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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1601752" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 155Mole’s eyes popped open as she woke suddenly, the lingering shreds of a dream of rushing flames hovering for a moment on the edges of her mind before dissolving.  It was still late, or rather early, she supposed.  She was hot, her shirt sodden with sweat and clinging to her lithe body.  She’d already stood her watch, and she knew that she needed some more sleep, but she rose from her bedroll, reflexively grabbing both her magical boots and her swordbelt.  She found her waterskin in the darkness by memory, and took a deep drink that did little to banish the stale taste in her mouth.  Silent as a mouse, she made her way across the sleeping forms of her friends to the cave exit.  There was a shadowy form visible there, leaning against the rock face beside the gap.  It shifted slightly as she approached, the rasp of metal on metal telling her that the guardian was Morgan.Again she was tempted to return to her bedroll, but instead she walked over to where the cleric was keeping watch. “Hot night, eh?” she said, her voice a whisper just loud enough for him to hear, but not to wake her sleeping friends. “Aye,” he said, though as before he showed little sign of discomfiture.  Magic spell, the gnome thought, remembering the conversation between him and the dwarves earlier. “Thanks,” she said.  “For earlier, helping me when that... whatever it was, decided to make a snack out of me.”The cleric nodded.  His eyes shifted back toward the hillside in a sweeping glance that was probably supposed to be a hint, but which Mole of course pointedly ignored.  The gnome chose a rock adjacent to the cleric’s perch and hopped up beside him.  “So, what’s your problem with Zenna?  I mean, you’re a paladin of Helm.  Aren’t you guys supposed to be tolerant, you know, your code, and such?”The cleric sucked in a breath, and for a moment Mole was glad that she couldn’t clearly see his expression.  Finally he let out something that Mole thought might have been intended to be a chuckle—although it was clearly forced.  His voice, when he spoke, was clearly serious. “I might ask you a similar question.  You seem a goodly person, though a bit scattered... why then, do you choose to travel in the company of a demonspawn?”Mole’s eyes narrowed, but managed a casual shrug.  “Oh, it’s not so bad.  But Orcus keeps hitting on me at the family reunions.  And Lolth always puts spider pieces in the spinach dip, yeuck, I can tell you.”Morgan turned away again.  “You mock me,” he said, his voice flat. “Well, yeah, but you deserved it,” she said.  “Now why don’t you tell me the real reason?  None of the other clerics of Helm that we’ve dealt with have had this problem.”“Yes, and what happened to them?” he asked.  “Funny,” she said.  “I thought you were actually fairly bright, but your prejudices would have to be pretty blind indeed to suggest that our actions, or lack thereof, had anything to do with the deaths of Ruphos, Illewyn, and Sarcem.  I never knew the high priest, but I definitely counted the first two as my friends, and I mourn their deaths.”She considered storming off, but something kept her sitting there, while the cleric sat beside her as rigid and silent as a statue.  Finally, after several minutes, he spoke. “I was never supposed to become a priest,” he said, his voice distant, his gaze fixed on some distant point in that borderland where the night sky met the jungle canopy.  “I was the eldest, I was to inherit my family’s estate, the wealth that my father and his line had accumulated, a good name and a favorable marriage.”“My life was easy, the demands of who I was simple enough, my purse always full.  I spent my educational years in a mélange of free spending, carousing with friends, enjoying a sequence of women.”  Mole glanced up dubiously, but didn’t interrupt. “The cult had existed as rumor for some time, but we paid little heed to it; a story to frighten children.  Secret churches and dark rituals were phenomena of places like Almraiven and Calimport, not in the quiet belt of rural communities that exists in the shadow of the Marching Mountains.  To this day, I do not know why they took an interest in my family.”The cleric’s voice grew distant; it was as if he’d forgotten that she was there.  “At first I thought it was mere fate that had brought me home at that day, at that time.  Had I waited a day, I doubt the involvement of the cult would have ever been known.”“I heard the screams as I rode into the main courtyard of the estate.  They had gathered everyone, my parents, the domestics, the field laborers... even the family dogs, in the plaza.  They did not bother to hide their features... the indicators of their heritage varied from case to case, horns on one, hooves on another, black claws on a third.  Tieflings, a dozen of them, at least...”“Their demons set upon me and my companions before I even knew they were there.  Dretch, least of their kind, but I did not know that then.  The fiends tore my horse out from under me, while their tiefling masters called down globes of utter darkness to confound us.  Claws raked my skin, though I was able to fight free, to flee, while my companions were torn apart behind me.”“They spent some time looking for me, but I knew the estate better than they, and I was able to find a hiding place.  They left...”“Everyone was dead, murdered.  Most of them had been tortured.  The grass in the plaza was more red than green...”He trailed off, and after a moment started slightly, as if coming out of a dream.  Then he turned to look at Mole.  In the darkness his eyes were like black pits, empty.  “It is time for the dwarf’s watch.”And he rose, leaving her alone without a further word.</blockquote>

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