[IC] Wandering Star : Heroes of the Middle Reaches (Part One)

[Blackrat]

Zarathas nods at Varilar's warning and takes the first step in, motioning the others to follow.

He understood immediatily what Varilar meant. He wanted to roar out loud "Blasphemy!", but this was not the time for idle fits of rage. Instead he turns to Ranver and nods. "You talk." The contained rage was definetly obvious in his voice.

 

[The Digger]

"What's going on?" A hoarse whisper from Charlie. "What are we waitin' for?" She tries jumping up toi see past the others but they're all too tall!

"What...Is...It?" All thoughts of whispering gone, Charlie resorts to a tone normally used to hail distant ships.

When there is still no answer she resorts to worming her lithe body through the legs and bodies of the 'biggies', desperate now to see what has caused all the gasps of dismay.

 

[Sparky]

Ranver closes his eyes, the wind and rain that had parked itself over the city seemed to make more sense. Melora herself was raking the city with her grief. Her wrath.

It is not Sister Anhela. He breathes a sigh of relief and offers a silent prayer of gratitude. He nods to Zarathas and Varilar and steps forward, straightening as best he can the rain-wet robes and vestments. He looks rather more like a drowned rat than a Keeper of Anything. But he draws himself up and strides toward the trio.

The sight that greets him as he rounds the corner causes him to miss a step. His eyes race around the sanctuary from one defilement to another. To the words slashed across the wall. To the shattered statue. And the grim old men and the fuming child.

He steps forward, his mouth drawn into a grim line and kneels at the High Priest's feet, waiting to kiss the man's ring, as befit his lofty station (and Ranver's rather less-lofty station).

He stands and addresses both elder men. His speech isn't nearly as booming or smooth as he'd like, certainly not Zarathas' warlike bellow, but it is even, firm, sincere. If slightly breathless from the race through the city streets.

"Your Eminences, how may we aid our sister temple?" He falters slightly on 'we' not feeling entirely comfortable roping his friends into this without discussing it first, especially when it seemed there were other offers on the table that the evening's violence interrupted.

 

[Walking Dad]

Jorje looks around the mess, that was once one of the most beautiful temples he had ever known.
Who ever did it, will pay for this... and in the best case, somebody will pay me to make him pay. He thinks.
He waits in the background, letting the others do the talk, as he doesn't know the clerigy that much.
Slowly he nears himself the acid-burning letters, trying to indentify what ever has done this.

 

[nerdytenor]

Horto hangs back with Jorje, surveying the damage. He is at a loss for words for at least half a minute, which is almost unprecedented.

"I..." He addresses Jorje in a low voice, clearly also uncomfortable in the presence of so many religious folk. "I don't understand. Thieves, pirates, smugglers - at least I can understand why they get into trouble. Money, adventure perhaps. But this..." He waves his hand at the desecration all around. "Who would do such a thing? And for what purpose?"

 

[The Digger]

Eventually managing to push herself into the shrine Charlie looks around. It is not easy to see, what with all those great lumbering brutes all standing around, but by following their eye-lines she becomes aware of what has happened.

"Ugh?" Even her voluble tongue is stilled for once. Although not a particularly religious halfling, no one who sails the seas is an atheist. And in her own peculiar profession she has often relied on a quick prayer; for a guard to turn the other way or perhaps for a particular purse to be particularly well-filled . This, however, is far beyond anything she could have imagined.

She turns to the nearest person, unaware and uncaring of who they are. "Who could have done this...and why? What...?" her voice died away.

 

[Redclaw]

Varilar, on the other hand, put nothing past anyone, even something as heinous as this. He spent time in the sewers. He knew what filth a city bred. Instead of struggling to grasp the situation, he spent his time trying to find connections to any of the unsavory elements that frequent Helen's Reach. He paid special attention to the writing on the wall, figuring it might clue him in to the identity of the vandals.

 

[Walking Dad]

Horto hangs back with Jorje, surveying the damage. He is at a loss for words for at least half a minute, which is almost unprecedented.

"I..." He addresses Jorje in a low voice, clearly also uncomfortable in the presence of so many religious folk. "I don't understand. Thieves, pirates, smugglers - at least I can understand why they get into trouble. Money, adventure perhaps. But this..." He waves his hand at the desecration all around. "Who would do such a thing? And for what purpose?"

"This is exactly the right question. Why has anybody done this. We ned to search for clues and the motive to indentify the villain. Look, they don't demolished the pictures of raging storms. Perhaps this is the connection. Help me to find other clues." Jorje whispers back at Horto.

 

[nerdytenor]

"Clues, eh? Hmm... I noticed the storms, too, but I can't imagine what that might mean. Maybe this is some kind of unholy attack from worshipers of another god. I'm almost afraid to ask - these holy types can get mighty touchy if you know what I mean."

Horto tips his head in the direction of Ranver and Zarathas.

"Best leave the talking to the religious folk."

 

[helium3]

"Ahem."

Petra Shellendo uncomfortably clears his throat. Pieter steps back quietly, nearly fading into the background in that peculiar manner of his. Little Tatiana stares at all of you. She is a fierce hawk of divine vengeance, observing those who will escort her to her prey.

Mumbling again now, the old man's pain is so obvious only the most cold of heart would fail to be moved by it. "I'm so glad you came."

Looking at the ground to the right of the kneeling Ranver, he vaguely gestures at the ruins of the once wondrous grotto. "You can see why I need your help."

He takes a faltering step backwards, pulling his hand from Ranver's and clutching the broken half of the Sea Witch's face to his heart, "But it is so much worse than this defilement, this desecration."

He shakes his head, eyes shut tight, "They stole it. They could have taken anything else but they didn't. They took the one thing they shouldn't."

Only now do your eyes take in what's missing and what remains. The grotto had been lined, was lined, with small mahogany tables upon which holy vessels of copper and silver had been placed. The tables had been smashed, but many if not all of the vessels remained.

"It will take months to reconsecrate it, if I even have the strength to perform the ritual. And who knows, the Sea Witch is a fickle goddess. She may not choose to restore her protection."

It's not like it was really all that impressive as far as holy relics go. The Ring of Erath was far more valuable, what with the enormous ruby set into its thick band of gold. And the bright coruscating aura surrounding the Circlet of Pelor could be downright breathtaking at times.

No, the gold coated feather in the glass fronted mahogany box that dangled from a platinum chain around the neck of the Sea Witch had not been the most inspiring of Holy Relics. But now it was gone. Nowhere to be seen. The only obvious item to have been stolen from the temple.

A hint of panic begins to form in his voice, "You must get it back. You have no idea how important it is. Without the Exarch's Feather we are lost."