HM's Carrion Crown AP - IC


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GlassEye

Adventurer
Gregori looks confused, baffled, and frustrated all at once. And more than a bit fearful and wild-eyed since the encounter with Jack has caused him to doubt his control over his curse and his grasp on his sanity. He again motions towards the gravestone.

"The stone caught my eye as I passed. When I looked closer I would swear it said 'Firvinianna Laali' and it gave the date of her death. But now the stone isn't legible and I'm not even sure that I saw it at all or if something is planting images and doubts in my mind."

He rubs the space between his eyes.

"Ever since that creature last night. Curse that Jack!" he mutters.
 

HolyMan

Thy wounds are healed!
OOC: No magic detect in or around the tombstone. Year is 4711. Should I wait to move on? Seems like there is more RP to be had here.

The group stands silently in the quiet graveyard as the setting sun filters through the trees. Everyone is silent, lost in their own thoughts and not sure what to make of the strange things happening around them all.

The wind picks up and pulls and clothes and cloaks but still no one move, though eyes dart back and forth as each watches the other.


 

Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Halál looks troubled as he stands with his companions in the evening; his thoughts wander as he listens to the puckish breeze toying with the leaves. A troubled young man we've found, my Lady; help me grant him some measure of your peace.

The bird-man claps Gregori's meaty shoulder with a taloned hand. "My Lady loves this land for the opportunities it provides her servants; there are many here who's bodies have passed on but who's spirits know it not . . ." He trails off as the look on his companion's face shows this may not be the comfort he intends. "What I mean to say is if there are more here we need to help to find their way to Pharasma's Court, we're more than . . . ah, hells, man, shake it off and let's be about our business. You're giving me the creeps!"

He drops his eyes and turns partly away in what appears to be confused embarrassment. Well, that could've gone better. Lady, I hope one day to understand your thinking in making me your emissary.
 


perrinmiller

Adventurer
Firvinianna Laali, Half Drow Elven Sorceress

Firvinianna relaxes as Gregori's explanation comes out and the Tengu makes his attempt to comfort the man.

She remarks, "There is no magical auras on the tombstone now. So..." The elven sorceress shrugs and let's the matter drop as no harm has been done.

It is probably best that I not mention he is potentially a loon.

She continues on as the eidolon forges ahead, expecting a treat.

___________________________________________

Firvinianna1-1.jpg
Firvinianna Laali
 

GlassEye

Adventurer
Gregori looks momentarily startled at Halál's words but then laughs heartily and clutches the tengu's hand.

"Thank you, friend. Ustalav even gets to us natives, I suppose."

He catches up to Firvin and walks beside her quietly for a moment and it's obvious he's working himself up to say something.

"I'm sorry, Firvin. This Whispering Way business has me a bit unnerved. I have a question. A figment spell happens in the target's mind, correct? So, if someone cast a figment on me the magical residues would be on me and not the gravestone?"
 

perrinmiller

Adventurer
Firvinianna Laali, Half Drow Elven Sorceress

Firvinianna nods and accepts the apology, a slight smile cracking her stoic facade, "Let us not speak of it again."

"I did not see any auras on you either, the moment past when I looked at the tombstone. Let me think on this for a moment."


OOC: If necessary to confirm, cast Detect Magic again. Knowledge Arcana (1d20+7=17)
___________________________________________

Firvinianna1-1.jpg
Firvinianna Laali
 

HolyMan

Thy wounds are healed!
OOC: No magical or lingering aura about Gergori as well. Supernatural ability maybe.

The group walks in relative silence till Toddy cries out, "Hey this must be it! It's the only mausoleum where the two paths meet. Blueberry tart here I come."

Inspecting both the door and the area around the stone structure finds nothing amiss (no traps) and that the lock on the door has been broken, but put back to look like it is still doing it's job.

"Acid,"
Halál says professionally looking at the lock. "Could have been the professor."

The door opens to a short set of stairs descending down into darkness.

OOC2: Marching order/light source?
 

Maidhc O Casain

Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Halál looks around at the cramped quarters and decides on a sabre rather than his bow. He pats his various pockets and pouches absently, looking for a light source . . . but finds none. Light from outside will have to do for now, I guess, unless one of the others has something.
 

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