Posted Notice (Part 1)

Log Info

• Title: Posted Notice (Part 1)

• GM: Carver

• Characters: Bryn, Crick, Schara, Ulthan

• Place: Village, in Greater Alexandros, near Redridge

• Summary: Yet another settlement calls for help around Felwood, didn't that place get cleaned up yet? But for now, investigation abounds...

It is clear that there is a festival aborted. The colors and mood of a planned celebration drowned out by fear and suspicion; a banquet left unfulfilled. The city square is dressed up with no one to enjoy the ball. The sign celebrating harvest are left unfinished. Even the visible villagers seem withdrawn. Not hostile but nervous. A young woman rushes laundry home, and her eyes keep darting to the sky.

The arriving visitors are met with a guard with a spear at the road leading into town, an older fellow tired from a night's watch and six o'clock shadow at what at most is 10 in the morning. He greets them and will direct them to the village chief's house upon introduction, a modest two story home that has probably served the Reeve family for many generations if it's architecture is any indication. If they would rather get a drink and secure rooms before any discussion of work, he will also mention the Dancing Badger as the best place to kick up feet for drinks. A bell rings on the hour, a small church whose Blue Rose on Bronze recognizes Aldea as this small village's patron. This is a nice place at all first impressions, but just as obvious something as recently disturbed this idyllic harmony.

Bryn is always in the mood for a drink, but that doesn't means it's always time for a drink; they're best saved for after evils have been silenced, skulls are cracked, and/or arses kicked. She waves at the guard, looks around the place. "Quiet, pretty li'l place. 'Cept for the stuff botherin 'em, I guess?" Now she looks to the others. "Quicker we can clear up the botherin, quicker they can get back to quiet?"

Ulthan shifts from foot to foot as he looks into the village. "So, I do't feel like dilly-dallying around, head to the village chief's place first?"

Schara was one of the assembled folks who was summoned to the town. It was difficult to ascertain exactly how they were feeling at a glance as the heavily armored artificer walked inside, stopping to greet the guard on shift before heading for the chief's home. "It's no good for people to be so bothered at a time like this. It will be a hard winter if we do nothing to fix this."

"It's nice, raised me family here." Guard Thom grumbles. "Hope you can get to the bottom of this." He waves them ahead as they come to an agreement to speak to the chief, whose door is opened by an elderly man with a braided beard - whose strength seems like a shadow of Ulthan. Way past his prime but his prime was likely an adventurous one. His body may have lost much of its strength but the way he takes them in with a measuring gaze means his mind is still sharp. None of them are familiar, and all of them are strange.

"Come in." It could almost be given as an order but he holds the door open for them, and softens his tone. "Please."

The inside of the home is modest, a sound of a young child's laughter upstairs and a mother's shushing. An axe inscribed with a rune rests over a stuffed chair near the fire. "Welcome to my home. I am Chief Reeves... and you lot scream that you're from Alexandria." /Especially/ Schara, an artifice seemingly ready for war. "Thank you."

Ulthan greets the Chief with warriors salute, holding his right fist before his chest, before ducking under the door and stepping inside.

Bryn heads for the chief's place. If the wall of Ulthan can get in, she can. "Ey, 'n nice place," she greets as she steps inside. "Nobody's started screamin yet, but we're 'ere ta help. So wha's goin on?" She steps aside to let others saunter in.

"We will do everything we can within reason to figure this out and resolves this as soon and properly as possible." The artificer responds to the guard as they head to the chief's home. Schara stops to carefully sidle herself into the building, careful not to scratch up anything with their armor. "Thank you for the welcome, mister Reeves, and while I am not from Alexandria, that is where I and the others with me are currently living. What can we do to help you?"

An unidentifiable rugsack has randomly snuck up on the party. Roll for - no wait, that is just a shuffling amount of cloaks over cloaks, with a black beak sticking out. The hunched over figure looks this way, and then that way, up until they move right next to Bryn.

Maybe if Crik stays still enough he'll pass for a knapsack.

Carver says, “It's... complicated." Reeves says, rubbing at his left knee. "It started with a sheep or two reported missing. Remains never found. Then, the sheriff's wolf hound the same, only the signs of an attack present in the field. "We're talking nearly one hundred kilograms of proper knight-ripping dog. Gone." He grips his bad leg, "Then, the people start whispering of something dark flying above the moon at night and jus' as the sheriff says he might have a lead?" The leading question has an implied answer. He's gone too.

"If this wasn't enough, we've had more strange reports come in from the nightwatch this morning."”

Ulthan blinks a little at mention of 220 pound hound going missing, and he strokes his breastplate to reassure himself. "That is indeed worrisome... Those breeds of dog don't go easy is something tries to take them." He speaks with conviction of someone who knows his dogs. "Any eye witnesses able to describe the dark shape?"

"Then the sooner we are on our way, the better, I would say. If it is hunting at night, then it may be staying somewhere in the day that we may be able to corner it. Especially if it is capable of flight." Schara considers. "And while I do not wish to inspire false hope, we may be able to find the sheriff in time, or at the very least recover their body for their family or other next of kin."

The artificer turns abruptly, and pokes the bundle of cloths on the beak. "You weren't here earlier. You aren't the flying beast we are looking for, are you?"

Ulthan peers at the bundle, then chuckles. "I can vouch that Crik is no beast, but he does have a bit of a flighty nature."

"I had a few describe what they could... most didn't see, and the one who seemed most sure, well..." Reeves reaches to a loosely bound scroll that he offers, but pauses halfway through as a coughing fit wracks his form. The sound is horrendous, a wet bark that speaks of something deep in the lungs.

It last an uncomfortably long time before reedy breath returns and the chief wipes his lips and finally passes the scroll over. A few names are listed, a shepherd lady going by the name of Aranna. The Althean priest, Hearthguard Brom. A woodsman, Gregory. "The last swore he got a good look but... well, ackack, he's a man who unburdens with too much drink. Far *too* much." Reeves is too much of a professional to call one of his own a drunkard.

GAME: Schara rolls heal: (2)+9: 11
GAME: Ulthan rolls kloc: aliased to knowledge/local: (5)+5: 10

Crik does not answer. Knapsacks do not speak. But they apparently do pass notes - one of them being pushed upwards towards Bryn in a neat folded fashion. One could consider it an act of mechanical engineer to have such a thin rod hold such a small piece of paper.

The paper just says 'please take notes' to Bryn. The knapsack remains quiet.

"Oh, it's just Crik. Doing, I'm not sure why he's doing this." The artificer audibly sighs. "That cough sounds pretty bad though mister Reeve, you should let me take a look at it later to see if there's anything I can do to help. But for now, it seems like we have some people to check over. We should check in with the shepherd first, I think? They may have some physical evidence from their fields that we can corroborate with the others."

Ulthan reads over the scroll, then ponders for a while, ticking on his fingers a mnemonic for the local rumours he can recall, shaking his head occasionally. "Drat, can't pick anything that seems to fit, so far. But we're still close to Felwood, so that could be a factor..."

Ulthan nods at the Artificer's comment. "Good idea, easier to pick up a spoor if someone points the direction to go sniffing at."

"There is one last thing. The Nightwatch did tell me, ackack, that..." Reeves takes a deep breath, "That last night he kept hearing yelling and strange howling from the sheriff's house. He explained it sounded like children but, and in his words, 'not like children.'" The man pours himself a drink with shaky hands. "We sent two of the strongest lads this morning to peek inside but didn't notice anything out of sorts other than things seemed to have been... rearranged. We thought to take a longer look around soon but if you would like to first, we will hold off." He takes a long drink, waving off Schara's concern. "It's... fine."

Bryn doesn't notice the rod and paper, at first, then happens to turn a bit that it actually shows up in her halved peripheral vision. A blink and then she takes the paper, reads it, nods. "Taken."

Then she's back to the discussion at hand. "Sounds like ye need a drink 'r three yerself," she suggests to Reeve. Bushy brows knit as she ponders. "Weird things't night, weird sounds 't day. Maybe somethin atta sheriff's place, maybe not? Seems best place ta start lookin, ey?" Since she hasn't heard of anywhere else yet. "Least while it's daylight. If'n it's huntin at night, we may be, too."

The knapsack remains quiet, seemingly content at the acknowledgment received by Bryn. After a few minutes though, it starts to filter in there is no actual note taking, except taking of notes.

There is the most slightest of sad movement from the direction of bundled up cloaks.

"It probably would not hurt to investigate the sheriff's house first, if they were potentially on to something. Maybe they had notes there, if they were not removed by something or someone rearranging the place." Schara considers. "It is not fine and sounds like it is caused by something which is why I would want to offer my aid, but another time."

"So, let's look there first, then investigate some of the townsfolk, unless we wish to speak to more at once? I am afraid my skills in speaking to witnesses are incredibly poor in many cases."

"If you wish, I can call the witnesses here... have you speak to them together or seperate." Reeves offers. "If that would make it easier for you all?"

"Oh, right." Bryn is reminded that there were witnesses other than the ale-lover. "Ye, bring 'em on down? We hear their tales. Can learn lots from stories." She loves hearing stories as much as telling them.

"Very well, Hans..." Reeves calls out, before clearing his throat. "Hans! Go retrieve the Heartguard, Aranna, and the woodsman, lad." A small face peeks out from above stairs, and a cheerful, "Okay, Pan-Pan!" The boy rushes down the stairs to get about his errand. "I'll have you break your fast here, we don't have much but what we have we always share."

It is a simple meal of hard cheeses and salted meats but it is a comfortable wait at least. Reeves explains a bit more about their harvest festival plans and bemourns the delay on them in the meantime. Another coughing fit does interrupt it briefly.

After a while, three people are led into the room. A stern, blonde woman with a solid pair of arms. She's the fittest of the three. Wrinkles are there but she's hearty and greets them boldly. Hearthguard Brom is a skinnier man with a balding pate dressed in a blue wool coat whose smile is easy and fast. "Welcome to our humble village."

The last is a sunken eyed man who already smells of booze. Easy to guess from that and his hands that this must be Gregory. "The kid still calls me Mister Stinky, Reeves..."

The chief exhales, "Thank you, Hans. Go to your mother now, boy." The boy smiles and waves at the strange gathering before disappearing upstairs. "Here they are then."

With the witnesses sent for, Schara was left with the others for a rather pleasant meal all things considered, the artificer removing the lower half of her helmet to enjoy some of the meats and cheeses. But once the people called for arrived, it was back to business.

"Apologies for te summons, but we are here to get to the bottom of these attacks, and we were told you three may have some information on these matters? If you have any thing out of the ordinary to share, fur samples or the like, or accounts of what you saw, all are appreciated."

During the wait - and perhaps lured by the salted meat and cheese - the knapsack had magically transformed into a befuddled looking egalrin. There was an array of notebooks in front of him now, most of them with strings attached to the covers that lead into his sleeves.

"As calmly and with detail, can you describe exactly what you witnessed during your encounter with this unidentified phenomena?" The corvid asks with surprising amount of lucidity - considering he looks like a bird just taken out of trash. And with some cheese on his black beak.

Stories AND food? Bryn should visit festivals harassed by strange night creatures more often, and that doesn't even include the immininent skull-bashing! She inhales a few morsels, then greets the arrivals with a broad, tusky grin. One that fails to hide the extra snicker from Gregory's comment.

"Aye," she agrees with Schara. "We're here ta listen n 'elp. Share yer stories."

Ulthan , having shared some cheese and bread with his friend Crik, is trying to appear as unthreatening as a big and obviosuly muscly Dranei can be as the witnesses are going over their stories.

Carver says, “Oh's, wyn yur 'ere?" The Woodsman slurs. "It's true, scariest load of shite that'n--" Hearthguard clears his throat as Aranna rolls her expressive blue eyes at the man. "Perhaps I should start." He tucks hands into his trousers, clearly trying to express control and calm in the moment. "As far as I know, there hasn't been physical evidence left behind but a few have come to the church to try to seek comfort and calm and there has been one unifying detail in the mixed tales. The creature was in the sky, a great dark shadow barely noticed but it did not soar like a witch in their stories upon anything. It almost seemed to run through the air." Reeves nods in thought as the Hearthguard gives the chief a worried look, "Have you been taking the medicine?"

The chief waves off the concern.”

GAME: Ulthan rolls sense motive: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Schara rolls sense motive: (7)+3: 10
GAME: Crik rolls sense motive: (5)+6: 11

"Scary shite. Shadow. Runnin in the air. Not ridin." Bryn summarizes what she takes out from that. Her eye looks to the woman who can roll her eyes better than her tongue, so far. "What'd you see or hear?"

"I'm not sure what medicine he's speaking of, but it probably is a good idea if it would help you to feel better. He means well, mister Reeve."

"Something running though sounds strange, so it was person shaped, you believe? That would match up with the sounds reported from the house."

"Please, continue as you are all able, however."

Crik stares blankly at the description - then starts writing down notes. While he is doing so, another hand is absently flipping through another notebook, filled with scribbles and occasional drawings of all kinds. "... ride... sky..." He mutters by himself. Then the house is mentioned and he raises his beak. "Did the shadow rearrange the sky? The stars or the moon?" Serious stare.

"Like I told the priest, who doesn't listen to a word anyone says..." The Shepard begins, with the Hearthguard looking scandalized by the suggestion. "Aranna that is not true, but these people are here for accurate verifiable accounts..."

The woman plants hands on her hip, motioning to the Woodsman. "Oh, then why that buffoon here? He's not a buffoon, he's jus-"

"Oi, whassa buffon?"

"Oh Greg..."

"Shut up you drunk idio-- OI!"

Reeves slams a hand down on the table for silence. "Aranna, please."

The woman stands up a little straighter as the sidetalk is cut off. "Yes, Chief. I found where Good Boy was attacked. That's the sheriff's wolf hound. Loyal beast. He what put up a fight, I tell you all. I think maybe even hurt whatever attacked him. Like I told you, Reeves, smelled funny. So I spoke to Mabel, down at the general store and she had me sniff a few things. It smelled like sulfur. Just so."

Greg laughs, "Oh, I 'bet' you visited Mabel just to sniff't all her things."

Reeves warning glare is enough time to stop the fight about to brew from the woman who flushes dark. Greg keeps snickering to himself at his own joke.

The Hearthguard clears his throat, "I don't believe it 'rearranged' the sky. From the stories as I understood them."

Ulthan raises an eyebrow. "I knew that kind of dog wouldn't be taken out easy. They are loyal, and fierce."

Crik looks blank, then turns his head down. "... smells... sulfur... planes...?" He continues mumbling himself. Then he is pulling out his collection of small vials, corking one of them open and apparently taking a sniff. Yep, sulphur is sulphur. The vial is corked back down.

"Potentially demonic in origin. Shadow summoned by grief. Curse? There must be a curse. There is always a curse." Crik stares down at his notes, then back up. "Has there been a calamity lately?"

"Look, if there is anything that is amiss, we are here to hear it." Schara reiterates, sounding more exasperated by the moment. "And it is not just verifiable accounts, but we would like to examine statements and reports from everyone in order to determine evidence which matches up, even if it may sound strange at first. If one person says a person is running across the sky it's strange, multiple accounts implies something else at hand."

"I am sorry, I am not good with speaking to people. But there's something amiss. demonic, possibly fey, could be another strange creature." Schara sighs. "Why do you believe it did not rearrange things?"

Bryn perks up at the tale of a scrap. Those are the best tales. Having a feisty wolfdog in it doesn't hurt, neither. "Good Boy's a great boy. We can look't where he put up a fight. Could be tracks or trails or other bits left behind." She looks to the others. "Be somewhere we know it's been, if nothin else."

Her nose wrinkles at the words of suphur and demons; not the best thing to hear or smell of. "Maybe smell our way to it from there."

Hearthguard Brom looks to Schara, "Well, I say that it did not 'rearrange' things beca--"

"Ey ey ey, I seens it!" 'Greg' interjects. "I was out late you know, to get ready for work."

Aranna mutters something beneath her breath but does not break the conversational flow. "A body like a bear and a wolf's head, I say! It wannit' flyin' it was LEAPING. Like a frog, see, cause it's a many-backed beast!" The man seems to be delivering his tale with slurred enthusiasm the other's lacked. "Scariest shit I ever seen, especially when it howled. My entire bladder nearly emptied at once!"

GAME: Ulthan rolls kloc +4: aliased to knowledge/local +4: (7)+5+4: 16
GAME: Crik rolls knowledge/planes+4: (11)+4+4: 15
GAME: Bryn rolls knowledge/the planes+4: (4)+2+4: 10
GAME: Bryn rolls knowledge/local+4: (14)+2+4: 20

Crik slowly folds back into his notes, flipping over his secondary notebook at an alarming speed even if he wasn't looking at it. Except when the drunk starts talking, he points at the poor man. "Paper. Paper." The corvid was suddenly scrabbling to push paper forward at the drunk. "Draw the hound. It was a hound. It is a Yeth hound." He says and then looks at the others. "... I should not influence the witness."

Schara listens intently, but she is unable to piece together what a bear dog creature jumping through the air might mean. "What do you mean by many backed?" The artificer inquires. "And, perhaps there is something to this. If it smells demonic, and acts like a demon Crik recognizes, it's a possibility, while I hope not true, we will have to deal with."

"Hmmm..." Bryn rumbles thoughtfully. "Sounds like a devil hound. Fight other hounds. Like to scare folks. Lotsa howlin." She snaps her fingers as she recalls another possibly relevent minor detail. "N said they can fly, too."

Her eye turns to Schara. "Ye. Might be a master ta deal with. Seem demons 'n devils 'n the like are pretty common round these parts."

Ulthan shakes his head and reaches to brush his fingertips over the solid head of his flail. "This could get iffy in a hurry..."

"Uh," Greg says as he is expected to draw this creature. He takes it in unsteady hands, quickly looking about and then begins to sketch. He works fast and turns it to them, "Like this?" For as confident as he sounded before? Less so now of the abomination bearfrogdog he has roughly etched onto paper. Its legs of a bullfrog and body of a bear with a shrunken wolf's head slobbering. It's not a Yeth hound, it's bullshit, he probably saw nothing but heard its DISTINCTIVE howl in the woods.

"Is... that what a Yeth hound looks like?" Hearthguard politely asks. Aranna just rolls her eyes again.

Elsewhere... a great hound, skinned furless, rips and tears the corpse into slavering bits of a ranger's dear companion. Its one eye glows like a coal in a dark cave, as it gorges itself. The remains of the wolfhound is still large but even it is dwarfed by the devilish creature.

Crik takes the paper with great eagerness. "Yes!" The corvid egalrin exclaims, holding up the paper. There's a moment, a pause, and then he tilts the paper the other way around. "No." He states, though his head tilts sideways. "Interesting."

The paper is quickly filed away into his notebooks, and he holds up his hands. "No no, a Yeth could be simply hunting far away from the Felwood. They roam far. Their most distinct characteristic is their horrifying cry." He flips into one his fully scribbled notebooks and holds it up to the party. "See?" It was full of chicken scratches, tiny enough that normal eyes can barely see. "Their bite also makes people sick."