Lament walks over to the fireplace and removes her shoes. She sits Indian style on the floor and warms herself. Fatigue from a day of entertaining weighs heavy on her as she battles to keep her eyelids open. She stares into the fire and speaks to no one in particular. "Good Ole Petros would have gotten a kick out of our performance today. What a tough crowd. This town exhausts me."
After that, she lays back on the floor with her hands over her eyes. She almost slips off to sleep before Kendra's voice jars her back to reality. As she reads the letter, tears stream down Lament's face. She listens intently.
"I'm sure I speak for everybody Kendra...take your time with his diary. Please guard it though. You may want to sleep with us. If your father had enemies, you and his things will need to be protected."
I'll lock my door when I go back to sleep but for now? I'll sit here in the room with you and start my reading. You are free to go upstairs
She pours herself a generous serving of wine, the last of the wine from the wake, and settles in front of the fire. She turns to the first page and begins reading silently.
Baradlon sits silently with Lament and Kendra, considering their situation. The day of "pressing the flesh" had completely exhausted his shallow social reserves, so he is content to allow his thoughts to swirl around him with eyes half-lidded. "Simeon," is all he manages when the library is mentioned.
After his little episode with the children, Simeon made his way through the crowd, nodding at the various greetings of the increasingly inebrieated revellers.
Nervously disengaging himself from a few ladies' suggestive invitations, Simeon was glad when the party wound down and it was obvious that his duties as Judge was finally finished.
Making his way back to the Petros residence, he let himself in and entered the meeting room just behind Kendra.
Taking a seat in a chair along the wall,he listened stonefaced as Kendra read Petros' final missive.
His head falls in relief at the mention of access to both Petros' journal and his library.
"Kendra, dear, Lament has it right. Your right to Petros' thoughts is tantamount. My desire, nay my need to read it, will need to patient. It was my second most strenuous wish to invest myself in your father's library. I will retire there immediately and begin my researches."
In fact it takes the most supreme test of willpower for Simeon not to rush over and snatch the journal from Kendra's hands.
He walks slowly up to Kendra and accepts the library key from her.
Clutching the key tightly in his hand , he turns to the others "You may take this however you must, but I must insist that for this night I be given sole occupancy of Petros' library. I find that when beginning a course of research, it serves me to have a time to acquaint myself with the archivist's cataloguing methods and epistemological processes."
Jaru dozes in a chair by the fire through the early evening trying to ignore the unsettling presence of the strange tiefling.
After Kendra awakes and returns with the key and journal, Jaru once again looks weary and strained. "No, I am sorry, Kendra. I have failed to find your father. I swear that I will not stop looking until he is once again properly interred. I swear upon the Spire!" He stops short and wipes away the cold sweat that has appeared upon his stubbled scalp with his impassioned near blasphemy.
He gathers himself and continues looking pale, "I must apologize again. I did not mean to further discomfort you. I will assist Simeon in the library." The young priest bows awkwardly and retreats upstairs despite the wizard's wishes.
Baradlon has no reaction to Simeon's announcement.
The library, for such a modest town, and for a single mans use, is very impressive. It has books, scrolls and manuscripts stuffed into shelves in a seemingly chaotic system that you can only hope its owner understood. The room has the smell of dry mustiness prized by bibliophiles everywhere.
Four large book shelves occupy the center of the room with more shelves on the walls at various heights. It would take a skilled librarian days just to sort it by topic or by author... it will take hours to find things as it is but as one works with the library the effort needed to find something should improve in time.
The exception to this scholarly disaster site is the credenza. It is neat and orderly, as if it has been cleared by its owner. An ink pot and a number of prepared quills stand in regimented order, as does a stick of sealing wax and a jar of fine sand. A battered book sits to one side, without any indication on its spine or cover as to its purpose.
The key a that would open the desk still sits in the lock where Kendra presumably just placed it. You can assume the same key would open the top draw as well.
On examination the book seems to be an old diary... it starts roughly 10 years ago and a page is marked with a book mark.
It reads, The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous. The Tyrant was not the founder of this sick and twisted order, but he was the most powerful of its number and is definitely considered the ideal of what their Way can accomplish.
Thank goodness that certain secrets are kept and certain people kept hidden – who knows how the Way would react if it were otherwise?
You'd have to scan and read through it for more.
The tall priest glowers down at the unkempt wizard with a look that makes it clear he will brook no argument. Ignoring the shelves that likely hold more interest to his companion, Jaru heads to the desk and reads the entry with interest.
"The Whispering Way," he mutters aloud. "Have you heard of it, Simeon?"
Simeon is at first dumbfounded by Jaru's statment, watching the priest walk out of the room and up the stairs. A sudden pain from the key in his hand alerted him to the fact he was clenching his fist in a sudden fit of anger.
"Kendra, I will retire to the library." he says stiffly, then nods to the others and follows Jaru up the stairs.
Finding the obstinate Pharasmin waiting outside the library door, Simeon brushes past him brusquely and inserts the key and turn it to unlock the door.
Hand still on the key, Simeon talks to Jaru while not deigning to look at him "Touch nothing. This is my domain, not some dusty temple archive you may be used to. Petros was a scholar , as am I. I will advise you when your 'assistance' is needed. "
With that, he opens the door and steps into the library, taking a deep breath of the book-scent, a combination of the scent of paper, leather, candle wax and ink....intoxicating!
Taking in the chaos of the bookcases at a glance, Simeon's gaze settles on the credenza and its ordered nature.
Quickly crossing the room, Simeon runs his hands over the old book, noticing the book mark poking up above the leather cover.
Without a glance at Jaru, Simeon opens the book to the marked page and reads avidly.
Lips moving as he read the entry, Simeon's eyes widen at the implications.
Jaru's question about the Whispering Way startled Simeon, he hadn't heard the priest approach and read the same passage over his shoulder
Turning his head, Simeon addresses Jaru, if he remained "You may be of some use....Search these shelves for any and all treatises dealing with the Whispering Tyrant, otherwise known as Tar Baphon. I will continue reading this diary of Petros' for clues."
Knowledge (Religion)
Knowledge (Arcana)
Re-roll Knowledge (Religion)
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in the Inner Sea region for thousands of years. Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer.
The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers — the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
"For your edification, I have heard of the Whispering Way! " Simeon exclaimed, his face flushed with excitement "An ancient necromantic organization, the most known member being Tar-Baphon - hence my request for a search of the stacks - he who laid waste to Ustalav and came close to subjugating a large portion of Golarion to his undead reign!" .
Simeon pauses, lost in thought, eyes sparkling with interest "If Petros had been investigating the Whispering Way.... very dangerous prey indeed!"
Jaru steps back from the sour smelling sage. He should have brought some scented oils to present to him as a veiled gift. His expression of annoyance changes to interest with the elucidation.
"Evidently, you exaggerate. I have never heard of all this in my homeland. Ustalav truly has a dark history though. I will look."
Baradlon rises and goes up to the library when he hears Jaru and Simeon talking. His keen ears pick up their conversation on the way.
"So, it seems Petros intended us to find out something before we go to the prison where he died. This can't be the only library in town. Jaru, didn't you befriend the old priest? Perhaps you could ask him if the temple has any books or records. We might be able to discover more about this...Whispering Way and the prison and town itself."
That and it'll let our sour sage keep this library all to himself.
"Yes. I had intended to check on Father Grimburrow in the morning. I will ask about any records the temple might keep."
[dice=Knowledge (Religion)]1d20+6
Baradlon rises and goes up to the library when he hears Jaru and Simeon talking. His keen ears pick up their conversation on the way.
"So, it seems Petros intended us to find out something before we go to the prison where he died. This can't be the only library in town. Jaru, didn't you befriend the old priest? Perhaps you could ask him if the temple has any books or records. We might be able to discover more about this...Whispering Way and the prison and town itself."
That and it'll let our sour sage keep this library all to himself.
Dismissing the others from his awareness, Simeon closes the old diary and carefully opens it to the first page of delicate parchment.
His eyes wide, he begins to read....
Simeons reading will take him past midnight...
He finds that he is able to skim the text looking for clues or mentions as to the Whispering Way.
He is able to identify these entries.
Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous. The Tyrant was not the founder of this sick and twisted order, but he was the most powerful of its number and is definitely considered the ideal of what their Way can accomplish.
Thank goodness that certain secrets are kept and certain people kept hidden – who knows how the Way would react if it were otherwise?
Seven Years Ago:
The WW seem to be both more and less of a threat than thought. They are growing in activity – It may be some sort of overall design or it could be shifting politics within their ranks. It seems to be distracting them from their usual harmful enterprises. What could be causing it and what can be leading up to it?
My trip to Last Wall was not wasted. They remain vigilant of Gallowspire. I know that I myself would never attempt a visit – simply too dangerous. One thing that fascinated me was the Ley Line array proceeding through Ustalav and Gallowspire. One theory is that the Whispering Tyrant chose the site for that reason. Another theory is that the lines have been harnessed to ensure his dormancy. The native Kellid used to center many of their religious sites on purported ley lines in their worship of their strange gods.
If it is the case that they have a connection to the strength of the Tyrants prision, I shudder to think what would happen if certain of these power nexus’ were to weaken or be disrupted.
Five Years Ago:
My first and hopefully last direct conflict with those madmen who favour undeath over life. Even fully prepared and with several trusted agents it was a hard won victory. That both Piotr and Midisielle have fallen saddens me greatly. We saw to it that they were given full rites and a proper farewell. I’ve arranged for a sum of money to go to Piotr’s wife and children – no replacement for a Husband and Father but used with care, will ensure that they live comfortably for many years. M never spoke of her family or homeland so the best I can do is bid her speed through The Bonelands to Pharasma’s throne.
I dared not record my investigations even in my journal earlier for fear that the agents of the Way may somehow know of my suspicions and plans… I must make a fuller account of that now that the crisis has passed. With all the events and terrors, it may make an interesting book.
I do not doubt that today’s events only ended a cell of the Way… the larger Cabal will be only inconvenienced I dare say.
“Retired”? – I haven’t worked harder in years. I will be certain to take a few months for myself, and for Kendra, whom I neglected in this time, for some sort of holiday. With this cell gone and their presence disrupted I feel more comforted for her safety and that of every person in the area.
The journal ends not long after that.
At length, his eyes heavy with fatigue, he is forced to retire to his bed or fall asleep at the desk.
The rest of you are tired as well, and one by one you head to bed or your couch as the case maybe.
To sleep, perchance to dream...
Your sleep is... disturbed and your dreams are vaguely unsettling and dark.
These dreams evaporate when a distant repeated screaming pierces your consciousness. Awake now, you can hear the commotion of people. A noise that only gets louder... something is happening outside, and towards the river.
"Wake up! Something is happening outside! Wake up guys! We need to go out and see!"
Lament gets her gear together and rubs her eyes. She stands expectantly for the others to join her.
Jaru doesn't last nearly as long as Simeon. He takes a quick look over the stacks of books and retires...waking with a start! Taking the time to properly arm himself he heads downstairs to see what is the matter.
Eyes flickering from line to line, Simeon devours Petros' account of his run-in with the Whispering Way, his breathing coming quicker and quicker.
Flipping pages he quickly scribbles notes with a stylus as he finds entries that see particularly applicable.
A time comes when he realized his eyes had been closed for some time, shaking his head, he rubs his eyes and looks down at the new ink stains on his tunic, and candle wax on his sleeve.
With a sardonic smile, he "tips his hat" to the journal, "Thanks for sharing, Petros.". Gathering up his notes, he retires to his room to fall into a fitful sleep.
Awakened by Lament's yells, he leaps out of bed in a panic, temporairly not reckognizing the room he was sleeping in. Breathing and heart slowly returning to normal, he hears the others stirring and grabs his own gear to join them, cursing circumstances that will probably take him away from his researches.
You dress and organise with Kendra in the room looking confused. The screams have ended but the commotion continues.
As you are ready to head out there is a banging at the door, again Kendra goes to answer it and comes back with Trestleblade.
The deputy flashes Elidal a worried smile and gives her a nod before addressing you all.
Sheriff Caeller wants to see you... right now, begging your pardon.
His expression is strained and brittle. His body language radiates 'danger', shaking slightly.
This time I will go, says Vigilance in a matter of fact tone. I think she is safe enough for now.
This time I will go, echos Kendra. I think I am safe enough for now. She gives you all a wiry smile/
She puts on her still mud stained dressing gown and hugs her fathers journal to her chest.
Baradlon starts from his spot in the living room chair by the fire. He slept in his hide shirt out of long habit, and hearing screams he immediately grabs his curveblade from where it rests against the chair arm and rushes outside. Don't be a wraith. For the love of the Dawnflower, please don't be a wraith, he thinks as he searches about for the source of the sound. He sees Trestleblade approaching the Lorrimor house, and raises an eyebrow at him by way of questioning what's going on.
Trestleblade waves you onwards and continues to the house.
Nighteyes arrives at quite the scene. The monument to the fallen of Harrowstone is surrounded by hundreds of villagers, all in hastily donned clothing and with blankets thrown around shoulders. The scene is lit by dozens of flaming torches.
The deputies do their best to keep order and keep the them at bay in the night and strive to be heard above the hubbub of confused, scared and angry voices.
From a slightly raised position at the monument the Sheriff spots the incoming elf and waves him over, Riff the deputy making way for Nighteyes to get through.
Sheriff Caeller is clearly pissed. His anger bubbles just under the surface of his business like demeanor and it probably wouldn't take much to make him explode in rage... there is a tension in the air, a 'tightness' - something that pulls, clings and suffocates all at once.
Well,what do you make of this, he says in grim voice.
He moves to one side and you can see a large 'V' has been drawn onto the monument... in blood. The blood is congealed and no longer damp save for the pre-morning dew yet it is still fresh.
Ever since you people have come to town I've had nothing but trouble.... He controls himself with an effort of will. I am being unfair again - still, I am no mood to be trifled with.
He points off to the side of the monument and you can see a still figure lying on the cold stone... that of the town dog and mascot - Old River. The dogs throat has been cut and its blood stains the plinth.
Baradlon snarls wordlessly at the sight of the murdered animal. "What the f!@@ is wrong with this town? You've got some deep evil rooted here. Get these people the hell back before they eliminate any evidence there might be."
The angry elf begins searching around for tracks or signs of who might have done this.
The sheriff strains like a dog at a leash... tensing to lash out but he closes his eyes and exhales in one long steady breath.
You're right - I've been doing my best here, he says in a calmer voice. He moves down into the crowd and helps his deputies, clearing the way for the rest of you, though Kendra says with the townsfolk. The rest of you are able to move onto the plinth.
Tracks? Not a chance. The dogs throat has been cut with something extremely sharp. You are no blood splatter expert but it would seem that the dog did not struggle at all. The letter is about four and a half feet off the ground extending to over five and a half feet at its tips.
Baradlon slams his fist against the statue in frustration. He whirls on the crowd. "GO HOME YOU FOOLISH SHEEP! THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERROR AND YOUR IGNORANT MILLING ABOUT HAS RUINED ANY CHANCE OF FINDING TONIGHT'S CULPRIT!" he roars, one eye twitching.
There is an angry muttering throughout the crowd.
This time I will go, echos Kendra. I think I am safe enough for now. She gives you all a wiry smile.
"I do not think-" Jaru begins, but relents under Kendra's determined look. "Well then, quickly."
The priest stays close to the bereaved woman to keep an eye on her.
Simeon staggers along with the others towards the monument, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Arriving, he glares owlishly up at the bloody symbol on the statue "V...V...V...V...what does it mean?". Unconcerned with the state of tracks and such, his attention is solely on the garish violation of the monument.
However, Nighteye's outburst brought his head around to regard the elf.
Sense Motive
Completely missing the change in mood of the crowd, he says to Nighteyes,
"Quiet down , there! I'm thinking over here!"
Jaru whispers to Kendra, "Be careful habibti, frightened people can be dangerous."
Trying to calm the crowd he raises his voice, "Good people! Good people! We are all outraged by this meaningless act of violence and vandalism. I cannot begin to understand the sick mind that would do such a thing. Let us give the sheriff and his deputies the peace and quiet they need to work. Please, the best thing we can do tonight is return to our homes and loved ones and let them work."
Lament jogs down the hill to the town. Once again chaos has broken out. It never stops in this town. She sees her priest friend trying to calm the town folk and attempts to assist him. "Father Jaru is correct...the sheriff will get all of this under control. We had an incredible day today. The food and fellowship were fabulous. Let's not have it ruined now. We should all go home and rest. Tomorrow is a new day."
The gentle persuasion and arguments are sufficient to turn the people back to their beds. You note an angry crying Gibbs, a man clearly distraught and being comforted by Zokar of all people. They depart in small groups but within minutes you are left alone with the sheriff.
Jaru frowns at the dead animal, "I do not think this can be blamed on stirges. Where was Gibbs tonight?