Company of the Random Encounter ('complete' 14 Nov 2004)
- Thread starter Capellan
- Start date
Capellan
Explorer
"Forgotten Honour" by Eric Price (Dragon Scale Counters) - Part 10
Although Macwood is unconscious, he's not dead, and the wand of cure light wounds gets another workout. As far as the Company of the Random Encounter is concerned, any fight you can be healed enough to walk away from is a good one.
Fortunately, skeletons are mindless foes, and those that have not yet been destroyed now obligingly mill around on the far side of the pit trap, thwarted in their efforts to attack the adventurers. Ming Li and Stormstrider take advantage of this to bombard the undead with sling bullets, eventually destroying them all.
This done, the adventurers move down the corridor, finally making it to the fountain Stormstrider was so interested in reaching.
"No money." The elf announces mournfully, "Aren't people supposed to throw coins into fountains for good luck?"
"I don't think that there's too much traffic, down here." Macwood reminds him. The halfling bard's attention has been drawn to the stout iron door on the far wall. Leaning forward, he exhales sharply, blowing dust from the engravings on the door. "A shield and a tree. Elven symbols. I didn't know your people built tombs like this."
"They don't." is Elspeth's short reply, "We bury our dead in clean earth, we don't enclose them in stone."
"Someone did." Macwood observes, "That, or they copied elven art."
"There's not even any water in here!" Twinkle peers into the dusty bowl of the fountain, oblivious to any other conversation. "Poor thing!" The gnome pulls out her waterskin and removes the stopper, then pours water into the bowl, watching in satisfaction as the fluid splashes onto the stone.
Suddenly, her eyes widen as she catches sight of a glint of metal.
"Hey! There's something in there!"
Without waiting for a response, the gnome clambers into the fountain and paws through the dust.
"It's a key. Made of iron, I think, and it's got a tree and a sword engraved on it. Maybe there's a door near here it will fit."
"Give me that." Macwood sighs, and plucks the key from the gnome's fingers.
"Hey! Ooh - door!" Twinkle immediately forgets to be upset. Snatching the key back from the bard, she scampers over and slips the key into the lock. A quick twist, and the door swings open.
"I found the key, so the treasure's mine!" the gnome capers for a moment, then suddenly screws up her face as a wash of foetid air spills out of the opening. "Yuck!"
The chamber beyond the doors is much larger than the fountain room. It is decorated with rotten and faded tapestries, many of which have been torn and vandalised. At the far end of the room, only just visible in the light from their everburning torch, stands a stone altar, flanked by a pair of squat sarcophagi.
"Nice place you've got here. Decorate it yourself?" Macwood brushes past the gnome, also pulling a face of disgust as he does so.
"This is a locked room. Who damaged the tapestries?" Ming Li asks, stepping up beside Twinkle. She cocks her head to one side, "The smell is unpleasant."
"It's worse down here." Twinkle grumbles, "Maybe whoever damaged everything threw the key in the fountain. Probably overloaded with all the treasure they stole, leaving none for us."
"Or perhaps the inhabitant of the tomb became a flesh-eating monster, and tore them after decades of frustrating captivity?"
"Ew. Gross. Why would you think that?"
Ming Li points.
A foul and scabrous form has leapt onto one of the sarcophagi. Though dressed in the tattered remains of clothing, it crouches in an almost bestial fashion, resting its weight forwards, on the knuckles of its taloned hands. It leers at the adventurers, its elongated green tongue flicking over bloodless lips and crooked, yellow teeth.
"Ew. Gross."
The creature charges.
Although Macwood is unconscious, he's not dead, and the wand of cure light wounds gets another workout. As far as the Company of the Random Encounter is concerned, any fight you can be healed enough to walk away from is a good one.
Fortunately, skeletons are mindless foes, and those that have not yet been destroyed now obligingly mill around on the far side of the pit trap, thwarted in their efforts to attack the adventurers. Ming Li and Stormstrider take advantage of this to bombard the undead with sling bullets, eventually destroying them all.
This done, the adventurers move down the corridor, finally making it to the fountain Stormstrider was so interested in reaching.
"No money." The elf announces mournfully, "Aren't people supposed to throw coins into fountains for good luck?"
"I don't think that there's too much traffic, down here." Macwood reminds him. The halfling bard's attention has been drawn to the stout iron door on the far wall. Leaning forward, he exhales sharply, blowing dust from the engravings on the door. "A shield and a tree. Elven symbols. I didn't know your people built tombs like this."
"They don't." is Elspeth's short reply, "We bury our dead in clean earth, we don't enclose them in stone."
"Someone did." Macwood observes, "That, or they copied elven art."
"There's not even any water in here!" Twinkle peers into the dusty bowl of the fountain, oblivious to any other conversation. "Poor thing!" The gnome pulls out her waterskin and removes the stopper, then pours water into the bowl, watching in satisfaction as the fluid splashes onto the stone.
Suddenly, her eyes widen as she catches sight of a glint of metal.
"Hey! There's something in there!"
Without waiting for a response, the gnome clambers into the fountain and paws through the dust.
"It's a key. Made of iron, I think, and it's got a tree and a sword engraved on it. Maybe there's a door near here it will fit."
"Give me that." Macwood sighs, and plucks the key from the gnome's fingers.
"Hey! Ooh - door!" Twinkle immediately forgets to be upset. Snatching the key back from the bard, she scampers over and slips the key into the lock. A quick twist, and the door swings open.
"I found the key, so the treasure's mine!" the gnome capers for a moment, then suddenly screws up her face as a wash of foetid air spills out of the opening. "Yuck!"
The chamber beyond the doors is much larger than the fountain room. It is decorated with rotten and faded tapestries, many of which have been torn and vandalised. At the far end of the room, only just visible in the light from their everburning torch, stands a stone altar, flanked by a pair of squat sarcophagi.
"Nice place you've got here. Decorate it yourself?" Macwood brushes past the gnome, also pulling a face of disgust as he does so.
"This is a locked room. Who damaged the tapestries?" Ming Li asks, stepping up beside Twinkle. She cocks her head to one side, "The smell is unpleasant."
"It's worse down here." Twinkle grumbles, "Maybe whoever damaged everything threw the key in the fountain. Probably overloaded with all the treasure they stole, leaving none for us."
"Or perhaps the inhabitant of the tomb became a flesh-eating monster, and tore them after decades of frustrating captivity?"
"Ew. Gross. Why would you think that?"
Ming Li points.
A foul and scabrous form has leapt onto one of the sarcophagi. Though dressed in the tattered remains of clothing, it crouches in an almost bestial fashion, resting its weight forwards, on the knuckles of its taloned hands. It leers at the adventurers, its elongated green tongue flicking over bloodless lips and crooked, yellow teeth.
"Ew. Gross."
The creature charges.
Hammerhead
Explorer
Just further proof that Ming Li is the coolest PC in the Company.
Capellan
Explorer
"Forgotten Honour" by Eric Price (Dragon Scale Counters) - Part 11
Incredibly, the smell gets even worse as the monster rushes in, and most of the adventurers feel their gorge rise in their throats as they experience the full force of the foul stench. Even Ming Li, who previously seemed unperturbed, has a greenish cast to her features.
The beast slashes its claws at Elspeth, who reels back - more from nausea than from injury - before making a weak swing that the creature easily avoids. Twinkle and Ming Li also try to strike the enemy, but it shrugs off their efforts, for the attacks lack their usual strength and vigour.
Thing seems bad for the adventurers as the creature tears at Elspeth again, the ranger avoiding the blows more from luck than design. Then Macwood's voice rises above the melee, the bard seeming to have overcome the smell's effects:
"There was a ghast, quite unsightly
Who charged us, very spritely
His stench was bad
And made us sad
But I've smelt worse from the Padre's boots, nightly!"
Although this can hardly be called high art, it definitely raises the spirits of his companions, and helps them fight off some of the effects of the stench. Stormstrider steps in and hits the ghast twice, driving it back slightly as his staff slams into its ribs.
Hissing its pain and anger, the undead creature strikes back, raking its claws across the druidic elf's arms. Confident that he is immune to ghoulish paralysis, Stormstrider is shocked to find his limbs locking up, leaving him helpless for the ghast's next attack.
Fortunately for the elf, he is not alone, and his opponent never gets the chance to make that next attack: instead, a combination of blows from Elspeth and Ming Li crash home, the monk sweeping out its legs and knocking it to the ground before the ranger drives her sword into its chest.
"Ew, gross." Twinkle opines again, then suddenly brightens, "Hey, if it was stuck in here, then so was all the treasure!"
"Is it appropriate to despoil the tombs of the dead?" Ming Li questions.
"There, uh, could still be undead in the other sarcophagi." Twinkle extemporises, "It's our civic duty to check!"
The monk looks unconvinced.
"It is one thing to take the spoils of the enemy." She insists, "Another to rob the graves of the innocent. Was grave-robbing not one of the first things we were asked to stop?"
"Whatever else may be said, this tomb is already despoiled." Macwood gestures at the ghast, "Disturbing the remains here isn't wrong. They should be taken to consecrated ground, at the least."
Elspeth nods,
"If they are human, this should happen. If they are elves, Stormstrider and I will take them to the forest, and bury them there, as should have been done in the beginning."
With the ethics of the matter resolved, the group swiftly breaks open the sarcophagi. The race of the bodes within is no longer identifiable, but the items stored with them seem to suggest they were elves.
"A scimitar, marked with the same symbol as the door." Macwood inspects the weapon carefully, struggling with it a little due to the weapon's size and balance, "It's in perfect condition." Holding it close to his lips, he whispers to it in, then rests his ear against the blade, as if expecting it to reply. "It's magical. Not strongly so, but it's definitely enchanted. You'll probably find it's a little sharper and better balanced than an ordinary blade."
Elspeth, meanwhile, has been unwrapping a large bundle of oiled rags, revealing a wooden shield within them. The wood is unusually dark in colour, and the shield feels lighter than would be expected for its size.
"Darkwood." The ranger raps her knuckles on the wood, "Rare stuff, and valuable. Is it magical, as well?"
Macwood whispers to the shield, and places his ear against it, then shakes his head,
"Not magical, just well-made," is his assessment, "the oiled rags must have protected it from decay."
The second sarcophagus contains several vials, their contents sealed with wax stoppers. These potions - for it seems likely that is what they are - are set aside for later analysis and identification.
After one more search around the room, Rose and Twinkle are in agreement,
"That's everything." The halfling rogue reports, "No more secret chambers, exits or compartments. The place is cleared out."
"Right." Elspeth slaps her hands together, "Let's get these elves to a proper burial, then go see about our reward."
Incredibly, the smell gets even worse as the monster rushes in, and most of the adventurers feel their gorge rise in their throats as they experience the full force of the foul stench. Even Ming Li, who previously seemed unperturbed, has a greenish cast to her features.
The beast slashes its claws at Elspeth, who reels back - more from nausea than from injury - before making a weak swing that the creature easily avoids. Twinkle and Ming Li also try to strike the enemy, but it shrugs off their efforts, for the attacks lack their usual strength and vigour.
Thing seems bad for the adventurers as the creature tears at Elspeth again, the ranger avoiding the blows more from luck than design. Then Macwood's voice rises above the melee, the bard seeming to have overcome the smell's effects:
"There was a ghast, quite unsightly
Who charged us, very spritely
His stench was bad
And made us sad
But I've smelt worse from the Padre's boots, nightly!"
Although this can hardly be called high art, it definitely raises the spirits of his companions, and helps them fight off some of the effects of the stench. Stormstrider steps in and hits the ghast twice, driving it back slightly as his staff slams into its ribs.
Hissing its pain and anger, the undead creature strikes back, raking its claws across the druidic elf's arms. Confident that he is immune to ghoulish paralysis, Stormstrider is shocked to find his limbs locking up, leaving him helpless for the ghast's next attack.
Fortunately for the elf, he is not alone, and his opponent never gets the chance to make that next attack: instead, a combination of blows from Elspeth and Ming Li crash home, the monk sweeping out its legs and knocking it to the ground before the ranger drives her sword into its chest.
"Ew, gross." Twinkle opines again, then suddenly brightens, "Hey, if it was stuck in here, then so was all the treasure!"
"Is it appropriate to despoil the tombs of the dead?" Ming Li questions.
"There, uh, could still be undead in the other sarcophagi." Twinkle extemporises, "It's our civic duty to check!"
The monk looks unconvinced.
"It is one thing to take the spoils of the enemy." She insists, "Another to rob the graves of the innocent. Was grave-robbing not one of the first things we were asked to stop?"
"Whatever else may be said, this tomb is already despoiled." Macwood gestures at the ghast, "Disturbing the remains here isn't wrong. They should be taken to consecrated ground, at the least."
Elspeth nods,
"If they are human, this should happen. If they are elves, Stormstrider and I will take them to the forest, and bury them there, as should have been done in the beginning."
With the ethics of the matter resolved, the group swiftly breaks open the sarcophagi. The race of the bodes within is no longer identifiable, but the items stored with them seem to suggest they were elves.
"A scimitar, marked with the same symbol as the door." Macwood inspects the weapon carefully, struggling with it a little due to the weapon's size and balance, "It's in perfect condition." Holding it close to his lips, he whispers to it in, then rests his ear against the blade, as if expecting it to reply. "It's magical. Not strongly so, but it's definitely enchanted. You'll probably find it's a little sharper and better balanced than an ordinary blade."
Elspeth, meanwhile, has been unwrapping a large bundle of oiled rags, revealing a wooden shield within them. The wood is unusually dark in colour, and the shield feels lighter than would be expected for its size.
"Darkwood." The ranger raps her knuckles on the wood, "Rare stuff, and valuable. Is it magical, as well?"
Macwood whispers to the shield, and places his ear against it, then shakes his head,
"Not magical, just well-made," is his assessment, "the oiled rags must have protected it from decay."
The second sarcophagus contains several vials, their contents sealed with wax stoppers. These potions - for it seems likely that is what they are - are set aside for later analysis and identification.
After one more search around the room, Rose and Twinkle are in agreement,
"That's everything." The halfling rogue reports, "No more secret chambers, exits or compartments. The place is cleared out."
"Right." Elspeth slaps her hands together, "Let's get these elves to a proper burial, then go see about our reward."
Capellan
Explorer
"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 1
The first two nights after the Company of the Random Encounter cleanse the tomb in Amberdale's sewers are uneventful. On the third night, however, some hours after dusk, a light appears in the sky.
At first, the few people who are still out doors think little of it, taking it for a falling star. But then the light grows larger and brighter, and folk begin to stop and point. Perhaps the star really is falling.
And then the light grows larger still, swooping down toward Amberdale, and curiosity turns to alarm. Voices are raised, and more and more folk come to their doors and windows to see the cause of the commotion.
Padre Wolfgang Priem is one of them. Instinctively taking up his mace as he does so, he walks to the one small window in his room at the inn, and peers out into the night sky.
The light swiftly grows larger, gradually taking on the silhouette of a man, though any features are lost in the shape's white glow. It swoops down into the village square, coming to a halt no more than twenty feet from the Padre's window. And then it speaks:
"Padre Wolfgang Priem, you have done well. St Cuthbert is pleased by your efforts."
Its message seemingly delivered, the shape dissolves before the Padre can do any more than gape open-mouthed at it.
A hubbub of voices rises into the night air, as awed villagers gather in to discuss the event, and to recount it to latecomers. From time to time - increasing in frequency as more and more people hear the story - an arm is raised to point at the Priest, who still stands at his window, wondering if what he just saw was real, and what it means to his faith.
Eventually, he turns back into his room, closing the shutters of the window behind him. Kneeling beside his bed, he prays deeply and at length, before clambering into bed. It is a long time before his racing mind becomes calm enough for him to find sleep.
In the morning, a little bleary-eyed from his restless night, the priest makes his way down to the common room of the inn. Despite the early hour, the place is bustling, though a sudden hush descends when the Padre appears. Covering a slight grimace, the priest approaches Brent Birchwhistle.
"Mornin', sir." The innkeeper greets him, "Your visit last night has folks quite astir."
The Padre nods self-consciously,
"I do not yet know what it portends," he admits, "But I must confess I was surprised not to be disturbed in my room last night."
Brent smiles,
"I had to turn a few away from the door, it's true. Told them they could see you in the morn'. Seems they all took me at my word. Do you want to take your breakfast in your room? You might not be given time to eat it, here."
The Padre shakes his head,
"St Cuthbert teaches us that it is better to face adversity than fear it."
As Brent has guessed, it takes the Padre far longer than normal to complete his breakfast - a huge pile of bacon, eggs and fresh bread - as he is regularly interrupted by locals in search of blessings from the 'Chosen of St Cuthbert'. The priest does his best to remain gracious throughout this process, though his composure is sorely tested when Goodwife Glimmer asks him to say a prayer for her missing cat, Scratches.
Despite his efforts to be polite, the priest rapidly grows tired of the requests - especially after he has to send the food back to be warmed a second time - and when Sirdros enters the inn, the Padre seizes on the opportunity to end the interruptions.
"Sirdros! I would speak with you!"
The elven cleric crosses and sits with the Padre, giving him a cursory nod as he does so.
"Another fine morning," he observes, after ordering a breakfast for himself, "Did you sleep well?"
"How could I, after the visitation?"
"Pardon?" the elf looks blank.
"You didn't hear?" the Padre shakes his head, "There was a big glowing light in the sky last night. It told me St Cuthbert was pleased with me."
"Then it is indeed a fine morning. Is that why you called me over? To discuss your experience?"
"Actually, no. I just hoped it would stop people from bothering me while I was trying to eat."
"It seems you have achieved your goal." Sirdros indicates the lack of supplicants, "But I am glad you called me over, in any case. I was coming to speak with you."
"What about?"
"Well ... you see, the reason I did not see your visitor last night - and the reason I did not hear of it this morning - was that I spent the entire time in meditation over a mission I have received from my superior. When I had completed my meditations, I came here directly to speak with you."
The Padre puts down his knife and considers this news.
"I suppose this mission is the second task we have to do for your church, to pay you for curing Ulfgar and Gabrielle?"
"It is indeed." Sirdros nods.
"We should never have agreed to that." the Padre grumbles, trying to hide his evident pleasure at the opportunity to leave town for a while, "We haven't seen either of those two for months."
"I have." Mantreus drops suddenly into a third chair at the table, grinning like the cat who got the cream, "That Gabrielle's a nice girl. And her room had a great view of that light show last night."
The Padre glares at the sorcerer for a moment, then sighs and turns to Sirdros,
"So. What's the mission?"
The first two nights after the Company of the Random Encounter cleanse the tomb in Amberdale's sewers are uneventful. On the third night, however, some hours after dusk, a light appears in the sky.
At first, the few people who are still out doors think little of it, taking it for a falling star. But then the light grows larger and brighter, and folk begin to stop and point. Perhaps the star really is falling.
And then the light grows larger still, swooping down toward Amberdale, and curiosity turns to alarm. Voices are raised, and more and more folk come to their doors and windows to see the cause of the commotion.
Padre Wolfgang Priem is one of them. Instinctively taking up his mace as he does so, he walks to the one small window in his room at the inn, and peers out into the night sky.
The light swiftly grows larger, gradually taking on the silhouette of a man, though any features are lost in the shape's white glow. It swoops down into the village square, coming to a halt no more than twenty feet from the Padre's window. And then it speaks:
"Padre Wolfgang Priem, you have done well. St Cuthbert is pleased by your efforts."
Its message seemingly delivered, the shape dissolves before the Padre can do any more than gape open-mouthed at it.
A hubbub of voices rises into the night air, as awed villagers gather in to discuss the event, and to recount it to latecomers. From time to time - increasing in frequency as more and more people hear the story - an arm is raised to point at the Priest, who still stands at his window, wondering if what he just saw was real, and what it means to his faith.
Eventually, he turns back into his room, closing the shutters of the window behind him. Kneeling beside his bed, he prays deeply and at length, before clambering into bed. It is a long time before his racing mind becomes calm enough for him to find sleep.
In the morning, a little bleary-eyed from his restless night, the priest makes his way down to the common room of the inn. Despite the early hour, the place is bustling, though a sudden hush descends when the Padre appears. Covering a slight grimace, the priest approaches Brent Birchwhistle.
"Mornin', sir." The innkeeper greets him, "Your visit last night has folks quite astir."
The Padre nods self-consciously,
"I do not yet know what it portends," he admits, "But I must confess I was surprised not to be disturbed in my room last night."
Brent smiles,
"I had to turn a few away from the door, it's true. Told them they could see you in the morn'. Seems they all took me at my word. Do you want to take your breakfast in your room? You might not be given time to eat it, here."
The Padre shakes his head,
"St Cuthbert teaches us that it is better to face adversity than fear it."
As Brent has guessed, it takes the Padre far longer than normal to complete his breakfast - a huge pile of bacon, eggs and fresh bread - as he is regularly interrupted by locals in search of blessings from the 'Chosen of St Cuthbert'. The priest does his best to remain gracious throughout this process, though his composure is sorely tested when Goodwife Glimmer asks him to say a prayer for her missing cat, Scratches.
Despite his efforts to be polite, the priest rapidly grows tired of the requests - especially after he has to send the food back to be warmed a second time - and when Sirdros enters the inn, the Padre seizes on the opportunity to end the interruptions.
"Sirdros! I would speak with you!"
The elven cleric crosses and sits with the Padre, giving him a cursory nod as he does so.
"Another fine morning," he observes, after ordering a breakfast for himself, "Did you sleep well?"
"How could I, after the visitation?"
"Pardon?" the elf looks blank.
"You didn't hear?" the Padre shakes his head, "There was a big glowing light in the sky last night. It told me St Cuthbert was pleased with me."
"Then it is indeed a fine morning. Is that why you called me over? To discuss your experience?"
"Actually, no. I just hoped it would stop people from bothering me while I was trying to eat."
"It seems you have achieved your goal." Sirdros indicates the lack of supplicants, "But I am glad you called me over, in any case. I was coming to speak with you."
"What about?"
"Well ... you see, the reason I did not see your visitor last night - and the reason I did not hear of it this morning - was that I spent the entire time in meditation over a mission I have received from my superior. When I had completed my meditations, I came here directly to speak with you."
The Padre puts down his knife and considers this news.
"I suppose this mission is the second task we have to do for your church, to pay you for curing Ulfgar and Gabrielle?"
"It is indeed." Sirdros nods.
"We should never have agreed to that." the Padre grumbles, trying to hide his evident pleasure at the opportunity to leave town for a while, "We haven't seen either of those two for months."
"I have." Mantreus drops suddenly into a third chair at the table, grinning like the cat who got the cream, "That Gabrielle's a nice girl. And her room had a great view of that light show last night."
The Padre glares at the sorcerer for a moment, then sighs and turns to Sirdros,
"So. What's the mission?"
Thomas Hobbes
First Post
Capellan said:
There is a crash of thunder and lightning, and briefly silhouetted in the door is a small, pitiful furry figure. A low, ghostly moan sends a chill down the spine of all those present....
Meoowww!
Oh yeah.. I'm a stud!
Capellan
Explorer
"The Hallowed Hills" by Miguel Duran (WotC Cliffhanger) - Part 2
Sirdros leans forward, keeping his voice low. Because that won't attract attention.
"Word has come from the Risen Star: a monastery of my faith. There has been an earth tremor there, causing some damage to the building. We have been asked to travel to the monastery and make sure that all the brethren are safe and well, and to render any assistance that might be needed."
Ordinarily, the Padre and Mantreus might be suspicious of such a vague proposal. But the priest is distracted by his nocturnal visitation. Mantreus also has his mind on the events of the previous night, though in his case it was an encounter of a far different kind.
"We've even been given some healing potions to help us out." Sirdros adds.
Free potions seems to seal the deal, and the three men quickly head out, each with a brief to find at least one of the other Company members, and recruit them for the task at hand.
The Padre returns with Briar in tow. The young female rogue looks a little bleary-eyed: apparently she and Macwood spent the night toasting the Padre's divine recognition. The priest rather sourly suggests that this was just a useful excuse.
"But a very good one." is Briar's shameless response. The priest grunts as he pushes open the door of the inn.
"It's the Padre!" Twinkle leaps onto the table where she and Mantreus are awaiting the other's return, "Did you see it? You must because it came for you! Wow, wasn't it great? All swoopy and glowy and -" she strikes a dramatic pose, "- 'Padre Wolfgang Priem, you have done well.' That was so great. Does St Cuthbert always do that?"
"No." the Padre says, shortly. "Now, please get off the table. People have to eat off that."
"You sound just like my uncle." Twinkle rolls her eyes, "He's always saying that at home."
The Padre sighs and starts to gently rub the dull ache at his temples.
As he does so, the door swings open once more, and Anastria steps inside, closely followed by her brother. She stomps over to the table.
"Right, I'm here. Let's go help the cultists."
The Padre begins to wish that the pain in his temples had remained just a dull ache.
"I'm going to prepare the wagon." He mutters, "Someone tell the others where we're going, and the rest of you come help me."
Mantreus volunteers to avoid manual labour, leaving the other five to hitch the wagon and make sure all their belongings are aboard. The process is slowed somewhat by the small crowd that gathers to watch. Several times, the Padre is stopped from his work, and asked to treat a sick child, or bless a young couple's romance. The third time this occurs, he catches a smirk on Twinkle's face.
"Do you know anything about what happened last night?" he demands, eyes narrowed.
"Me?" Twinkle is the very picture of innocence, "Why would I know anything? I only saw the same things everyone else did."
"Right. Of course." The priest clearly isn't convinced, but he also can't be sure the gnome is lying. He turns away to resume working, and Twinkle's smirk returns in full.
"Tweedlefinkle Dessandri Rhowyn!"
The smirk fades.
Tallyhoop pushes his way between the legs of the crowd, waving a small bundle of white cloth over his head.
"Did you put on fresh undergarments like I told you?" the older gnome demands, gesticulating wildly with the bundle in his hand, "It's bad enough that you go crawling into all these sewers and caves all the time, without doing it in a second-day loincloth." The bundle begins to unravel, one of Twinkle's more personal clothing items fluttering out to land on the mud road.
Scarlet-faced and speechless, the young gnome snatches the bundle from her uncle's hand and scrambles into the back of the wagon, burrowing out of sight under a pile of sacks.
The Padre, after checking the horses's harness, walks over to pick up the fallen 'delicate'.
"You missed one." He waves the scrap of white cloth over the side of the wagon. After a moment, a small hand appears to grab the garment, though no other part of Twinkle emerges.
With the priest whistling cheerfully, the group sets out.
Sirdros leans forward, keeping his voice low. Because that won't attract attention.
"Word has come from the Risen Star: a monastery of my faith. There has been an earth tremor there, causing some damage to the building. We have been asked to travel to the monastery and make sure that all the brethren are safe and well, and to render any assistance that might be needed."
Ordinarily, the Padre and Mantreus might be suspicious of such a vague proposal. But the priest is distracted by his nocturnal visitation. Mantreus also has his mind on the events of the previous night, though in his case it was an encounter of a far different kind.
"We've even been given some healing potions to help us out." Sirdros adds.
Free potions seems to seal the deal, and the three men quickly head out, each with a brief to find at least one of the other Company members, and recruit them for the task at hand.
The Padre returns with Briar in tow. The young female rogue looks a little bleary-eyed: apparently she and Macwood spent the night toasting the Padre's divine recognition. The priest rather sourly suggests that this was just a useful excuse.
"But a very good one." is Briar's shameless response. The priest grunts as he pushes open the door of the inn.
"It's the Padre!" Twinkle leaps onto the table where she and Mantreus are awaiting the other's return, "Did you see it? You must because it came for you! Wow, wasn't it great? All swoopy and glowy and -" she strikes a dramatic pose, "- 'Padre Wolfgang Priem, you have done well.' That was so great. Does St Cuthbert always do that?"
"No." the Padre says, shortly. "Now, please get off the table. People have to eat off that."
"You sound just like my uncle." Twinkle rolls her eyes, "He's always saying that at home."
The Padre sighs and starts to gently rub the dull ache at his temples.
As he does so, the door swings open once more, and Anastria steps inside, closely followed by her brother. She stomps over to the table.
"Right, I'm here. Let's go help the cultists."
The Padre begins to wish that the pain in his temples had remained just a dull ache.
"I'm going to prepare the wagon." He mutters, "Someone tell the others where we're going, and the rest of you come help me."
Mantreus volunteers to avoid manual labour, leaving the other five to hitch the wagon and make sure all their belongings are aboard. The process is slowed somewhat by the small crowd that gathers to watch. Several times, the Padre is stopped from his work, and asked to treat a sick child, or bless a young couple's romance. The third time this occurs, he catches a smirk on Twinkle's face.
"Do you know anything about what happened last night?" he demands, eyes narrowed.
"Me?" Twinkle is the very picture of innocence, "Why would I know anything? I only saw the same things everyone else did."
"Right. Of course." The priest clearly isn't convinced, but he also can't be sure the gnome is lying. He turns away to resume working, and Twinkle's smirk returns in full.
"Tweedlefinkle Dessandri Rhowyn!"
The smirk fades.
Tallyhoop pushes his way between the legs of the crowd, waving a small bundle of white cloth over his head.
"Did you put on fresh undergarments like I told you?" the older gnome demands, gesticulating wildly with the bundle in his hand, "It's bad enough that you go crawling into all these sewers and caves all the time, without doing it in a second-day loincloth." The bundle begins to unravel, one of Twinkle's more personal clothing items fluttering out to land on the mud road.
Scarlet-faced and speechless, the young gnome snatches the bundle from her uncle's hand and scrambles into the back of the wagon, burrowing out of sight under a pile of sacks.
The Padre, after checking the horses's harness, walks over to pick up the fallen 'delicate'.
"You missed one." He waves the scrap of white cloth over the side of the wagon. After a moment, a small hand appears to grab the garment, though no other part of Twinkle emerges.
With the priest whistling cheerfully, the group sets out.
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