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<blockquote data-quote="Eccles" data-source="post: 1549958" data-attributes="member: 5675">Taking the hint from his goddess, Aeron again cast his requests up to her, this time on the much more direct subject of &quot;The password to the castle referred to as &quot;Chumavh Fortress&quot;. His vision faded: The temple had echoed with the moans of the sick and the dying.A priest bends low over a sweaty-faced child whose bedclothes are thick with blood. Flies buzz away as the priest leans conspiratorially over the bed, to the parents who gaze at him expectantly. &quot;We have tried all we can. Something… impedes our magic, and none of us have the skill to heal Laura's wound,&quot; he pauses awkwardly, as the mother's body is wracked with sobbing.&quot;Why priest?&quot; Little Laura's father, a heavy-set farmer demands. &quot;We have tithed, and made gifts to the church. When you asked for soldiers to fight the undead, you took my eldest boy away from us, and told us he had died. And still we prayed. Tom, my youngest, was healed at this very church when he hurt his leg with the scythe. And yet for Laura you have nothing?&quot;The priest looks up, his eyes meeting the father's for the first time. The farmer gasps, as the eyes which stare back at him are maddened with doubt and grief. &quot;Yes,&quot; mutters the priest. &quot;I have this last service to perform to help your daughter.&quot;And he drives a bone-handled knife into Laura's chest.The temple is silent for shocked seconds, and into that silence, the priest's voice whispers &quot;Isstava Morthaum&quot;. He turns to face you precisely and whispers again, &quot;Isstava Morthaum&quot;. His expression is one of sorrow clouded with joy. Revelation, clouded with... darkness.Your vision fades…</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Eccles, post: 1549958, member: 5675"] Taking the hint from his goddess, Aeron again cast his requests up to her, this time on the much more direct subject of "The password to the castle referred to as "Chumavh Fortress". His vision faded: [I] The temple had echoed with the moans of the sick and the dying. A priest bends low over a sweaty-faced child whose bedclothes are thick with blood. Flies buzz away as the priest leans conspiratorially over the bed, to the parents who gaze at him expectantly. "We have tried all we can. Something… impedes our magic, and none of us have the skill to heal Laura's wound," he pauses awkwardly, as the mother's body is wracked with sobbing. "Why priest?" Little Laura's father, a heavy-set farmer demands. "We have tithed, and made gifts to the church. When you asked for soldiers to fight the undead, you took my eldest boy away from us, and told us he had died. And still we prayed. Tom, my youngest, was healed at this very church when he hurt his leg with the scythe. And yet for Laura you have nothing?" The priest looks up, his eyes meeting the father's for the first time. The farmer gasps, as the eyes which stare back at him are maddened with doubt and grief. "Yes," mutters the priest. "I have this last service to perform to help your daughter." And he drives a bone-handled knife into Laura's chest. The temple is silent for shocked seconds, and into that silence, the priest's voice whispers "Isstava Morthaum". He turns to face you precisely and whispers again, "Isstava Morthaum". His expression is one of sorrow clouded with joy. Revelation, clouded with... darkness. Your vision fades… [/I] [/QUOTE]

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