding at Crow, Serd, Buchvold and Kingsley in turn. "Death and the Lord of the Dead take council against each other. Lightning is your enemy, moonlight befriends you. You had better leave now, before the storm gets worse."
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