(Casual D&D) A Game of Trust

[dpdx]

Fendric awakes, refreshed, and after his prayers, walks down to the common room for a morning meal.

Upon seeing Father Premule, he smiles and greets the senior cleric of Heironeous. Aerda's warning exasperates Fendric (Wyvern's blood! Are we not even safe to talk in a Temple of Heironeous?), and it gives the young cleric an idea:

"Perhaps we are being scryed? It is difficult for me to believe that someone in this Temple is not who or what they seem... Anyway, perhaps one of us can tell if that is indeed the case?

Anyway, I can Detect Evil, but not only does that seem nonsensical to me in such a Temple, I can't even be sure if whoever's interested in us is evil, may the Gods be merciful..."

 

[Guilt Puppy]

A search of the room -- an octagon about twenty feet from wall to wall, thick stone with little but tasteful ornament -- turns over no sign to the source of this suspicion. Nor, it seems, does the ring's direction -- except toward you and your companions, all equally.

If Astrule is willing, a temple disciple will escort him outside to keep watch -- otherwise, you can take him yourself, although Premule seems ill at ease with the thought of delay.

Premule himself seems slightly offended at your request for identification, but it passes with a brief purse of the lips. "I can give you no better proof than what you have already witnessed -- if you have the talent, you can check for yourself that I am no glamer." He seems slightly amused at the thought. "As for scrying, this room is warded as well as any of the most private chambers here. That is why I've brought you here for this talk in the first place."

"Trust me on this: These temples and this order would be the last to fall under any corruption, save perhaps for the temple Visach himself..." He seems to linger on that last thought, then lets out a sharp exhale.

"In any case, I should be leaving by night to collect the letter itself, and I assure you that, as will all such confidences, I shall read it in no light of intrusion. If you still feel uncomfortable sharing that story, it is your right... But I do have some questions I would like answered about the more pressing matter of last night's events."

"Firstly: Have any of you had any prior experience or encounter involving the Cult of Nerull?"

 

[dpdx]

Fendric looks at Aerda, again exasperated, before answering. Finally, he resolves to answer the questions Father Premule puts to him as best he can without jeopardizing the mission, or the group.

"I can't say as we have, Father Premule. The prisoner from last night might have been. We have, however, been attacked several times before this, since we set out. Insofar as only one of those was sentient, a goblinoid cleric, he could have been, but none in the tribe seemed to be with him, and we dispatched him before he could explain himself."

Fendric paces the room, obviously very irate at the inability to explain their mission fully to Father Premule, and very frustrated that he does not understand fully why it is, that the stupid ring does not consider this, of all places, a safe place to talk.

After a few seconds, he stops pacing, and turns to Father Premule.

"I wonder if my own Temple might be of assistance in this matter. If it's not too far away, perhaps I could be escorted over there, and seek guidance in prayer and consultation. Then I could return, and we could get to the bottom of why that ring is acting up, and perhaps be of more assistance to each other!"

Fendric is frowning, and fit to burst.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

(Autopilot: ) Draven glares hard across the table, but remains silent.

He listens to Fendric, matching impatience for impatience, then holds up his hand.

"In a moment, I'll have you shown to your temple -- it is not far. But, and perhaps this is foolish on my part, but forgive me, at least now your quest is not my greatest concern."

He coughs briefly, looking as though he is waiting for objection, but gives it little time.

"Now: The prisoner from last night was of Nerull's cloth, you are right... Or at least so it seems. He had a rather rare focus -- one which it took some reading to identify -- concealed under the skin of his wrist. If it was meant to be a misleading ruse, it was perhaps too clever: We nearly missed it."

"Now, it's not common but it is known for their clergy to be hired as assassins... Although this doesn't strike me as a, ah, particularly competent effort, if that was his goal. Perhaps he expected it to be easier to control the... the servants at the gates."

"In any case, do you have any reason to consider this a possibility? Any enemies? Large debts among you? Or your mission itself -- have you reason to believe it might be the target of this sort of thing?"

(BTW, just some more warning: I'll be gone from August 1-14, although I may be able to pop in on occasion. After that my more regular posting schedule should resume. Thanks for bearing with me -- I'm really enjoying this game, and I'd hate to see it end so prematurely.

On that note, are Vexed and Vargo still around at all? Or, for that matter, National Acrobat? I'll send out some emails after this next absence if we look to be short, and then reopen recruitment if need be.)

 

[dpdx]

"Pardon my abruptness, Father, but our mission IS the overarching circumstance of our lives, well, for me, anyway, second only to my worship of His Holy Radiance. I will help as best I can without compromising that mission. I assure you that it is of vital importance to the continued survival of the Realm.

Still, Aerda there has a ring; it formerly belonged to the late Sir Exantrius, who commissioned us to help him undertake this mission for his Holy Order, and then to act in his stead when he passed into the Light. We know not every enemy he may have had, and they indeed could have originated from such a cult."

"The ring warns us of danger in many forms, including speaking out of turn, it seems," Fendric paused to glance at Aerda, "when the mission would best be served by not speaking.

Still, such a ring may leave a divine signature that some of these enemies associate with the late Sir Exantrius, and perhaps that is why we are marked for assasination by beings of taint...

Perhaps also a look at the Ring's dweomer would serve us to determine what may be causing it to alarm, even now..."

Fendric looks over into Father Premule's eyes as he says all this, half expecting more information, half expecting another question.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Premule takes this in slowly, then mumbles off a spell you recognize easily -- he is detecting magic. He focuses hard on the ring for a few tense seconds, then soon his eyes widen around the lids, although he clenches his brow down equally. The expression is equal parts wonder and worry.

"May I take a closer look out that?" He holds out a palm toward Aerda, softly, seeming neither to demand nor even to request: More of a question.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

(I will be gone for two weeks starting tomorrow. I've sent out an email to all of you, except for Uriel, whose email is not listed here... Hopefully you all get that; Uriel, hopefully you can get in touch with someone for a copy. The gist is that there's a rerecruitment thread started, and I'm looking for ways to get things to pick back up. Just to speed things up to a better breakpoint, I'm hijacking the game briefly: I got the feeling most weren't too interested in the present situation anyway. )

As your talk with Father Premule continues, you learn a few new pieces of information: Most importantly, his appointment today is with the Visach Cheraul; he agrees to take your letter to him, but will not arrange for you to share his audience. Further, he explains the undead situation in some more curious detail: Such forms of necromancy are normally heavily restricted, but under the Visach's guidance the cultists of Wee Jas were allowed to animate these numbers, and further to surround the major cities in order to apprehend a specific individual -- an individual unknown to Premule, and Premule in turn believes this person is unknown to Cheraul as well. Nonetheless he found it convincing, much to the chagrin of the Church here, for obvious reasons... One remaining mystery is how the cultists managed to animate such large numbers in such a short period of time, unless they had been doing so in secret for some time in advance.

Regarding the ring, Premule has little to say, although he finds it extremely curious... He says it reminds him of a painting where the apparent path of color doesn't line up with the grain of the brushstroke... At least, that's the best analogy he can find -- for Aerda's ears, it probably is.

Once everything is together -- it only takes an hour or so -- he gives you directions to the temple of Pelor, where you can rest and perhaps resupply a little. The clergy are open to consultation, of course, (but it will take them about two weeks to get back to you ).

 

[Guilt Puppy]

(Note: It appears the message wasn't sent -- I need to stop relying on my email server for anything important -- but I'll give you the gist of it: Let me know if you're still around, if you want to stick around, and what ideas you have to help get the pace of the game back up. And if you won't be sticking around, thanks for playing: This is easily the best set of players I've had, and any one of you will be missed.)

 

[dpdx]

Fendric jogs over to the Temple with Premule, beaming all the way, and thanking him profusely when he reaches his destination.

Striding in, the half-elf is greeted with an assortment of acolytes of various levels. Approaching what looks to be the most senior cleric present, Fendric introduces himself, and makes a request:

"Would someone be so kind as to send a message from to the Training Cleric in Hedrogura, Father Brewek Duff? 'I'm afraid I won't be returning to the Temple for quite some time. Urgent Business for the Crown and Holy Order. Pelor Bless, Fendric.'"

The request is granted, and as Fendric leans down at the altar, about to begin devotionals, another one is received, and the senior cleric whispers it in his ear:

"Thought as much. Word travels fast. Have already given your things to newest acolyte. Ask the Clerics there for training. Praise His Holy Light, Duff."

Relieved and refreshed, Fendric leaves the Temple (with a meal in his belly, new spells, and a redeemed connection with his god), ready to meet the others and proceed.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Introducing Nurthk

A half-orc sits and discusses the events of recent days with an off-duty city guard in a tavern.

"...but enough of what's happened to me, what of you? I heard just as I got back that a group was attacked by a guy disguised as one of the undead on their way in," the half-orc said with a raised eyebrow.

"Heh, well, that's about all there is to it I think. One thing though, they left with Father Premule, dunno where they went from there but there but I'd hazard a guess that they were important in some way," the blonde, heavily built human replied, "But anyway its good to hear you eventually got the guy, Nurthk."

Nurthk shrugs.

"Just gotta be observant, Frederick, so when they slip up you can see where they went wrong," he replies, "When it comes down to it, I reckon' the best defense is a good offense. And know thy enemy! But you would know all about vigilance already wouldn't ya?"

Fred rolls his eyes.

"Too true," he remarks, then glances out the door, "Ha! There goes that priest who was with the group that got attacked."

Nurthk glances behind him in time to catch a glance at a few non-descript peasants going about their business outside.

"I take it I wasn't quick enough?" he asks.

"Yeah," Fred replies.

"Heh, I may cross their paths anyway if the higher ups want this incident looked into in greater depth," Nurthk says.

"Wouldn't doubt that, they're itchin' for a reason to get nasty on those bony undead asses out front. Can't blame 'em either, I hate undead," Fred says, sticking his tongue out in disgust momentarily.

"By St. Cuthbert I'll not be digging around where I'm not supposed to, as much as I'd like to know where they got all those skeletons so quick, its none of my business," Nurthk says.

"Ha, always by the book, eh? You're the strangest half-orc I've ever met. How'd you come to follow St. Cuthbert anyway?" Fred asks.

"Ask me when I'm drunk," Nurthk answers.