Inizii -- Logs

Later, the six stand inside an empty tent within the fairgrounds, Silniya now back in her human form, dressed in the clothing that Christof had brought from her room. The wounded have been tended to, the dead carried off, and the surviving carnival folk are slowly returning to their wagons and tents. The body which had been concealed within the wax figure has been freed, the wax melted off except for stray bits clinging to the bones. It's been lain across a table, the bones obviously elven; cheekbones sharper than a human's, the skeletal frame much more frail and slender, the skull particularly angular. Oddly enough, etched into the side of the cheek is the symbol of a spider. The Selunite stands, rolling up the sleeves to his robes.

Derleth stands and watches to one side. He could have chosen to be the one to cast the spell, but he decided to let the Selunite do it ... to keep him out of trouble, if nothing else. He still doesn't trust the zealous priest, and stands almost protectively between him and Silniya, despite the fact that she can probably take care of herself better than he could.

Kyrel approves of Derleth's protectiveness toward the werewolf. She'll have additional time to react if the fanatic priest decides to break the truce.

Christof stands near the door of the tent, curious but still afraid. The gnome, however, seems quite interested in the proceedings. Taking up his goddess' symbol, the priest begins to chant, the words rising from his lips as he gestures towards the skeletal elf. Several minutes pass by before a faint, unsettling wind rolls through the room. The wind dies back to almost a whisper, as something begins to form before the table. Very faint, at first; the hints of color, of green, almost a mist beginning to condense, until the form becomes that of a ghostly elf, silverhaired and grimfaced, decked in simple green cloth.

Derleth absently places a hand on his flail. He seems a touch nervous, considering their last encounter with this undead. He doesn't speak, however, waiting to see if the spirit does so first, not wanting to disrupt the spell.

Kyrel watches the spirit materialize, Kiri chirriping curiously on his shoulder. The elf shushes his familiar.

The selunite nods, absently to himself, and straightens up, speaking politely to the spirit. "Greetings. We are those who have freed you from the wax. Tell us, how did you find yourself within it?" He glances over his shoulder. "What other questions do we want to ask it?"

Derleth murmurs quietly, "Let's see what it has to say first...."

With a displeased, almost angry look to the human, "I was attacked by my quarry, by surprise; they had aid of a few human swords." His scowl deepens. "The Drow," his tone venomous at the word, "subdued me, tortured me, raped my mind. I found no peace in death; my soul was locked to the bones. The Spider Queen's mark engraved in my cheek, my body sealed in wax. I was trapped, inside the body, until recently."

Derleth grimaces at the look the elf gives the Selunite. He glances at Kyrel, giving him a suggestive look. The ghost might react more positively to him than the rest of them.

Kyrel nods at this information, unsurprised. He steps forward, uncertain if the ghost can see him, but asking the question directly anyway. If it doesn't work, the cleric can pass it on. "Do you still wish vengeance?"

The priest gives a nod to the ghost. "Indeed...a man of the forest?" The ghost nods in return. The spirit looks to Kyrel for a moment, but his eyes return to the priest who controls him by the summoning. The Selunite has to relay the question. "Do you still seek vengeance?" The shade shakes his head. "No. I wish release. To be put to rest, as any elf, as any warrior. There is no way now to know the location of my murderers, tormenters."

Kyrel says, "That we can give you. Can you tell us why you were hunting these Drow?"

WIth a nod to Kyrel, the selunite repeats his question. "Because they are Drow," The ghost replies in his deathly voice. "Drow of Lolth." The touch tapping the symbol carved into his cheek. "They were rumored to be in the area - there had been attacks on an elven home, even a Human caravan ransacked. The poison darts were evidence enough."

Kyrel nods again. "Where was this?"

When the priest relays, "South of the High Forest, near a smaller wood inhabited by the People, a small retreat of moon elves." The location given is far to the south of Selegaunt.

Derleth glances at Kyrel again. "Mayhap we shoul' chck into it, as we head t'ward warmer lands..."

Kyrel nods. "Aye." He turns back to the ghost. "When did this happen?"

"Time is ... not easily grasped. It could have been centuries, decades, two years. I saw through the eyes of the figure as it was passed about, sold. I do not know." The selunite asks, "Why did you attack the carnival workers and guests?" With an almost fierce scowl, "Because they were keeping me in this prison, because I was here, captive. The humans kept me in this blasphemous form, slaying the images of the People, no less."

The selunite glances over his shoulder. "I feel I can only ask one more question, the spell will permit."

Kyrel says, "Derleth? If you can't think of something more urgent, I'll ask him what year he died..."

At the ghost's words, the gnome jumps up. "I knew nothing of the sort! Simply an easy sale by a vender! It's all a matter of surprise, of scare! Nothing offensive. Hmph, stuck up spirit."

Derleth considers. "Dye know the proper burial ritual fer 'is house?

Kyrel nods. "A good point. We owe him that much... ask him what rites he wishes for interment." He reassures the gnome. "No one here is accusing you of knowing what this was. I do want to ask you when and where you got this figure, though."

After the priest inquires, the ghost folds his arms. "The proper elven rites. If my body cannot be sent home, to Elneresk, then away from the human settlement. Buried beneath an old tree, or within the center of a grove, a clearing. No markings but rocks, strewn loosely in symbol to Correllon. The proper elven prayers given."

Then the spirit begins to fade. At that, the selunite turns on his heel, palms spreading in a shrug. "I could not bind him any longer."

Kyrel nods. "It was enough. Thank you for your assistance."

He nods. The gnome humphs, again. "Well, now I'll need to likely get me a new display, amid fixing this place up right."

Kyrel grins at the gnome. "Oh, I think the rest of it's okay. You just need a new Drow Warrior for it."

The gnome grumbles, "Not to mention a mirror. I replaced one this morning! The ghost was not a happy one with reflective surfaces, I think."

Derleth coughs. "Ah apologize fer compoundin' that, sirrah."

"The glass was in ruins; no salvage, there."

Silniya turns to Kyrel. "Do you know the proper prayers, to recite over the dead of your people?"

Kyrel nods to Silniya. "We don't need them often, but I know the basic rites. It would be better if we had a proper cleric - no offense. An elven cleric, I meant - but I think we can manage things between us."

"I've buried enough," The selunite says, a seething look shot at Silniya through the corner of his eye, "To know the process. I'm without the proper prayers, but I can perform what's needed."

Derleth looks slightly doubtful. He was hoping that, with the spell cast, they could part company with the Selunite. Then again, perhaps it's best to know where he's about till the deed is done. "A'right, den. Hmm. Let's wrap th' body in something for transportation somewhere far enou' away."

Silniya tips her head. "Why not send him home?"

Kyrel says, "It's fairly far away - still, it'd be a good excuse to visit. I'll have to at least send a message."

Derleth hmmms. "D'ye think we can? Is there anyone about that th' elves would trust? Or we coul' take it oursel's. There's a prayer ah havn't had t' use since ah was an acolyte...one that preserves a dead body..."

Silniya gives a faint chuckle, glancing to the bones. "I don't think that's neccesary..."

Derleth erfs. "Aright, ye got a point...there be not much left t' preserve..."

Silniya looks from Derleth to the half-elf. "So, we bury him here, or take him home?"

Derleth considers. "Iff'n e's a pile o bones, e'd probably be easy t' transport...wny not take 'im with us? Ah mean, we'll be 'eadin' innat direction anyway..."

Kyrel says, "Sounds reasonable. If he gets upset, we can bury him in the forest along the way. Shall we do that, then?"

Derleth says, "Aye. Naew, let's find a sheet t' wrap the bones snug an safe in. Sirrah priest, thankee for yer 'elp."

Silniya nods her head to Kyrel. "We need to do something to make sure he doesn't wake up on the way and get cranky. But I think if he realizes he's going Home, that may not happen. But maybe you could ward his...container? Or maybe we could cremate him?"

The Selunite nods faintly to Derleth. "Welcome." He shoots one last vicious look towards the werewolf, as he walks out of the room.

Kyrel sighs, looking after the cleric and then at Silniya. "He's going to be a problem. I think you should leave soon. You're welcome to come with us if you wish."

Derleth coughs. "T'be honest, recent events 'ave left us w'iout a warrior, Lady...if'n ye donnae mind, we coul' use yer strong arm..."

The werewolf nods lightly. "I planned on leaving with you, actually. If I know my geography, I'm headed that way, myself." She glances to the priest, tapping her swordhilt. "I imagine you'd prefer something sharp guided by said arm, right?"

Derleth blinks confusedly at Silniya. "Ye can use what e'er weapons suit ye best, swordlady...sharp or blunt..."

Kyrel grins. "Excellent, then. I was hoping you'd be willing to join us. We'll be moving along soon."

She nods then, before shooting Derleth a grin. "Though, I'm starting to get the feeling maybe you just want me on the road, to have time to work your charms." She turns once more to business, "Are we taking him by box then? Or folding him up and hiding him in a trunk?"

Kyrel carefully suppresses a chuckle at the werewolf's comment. "He's generally safe enough to be around. I'm... not sure which would be better. A coffin leads to all kinds of attention, but having the bones discovered in a concealed container would be worse if it happened."

Derleth is the picture of bemusement, until he finally gets what Silniya is about. His cheeks flushing a rosy red, he seems relieved when she doesn't press the issue. "Ah.....ah donnae wish t' be crude, but 'twould be far more compact iff'n we just bundled the bones together inna thick cloth t' hang from a saddlebag."

"I wonder if he would mind being put in a smaller holding. Coffins are rather large and clunky. Folding him up may save space, but if it raises the ghost's ire..." She glances to Derleth. "You mean just let him dangle? What about when we go into town; I doubt the stablehands will appreciate the carrion care package."

Derleth says, "Tis just bones, lady. Bones don' carry the stench of death."

Kyrel says, "Rather not, I'd think... they still wouldn't be amused if it opened. And the skull is still a bit bulky, after all, as are the limbs. A small crate, at the very least."

An agreeing nod comes from the werewolf. "Exactly. Bundling him up in a sack isn't to respectful to the dead."

Derleth says, "Mayhap we should buy a cart, then? Twould slow us down, but we cannae carry a crate horseback."

Kyrel nods. "I think we'll have to. It'll give Christof a place to ride and give Platinum a break, anyway."

A hm. "True... or the very least, strap a sheet between two horses, and let them carry it. But, a wagon seems less hard on the animals.

Christof looks up at Kyrel. "I'm not that big."

Derleth Nods. "Twould be easier iff'n we 'ave to go to a gallop as well...only one 'orse would be tied down, and coul' be unhitched easily i necessary..."

Kyrel says, "It won't mess up maneuverability, either, in case we're attacked."

She nods, in turn. "Well then, let's be off."

Kyrel nods. "Let's see what's available in town here. If we can't find a cart for sale, we'll have to just drag him around however we can until we do find one."

The rest of the night, and the next day pass fairly uneventfully. Kyrel discusses the details of the gnome's purchase, learning the store name and the date, a week prior. The group actually finds a small wagon, sold by a farmer looking to get rid of it. After a quick job mending the rear axle, the four travel down the road to Selegaunt. Their cargo is placed in a crate, filled with wood shavings and cloth for comfort, the body having been folded up in a fetal position to save space. Late that afternoon, they near the city. The walls are easily in view, as is the sea; there is salty smell in the air along with the view of crashing waves along the shore.

Derleth inhales sharply. "Ah. Tis been a long time since ah enjoyed the smell o the sea air..."

Kyrel nods in agreement. "That it has. Always enjoyed the sea. I was a ship's mage for a while after a finished my apprenticeship." He closes his eyes, listening and smelling the air for a moment. He sighs. "Well, we're almost there. Time to start back-tracking the wax dummy. I got the impression from what he said to that Selunite that he'd changed hands several times."

Christof bounces slightly, leaning over edge of the wagon, toward the other horses. "We're headed to the temple, Sir? Are we going first, or later, or, or..."

Derleth hehs. "Ah dinnae e'er get the chance t' sail th' sea..but ah were grew an' raised in a port town, ah was..."

Derleth glances at Kyrel, then looks at Christof. "We might consider staying at th' temple iff'n they have room. Twould be more direct, ah think."

Kyrel nods. "Besides, you two have business there. We'll see if they'll put up the rest of us, as well."

Derleth chuckles. "Ahm sure we'll find the brothers amenable...for a donation, o'course. ;)"

Kyrel grins at the little cleric. "Oh, aye, o'course for a donation..." He turns to Silniya. "You're not going to have problems in a city, are you?"

She glances back. "Not that I know of. I don't need to hunt; I prefer to, but..." A shrug. "Domesticated living isn't that unreasonable. The smells are often not friendly, but that can be dealt with. And if anything happens that I have to change, I'll head for the nearest sewer."

Kyrel says, "You've done this before, then. Lead on, Derleth. Let's go find this temple of yours."

As the four come to the gate, they find that there's a small line. A single guard walks towards them, holding his spear unthreateningly, but still somewhat alertly. Eyes sweeping over the group, he asks, "Carrying anything inside? Have any of you recently been sick? Is any a wizard, here?" His tones sound as if he must recite the questions more than often enough.

Kyrel blinks at the questions. "I'm a wizard, none of us have been sick, and what kind of things do you have in mind? Mainly we have personal possessions."

The guard peers towards Kyrel. "What school be you of, sir?"

Derleth frowns, and then glances at Kyrel, remembering the dream he spoke of. This doesnae bode well...

Kyrel says, "Illusion. Though I have knowledge of other schools as well."

The guard nods. "Certainly. Just standard questions." The line moves. He gives a slight wave to another guard, who brings a dog in. It begins to sniff around the wagon, before its eyes meet Silniya's. Its hackles raise a moment, the dog giving an odd sound, before the ranger simply turns away, ignoring it. It doesn't bark, however, which is all the guards seem focused on. "I believe you can pass on through, then."

Kyrel nods to the guard. "Thank you." They proceed through the gate, then. "Which way to your temple, Derleth?"

The streets are full, or at least busy; the afternoon is a bustling time. It doesn't help that the northern entrance to the city is along the Bazaar, an area devoted to trading.

Derleth looks around. "Ah...this way. Towards the portside. Sailors often tend t' patronize the Lady's temple...if not fer her blessing, then fer the gaming..." He chuckles.

Kyrel chuckles at that and turns Mara toward the waterfront. "That's somehow not too surprising. I should have guessed... I'd seen it in other towns."

The cleric isn't too far off; next to the Docks is, in fact, the Temple District, somewhat south and a little more inland, on the other side of the city from the Bazaar. The most obvious building is the large church, not quite a cathedral, to Ilmater. However, Lliara's own holy home is no small place itself. Obviously the front of the building makes up the gambling hall, with a stable next door, and further back are the areas devoted to the more holy of the establishment's activities.

Derleth leads the party around towards the temple dormitories, making sure his holy medallion is worn on the outside of his shirt. Tethering Platinum to a handy post, he steps in and looks about for a clerk's post.

A young man, obviously an acolyte by his robes and the symbol on his left breast, is loitering outside of a side door, eating a pastry. He looks up, as Derleth approaches. "Welcome, brother!" he calls, noting the priest's weapon and robes.

Derleth smiles, making the gesture of greeting shared among Lliara's clergy. "I am Journeyman Derleth of Waterdeep. I were hoping I might be able t' acquire a place of lodging for myself an' my companions...an', mayhaps, some information as to current events in Selegaunt. There were some concern Gateside about disease?"

Kyrel lets Derleth take the lead here, though he's looking around with interest. Kiri chirrips and peeks out from under the half-elf's cloak.

Christof hops off the back of the wagon, rushing over before pausing in front of the acolyte. The young man nods, smiling faintly. "Well, welcome sir Derleth. You'd have to talk to the high priestess, but I'm sure we could get you some lodging. Likely for your friends, too... As long as you pay tribute, of course. And are welcome to spend time in the gaming hall, aswell." His brow perks up. "Disease? Oooh. That's 'cause of the spirit, about a year ago."

Christof tugs on Derleth's robes, looking up at him, then to the acolyte.

Derleth chuckles. "Ah, course ah dinnae wan t' ferget. Novice, this lad, Christof by name, were saved by the Lady's grace, an he wants to show his gratitude by becoming one of the faithful. Iff'n ye'd help us in this matter, we'd be most grateful."

He aaahs. "Well, I'm on break, right now, but why not?" He shrugs, taking a bite of his pastry, before moving to the door, and opening it up. "Come on, this way; I'll take you to the high priestess, or one of her assistants, at the very least. We can see to everything."

Derleth grins. "Lliara blesses those that aid her servants, but let me provide something a bit more tangible." he murmurs, pressing a plantium piece into the acolyte's hand as he leads the rest of the party through the door.

The acolyte glances down at his hand...and stares for a moment. "Well, I'll certainly place a good word in for you." His walk is much more brisk, chipper. Christof eagerly bounds off after the man. "I'll stay with the horses and wagon," calls Silniya. "Don't want any trouble coming to our friend."

Kyrel nods to Silniya. "Thanks! We'll be back soon." He follows along after Derleth and Christof.

The acolyte leads the three through winding halls, and at one point through a small room, likely a lounge or study for some of the novices. Passing into a larger hall, obviously the main one, he raps gently on two well-made double doors. Sounds filter from down the hall, the roll of dice and the calls of loud voices, obviously at the games while they wait. The door opens. "Yes?" asks a light voice. The acolyte bows and answers, "We have visitors, looking to see the high priestess? Or an assistant, maybe?"

The voice asks, "Over...?" The acolyte, still holding the bow, replies, "Lodging, curiousity, enrolling an acolyte." There is a pause, then, the door closing before it's opened wide. "Please, step in." offers a petite woman in more fashionable, but still modest robes, smudged with ink.

Derleth nods. "Thankee, Sister." he murmurs respectfully as he walks in.

It seems to be the office of the high priestess. She stands behind her desk, giving a smile and the clergy's greeting to Derleth. By her dress alone, her rank is obvious; the belt is made of joined coins, and beads shaped like dice are woven into her chestnut hair. Despite the age lines, and crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes, she seems vibrant, young. "Welcome, brother; how might I assist you?" She nods to the others to come in, as well. The scribe at the table to one side rises, offering a polite nod.

Derleth makes a show of deference to the priestess. "Ah, well, foremost, ah be hoping for shelter fer me an' me friends fer a couple days...and also t' sponsor this lad into th' novitiate."

The high priestess nods. "Certainly. If you pay your respects to the Lady, you may gladly stay for a few days. I believe we have two rooms; that's all we can spare, lest anyone needing assistance is brought in. Need to keep them open." Her expression brightens, as she sees Christof peek around Derleth. Moving around the desk, she stoops down onto a knee. "And, hello there. You wish to join the clergy?" Christof squeaks, a moment, before nodding. "The Lady reached out for me; I want to reach back, ma'am..." With a delighted chuckle, she peers up at Derleth. "Your son?"

Derleth actually blushes. "Ah...nae, High Sister. But his mother were killed, an' his father also, far away workin' the mines...so ye c'd say ah've adopted 'im as a godfather."

She nods her head, getting back to her feet with a little effort. "Understandable. I'll see to it that he's placed under Brother Santom's tutelage. But not now; I imagine you don't want to run him down there this instant." She turns to the petite woman. "If you could show these gentlemen to an open room?"

Kyrel clears his throat. "Our fourth companion is a woman, your grace."

She glances up. "Oh? Well, we here do not care the gender of those who luck and coin find, good sir."

Derleth says, "Ah'd point out that we can share a room, Ky...we of'n have. Two rooms suffice."

The ink-stained woman paces over. "Certainly, Lady Jiss." The high priestess looks back. "Unless there's anything else you need?"

Kyrel shrugs. "Just so she knows. Some temples get finicky about such things."

As an afterthought, the secretary remarks, "We can easily place another cot in a room, if need be."

Kyrel says, "That would be fine."

Derleth pauses. "Ah was hoping ye might be able t' shed some light in recent events. 'as there been an outbreak of plague somewhere abouts?"

All three of the others glance at Derleth at that. "Ah, yes... Well, you see, a little over a year ago, there was...mm, an accident? I'm not sure on the whole story; either it was a traveler, or someone in the city came down with a disease, the plague or something of the ilk. Well, when they died, their spirit risen; not as a ghost but...different. It passed through homes, streets at night, spreading the pestilence with it's touch... I think it was a band of young, though capable, adventurers put a stop to the spirit, though. A fledgling of Ilmater was among them, I believe," the petite woman says.

Derleth glances at Kyrel, and then back at the high priestess's second. "This may seem like a strange question...but were the church of Talona ever discovered t' be involved?"

Kyrel nods. "Indeed. We've had some hints in that direction on our travels. And was that fledgling named Bodan, by any chance?"

This seems to surprise all three of them again. "Talona?" The ink-smudged woman asks in confusion. Lady Jiss shakes her head. "Not that I'm aware of; and we certainly would've heard about it from The Martyr's Criers." Her tone a hint dry. "But, it was enough to make the Watch and the Mayor decide to simply check those coming into the city for touches of disease." The petite woman looks over at the wizard. "Bodan? Can't say I've ever heard the word; is he a priest of the Cryer?"

Derleth says, "A paladin, actually. He aided us in ridding Tarlbren of a scourge recently...but e' seemed too capable t' be just a stripling but a year ago anyway."

Kyrel says, "True. Hadn't thought of it that way. We'll probably want to check with the Cryer's people about Talona, then."

The high priestess nods. "Ah. Well, if you wanted to know the specifics, I imagine the Crying Lord's house would know of it." A simple nod. "Anything else?" She gestures to a stack of books and papers beside her desk. "We've currently been seeing to the books and accounting, and are thus eager to get back to it." Her smile light, "But I don't mind assistance."

Derleth smiles. "Iff'n that is a request for aid, ah might see my way t' helpin ye....iff'n ye don' mind it from a simple Fortuneseeker." he replies.

A dismissing gesture from the high priestess. "That's all right, brother. Sister Catil here is skilled with the books, the numbers, and so forth." The petite woman smiles pridefully. "We needn't the help. However, if you wouldn't mind patrolling the gaming hall for pickpockets or cheaters," The last word said with utter distaste, "That would certainly be appreciated. And, the tribute to the Lady, of course."

Derleth chuckles. "I'll tithe on th' way out, High Sister. Lady's light shine on ye."

She nods. "Luck find you." The petite woman slips out of the room, and gives a 'follow' gesture, before starting down the hall, back the way the acolyte had traversed.

Kyrel bows to the priestess and follows the younger woman down the hall.

The three follow Sister Catil to the quaint, small rooms. After Silniya is brought in, the horses taken care of in the stable, and the cargo placed in Silniya's room, the four meet in the hallway outside the rooms. "So," the werewoman starts, tipping her head, "Where to now?"

Derleth scratches his chin. "How d'ye think we should go about investigating yer ah...visitation, Kyrel?"

Kyrel says, "Probably by talking to the Ilmaterians. They're supposed to have the most information on the Lady of Plague, after all. Ask them to help us, and give them the dream and the information we have in exchange. "

Silniya nods. "And, what about the origins of our dead guest?" Christof tugs on Derleth's robes.

Kyrel says, "That's easier. We go to the shop that the gnome told us he bought the figure from, and bribe them to tell us where they got it."

Derleth glances down at Chris. "What's on yer mind, lad?"

The boy shuffles his feet. "Um...sir...when do you want me to start? I mean, wait till you start to leave, or...?"

Derleth smiles at Christof. "We'll see t' introducing you t' the headmaster in th' morning, Chris. Ah know ye might be impatient, but everything has a proper time t' be adressed, lad."

"I know, sir," He replies, "I'm just not sure when I should. Don't want to get all busy and can't say goodbye, or look around the city a little, just yet."

Kyrel chuckles. "If you want to wander around with us for a few days, lad, that's no problem. You'll have plenty of time to settle in after we're on our way again."

Derleth ruffles the boy's hair. "Aye. Tis yer decision, Chris....the novitiate can survive a few days without yer sunny presence."

"Yessir." Silniya glances between Derleth and Kyrel. "So, which first? Either more pressing?"

Derleth says, "Ah say the Ilmaterians. The elf cannae get any more dead than e' is."

Kyrel snickers at that bit of black humor. "True... and there may be a time problem with the disease problem. The sooner that the Ilmaterians know about it, the better."

The woman chuckles in turn, and uncrosses her arms. "Well then, shall we?"

Derleth bows floridly. "By yer leave, grand swordlady."

With an unswordwomanly giggle, "Thank you, Faithful of the Cloth."

Derleth hehs weakly, a tinge of red crossing his cheeks.

The three stand within the foyer to the large Ilmaterian church; Christof had elected to stay behind, and explore the gambling hall and adjoining temple. An acolyte in somber colors comes in, looking up curiously. "May I help you?"

Derleth glances at Kyrel, encouraging him to take the lead, since he's the one with the most information at his fingertips.

Kyrel nods. "We hope so. We recently fought off a vampire with the help of one of your paladins.. and shortly afterward I had a rather disturbing dream about a plague that decimated the village we had saved. The local temple suggested that it sounded like the Plague Goddess and said we should talk to you."

The novice's eyes widen. "Talona..." He makes a gesture of prayer at the utterance. "Good sir, certainly; I will take you straight to our head of the healing. The high priest is currently not here, but he would certainly know." Shaking his head to himself, "I will fetch him for you, sirs." He shuffles off.

Derleth chuckles wryly. "Mention of the Paingiver's name appears t' make the Ilmaterian's move wi' a purpose."

Kyrel says, "Not surprising, really. They are sworn enemies, after all."

Derleth nods thoughtfully.

The novice returns, followed by an aged gentleman, his somber robes and rank showing his higher status. "I was informed of your inquiries, good fellows; first, bless you for working with Ilmater, easing the plight of others in your journeys. But, what is this of the Plague Mistress?" The acolyte moves off, seeing as how the elder priest is at work.

Kyrel says, "I'm not entirely sure myself, but the village priest at Tarlbren suggested we seek you out." He briefly recounts the events of dealing with the vampire, then goes into detail about the plague dream - the symptoms displayed by Tomals in the dream, the abandonment of the town, the magical symbols, and the final demonic form that taunted him with crippling disease before engulfing him. "And both Bodan and the Tarlbren priests said that this was something you should hear about."

The priest's eyes are a tad wide, if not grave. "Allow me to sit down..." He says, after the story, and moves to the side of the room, settling into an arm chair. "I see... This is indeed bad. Even in my travels to Tethyr, Chult, and even Thay, I've not heard of such odd disease. Nor such a demon; surely something close to the Poison Lady herself... The symbol doesn't ring a bell, either. But, it seems well in detail, to be simply a wondering mi-" At that, the door swings open, and teenage lad rushes in. "Sir! Sir!" Panting like a dog in the summer sun, he gasps out, "Something is wrong ...people...dying, sick..."

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Last modified: 2001-Apr-19 23:10:57

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