Father Charlatan take to following me as we wander the upper floor of the prison, I cannot see him but I am assured by the paladin he is there. Great just what I needed, I can feel mother on edge as she maintains a low growl with her hackles up.
Strange flute music fills the old halls as a group of skeletons reanimates, I here Narcy cry out about stirgis my heart slows and I feel a piercing cold shot through my chest as the world goes black.
The world comes back into focus as I open my eyes, its mid day I think and a young priest looks down at me. I don’t like him I know that already, he tells me my friends felt me here and moved on and I have just been brought back from the dead. I takes me a moment to focus, I can still feel mother but I cant here her. Impossible I say as I give an arrogant answer to hide the truth. When I die I will not be returning so easily, not with the deal I made. The more he pushes the angrier I get, there is no way the could have banished all the spirits in Harrowstone without me. I hit him with a chair and to my surprise he stabs me in the chest with a fragment of the chair, the pain cuts through me and for a moment I almost believe that I was wrong assuming this wasn’t real. No! its impossible, I tear the splintered chair leg form my chest and drive it into the priests throat. I smile as I watch him bleed out gasping for air, the blood leaves beautiful patterns on the stone mosaic floor.
The sound of combat awakes me, I stand and jump to action healing those who need it. I laugh to myself, I knew there would be lost without me. The music persists as we continue to explore, Narcy breaks into an attic door with the help of Shivera and the paladin. I surprise myself how well I can swing a weapon, as the giant bugs body crunches under the weight of my mace. I curse and regret not gathering more acid as a headsmans Scythe assaults us, the damn thing is made of steel and my companion lack the strength needed to sunder the metal. We grapple it and wrestle it to the ground and the paladin smashes it until it cracks. What a barbaric place this must have been, an axe is swift and one would never see the death blow but a scythe must be used on a level of up angled curve. No wonder this place is haunted, every inmate would have had to watch that curve blade descend and level out before there head went toppling to the ground.
I start to question the value of this spirit board as we set up to ask another question, I center myself as I demand to know who killed the professor. As the curser slides around and spells the wardens name I fight smashing the thing to bits, damn these gypsy boards no more reliable the Scarzni that make them.
The others realize the name being spelled out is that of the wardens wife, after the whispering way to care of the wardens spirit they have left his dead wife to be a feast for the splatter man as he gains strength. I wish I could find some secret in his spell book to help us defeat him, but if there are any secrets they elude me.
We camp out and wait in the bushes around the memorial hoping to catch someone in the act of defacing it, the only we witness is the night life of the local teens and witness our rouge loose all control of himself. I have never meet a follower of Calistria that couldn’t control themselves, perhaps its because he is a half breed. Still I wait until the elf carves his heart out for embarrassing he Goddess. I get out of my bush just long enough to curse the fool, just as I utter the last sounds of the chant mothers voice bellows in my head and she denies my power from taking hold. No doubt I will be scolded for days about this, but she is right I must learn to better control my powers if she is to trust me with greater powers.