Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: It is cold and foggy, hovering above freezing. At least the rain has stopped.

Time: Night. Early night, but the sun has fully removed itself from sight.

Ambience: The sound of water about Avonshire Township is restricted to the quiet but constant murmuring of the river which ran through it. The rain is gone, and enough time had passed that the excesses of the weather had filtered away into the settlement's quite effective drainage system. Sounds of distress can be heard every so often, punctuating the otherwise dead silence from the overall populace; it seemed that everyone was laying as low as possible. The full, pale moon is more readily visible now despite the thickness of the fog.

*******

That single moment in the Bed & Breakfast stood thick and eventful. Small movements, small decisions, and stimuli which would seem quite mundane under other circumstances impacted with urgent importance. Most notable in this was the thunk on the outside of the building, which startled Lizbeth horribly. She did not cry out in alarm but did whimper once with expectant trauma as her feet stamped reflexively and the hunched forward slightly. She shuffled the holy symbol over to her other hand which held the dagger and darted her now free digits out to take the sackful of caltrops from Kosara.

Lizbeth's feet soon found themselves taking a shuffling step back in the direction of the stairs. To utilize the stairs meant that she would have to initially move closer to the front door, which put her into temporary indecisiveness as rational thought strove to override her raw survival instinct to move as quickly and directly away from potential danger as quickly as possible. Baronfjord's words caught up with both halves of her senses. When he bade her to go upstairs, she obliged quickly. The tiniest of hesitation occurred as she paused just long enough to capture the mental image of the group assembling to open the main door and confront what lay beyond, but this gave way to the pragmatism of not being in harm's line of sight.

When the party was ready to charge and/or defend themselves from the horrors of the outdoors, the reinforced, wooden portal swung slowly, even cautiously, open. There as no monster waiting them. No quantifiable enemy awaiting a hasty lapse of judgement to strike; nothing obvious to lure them into something unfortunate. Just still, chilly air and the limited visibility of nighttime fog. Cautious eyes could readily find the source of the loud thump from earlier, however. It was obvious once revealed:

The handaxe left by Kathryn to better defend Cecily and Lizbeth against what was then an unknown danger lay embedded in the wooden doorframe, right at eye level. It stood silently as an unarticulated explanation, inferring things most foul. From the mist and darkness outside, a voice could be heard rising among the stillness. It spoke with great volume, and from a distance. "We have taken everyone we intended to this evening. Accept these losses and we will be gone by the morning light. Stray outside and you will be made food for beasts, and bound to serve us in death hereafter." Cruel mockery followed as the same voice intoned, "Have a happy and bountiful Harvestide."

Curiously, there is a single rat sitting up on its haunches in the middle of the street, facing the front door of the building. One paw holds up a carefully folded piece of paper and the other, against modern conceptions of common sense, looks to be waving at whomever it can see in the open doorway.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Interior B&B Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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"Yes," spoke Victoria. Her voice was soft, even quiet, but clear and determined enough to provide verisimilitude for many a hardened skeptic. Her words were directed at Lizbeth, a clear answer to the simple question that she had posed just before. "We can help you, Lizbeth L'Rose. At least we can try." No promises, as was not her nature, except to make the attempt. It was a lot for Victoria. More than she had been willing to extend for anyone who wasn't a straight-laced elder Sheriff who had hinted strongly at continued incarceration were she to not accept an investigation contract. Admittedly, that thought was more than a little specific to her situation, but she had other factors keeping her in Avonshire, now. One of those factors was asking her for help, point of fact.

Victoria gave as reassuring a smile as she could to the little girl, her crystal blue, almond eyes shining with certainty. She fixed her features with grim but elegant resolution. With a visage of confidence, the Bard turned to the rest of the group. Her lips parted just slightly as she summoned words to inspire and motivate to decisive action, but before a syllable could be uttered, the hollow smash resounded from near to the front door. Her plans derailed, it seemed instinctual that her silvered, slender-bladed sword appeared in her hand, drawn before she consciously registered its movement. Her other hand stretched out before her, palm forward in the manner of one who might spring tendrils of arcane energy forth into the world of the mundane. Victoria cleared her throat quietly, readying her voice to be used as a weapon as sharp as any dagger. With her voice, she could disorient, damage, even close wounds and more. Whatever was behind the door would have to deal with the full brunt of a supported and protective group of near-desperate adventurers. Even if they had only known one another for a short time, Victoria was confident in possibility that they might actually operate in a synergistic fashion when it really, really counted. Equally as much, she hoped that it would really, really count soon.

The Dragonborn's words to Lizbeth echoed her own wishes for the girl and she spared a nod in her direction for exactly this reason before turning her attention back to the front of the room. She watched as Kosara made her proclamation to whomever or whatever lay beyond the heavy, wooden portal, and began to open it. All the while, Victoria subtly continued the song she had started earlier in the Public House:

"This is the day that we stand up
This is the day we fight
We'll take our place, we won't give in
Our victory's in sight..."

Conditions being met for a change of action from Morty, the burlap-swaddled minion trotted to flank its mistress and move slightly ahead. The animated beast stood quietly, its form braced to either begin, or receive, a charge.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

And there we have it. Update is updated, time is nigh, and things are thinging. Let me know how you wish to proceed.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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*******

Somewhere in the distance, a cry is cut short. The sound itself seems to punctuate the knowledge that a subtle and monstrous force is still using the citizens of Avonshire for its own nefarious ends. But inside of the Bed & Breakfast, the scene was emotional, if subdued. Lizbeth looked wide-eyed at Baronfjord while he attempted to calm her. And to his credit, what he said might very well have been reassuring. All she did was nod her head at the question of whether or not she was scared. The issuance of raw information was more forthcoming, as she did elaborate more on questions asked directly of her. "They're not my guests," she said simply, in response to the idea that they were, and that they might need to be checked on. "And that isn't Aunt CeeCee's writing." A sort of numbness seemed to have taken hold of her. Shock, possibly, as trauma had been in the events of the past couple of days. Tears still stained her cheeks, even if her expression became less animated.

Her reaction to Marita was a little more interactive. Little feet shuffled closer to the Cleric as she reached out for the dagger. Little hands clasped around the hilt. In her grasp, the weapon looked more like a shortsword. Nevertheless, she accepted it with a quiet, "Okay. Thank you." A small amount of hesitance came over her as the moved to accept the amulet. She said nothing, instead nodding her head slowly.

Kathryn's words of encouragement did not seem to have the desired effect. While she understood that the very tall woman was trying to relate to her, it did not ping the appropriate pinging place for her. Particularly the last part about being back soon seemed to disturb her. It was very similar to what was penned upon the letter left in the place of her missing aunt. Lizbeth did move toward the stairs, which would take her up to the room rented for the length of Harvestide. She stopped in front of Victoria, staring from her to Morty, and back again. "You can magic things. I've seen you. Can you help us again, please?" The last sentence looked like it was addressed to the whole group as opposed to just the Half-Elf.

A tense stillness draped over the room for a long second as the pleading voice of the little girl holding a silver etched blade requested assistance of the brave adventurers. Unfortunately, before a proper answer might be given, a booming, hollow, striking sound reported sharply from the exterior wall next to the front door, seemingly louder within the open space of the first floor's main room.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Interior B&B Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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"What?" asked Victoria, suddenly switching from her more emotive, serious nature to stare at their Dragonborn companion. She hoped that the fellow was a "cross the I's, dot the T's" kind of person and that this was an attempt to confirm what was something near to obvious - the practice of a cautious man in a fairly unfamiliar group of associates - and not a legitimately serious question from someone who honestly suspected that the upstairs was packed full of rats or wererats, with a little girl in the main room aware of, but indifferent to, their presence. "No, the... this is a lodging house," cautiously explained Victoria. "The place was flush with guests for the festival. I think all of the guests were Humans." It was a safe enough assumption. Or might have been, were there not a pressing issue of unknown persons throughout town being transformed into vicious, conniving myanthropes. That in mind, it might have actually been a fair and pressing question.

Kathryn seemed to be doing an effective enough job of making sure that little Lizbeth had some emotional support. This was usually her sphere of influence, owing to occupation, but so long as she felt safe and looked after Victoria would suppress her instinct to comfort. The gesture did give her an angle to see what was on the note. The script written upon it looked bold and blocky, not at all what she might have assumed came from a more delicate looking woman like Cecily. Though this was most certainly not her forte, mulling the possibilities over did brig her to another interesting thought: "Lea. She carried a note of her own when she informed us of Daisy's absence." Victoria let the statement hang there. "We have to do something before this gets worse." She looked over to Lizbeth. Memories of the previous evening came back unbidden, of her uncertain emotional state after having been through a lot the previous days. And of course, the little trick that she quietly performed that others has missed. Lizbeth seemed to have a strength about her that gave Victoria a touch of hope.

They could not take Lizbeth with them if they were stepping into a fight. Nor could they leave one of their number with her and stay at full force. And it seemed that, barring something being done, bringing her to their "camp" wasn't the best idea either. Was leaving her in this place tantamount to willful neglect of a child in need? Ordinarily, Victoria could detach from all of this and go about her merry, but for whatever reason Victoria was taking this child's interests personally. Quietly, the Bard suggested, "Maybe she should lock herself away in her room and hide, until we take care of this? Perhaps give her some silver, just in case?" Barring getting her back to their hidey-hole, which she might find preferable. Just then, Victoria wished she had a song or a snippet of spellwork that could explode many, many rats all at once. That would be a sight to behold.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

A shorter update, to be certain, but one which hopefully contains details which can be followed up on. If I missed anything or if there is a dangling question IC unanswered, do let me know. <insert evil laugh here> And as usual, drop me a line in our Discord for the usual stuff.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: It has passed cool and gone to cold, but not yet freezing. Low to still wind, and fog remains the bulk of what one sees at any distance.

Time: It is the beginning of nighttime. The sun is officially down, the moon is officially full, and the screams have officially started. Officially.

Ambience: The exterior of the building stood as a cold mockery of a place where one might go for a short vacation or temporary lodging, no doubt heightened by the growing discomfort of the evening. The trailing festival decorations and stacks of colorful gourds lend a more eerie feel to the structure, rather like the atmosphere of an abandoned carnival at midnight. The moon floats quietly overhead, visible through the fog if nothing else was. The sound of rats just beyond visible distance is quieter here, further away, as if the swarms of tiny animals did not wish to approach.

*******

The interior of the Bed & Breakfast is quiet, but not oppressively so. The only source of light on the ground floor is that of Lizbeth's candle, or was until those from the party entered the building with their various points of illumination. The ground floor was open and almost sterile in appearance, as if taken to by a meticulous housekeeper. Stone and tile surfaces clean, wood polished, everything arranged in particular order. A lounge area toward the front of the room boasts well constructed (if a bit rustic) furniture, and the table settings on the other side of the room are near to immaculate.

Lizbeth herself looked much like a lost child at a county fair. She glanced about uncertainly, looking from person to person who had just entered as if to receive an answer to an unasked question. The note in her hand was slightly crumpled, having been held tightly by the young girl since its discovery. When Kathryn asked for it, Lizbeth nodded her head slowly and shakily held out the note for her to inspect. It was short and very pointed, written with a bold hand and in large, blocky letters:

WILL BE RIGHT BACK.

Tears formed in Lizbeth's eyes, silently trailing down her cheeks. She might not have known exactly what was going on, but deep inside she had an approximate idea and her sense of denial was faltering fast.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Exterior B&B -> Interior B&B Action: Perception Check Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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"Yeah. Poor idea," sighed Victoria. The fact was that all of her stuff was still there, tucked away in a backpack and a chest, both neatly stacked in a charming little errand cart which was ordinarily pulled by her formerly dead porcine companion. Also, lots and lots of local wine. Their little hideaway was not remotely the sort of accommodations that she preferred, but it was warm, comfortable, and had an elevated position where they could rest with a touch more discretion. But so mach as Victoria did not want to give too much in the way of agreement with the Cleric, a grudging acceptance of Marita's assessment. If the rats were spying for the bad guys, letting them see her return to all of her goodies in their safe(?) little loft was not the best of ideas. Even though Victoria agreed, she absolutely did not have to like it. "On the other hand, in a pinch I don't strictly have to be seen..." She flashed a quick but prideful smile. "...as tragic as such a thing is. Though it will limit my versatility of spellcraft later in the evening."

The second option, that being a wholesale slaughter of as many rats as possible, was also interesting. Victoria wondered how many rats constituted a "swarm", for the purposes of re-animation with tiny wisps of necrotic energy. She would have to let go of the husk that was Morty, a tough, smoky creature that served her well (at least for a while yet), and the tradeoff would be something less defensive and utilitarian. Thought provoking in the potential use of the creatures' corpses. Responsible even, given the neutral Necromancer's unofficial credo:

"Reduce, Reuse, Reanimate"

Jovial a thought as it was, it did very little to keep Victoria's spirits up when the first scream sounded. Things were happening elsewhere in town; expected things, and not too far away. Her ability to detach from this was put to the test, owing to a couple of key points, which included that she was somewhat familiar with a few of the people in this town. Many were okay folks and she didn't wish any harm upon them. It sounded very much like harm was being visited upon someone, however. Victoria internally applauded the pragmatism of the group in what seemed like an unspoken collective decision to not go running off, instead sticking to the task at hand to assist their friends and allies. Luckily, one such ally had just revealed herself in the doorway of the Bed & Breakfast.

Instinctively, Victoria noticed that something was off about Lizbeth. She seemed different or disconnected somehow. But Kathryn seemed to be making connection with her, so the Bard did not attempt to interfere. She was a little jealous actually, as she thought she might have some sort of greater understanding of the young girl, but this passed. Training her senses upon the surroundings as she entered the building, V held a breath and pressed her hat to the side of her head, as if to amplify her ability to hear more clearly. Maybe it was useful and maybe it was not, but it served to demonstrate what she was doing and, with her very uninteresting abilities of perception, every little bit was going to help. In this instance, she picked up something, but her announcement was interrupted by hearing more screams outside somewhere. Finally, she pointed up to the ceiling, pointing out a small amount of movement as the ceiling let it be known in the quiet voice of well-structured carpentry that something was standing upon it.

"The guests are upstairs?" she whispered in almost imperceptible volume. Lizbeth responded with a silent nod in Victoria's direction. Guests were here, but Aunt CeeCee was gone. How many did that make that were missing, that they personally knew? The question did not rest easy in Victoria's thoughts.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Brace yourselves, hold your loved ones tight, and make sure you have something sharp nearby. The Update has been Updated, for better or worse. It looks like there are a few things to discuss among yourselves in the Discord OOC, which is probably for the best. Just remember, as per usual I have a Current Clack going on; a series of preplanned events which may or may not be influenced by the party's actions - both choices that have already been made and choices that have yet to be made - which will occur on a timetable.

As always, please direct questions, concerns, die roll requests, etc. to me in the Discord, and maybe also supplicate to whatever power is likely to show mercy in this given instance.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: It is cold. Not freezing yet, but cold in an unseasonable fashion, as was the previous evening. The fog had a constant presence, thick and lingering, but at least it wasn't raining. Wind is low, calm even after the earlier downpour.

Time: Dusk is upon you. Cue the music.

Ambience: A full and heavy moon hangs in a sky that has now officially darkened. It is the not only the brightest, but the only light that one can readily make out thanks to the oppressive, ground-based cloud cover. The tension in the air around one thickens in ways that even the dense fog cannot fathom. The sounds of water dripping from places on high to the ground were no longer present, but if one were to listen carefully one might catch the faint sounds of water being whisked away by the thoroughfare's drainage system. If one were to listen even more carefully, they might just pick out the random sloshings of rodents within what standing puddles remained, desire to avoid the frigid water making their movements more frantic.

These pieces of proximal ambience aside, a sense of painful stillness permeated the Township. Considering the bustle of the festival from just a matter or hours ago, one knows full well that the settlement is populated. Everyone seemed to be instinctively hiding from the unknown, or at least uncertain danger among them.

The scent of porkfat and tangy wood was still carried upon the air.

*******

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The steps in the direction of the Bed & Breakfast, be they taken lightly and with care or the stomping recklessness of a drunken neckbeard, were fully unimpeded. No force moved to stop, nor even delay, as the group moved steadily along the road; a very short walk from the Silversmith's place to where their first allies in Avonshire was quartered for the Harvestide Festival, within a stone's throw of the centermost river bridge if the fog would have allowed. Visions of massing rodents remained unseen, but not fully undetected. Their original gambit of staying just out of sight at all times (unless set upon by a flung source of light) was reestablished, but one could still hear the same shuffling noises if they knew what to listen for.

Coming up to the door of the B&B, the sound of rats lessens into the distance. A truer quiet settles upon the area, as it did when the party neared Jacques Mallard's place of business. The building itself boasted a green roof and door, with a sign indicating its purpose. A detachable addition also proclaimed a lack of vacancy. Yes, this was the place. Not much of a surprise, but there was a lack of bright light coming from within. Windows were closed and curtains drawn, shutters latched as applicable. From this close proximity, one could see a small source of light from behind a curtain, possibly a lit candle or something similar, judging only by its illumination through a thicker cloth.

At that moment, a scream cut through the night air. It was feminine and blood-curdling, ending with a choked, reflexive sob. While difficult to say precisely from where it issued, one can tell that it likely came from farther up the roadway, possibly even on the other side of the river. In the stunned seconds after the scream, the door to the Bed & Breakfast creaked open. "Can you help me, please?" came a voice, its source still obscured by the fine, wooden portal, though light did spill from behind it. The voice was familiar to most of the party, if colored, likely by emotion. It was Lizbeth L'Rose, though her face was only partially visible from behind the door. "Aunt Cecily isn't here. She left a note, but I think something is wrong." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Another scream split the foggy night, this one joined quickly by a second - both from a different direction than the initial outburst. These two sounded like they came from somewhere north of their location. The cracked door of the Bed & Breakfast pulled shut for a moment, before opening just a little bit once more.

"Won't you please help?"