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The Kordovian Adventurers Guild
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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6822955" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>INTERLUDE: A SOMBER HOMECOMING</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Binkadink Dundernoggin, gnome fighter 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Castillan Ivenheart, elf bounder 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Darrien, half-elf ranger 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Finoula Cloudshadow, elf ranger 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Gilbert Fung, human wizard 6</p><p></p><p>NPC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Ingebold Battershield, dwarven cleric 5 (Moradin)</p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 13 February 2016</p><p></p><p>We took care of some "follow on" actions after Ingebold's death during this session, then moved on to the adventure I had planned. Since it's going to be a rather lengthy write-up and Ingebold's return to life had nothing really to do with the adventure that followed, I'm going to write this up as an interlude and then follow it up with the actual adventure in a separate post.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>"Where should we go first?" asked Darrien as the mule-driven wagon pulled onto the road leading into Kordovia.</p><p></p><p>"The Temple of Moradin?" suggested Binkadink, riding alongside the wagon on his jackalope mount. "We'll need to get Ingebold raised, and the clerics there will probably need to do some preparation ahead of time. I don't think they're ready for this sort of thing day in and day out."</p><p></p><p>"No," said Finoula - one of the few words she'd said over the course of the last two days. "Battershield Keep. Aerik and Helga need to know." And then she trotted Daisy ahead, out of easy vocal range of the others. When the road split, she veered off to the path that led to Battershield Keep, confident that the others would follow her lead.</p><p></p><p>"She still touchy," commented Gilbert. Nobody replied.</p><p></p><p>Once inside Battershield Keep, Finoula dismounted and approached the dwellings at the back. Aerik had yet to report for duty at the castle, so he was on hand to hear the news of his daughter's death from the elven ranger firsthand. Upon hearing it was Finoula herself who had slain his daughter, Aerik's hands involuntarily curled into fists and he took a step toward the ranger as if to strike her. Finoula stood tall but motionless, unwilling to defend herself from the angry dwarf's reaction, but it didn't come to that - Helga silently placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, spinning him to her, and he collapsed his forehead on Helga's shoulder, sobbing audibly. She looked sadly at Finoula, but her expression said she knew there had to be more to this story and she was willing to hear it from the ranger before jumping to any conclusions.</p><p></p><p>As the wagon trundled up with Ingebold's body respectfully laid out in state in the back, none of the heroes said a word, not wanting to break the silence of the moment. Even Gilbert Fung, who usually had a comment to make about everything, held his tongue.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, Aerik regained his composure and turned to face his daughter's killer. "The full story," he demanded. "Tell me everything."</p><p></p><p>And Finoula did.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>The next stop was the Temple of Moradin, with Aerik now driving the wagon and Helga sitting in the back with the body of her slain daughter. The <em>gentle repose</em> spell cast upon her two days ago still had her looking as if she were merely sleeping - especially since the heroes had placed a blanket over her and tucked it in around her, covering the spot where Finoula's demon-sword had pierced through her chest and punctured her heart.</p><p></p><p>The other heroes walked in silence behind the wagon, the animals having been left behind in the Keep's stables. Aerik kept the pace slow, as befitted a funeral procession. They passed by farmland, gathering several curious looks from the workers in the fields.</p><p></p><p>At the Temple of Moradin, Aerik stopped the wagon and jumped out. He scooped up his daughter's body and solemnly carried it into the stone building. The others trailed, Castillan and Darrien flanking Helga Battershield, ready to catch her if she should faint. But Helga was a dwarven woman, and they were made of strong stuff. Her face was impassive as she followed her husband and daughter into the temple.</p><p></p><p>A pair of clerics approached immediately, saw the situation, and steered Aerik into a room in the back, where he placed Ingebold's body on a slab of solid stone.</p><p></p><p>"Return in the morning, at first light," suggested the head priestess. "We will be ready for your daughter's return to life at that time." Aerik merely nodded, then spun on his heels and headed back toward the exit, saying nothing and making eye contact with no one. Helga followed in his wake, but placed a hand on Finoula's shoulder as she passed. The heroes maintained their silence until the Battershields had left.</p><p></p><p>"I think we might want to give them their privacy for the evening," suggested Binkadink. "What do you say we all head back to our own families for the rest of the day and meet back here tomorrow morning?"</p><p></p><p>"Good call, gnome," replied Gilbert. "I see you guys later." The others started to follow him toward the door.</p><p></p><p>"One moment, please, Miss Cloudshadow," said a voice from behind the heroes as they turned to leave with the portly wizard. Finoula turned to see the head priestess approaching her. "As ye are one of the king's servants, I believe I can trust ye not to leave town." Finoula stared at the dwarf's impassive face, belatedly realizing she expected an answer. "You can," she said.</p><p></p><p>"Good. Then I expect I'll see ye tomorrow at the morning's ritual."</p><p></p><p>"I will be there," promised Finoula, wearing an expressionless face of her own.</p><p></p><p>"Good. I gather ye've just returned from the field, but tomorrow - no weapons and no armor in the temple. Tell yer friends."</p><p></p><p>Finoula merely nodded, then turned and followed her friends outside.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>The group took the wagon to the castle, to turn in their accumulated treasure and receive their own shares - this was after leaving behind the cost of the <em>raise dead</em> spell with the Moradin temple clerics. They split up after that, each going about their own business. Gilbert picked up a few low-level scrolls from one of the few merchant wizards in the kingdom. Darrien returned home, to be nearly hugged to death by his mother, who lived vicariously through her son - the <em>adventurer!</em> - and his mighty exploits. She forced him to a seat in the kitchen and fired question after question at him, reveling in excitement at each of his stories. Binkadink returned to his uncle's potion shop, to be met with a grumpy rant about how much money Uncle Winkidew was losing now that King Galrich had gotten it into his head that the gnomish potion-crafter should keep the heroes well supplied.</p><p></p><p>"Do you know how much this is costing me?" he demanded - but Binkadink could see through his uncle's gruff exterior to see he was pleased his nephew had returned home safely. And Jinkadoodle was glad to see his cousin, prompting Binkadink that it was his turn for retaliation in their prank war, and just what was taking him so long? - because he had a real doozy planned once it was his turn again.</p><p></p><p>Castillan returned to his family's estate to be met with a squeal of excitement from his youngest sister <strong>Malrin</strong>. Immediately, there was a rush of bodies as his other sister <strong>Laerornith</strong> and their mother Daerdis came into the hallway to greet him.</p><p></p><p>"Your father's in his study," mentioned Daerdis matter-of-factly, although Castillan well knew there was no way in the Nine Hells his father would actually came out to greet him, given their recent animosity toward each other.</p><p></p><p>Looking around, the bounder noticed his little brother <strong>Aithanar</strong> was missing. "Where's Aith?" he asked – and the smiles on everyone's faces turned off as if by a switch. Daerdis looked away in pain; Malrin looked down sadly at her feet. It was Laerornith – never one to be shy – who responded, "Father sent him away."</p><p></p><p>Over drinks in the kitchen, the full story came out. A week or so ago, Aithanar got into a fight at a tavern and hit his head on the brick fireplace, rendering him unconscious. Upon being reawakened, he could no longer speak coherently – everything he said was nonsensical gibberish. Castillan's father Aroben, not wanting the shame of an incoherent, wit-addled son damaging the family name, had him sent away "for rest and recovery" at Ravencroft Sanatorium, tucked away in the mountains north of Kordovia.</p><p></p><p>"It's where they send the crazies," piped in Laerornith. "Father says he's just resting, and he'll be back when he feels better, but nobody ever 'gets better' at the loony bin. They just stay there, locked away, where they won’t bother anyone."</p><p></p><p>"That’s enough!" admonished Daerdis. "Your father has made his decision, and I'm sure it was the right one."</p><p></p><p>Castillan was not so sure that was necessarily the case.</p><p></p><p>Finoula, meanwhile, returned to her mother's home. "Finoula!" shrieked Feya in delight, a broad smile plastering her face at the sight of her eldest daughter. "You're home! I see the adventuring life has been treating you well. And good news: Feron has sent word that she'll be by to visit in a week or so!"</p><p></p><p>But then her brow furrowed as she looked closely at Finoula, able to sense – as she had always been able to do for Finoula's entire life – that something was bothering her.</p><p></p><p>"Finoula?" she asked. "What's wrong, daughter?"</p><p></p><p>The tears Finoula had been holding in for two days flowed out as she explained the events of the last few days to her mother.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>The next morning, the group reassembled outside the Temple of Moradin, going in together. As requested, none of them was armed or armored. They saw Aerik and Helga sitting together in the front of the small crowd gathered already in the temple. Nearly all the others in the temple were dwarves; the heroes took seats in the rear of the temple and tried to look unobtrusive.</p><p></p><p>Up in the front of the temple was a stone slab, upon which lay Ingebold's body. She had been cleaned up and dressed in a pure white robe. The head priestess stepped forward and began casting a spell over Ingebold's form. Light suffused her hands, which she placed on Ingebold's temples, encompassing her head in a golden, halo-like effect. Unseen underneath her robes, the sword-wound over her heart sealed up, leaving no trace of a scar, and the restored organ began pumping blood once again. The fallen cleric took in a gasp of breath and sat up suddenly, looking in bewilderment around her. For a brief moment, her gaze locked with Finoula, but her face betrayed no emotion - it was as if the risen cleric hadn't even recognized the ranger.</p><p></p><p>Temple clerics helped Ingebold to her feet, then took her to the rooms in the rear of the building. "Moradin has returned Ingebold Battershield to her family," the head priestess announced. "She must rest after her ordeal; tomorrow, she will be ready to complete the process of healing in full. Praise Moradin!"</p><p></p><p>"Praise Moradin!" roared the crowd in unison, then got to their feet and prepared to leave the temple. A temple page approached Finoula. "You will return tomorrow morning," she announced haughtily. "Your fate will be decided upon at that time." Then she spun on her heels and exited the main chamber.</p><p></p><p>"What that supposed to mean?" demanded Gilbert.</p><p></p><p>"We will find out tomorrow," replied Finoula, then excused herself and left.</p><p></p><p>"Wait a minute - they're not going to try to hold Finoula accountable for Ingebold's death, are they?" asked Darrien. "It was an accident! She was tricked by a demon--"</p><p></p><p>"We all know that," countered Gilbert. "But I don't know if they know that. Or if they care."</p><p></p><p>"But Aerik and Helga know the full story," pointed out Binkadink. "I'm sure they told the church what happened."</p><p></p><p>"Who can tell with dwarves?" grumbled Gilbert. "You no can see what they thinking when they get all stony-faced!"</p><p></p><p>"Hey, keep it down!" hissed Castillan. "We're in a dwarven temple. Maybe let's not go disparaging dwarven personality traits quite so loudly, huh? C'mon, let's get out of here before we make matters worse!"</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>There were nowhere near as many people at the temple ceremony the next morning; besides the five adventurers sitting in the front row there was only Ingebold, standing impassively at the front of the raised platform in the back, and six temple clerics, arranged in two rows of three before her. The temple clerics were all in their full battle armor and each gripped a warhammer diagonally in front of them. Ingebold wore no armor, merely her white and red temple robes; she held a rolled-up scroll in her hand. With a start, Finoula realized that this was how Ingebold had originally intended her life to be, administering to her flock at the Temple of Moradin, not traveling the land as an adventurer.</p><p></p><p>"Finoula Cloudshadow, approach!" called out one of the armor-clad clerics; none of the adventurers had recognized the head priestess until she spoke. Finoula dutifully rose from her seat and, at the head priestess's orders, dropped to her knees immediately before the two rows of clerics. Then Ingebold stepped forward, unrolled the scroll before her, and began to chant. The clerics joined in, and for the next forty-five minutes or so there was only chanting and supplications to Moradin in the Dwarven language - which left the puzzled heroes somewhat in the dark as to what exactly was going on. But they dared not interrupt whatever ceremony this was. And neither did Finoula move during the chanting, her head bowed and staring at the floor before her.</p><p></p><p>Finally, the chanting stopped and Ingebold continued the rest of the ceremony in the Common tongue of the region, for the benefit of the other heroes.</p><p></p><p>"Finoula, yours was th' last face I saw before I died," she said. "It was a face filled with hatred, and with repulsion. It's a face I c'n still see when I close me eyes...a face I'll likely take with me to me final days. I died not understandin' what ye were doing, nor why.</p><p></p><p>"It's since been explained t'me that ye weren't tryin' t' kill me, but rather to kill what ye thought was a doppelganger. When I first heard this explanation, I thought it was nonsense. I figgered if th' roles had been reversed, why surely I'd've known it was ye there before me asleep in yer bedroll, not some shapeshiftin’ monster!</p><p></p><p>"But I've talked to me father, and he says he encountered a doppelganger in th' past, and sure enough they c'n look like whatever they want, down t' th' finest detail. In fact, he tells th' story of how he left King Galrich alone in a room with a doppelganger assassin what was tryin' t' kill 'im so's he couldn't be crowned king – not only that, but me father stood guard outside th' room so th' killer wouldn't be disturbed! But both he an' King Galrich were taken in by th' creature, for he looked indistinguishable from their boss at th' time. So I can't fault ye for not bein' able t' tell th' difference between me and a shapeshiftin' monster, odd as that seems to say aloud.</p><p></p><p>"Then there's th' matter of havin' taken th' advice of a demon, not only on th' night of me slayin' but fer months afore that. But it weren't just ye alone who'd been tricked; we all of us believed th' blasted sword were nothin' more than what it claimed t'be. So ye can't be faulted fer that, either.</p><p></p><p>"Some might say ye were foolish not to have heeded yer prophecy, th' one ye received in th' manor of th' Purple Mage. 'Beware,' it said, 'fer th' betrayal of a beloved friend is th' worst kind to bear.' But prophecies, by their very nature, are never clear cut an' c'n often be open to multiple interpretations. I think most of us thought it was warning against ye bein' betrayed, not bein' th' betrayer yerself.</p><p></p><p>"And, as ye know, I received a prophecy of me own in that manor. 'A wounded heart may indeed be mended over time; forgiveness is key,' it said." At that, Finoula raised her head to look Ingebold in the eye, the first glimmers of hope lightening her heart. "I never thought to interpret it quite so literally," Ingebold continued, "but it were indeed 'a wounded heart' what killed me that night, pierced as it were by th' sword-demon.</p><p></p><p>"A year ago, Finoula, ye and I were strangers to each other. Sure, we lived in th' same kingdom, but we traveled in different circles. Now, we're both part of th' same band of adventurers, doin' our best fer th' kingdom. Ye and I are no longer strangers, but battle-sisters. And I now know that hate-filled face – that's likely t'be givin' me nightmares from here on in – weren't directed at me, but at what ye honestly thought was not only a danger to th' group, an' t' th' kingdom too, but th' very monster what'd already slain me. That was a face of a woman dealing vengeance – justice – to th' slayer of a battle-sister. An' I c'n tell ye truthfully, I'll sleep better knowin' that if'n I ever do fall in battle, me battle-sister'll be there t' avenge me death."</p><p></p><p>Ingebold took a deep breath before continuing her speech, which was the tail end of the hour-long casting of an <em>atonement</em> spell, a spell the head priestess had felt it was important for Ingebold herself to cast, even though it was a more powerful spell than that which the adventuring cleric was normally capable of casting - hence the scroll.</p><p></p><p>"Finoula Cloudshadow of th' Kingdom of Kordovia," she intoned, "I, Ingebold Battershield of th' Kingdom of Kordovia, do hereby pronounce ye absolved of all blame – an' of all guilt – in th' matter of me recent death. Let us all put this matter behind us, speak of it no further, and get back t' th' business at hand of doin' what we c'n fer our kingdom." And with that, the spell completed, she walked forward to Finoula and placed a hand on her head in benediction. Finoula felt a wave of peacefulness and contentment flood through her body, and the stress and guilt of the past few days washed out of her system.</p><p></p><p>As one, the six temple clerics lifted their warhammers in their right hands and sent the ends crashing to the floor in a loud clamor, resting their hands on the business ends of the weapons - as if they were no longer weapons, merely heavy walking sticks. The simultaneous crash of six dwarven warhammers on the stone floor had the same effect as a judge pounding his gavel at his desk: case closed! Finoula had been somewhat worried, fearing in the back of her mind that these six might have been intended to be her executioners. But she took Ingebold's offered hand and rose to her feet.</p><p></p><p>"I think your father hates me," Finoula said.</p><p></p><p>"Nah," countered Ingebold. "Well, maybe a little, there at first," she amended, "but me Ma's got 'im straightened out."</p><p></p><p>"Come on," said Castillan, joining the two. "If we're going off into the field again, I'd like to head north this time."</p><p></p><p>"North?" asked Gilbert. "Why north? What up there besides mountains?"</p><p></p><p>"Well, for one thing, there's a place called Ravencroft Sanatorium, about a half day's ride from here. I want to stop in and see if my brother's okay."</p><p></p><p>"I'll get me gear," said Ingebold, patting and then releasing Finoula's hand.</p><p></p><p>"Let's all meet up at Battershield Keep in an hour," suggested Darrien.</p><p></p><p>"Deal," replied Gilbert. Then, to Castillan, he asked, "Why your brother in crazy-house?"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6822955, member: 508"] [b]INTERLUDE: A SOMBER HOMECOMING[/b] PC Roster: [INDENT]Binkadink Dundernoggin, gnome fighter 6 Castillan Ivenheart, elf bounder 6 Darrien, half-elf ranger 6 Finoula Cloudshadow, elf ranger 6 Gilbert Fung, human wizard 6[/INDENT] NPC Roster: [INDENT]Ingebold Battershield, dwarven cleric 5 (Moradin)[/INDENT] Game Session Date: 13 February 2016 We took care of some "follow on" actions after Ingebold's death during this session, then moved on to the adventure I had planned. Since it's going to be a rather lengthy write-up and Ingebold's return to life had nothing really to do with the adventure that followed, I'm going to write this up as an interlude and then follow it up with the actual adventure in a separate post. - - - "Where should we go first?" asked Darrien as the mule-driven wagon pulled onto the road leading into Kordovia. "The Temple of Moradin?" suggested Binkadink, riding alongside the wagon on his jackalope mount. "We'll need to get Ingebold raised, and the clerics there will probably need to do some preparation ahead of time. I don't think they're ready for this sort of thing day in and day out." "No," said Finoula - one of the few words she'd said over the course of the last two days. "Battershield Keep. Aerik and Helga need to know." And then she trotted Daisy ahead, out of easy vocal range of the others. When the road split, she veered off to the path that led to Battershield Keep, confident that the others would follow her lead. "She still touchy," commented Gilbert. Nobody replied. Once inside Battershield Keep, Finoula dismounted and approached the dwellings at the back. Aerik had yet to report for duty at the castle, so he was on hand to hear the news of his daughter's death from the elven ranger firsthand. Upon hearing it was Finoula herself who had slain his daughter, Aerik's hands involuntarily curled into fists and he took a step toward the ranger as if to strike her. Finoula stood tall but motionless, unwilling to defend herself from the angry dwarf's reaction, but it didn't come to that - Helga silently placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, spinning him to her, and he collapsed his forehead on Helga's shoulder, sobbing audibly. She looked sadly at Finoula, but her expression said she knew there had to be more to this story and she was willing to hear it from the ranger before jumping to any conclusions. As the wagon trundled up with Ingebold's body respectfully laid out in state in the back, none of the heroes said a word, not wanting to break the silence of the moment. Even Gilbert Fung, who usually had a comment to make about everything, held his tongue. Eventually, Aerik regained his composure and turned to face his daughter's killer. "The full story," he demanded. "Tell me everything." And Finoula did. - - - The next stop was the Temple of Moradin, with Aerik now driving the wagon and Helga sitting in the back with the body of her slain daughter. The [i]gentle repose[/i] spell cast upon her two days ago still had her looking as if she were merely sleeping - especially since the heroes had placed a blanket over her and tucked it in around her, covering the spot where Finoula's demon-sword had pierced through her chest and punctured her heart. The other heroes walked in silence behind the wagon, the animals having been left behind in the Keep's stables. Aerik kept the pace slow, as befitted a funeral procession. They passed by farmland, gathering several curious looks from the workers in the fields. At the Temple of Moradin, Aerik stopped the wagon and jumped out. He scooped up his daughter's body and solemnly carried it into the stone building. The others trailed, Castillan and Darrien flanking Helga Battershield, ready to catch her if she should faint. But Helga was a dwarven woman, and they were made of strong stuff. Her face was impassive as she followed her husband and daughter into the temple. A pair of clerics approached immediately, saw the situation, and steered Aerik into a room in the back, where he placed Ingebold's body on a slab of solid stone. "Return in the morning, at first light," suggested the head priestess. "We will be ready for your daughter's return to life at that time." Aerik merely nodded, then spun on his heels and headed back toward the exit, saying nothing and making eye contact with no one. Helga followed in his wake, but placed a hand on Finoula's shoulder as she passed. The heroes maintained their silence until the Battershields had left. "I think we might want to give them their privacy for the evening," suggested Binkadink. "What do you say we all head back to our own families for the rest of the day and meet back here tomorrow morning?" "Good call, gnome," replied Gilbert. "I see you guys later." The others started to follow him toward the door. "One moment, please, Miss Cloudshadow," said a voice from behind the heroes as they turned to leave with the portly wizard. Finoula turned to see the head priestess approaching her. "As ye are one of the king's servants, I believe I can trust ye not to leave town." Finoula stared at the dwarf's impassive face, belatedly realizing she expected an answer. "You can," she said. "Good. Then I expect I'll see ye tomorrow at the morning's ritual." "I will be there," promised Finoula, wearing an expressionless face of her own. "Good. I gather ye've just returned from the field, but tomorrow - no weapons and no armor in the temple. Tell yer friends." Finoula merely nodded, then turned and followed her friends outside. - - - The group took the wagon to the castle, to turn in their accumulated treasure and receive their own shares - this was after leaving behind the cost of the [i]raise dead[/i] spell with the Moradin temple clerics. They split up after that, each going about their own business. Gilbert picked up a few low-level scrolls from one of the few merchant wizards in the kingdom. Darrien returned home, to be nearly hugged to death by his mother, who lived vicariously through her son - the [i]adventurer![/i] - and his mighty exploits. She forced him to a seat in the kitchen and fired question after question at him, reveling in excitement at each of his stories. Binkadink returned to his uncle's potion shop, to be met with a grumpy rant about how much money Uncle Winkidew was losing now that King Galrich had gotten it into his head that the gnomish potion-crafter should keep the heroes well supplied. "Do you know how much this is costing me?" he demanded - but Binkadink could see through his uncle's gruff exterior to see he was pleased his nephew had returned home safely. And Jinkadoodle was glad to see his cousin, prompting Binkadink that it was his turn for retaliation in their prank war, and just what was taking him so long? - because he had a real doozy planned once it was his turn again. Castillan returned to his family's estate to be met with a squeal of excitement from his youngest sister [b]Malrin[/b]. Immediately, there was a rush of bodies as his other sister [b]Laerornith[/b] and their mother Daerdis came into the hallway to greet him. "Your father's in his study," mentioned Daerdis matter-of-factly, although Castillan well knew there was no way in the Nine Hells his father would actually came out to greet him, given their recent animosity toward each other. Looking around, the bounder noticed his little brother [b]Aithanar[/b] was missing. "Where's Aith?" he asked – and the smiles on everyone's faces turned off as if by a switch. Daerdis looked away in pain; Malrin looked down sadly at her feet. It was Laerornith – never one to be shy – who responded, "Father sent him away." Over drinks in the kitchen, the full story came out. A week or so ago, Aithanar got into a fight at a tavern and hit his head on the brick fireplace, rendering him unconscious. Upon being reawakened, he could no longer speak coherently – everything he said was nonsensical gibberish. Castillan's father Aroben, not wanting the shame of an incoherent, wit-addled son damaging the family name, had him sent away "for rest and recovery" at Ravencroft Sanatorium, tucked away in the mountains north of Kordovia. "It's where they send the crazies," piped in Laerornith. "Father says he's just resting, and he'll be back when he feels better, but nobody ever 'gets better' at the loony bin. They just stay there, locked away, where they won’t bother anyone." "That’s enough!" admonished Daerdis. "Your father has made his decision, and I'm sure it was the right one." Castillan was not so sure that was necessarily the case. Finoula, meanwhile, returned to her mother's home. "Finoula!" shrieked Feya in delight, a broad smile plastering her face at the sight of her eldest daughter. "You're home! I see the adventuring life has been treating you well. And good news: Feron has sent word that she'll be by to visit in a week or so!" But then her brow furrowed as she looked closely at Finoula, able to sense – as she had always been able to do for Finoula's entire life – that something was bothering her. "Finoula?" she asked. "What's wrong, daughter?" The tears Finoula had been holding in for two days flowed out as she explained the events of the last few days to her mother. - - - The next morning, the group reassembled outside the Temple of Moradin, going in together. As requested, none of them was armed or armored. They saw Aerik and Helga sitting together in the front of the small crowd gathered already in the temple. Nearly all the others in the temple were dwarves; the heroes took seats in the rear of the temple and tried to look unobtrusive. Up in the front of the temple was a stone slab, upon which lay Ingebold's body. She had been cleaned up and dressed in a pure white robe. The head priestess stepped forward and began casting a spell over Ingebold's form. Light suffused her hands, which she placed on Ingebold's temples, encompassing her head in a golden, halo-like effect. Unseen underneath her robes, the sword-wound over her heart sealed up, leaving no trace of a scar, and the restored organ began pumping blood once again. The fallen cleric took in a gasp of breath and sat up suddenly, looking in bewilderment around her. For a brief moment, her gaze locked with Finoula, but her face betrayed no emotion - it was as if the risen cleric hadn't even recognized the ranger. Temple clerics helped Ingebold to her feet, then took her to the rooms in the rear of the building. "Moradin has returned Ingebold Battershield to her family," the head priestess announced. "She must rest after her ordeal; tomorrow, she will be ready to complete the process of healing in full. Praise Moradin!" "Praise Moradin!" roared the crowd in unison, then got to their feet and prepared to leave the temple. A temple page approached Finoula. "You will return tomorrow morning," she announced haughtily. "Your fate will be decided upon at that time." Then she spun on her heels and exited the main chamber. "What that supposed to mean?" demanded Gilbert. "We will find out tomorrow," replied Finoula, then excused herself and left. "Wait a minute - they're not going to try to hold Finoula accountable for Ingebold's death, are they?" asked Darrien. "It was an accident! She was tricked by a demon--" "We all know that," countered Gilbert. "But I don't know if they know that. Or if they care." "But Aerik and Helga know the full story," pointed out Binkadink. "I'm sure they told the church what happened." "Who can tell with dwarves?" grumbled Gilbert. "You no can see what they thinking when they get all stony-faced!" "Hey, keep it down!" hissed Castillan. "We're in a dwarven temple. Maybe let's not go disparaging dwarven personality traits quite so loudly, huh? C'mon, let's get out of here before we make matters worse!" - - - There were nowhere near as many people at the temple ceremony the next morning; besides the five adventurers sitting in the front row there was only Ingebold, standing impassively at the front of the raised platform in the back, and six temple clerics, arranged in two rows of three before her. The temple clerics were all in their full battle armor and each gripped a warhammer diagonally in front of them. Ingebold wore no armor, merely her white and red temple robes; she held a rolled-up scroll in her hand. With a start, Finoula realized that this was how Ingebold had originally intended her life to be, administering to her flock at the Temple of Moradin, not traveling the land as an adventurer. "Finoula Cloudshadow, approach!" called out one of the armor-clad clerics; none of the adventurers had recognized the head priestess until she spoke. Finoula dutifully rose from her seat and, at the head priestess's orders, dropped to her knees immediately before the two rows of clerics. Then Ingebold stepped forward, unrolled the scroll before her, and began to chant. The clerics joined in, and for the next forty-five minutes or so there was only chanting and supplications to Moradin in the Dwarven language - which left the puzzled heroes somewhat in the dark as to what exactly was going on. But they dared not interrupt whatever ceremony this was. And neither did Finoula move during the chanting, her head bowed and staring at the floor before her. Finally, the chanting stopped and Ingebold continued the rest of the ceremony in the Common tongue of the region, for the benefit of the other heroes. "Finoula, yours was th' last face I saw before I died," she said. "It was a face filled with hatred, and with repulsion. It's a face I c'n still see when I close me eyes...a face I'll likely take with me to me final days. I died not understandin' what ye were doing, nor why. "It's since been explained t'me that ye weren't tryin' t' kill me, but rather to kill what ye thought was a doppelganger. When I first heard this explanation, I thought it was nonsense. I figgered if th' roles had been reversed, why surely I'd've known it was ye there before me asleep in yer bedroll, not some shapeshiftin’ monster! "But I've talked to me father, and he says he encountered a doppelganger in th' past, and sure enough they c'n look like whatever they want, down t' th' finest detail. In fact, he tells th' story of how he left King Galrich alone in a room with a doppelganger assassin what was tryin' t' kill 'im so's he couldn't be crowned king – not only that, but me father stood guard outside th' room so th' killer wouldn't be disturbed! But both he an' King Galrich were taken in by th' creature, for he looked indistinguishable from their boss at th' time. So I can't fault ye for not bein' able t' tell th' difference between me and a shapeshiftin' monster, odd as that seems to say aloud. "Then there's th' matter of havin' taken th' advice of a demon, not only on th' night of me slayin' but fer months afore that. But it weren't just ye alone who'd been tricked; we all of us believed th' blasted sword were nothin' more than what it claimed t'be. So ye can't be faulted fer that, either. "Some might say ye were foolish not to have heeded yer prophecy, th' one ye received in th' manor of th' Purple Mage. 'Beware,' it said, 'fer th' betrayal of a beloved friend is th' worst kind to bear.' But prophecies, by their very nature, are never clear cut an' c'n often be open to multiple interpretations. I think most of us thought it was warning against ye bein' betrayed, not bein' th' betrayer yerself. "And, as ye know, I received a prophecy of me own in that manor. 'A wounded heart may indeed be mended over time; forgiveness is key,' it said." At that, Finoula raised her head to look Ingebold in the eye, the first glimmers of hope lightening her heart. "I never thought to interpret it quite so literally," Ingebold continued, "but it were indeed 'a wounded heart' what killed me that night, pierced as it were by th' sword-demon. "A year ago, Finoula, ye and I were strangers to each other. Sure, we lived in th' same kingdom, but we traveled in different circles. Now, we're both part of th' same band of adventurers, doin' our best fer th' kingdom. Ye and I are no longer strangers, but battle-sisters. And I now know that hate-filled face – that's likely t'be givin' me nightmares from here on in – weren't directed at me, but at what ye honestly thought was not only a danger to th' group, an' t' th' kingdom too, but th' very monster what'd already slain me. That was a face of a woman dealing vengeance – justice – to th' slayer of a battle-sister. An' I c'n tell ye truthfully, I'll sleep better knowin' that if'n I ever do fall in battle, me battle-sister'll be there t' avenge me death." Ingebold took a deep breath before continuing her speech, which was the tail end of the hour-long casting of an [i]atonement[/i] spell, a spell the head priestess had felt it was important for Ingebold herself to cast, even though it was a more powerful spell than that which the adventuring cleric was normally capable of casting - hence the scroll. "Finoula Cloudshadow of th' Kingdom of Kordovia," she intoned, "I, Ingebold Battershield of th' Kingdom of Kordovia, do hereby pronounce ye absolved of all blame – an' of all guilt – in th' matter of me recent death. Let us all put this matter behind us, speak of it no further, and get back t' th' business at hand of doin' what we c'n fer our kingdom." And with that, the spell completed, she walked forward to Finoula and placed a hand on her head in benediction. Finoula felt a wave of peacefulness and contentment flood through her body, and the stress and guilt of the past few days washed out of her system. As one, the six temple clerics lifted their warhammers in their right hands and sent the ends crashing to the floor in a loud clamor, resting their hands on the business ends of the weapons - as if they were no longer weapons, merely heavy walking sticks. The simultaneous crash of six dwarven warhammers on the stone floor had the same effect as a judge pounding his gavel at his desk: case closed! Finoula had been somewhat worried, fearing in the back of her mind that these six might have been intended to be her executioners. But she took Ingebold's offered hand and rose to her feet. "I think your father hates me," Finoula said. "Nah," countered Ingebold. "Well, maybe a little, there at first," she amended, "but me Ma's got 'im straightened out." "Come on," said Castillan, joining the two. "If we're going off into the field again, I'd like to head north this time." "North?" asked Gilbert. "Why north? What up there besides mountains?" "Well, for one thing, there's a place called Ravencroft Sanatorium, about a half day's ride from here. I want to stop in and see if my brother's okay." "I'll get me gear," said Ingebold, patting and then releasing Finoula's hand. "Let's all meet up at Battershield Keep in an hour," suggested Darrien. "Deal," replied Gilbert. Then, to Castillan, he asked, "Why your brother in crazy-house?" [/QUOTE]
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