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Message: <blockquote data-quote="hewligan" data-source="post: 4493787" data-attributes="member: 19688">Farmer Grump and Farmer Grayst, In PersonSheriff Hemlock is hanging back near the far wall of the room, his bulk leaning uncomfortably as if trying to put further distance between himself and the two men who are hunched, one kneeling, one almost lying, on the floor in the centre of the room.As Hemlock sees you all enter, he relaxes somewhat from his rigid pose, and offers a brief nod."Sorry to call you so abruptly, but we have a report, and a survivor!" he puts a lot of emphasis on the last word.The man kneeling rises nervously. He is a simple farmer, old, but still strong. He plucks nervously at his white beard, at the rim of his battered hat, at the hem of his coat. He flicks his gaze between you all and Sheriff Hemlock.<img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3277/2909690837_f599b08695.jpg?v=0" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />At his feet lies another man, moaning a little, as if in a light fever. His skin is pale and looks gangrenous, hair wild and eyes milky white."Tell them what you told me, Grump!"" states Hemlock.Farmer Grump breaks into nervous babbling, frantically chanting a Varisian nursery rhyme about walking scarecrows.Mumble Mumble Scarecrow, Alone in the maize. Sleeping in the daytime, A stitched man he stays. But when the moon she rises, Up Mumble gets. He shakes his hands at first And moves his feet the next. And when the dog is snoring, And when you’re fast asleep, Mumble Mumble Scarecrow Will find you good to eat."Calm yourself down man, and tell them what you told me!" Hemlock commands, his voice loud and firm. The farmer steadies himself, returning to his fidgeting ways, and, with his eyes darting around the room from shadow to shadow, starts to speak.He tells a short but harrowing story, speaking of how the southern farmlands have become plagued by foul walking scarecrows that stalk the night. All the farmers knew that the problems were coming from the old Hambley place—things “just ain’t been right there for a few days now”—but when a group of locals paid the Hambley farm a visit yesterday evening, they were attacked by folk that looked like corpses but fed like starving animals."The lot of them folks, penny pinchers, mean as thistles, but our folk non-the-less, those Hambleys. It was them, you know. Like corpses, only they moved. And they cames at us real good. We had pitchforks you know, and strong lads, like Grayst here, and Rothkin, and Old Mile's son, Wisden, and we skewered them, and threw our torches at them. But they just ripped us to shreds. They was eating us. EATING US!"The old farmer has worked himself into a horrendous lather, shaking, and pausing as if to gasp for breath. For the first time he stares straight into the eyes of Kael as he shrieks out "They even ate the dogs!" Hemlock steps in as the man, shaking, lowers himself back to his knees, weeping quietly to himself. Hemlock explains that his men picked up Grump as he ran into town screaming about walking scarecrows, half dragging the stumbling younger Grayst, clearly injured, in his wake.Hemlock moves over to you all, lowering his voice so that he cannot be overheard.""He has been drinking. We can only hope that the booze has perhaps muddied his mind somewhat. But in truth, my fear is that the moonshine he has clearly attacked may have actually dulled him memories of the grim fate that has been visited upon the Hambleys. Clearly we need to get some people out there to that farm to check, and clearly, unless he really is just a mad old drunk, it is going to be dangerous!And then we have Grayst. He is sick. I have called the physician, but perhaps you could take a look. Your magic may be able to heal him. He was one of the lads who went with Grump to check out the Hambleys' place. The lad has a pretty badly torn up shoulder ... and sweating like a freak. I think he has a fever. Perhaps something poisonous in the wound?"Sheriff Hemlock is looking at Danth as he says this last part.As you all move over closer to the injured young man, Farmer Grump picks himself up and moves to one side to give you room. The young farmer is muttering to himself. As you drawn near you hear snatched words. "razors", "too many teeth", "the skinsaw man is coming", and "cuts and hurts and cuts and hurts". His hands are tightly balled, the knuckles almost pure white. Dirty blood, dried and wet mixed together, runs from these clenched fists. As you all approach he suddenly falls silent, stops shaking, and slowly swivels round to observe you.His eyes ... his eyes are darting, flicking, manic, scanning from face to face. Then ....... then he sees Jokad.He coughs, as if clearing dead mud from his throat. His gaze burns into the young Shoanti as his course voice, like dried leaves, scratches out."He said. He said you would visit me. His Lordship. The one that unmade me said so. He has a place for you. A precious place. I’m so jealous. He has a message for you. He made me remember it. I hope I haven’t forgotten. The master wouldn’t approve if I forgot. Let me see… let… me… see…He said you should come to the Misgivings soon, to meet the Pack, for they have something wonderful to show you."His message delivered, he offers the most vile smile, his tongue briefly lipping his lips, too long, too pointed. And then he collapses flat again as if the effort to half raise himself has drained all of the energy from his body.He issues a low moan. Suddenly his moan rises to a shriek, and as he lurches to his feet, his hands unclench and stretch towards Jokad. His nails are long and bloodied, his fingers like bones."I will take you too him!" he shrieks, as he throws himself into the attack against Jokad.OOC: You know what to do!</blockquote>

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