RAVENLOFT: The One That Got Away, Chapter 3

[Adam]

"Nothing in here suggests our quarry," Benn says. He flashes his light around the room, particularly the mural. "I don't recall him having a proclivity for art, though this would seem to suit his taste."

[Lord Skybolt]

Alain on looking at the symbols explains about where he may of heard or seen them:

Some of the symbols worked into the graffiti resemble Falkovnian hexmarks. Folk magic, or witchcraft. Not powerful or even effective---but then again, this is what a few professional, scholarly magicians in this world of Mists have said about such ''backwards peasant superstitions.'' Alain hasn't ever actually tested the Falkovnian hexcasters' abilities--he only passed through Falkovnia. He didn't live there.

That disturbing king with the gory crown might be meant to be the Falkovnian ruler. Or his spirit? Anyway, Alain has heard stories about the monarch there, a mercenary warlord, impaling many people for his dinner entertainment.

[alhoon]

Tunnel
Raen follows the party inside the claustrophobic tunnel. He doesn't seem pleased by the way things are turning out but he follows.
Not one to ignore the power of superstitions, he nods at Alain's explanation and takes a look.

[Adam]

"This just seems like a bolthole for Falkovnian refugees. Nothing to do with Matyr," he gestures towards the entrance. "Let's get back to our search."

[ewancummins]

THE GHOST-STREETS



AFTER INVESTIGATING THE CELLAR...

The party continues its poking about in the Ghost Streets.

No obvious signs of the Woman-Killer.
Not yet, anyway.

But then Sara spots smoke not far off, rising in a thin plume from a street beyond the vacant lot, screened by a low, tumbledown stone wall.

IF THE GROUP INVESTIGATES...

VIEW CONTENT:

Heading that way, the party sees the fire is contained in a ruined timber and stone house with a mostly intact roof and a front wall partly spilled into the street.
Shadowy figures move about inside--men, women, a few pale-faced kids.
The men in the little band clutch at makeshift spears--fire-hardened sticks-- and cast wary glances at the approaching investigators, forming a line across the gap in the front of the house.

One calls out, "Halt."
"Who are you?" He comes out into the street.
Now that the dirty, ragged man has drawn nearer, the party can see a scar on his forehead, an old burn mark that resembles a bird of some sort.

[alhoon]

Raen speaks softly and reassuringly. "You are safe from us friend." Then he lets the other talk to the refugees if they want. Absentmindedly, he fishes a silver piece from his pocket and offers it to the refugee. "To feed the children" he says simply.

[ewancummins]

Raen speaks softly and reassuringly. "You are safe from us friend." Then he lets the other talk to the refugees if they want. Absentmindedly, he fishes a silver piece from his pocket and offers it to the refugee. "To feed the children" he says simply.

The man accepts the coin.
''We have food. You come?'

He waves to the house.

[ewancummins]

THOM


"Agreed." Thom says.

Pulling a small coin purse from his satchel, Thom tosses it to Juergin. "I look forward, to our next meeting." He says.

Thom steps out of the doorway back outside, closing the door behind him. Time for him to carry on with the rest of his plans, Thom makes his way to the docks.

LATER

AT THE WHARVES ON THE EASTERN BANK OF THE MUSARDE

Thom finds the dockside crowded and active: boatmen, peddlers, dockers, whores--probably some cutpurses in the mix, and other people all moving about the boardwalks and the cobbled lanes.
In addition to numerous smaller craft, a hulking Arkandaler paddleboat float in the river, moored to a long, floating lateral pier.
The smokestack resembles the chimney of a small house.
A coal-stained man moves about on deck, barefoot.
Another man unloads casks with a gaff; his skin is as dark as the other, but without any soot.

A slim young woman in a flashy gown pushes close to Thom.
''Looking for company?"
She smiles at him and brushes a stray lock of black hair from her kohled eyes.

[VAN]

Sara takes a better look at the man, trying to remember where she has seen a mark like this. Then she remembers Franz, the Falkovnian soldier, he had the same one. Franz's stories about talons and Falkovia's ruler come to her mind. But these people in rags don't seem that threatening, maybe they have escaped as Franz did.

"Your food offer is really tempting. Are you new to the city? Do you need any help?"

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

Dorgio recognizes the hawk brand as well, from the group's time with Franz and that strange dog of his...Munchen? The thought it it still unsettles the Gundarakite.

"Yes, we will join you, if you like. My name is Dorgio Varga...I serve the Morninglord" he says, gesturing to the amulet hanging from his neck.

[Lord Skybolt]

Alain reaches into his back pack and pulls out a Bag* and says:"I can share the extra rations I have for the day with you if you need any as I have already ate for the day .




*Pouch Everlasting Rations Bag:Once a day produce enough trail Rations for one man for one day .

[ewancummins]

The gaunt man who acts as spokesman says,
'Yes. More food. Good."

An old woman comes out and collects the extra rations.

The squatters invite the party into the dilapidated house.

They are cooking rats on sticks.
None of them seem offended if the party members decline to eat the rodents. The people divide the extra food Alain has given them, the woman who gathered that food handing it out in an orderly fashion. Each member of the band takes his portion--but at no time does the group allow the wall gap, doors, and windows to stand unguarded--someone always remains on duty with a sharp stick, a butcher knife, some weapon.

In contrast to the decay and ruin of the façade, the interior of the house looks clean and organized. Blankets neatly folded in stacks, pots and other household items, a mismatched and damaged collection, arranged in one corner, a circles of bricks ringing the cookfire.
The people are dirty, but they do not stink. It's just ash and soot.
Their clothes look shabby because they have been patched and mended many times, but only the outer layers are actually dirty.

It seems like about twenty people in this house, including the kids. People come in and out of back rooms.

Most of the conversation goes on in Falkovnian.

VIEW CONTENT:

Anyone who speaks that language hears the expected questions about these armed newcomers, and ordinary domestic conversations.

The Falkovnian spokesman bites into a hunk of bread. "Good. I am Ludwig. You are?"
He looks around at the party members, each in turn.

[Lord Skybolt]

"My name is Alain "Alains answers in kind . Thinking that maybe he could find some better houses for them, that are abandoned around where his house is located that they may want to move into .

[alhoon]

REFUGEES

FALKOVNIAN: "I am Raen. A scholar. You have nothing to fear from me good man."
Switching back to the language the rest understand he says, "Couldn't you find a better place? I thought under the law of the land all you refugees have to do is to vow to defend this city from your former master and then you're free to settle in one of the empty houses. I may be wrong..." He looks around the others for confirmation.
"In any case, do you encounter trouble often? Why the guards?"

[ewancummins]

REFUGEES

FALKOVNIAN: "I am Raen. A scholar. You have nothing to fear from me good man."
Switching back to the language the rest understand he says, "Couldn't you find a better place? I thought under the law of the land all you refugees have to do is to vow to defend this city from your former master and then you're free to settle in one of the empty houses. I may be wrong..." He looks around the others for confirmation.
"In any case, do you encounter trouble often? Why the guards?"

LUDWIG replies in FALKOVNIAN

"Our group is not wanted in the other parts of the city. Many of the city-people ,and even a few of the others who fled here from Falkovnia fear that we are spies. They are fools."
Ludwig shrugs.
"I was an underofficer in charge of record-keeping. The papers I had with me when the gendarmes searched me convinced them I was dangerous. A man to be watched. These others are my friends, family---some of the men were also officers, or serjeants. You must understand, in Falkovnia, the work done here by councilmen, scribes, clerks , magistrates-- that is all done by the Vlad Drakov's men in uniform. But we here are not killers, not torturers."