Party 16

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Astryos returns to recover his pack, "Varius, that was very bold of you to carry Faria away from those..." he searches his mind for an appropriate noun for what he just encountered but is left speechless. "What were those? Did you and Faria disrupt...something?"

He stops at his pack, staring out into the grey, "We can't very well remain here, but Faria needs time to recover. Shall we go see the abbot?"
 
arback.jpgWhile Cassandra makes ready to fend off the shadow's attack, Arback climbs the stairs behind her. He has to stoop and hold his arms in to fit. When he reaches the top, he pushes Cassandra aside and barrels forward, stopping at the strange man who lies there in the Abbot's robes.

shadow.jpgWith Arback providing some breathing room, Cassandra can see that the fallen man's complexion is actually oddly silver in hue, and there's something strange about the way he lies there: his back is slightly arched, and the robes appear bulky and pushed out under his shoulders, as if something in bunched up within.

The shadow that was crouching over the silver-skinned man reaches out and grabs at Arback, who issues a confused grunt and raises his clenched fists in the air.
 
Cassandra's eyes dart to the fallen figure. That is the Abbot, right? She blinks and focuses back on the task at hand. Deal with the threat first. Plenty of time to ask questions later. The monk moves towards the shadow, pivoting around the large Arback. After closing thw gap, she stops on a foot, using the momwntum to sweep the quarterstaff in her hands in a semicircular arc. A quick repositioning allowed a swift kick to follow the attack. Cassandra watches as her attacks tear the creature apart, the shadows disappating. She breathes a sigh of relief.
 
With the shadow suddenly gone, Arback lowers his arms slowly to his side. "Abbot," he drones, then walks over to the corner and sits down on the floor with his big knees pulled up in front of him.

The handsome silver-skinned man at Cassandra's feet is not breathing. His head is turned to one side and his mouth hangs open. To all appearances, he is dead. Something on his face catches Cassandra's attention: a flicker of darkness plays across his bright skin, like an ink cloud through water. Then it passes and his complexion is silver again. As Cassandra noticed just a moment ago, there is definitely some voluminous mass bundled up in the robes beneath him.

"Arback, dead girl, is it safe?" asks Cloven from partway down the stairs. He comes up to survey the scene. His teary-eyed infant head is looking around in wonder, while his horned head furrows its brow as it looks down at the dead man on the floor. "Who is this? It's not the Abbot, but he's stolen the Abbot's robe." Cloven kneels down and fishes around in that garment, producing a big ring of keys. "Aha! And the Abbot's keys too! What pranks are these? Circumstances are very much out of order today." He looks at Cassandra with a frown. "I really wish you had all kept to your slabs."

Astryos, Varius and Faria, unconscious, are standing in the outer yard, midway between the shed and the gates of the inner courtyard. Astryos has retrieved his backpack.

 
"Its safe, I think." Cassandra confirms. She frowns. "I don't know who he'd be if he's not the Abbot...but I think he might be dead." Th half elf paused, considering the figure in full. Why can't things just make sense once in a while around here? She sighs. Considering, she begins poking at eh mass within the robes before trying to see just what was under there.
 
The mass beneath the man feels at first like a large down pillow has been stuffed in the back of his robe. But with further probing, Cassandra can feel bone beneath the softness. "What is it?" asks Cloven. He picks up the knife from the floor and slices an opening in the side of the robe. White feathers protrude. This silver-skinned man has wings, which are confined by the robe he wears. "What is going on?" asks Cloven, to no one in particular. "We'll have to finish lunch later." The babbling from downstairs is a reminder that half of the Washem's never got their soup.

Cloven stands up and goes over to the Abbot's desk. He starts picking over the pens, inkpots and other objects there. Then he stops and looks over at Cassandra. "Where's Bella?" he asks.

Meanwhile, Astryos and Varius are standing outside, about halfway along the hundred-foot stretch of path from the gatehouse to the shed. Two hunched figures come into view, walking from where the main entrance to this whole compound is and approaching the gatehouse. Apparently they are headed for the inner courtyard. One of them, dressed in ragged green clothes, has a doglike head and a long tail and carries a shovel over his shoulder. His companion has a gray, fur-lined cloak with its hood pulled over their head, obscuring their face. They are speaking in a debased, guttural version of elvish, but Astryos can't make out the words at this distance.
 
Cassandra blinks at the newly revealed wings. She isn't sure what she was expecting, but a pair of wings...wasn't it. She entertains the thought that this might in fact be the Abbot...but if that was the case, she severely misunderstood who he was.
She looks up at Cloven. "Bella? She...hm" She considers for a moment. "She ran off after Mishka attacked us in the shed, and then all this--" she gestures around herself "--happened. I'm not sure. I hope she's ok. Should we look for her?"
 
Cloven considers Cassandra's question about Bella for a moment. His infant head says, "Beh..., Beh..."

"No, no need for that," says the horned head at last. "I'm capable of running things here until the Abbot returns." Cloven picks up the sunrise-shaped seal from the Abbots desk and puts it in his robe. While he's accessing the garment, he takes out a flask, uncorks it, and has a long drink. "Come on, Arback," he says to the big man slouched in the corner. "Arback, after me." Arback groans and pulls himself to his feet.

About to go back downstairs to the noisy cell area, Cloven looks back at the winged man on the floor. "I'll have to send Otto to take care of that."
 
Cassandra frowns, looking again to the body of the "Abbot." She turns to Cloven for a moment and nods, then begins looking over the body. There was a flicker of something there...maybe he could be necessitated. The half elf prefers knowing at least she tried, even if it didn't amount to anything.
 
The winged man in the Abbot's place is not breathing and has no pulse. He seems quite as dead as any corpse Cassandra has ever seen. The only oddity is those transient dark patches that seem to drift below his skin. The flesh above them turns chill as they pass beneath, and touching those areas, Cassandra has an unpleasant sensation like an echo of what it felt like to be touched by the shadow that called out to her as Moire.

Cloven and Arback have departed down the staircase, leaving Cassandra alone up here in the office.
 
Cassandra frowns after her inspection is complete. There was something odd...but he was clearly dead. She takes a moment, considering the body, and adjusts the body. She hopes the position is more...respectful, she supposes. She then begins her way back down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any sign of Bella as she walks, but otherwise moving to rejoin the others.
 
As the dog-faced man and the person in the fur-lined cloak approach the gates of the abbey proper, Astryos can make out the words of a song, in elvish, that the canine fellow is singing, something about liking his meat raw, cooking spoils it, and that he'd prefer to just back a cow up to the table and carve a piece out of it. The two of them disappear through the open gates and into the inner courtyard.

On her way down the stairs, Cassandra sees no sign of Bella's owl-lizard-bear countenance. When she gets to the lower level where the Washems are pent up, animalistic voices call out to her in elvish from the hallway. "Hey, wait. We never got our stew! No fair! Why does northside feast and southside starve? Bring back the pot! Bring back the pot!"

The big cauldron of stew is in fact gone. Arback is outside, with Cloven, carrying it across the inner courtyard. They stop near the well to great a man with a houndlike head and a woman who pulls back her fur-lined hood to reveal a face that has scales of one side and dense fur on the other. The man with canine features carries a shovel.

The four of them stand by the well for a while before moving off in the direction of the bell tower. Cloven turns back briefly to give a wary look at the East Wing, where Cassandra waits in the shadows. Mishka now has viscous drool seeping from between his mandibles. "No, this time you hide and I come stabbing," he murmurs in his sleep.
 
Astryos shudders, "Grisly song...how is Faria?" the wood elf looks towards where Cassandra was last seen anxious to move on to a, hopefully, less foreign looking part of town.
 
Cassandra makes her way down the stairs, pausing near the door outside upon hearing some movement. More than a little weary, she decides to just wait until whoever it is passes. Reaching that point, she makes her way out to the others. "Whatever that was about, I think the shadows are finally gone," she says. "How are you two holding up?"
 
"She'll be fine with a rest. I'm fine.as well, but I want to get out of this place as soon as possible. Hopefully the town below will have some answers for us."
Varius stands with his arms folded, eyes darting between the gate to the outside, and the door leading back to nothing but trouble.
 
Chapter 2: Village in the Trees
  • Index
    • Chapter 2: Village in the Trees

    As you pass the bell tower on your way to the gatehouse, the path takes you by the abbey's cemetery, which extends around and behind the tower. The grave markers are old and chipped, and there are holes of various sizes in front of most of them. It's arguably more archaeological dig site than burial ground.

    The gates are unlocked and groan in protest as they open. On the other side a lush vista of grassland and forest sweeps down the escarpment below the abbey's perch. The view ends abruptly less than a quarter mile away, where the fog that hovers just over the snowy treetops coalesces into milky opacity. A few raindrops brush your faces.

    The worn path—jagged chunks of stone show it was once paved—winds down and to the left, descending about four-hundred feet via a series of switchbacks, to the walled settlement of Krezk, which looks more tree farm than village. Small houses peek out from among the tall evergreens, and a few simple paths curve among the groves. One of these paths continues out the village's lone gate, and goes even further downhill until it meets a wider road, which disappears into the trees and fog. The only feature that really stands out is a broad, serene pool with a crumbling white gazebo at its edge, which lies against the wall farthest from the main gate.

    It takes about a quarter hour to navigate the steep, uneven trail from the abbey. The broken paving transitions to one of the village's dirt paths, and your view is soon blocked by the trees of Krezk. A short while later, you come to a sort of main clearing with several homes around its edges. The gatehouse is just a hundred feet away. The abbey is now a shadowy presence looming high above in the foothills.

    As you approach the nearest house, you see a man with a long beard and a broad-brimmed hat feeding noisy chickens in a fenced yard. Seeing you, his eyes go wide, then tighten up in a glare of fear and disgust. He takes a couple of steps back, watching you all the while as he rhythmically flicks feed at the chickens on the ground. There are more people going about their business in the clearing ahead. They haven't noticed you yet.
     
  • Index
    • Varius steps up, calling out to the man.
    "You there. Can you tell us where we are? We seem to have no recollection of that, or how we got here. Also, if you could direct us to somewhere or friend could rest and recover, that would be most appreciated as well."
     
    The man with the hens seems incredulous. His head bobs back and forward again, a bit like a chicken's actually, and his jaw hangs open. he returns the feed he has in hand to a bag on his hip and reaches for a pitchfork that's sticking out of a nearby bale of hay. "Man's in the same place as he's always been," he says, pointing towards the main clearing. "Why don't you go along and talk to him? I'm not interested in any of your abbey mischief."

    Some of the people moving about the open area have also noticed you and are pointing you out to those who haven't. The Krezkans move away from the center of the clearing. Parents corral their children. Someone runs off to the largest building in sight, a two-story structure not far from the village's gatehouse.
     
    Astryous eyes the people cautiously. He leans into Varius speaking quietly, "Maybe keep our relative amnesia between us. We are already strangers to this land, best not to attract more attention than we need."

    He smiles at the incredulous man, "Yes, we wanted none of the abbey mischief ourselves. We seek only a place to rest. Is that the inn?" he says pointing to the two-story structure.
     
    Cassandra remains quiet as the the others speak, watching the man warily. She feels the tension already there, and does not want to be caught off guard if things get worse.
     
    "You know damn well there's no inn here," the man says. "What are you playing at? Even if that Abbot gave you shiny new faces, I'm not so easily fooled. Now take your business to the Baron and keep away from my chickens." He shoos the birds to the other side of the small enclosure.
     
    Varius retreats back to the group.
    "We still have no idea where we are out how we got here. Seems like we're already drawing attention, so may as well try to find someone willing to answer our questions."
     
    Across the open clearing, maybe a hundred feet away, the doors of the large house swing open. Someone is standing in the doorway. The people in the clearing stand still, looking at you, some with curiosity, some with fear. A few of the villagers talk to each other and gesture in your direction, drawing their hands across their faces. Other paths lead off from the clearing, deeper into the evergreen groves.
     
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