Episode 4
In Name Of The Father
By morning the snow has stopped, though the air remains cold and the sky grey; the ground is treacherous with ice and snow. The group gather weapons and rations, don cloaks and fur lined boots, shoulder packs (in some cases with groans of reluctance) and set out from the cabin, carefully traversing the hillside back down to the main trail through the mountains, following the vague directions given by Madame Hotham of Spindlethorpe towards the Movelton Monastery.
Before the companions hit the road, Keildrithe hands Pharris a tightly bundled, yet cumbersome pile of clothes and a pair of calf-high, black leather boots lined with light grey rabbit fur.
The folded clothes in the bundle include:
. a white wool coat, woven with Thuringian knot-work dragon patterns in silver, gold and ivy-coloured thread entwined around the neck and between the buttons, with matching cap, mits and tight-fitting hose
. a warm grey, hooded cloak, the hood also lined with rabbit fur
. an ivy-coloured linen shirt
. a fancy and elegant-looking embroidered neck scarf (grey and bright green)
. a wooden fastening pin carved and painted as a red rose
. within the bundle, she will also find some lavender-scented soaps
As Pharris unfolds the bundle, Keildrithe begins to shuffle nervously.
"Had I not thought that you might want to blend in with the wintery terrain during our travels, I would have bought you an outfit that would better match your warm and heart-lifting personality... for you always remind me of spring and not winter, Cympharrisong. But given the circumstances, I hope you will be pleased with this modest selection..."
Kajetan looks around at the cabin and the fire with a distinctly sad look on his face. "Oh well, fugitives can't live in luxury all the time," he comments as he wraps his winter clothing and boots around him, piratically mummifying himself against the cold out side.
He bends over stiffly to gather up his backpack and struggles to put it on his back.
Winter has set in.
Although further snow holds off for now, the next day’s travel is cold and miserable as the frozen road climbs higher up into the hills. The pine forest is left behind as the air grows colder and thinner. The terrain is steep and rocky, dotted with jagged clefts and bare trees lifting pale, leafless fingers uptowards the slate sky.
The temperature drops to well below freezing at night, and it is only Laithe’s skill at camp-making, and ability to find sufficient firewood and a lean hare to eat that make the night bareable. At least neither the sharp eyed druid nor Wijk-An wheeling above spot any sign of pursuit, be it by vengeful Redcaps or a crusading Inquisitor.
About mid afternoon on the second day, the road tops a rise, and a wide vista of woods and fields stretches out far below and away from you. The way forks, with one trail heading down a series of steep switchbacks, down, out of the rugged hills towards the valley below and a town nestled near the foot of the rises. The other trail winds along a crumbling cliff-edge towards where, in the near distance perched atop a rocky cliff is a bleak stone structure surrounded by a high grey wall. The spires of an Artonite church can be seen rising above the wall.
Distant lightning glows amongst the heavy grey clouds, followed some seconds later by the low, angry rumble of thunder.
The bundle and Pharris disappear behind the screen with a cry of pure joy.
Every few seconds another cry as she inspects something else. "You should see this! And this! Nicolai, I'll show you some wonderful clothes, more than a match for your pretty outfits! keildrithe you are such a good friend! Thanks so much."
With a swirl Pharris comes back out, her hands showing how wide the grey cloak can be spread, the linen shirt tight over the chain shirt. Everything is neat and the woolen coat makes a warm cover for her lithe frame.
"See, Nicolai, see!"
"I love these clothes."
The bundle and Pharris disappear behind the screen with a cry of pure joy.
Every few seconds another cry as she inspects something else. "You should see this! And this! Nicolai, I'll show you some wonderful clothes, more than a match for your pretty outfits! keildrithe you are such a good friend! Thanks so much."
With a swirl Pharris comes back out, her hands showing how wide the grey cloak can be spread, the linen shirt tight over the chain shirt. Everything is neat and the woolen coat makes a warm cover for her lithe frame.
"See, Nicolai, see!"
"I love these clothes."
Keildrithe can't help but smile when Pharris voices her enthusiasm and appreciation, and comes out looking even better than he thought she would clad in the winter clothes he picked out for her. "I'm glad you like them, Pharris," he says quietly. "They look as though they were tailor-made for you. And only you could make a winter outfit look so... stylish and alluring... I hope it'll keep you warm and comfortable..."
Winter has set in.
About mid afternoon on the second day, the road tops a rise, and a wide vista of woods and fields stretches out far below and away from you. The way forks, with one trail heading down a series of steep switchbacks, down, out of the rugged hills towards the valley below and a town nestled near the foot of the rises. The other trail winds along a crumbling cliff-edge towards where, in the near distance perched atop a rocky cliff is a bleak stone structure surrounded by a high grey wall. The spires of an Artonite church can be seen rising above the wall.
Distant lightning glows amongst the heavy grey clouds, followed some seconds later by the low, angry rumble of thunder.
"Does that church fit the description of the place we're looking for?" asks Keildrithe of Pharris, Nicolai and Laithe, while glancing at the stormy sky with dismay.
Nicholai cannot help but grin at Pharris' girlish outburst. He raises his eyebrows appreciatively at the lovely elf lass as she emerges from the screen. As she shows off her new outfit, he bows to her with a grin.
"I concede gladly my lady. Your are a vision of loveliness that far outshines my paltry attempts at fashion. And, as Keildrithe so eloquently pointed out, you bear a soul even fairer than your features."
The dandy takes her hand in his, gives her a grandly sweeping courtly bow, kisses the back of her hand lightly, and raises back up again, making it all look like part of a ballroom dance.
He grins at Keildrithe, and the others, as he gets into his own new, warmer, clothes. He shakes his head self-mockingly as he looks back to Pharris, obviously agreeing that she looks MUCH better in her new outfit than he does in his!
+-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
As they plod on through the biting cold, Nicholai raises his head to look at the structure above.
"Close enough for me!" He responds to Keildrithe's question.
"This is the area that Stonty said it should be, correct?"
Pharris allows him and enjoys the moment before finishing with a casual arm around Keildrithe's shoulders.
"So a monastery. Full of monks." She goes off to gather her equipment and weapons, making sure they are in fine condition.
Kajetan looks down at his own bland ensemble of winter cloths and then back at Pharris, "great, now I look like I got dressed in the dark," he mutters, but keeps smiling outwardly.
He trudges trough the snow after the others completely miserable, silently brooding and unhappy, a constant stream of snot freezing into his growing patchy beard. At night he huddles as close to the fire as he can, his thin frame feeling the cold like a man three times his age.
The steep slopes, his encumbered state and low agility mean that before the journeys end Kajetan has torn holes in the woollen cloak, trousers and mittens. His skin scrapped and bruised. His back aches and the fresh mountain air has done nothing to help his cold.
"Civilisation!" Kajetan almost gasps as he spots the town and walled monastery, the sound of relief in his voice obvious to all.
"Should we head to the town first to secure rooms, I doubt the monastery will accept guests and we might want to check our friend the inquisitor has not beat us here and took up residence?
"I suggest the monastery. It's closer and I'm certain that they wouldn't turn down travelers in need so close to dark?" Nicholai says with a companionable pat on the skinny wizard's shoulder. The dandy has weathered the trip far better than the mage, Somehow always managing to look fresh-dressed after every brief stop, but despite his joking it is obvious that he is tired and also considers the village and monastery a welcome sight.
He also makes no attempt to hide the fact that he is eager to head directly to the monastery.
Even at a distance, Pharris begins to assess the buildings with her elven eyesight. The smoke in particular draws her attention. As the party starts to close with the monastery so the elven woman keeps making checks on it, looking for movement or duplicity.
Knowledge, Local 15+
Knowledge, Local 20+
Knowledge, History 15+
Knowledge, History 20+
Knowledge, Religion 15+
Knowledge, Religion 20+
Knowledge, Religion 25+
A vow of chastity means that monks are unable to marry and must remain celibate. It is frowned upon to spend excessive time in the company of the opposite sex.
A vow of obedience means that monks must obey the tenants of the church and the orders of their superiors without question.
A vow of hospitality means that shelter and aid must be offered to any who seek it, if the seekers are willing to leave violence behind them and obey the rules of the monastery.
A monk who breaks his vows (or other tenants of the Artonite faith, or who indulges in sin) will need to undertake penance, which might include confession to a superior or a priest, prayer, fasting, isolation, self flagellation, beating or other physical punishment administered by a superior, or, in very serious cases, excommunication and expulsion from the monastery. The exact penance varies depending on the severity of the indiscretion and the rules of a particular monastery or order.
Pharris, you can see little beyond the high walls of the monastery. The smoke looks like it rises from a controlled source like a chimney. The walls and the parts of the building you can see look somewhat run down and poorly maintained, but not abandoned and falling into ruin. You notice what appears to be a stone marker on the trail a few dozen feet away from the monastery’s grey outer wall. You hear no sounds of unusual commotion.
Like most of his companions Alton is exuasted, and the sight of some civilisation is indeed a welcome one. He pushes back his fur lined hood, his breath turning to steam as he talks.
'I certainly prefer the idea of getting inside now, rather than going another 3 hours with night approaching and a storm on the way. It does feel a little like walking into the lions den though. Probably pretty easy to trap us in a place like that. We'd better be on our guard.'
Knowledge (Local) : +9 (+5 Int, 1 rank, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (Religion) : +12 (+5 Int, 4 ranks, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (History) : +12 (+5 Int, 4 ranks, +3 class skill)
Kajetan knows everything there is to know about this place and is eager to give over his knowledge.
"Right then, that town way down there is Movelton and that there," he needlessly points at the grey walled building "is Movelton Monastery."
"They are know as the Order of Saint Simil, Saint Simil being one of Arton’s sons and all. They see Arton as a strict father figure and they take sever vows to follow his tenants. In particular we might have a problem with our two ladies, as extended contact with the oposite sex is frowned on as it distracts the mind and leads to temptations," with out meaning to, Kajetan looks at Nicolai and Keildrithe as he speaks the last part. "They brew beer, which is good news and swear vows of poverty, forsaking all material wealth. Chastity, forbidding marriage or opposite sex relations." he raises his eyebrows at the last comment. "Unquestioning obedience to their superiors and church beliefs and finally hospitality which means as long as we leave our violent tendencies behind we will not be turned away."
Kajetan continues talking as they approach, seemingly excited at meeting the monks.
"Strange place to build a monastery, I wonder if the place was an old fort or something before they converted it, I mean, it is all well and good seeking isolation, but even I think this is extreme."
After a bit of thought Kajetan asks "shall we pretend to be pilgrims, with our knowledge of the place and Anastasia's paraphernalia we could easily carry out the ruse?"
As you approach the monastery, you pass the stone marker that Pharris noticed earlier – a flat stone that has been driven into the frozen earth beside the road to mark a grave. A fresh grave by the look of things, as the earth looks relatively freshly turned and is free of any of the patches of un-melted snow that dot the ground here and there. A piece of broken plank with lettering scratched into it rests atop the grave.
About three hundred feet or so away looms the outer wall of the monastery. The heavy looking double doors that guard the entrance lie open, and you can catch a glimpse of a few brown robed, cowled figures moving around within, through the arched opening.
"Can't we just say we are here to meet that person...Stefan is it? I can do pilgrim but my longbow and greatsword cannot."
Pharris shakes her head at the information that Kajetan spews out and soon concentrates on the monastery and its brown inmates.
"More like a prison. And temptation is the most a dry old stick will get from me."
"Can't we just say we are here to meet that person...Stefan is it? I can do pilgrim but my longbow and greatsword cannot."
Pharris shakes her head at the information that Kajetan spews out and soon concentrates on the monastery and its brown inmates.
"More like a prison. And temptation is the most a dry old stick will get from me."
Keildrithe can't help but guffaw at Pharris's last remark, and the grin on his face persists long afterwards.
"Yes, I'd be inclined to take the direct approach and ask about Stefan, as well... but then again, would our armed selves put them on the defensive and fearful of revealing his presence, should he be among them? Are we better off seeking shelter and then gradually observing whether we are introduced or told of a brother by the name of Stefan?"
Keildrithe can't help but guffaw at Pharris's last remark, and the grin on his face persists long afterwards.
"Yes, I'd be inclined to take the direct approach and ask about Stefan, as well... but then again, would our armed selves put them on the defensive and fearful of revealing his presence, should he be among them? Are we better off seeking shelter and then gradually observing whether we are introduced or told of a brother by the name of Stefan?"
While his companions discuss how best to approach the monastery, Laithe scans the area carefully, looking for signs of life. He tries to push aside a knawing fear that all is not well there, based partly on the fact that Nicolai had not heard from his friend Stefan for some time, and partly on the string of horrors that he and his friends had faced over the last couple of months.
He is distracted a little by the fountain of knowledge that Kajetan has regarding the monastrey itself and the order that reside there, and can't help but listen intently to the scholar.
"From what you say, Kaj, the Order's vow of hospitality indicates that they should welcome us regardless of how we come to them. I would feel most comfortable keeping as close to our story as possible, though obviously without going into too much detail on the church's current interest in us."
Kajetan steps to the side of the grave and bends down to read the wooden grave marker.
A brief vision of bloated, pale hands with long black finger nails bursting from the loose soil and dragging him into the grave makes him shudder and he shakes his head to clear the vision.
The marker, written in Atuscan reads, Brother Abel of Corbone, beloved of Movelton. Aged 19 Years.
Knowledge, Religion 13+
"What does a monastery like this do? Is it just writing religious texts and chanting psalms?"
Nicholai matches Keildrithe's grin at Pharris' comment. He listens to Kajetan as he spouts his knowledge of the area and monastery. (He is both amused, and possibly afraid to try and interrupt him while he is on a roll!)
"Thank you Kaj'. That was very informative. Do you perchance remember EVERYthing you ever read? I heard of a fellow student who could do that, back when I was attending seminary." He asks the mage as he also examines the small tombstone.
"Hm. 19 years old. Not exactly an elderly monk. I wonder what he died of?" He wonders aloud.
Alton also inspects the grave, teeth chattering slightly as he talks.
'Could have died of anything I suppose, though it seems odd to bury him out here all on his own. You would think there would be a gravyard nearby, the town isn't that far away...'
Knowledge (Religion) : +12 (+5 Int, 4 ranks, +3 class skill)
"I wonder why he is buried out here on his own, not in hallowed ground, after all he is a beloved brother and there are no other graves here?" Kajetan muses out loud.
In response to Nicolai, Kajetan grins sheepishly, "I just have a knack for it I guess, names I am terrible with, but facts, places and dates I am brilliant with." he shrugs a little embarrassed.
"I am not surprised," adds Pharris, putting a hand on Kajetan's shoulder. "You being talented."
"What does a monastery like this do? Is it just writing religious texts and chanting psalms?"
"And contemplating "Arton's truth"? Only one way to find out, I guess. Do we take the direct approach and tell them that we are searching for Brother Stefan? Or do we simply play the part of pilgrims seeking shelter for the night and observe before asking about the good brother....?"
Looking at the grave, Keildrithe adds: "Could this one have been buried outside the walls because he bore or had done something that might be considered "tainted" by the brothers? Touched by an "evil" spirit, or with blasphemous ideas? Corrupted by intimate contact with (gods forbid) a woman? Or perhaps he committed suicide, and was deemed not fit for burial within the monastery's cemetery?"
The part of the trail where the grave is located is visible from the open gates of the monastery. By now, the group has been noticed from within, and a group of brown robed monks stand in a loose group just inside the gates, apparently watching the party. No move is made to close the gate, and although a few of the monks hold staves, cudgels or tools, they do not stand in combat-ready postures.
Religion 15+
"And contemplating "Arton's truth"? Only one way to find out, I guess. Do we take the direct approach and tell them that we are searching for Brother Stefan? Or do we simply play the part of pilgrims seeking shelter for the night and observe before asking about the good brother....?"
While the others have been discussing the grave and how best to approach the monastery, Laithe has been watching the place, with a growing sense of foreboding. Partly it is from their recent history of encounters, partly from the fact that they were about to enter a holy place of Arton, and partly because Nicolai hadn't heard from his friend Stefan in some time.
Spotting the monks looking out at the group settles come of his concerns and he says to the others, "Whatever we decide, we should probably do it now. According to Kajetan's excellent information, their vow of hospitality should prompt them to let us in. Perhaps we should be as truthful as we can; we are travellers seeking shelter, and one of our number knows a monk who is meant to be staying here."
"Hmmm... now that I think of it, suicide and extreme blasphemy would result in denial of burial in consecrated ground, especially if one had not confessed and atoned for the latter," mutters Keildrithe, as if speaking to himself. "I really hope that our friend Stefan is not buried in that grave... that might explain why Nicolai has not heard from him in a long while..."
Keildrithe looks over to the monks who are assembling at the gates. The bard's breath is visible in the cold air. He takes a few steps towards the monks, raises both hands and shows his open palm, and bows slightly. The Karand addresses them in Atuscan:
"Kind brethren, my companions and I have travelled long and far in search of the truth. We are cold and weary, and beseech thee to grant us shelter and to share thine wisdom with us..."
Nicholai nods his agreement with Keildrithe's observations.
"Yes. Having fun is not, strictly, forbidden. As long as you repent of course. But the others, as Keildrithe mentioned, might explain why a monk would be buried outside of hallowed ground."
He grins sardonically at the bard's lyrical words of greeting to the monks.
"Couldn't have said it better myself." He murmurs to Kajetan with a wink.
He bows slightly to the priests, one arm out, the other across his waist, and waits for their reply.
Keildrithe, Nicolai and the others walk towards the wall and gate to speak to the monks gathered there.
Upon closer approach it can be seen that the ten foot high wall around the monastery has seen better days. It is weathered and pitted with age, and here and there the wall has slumped or partially collapsed in a tumble of stone blocks. The open oak gates look sturdy but stained with the seasons, and an iron portcullis covered with layers of rust looms in the shadow of a leaning gatehouse. A wooden star of Arton hangs above the arch of the gateway.
The five or six monks who stand here are uniformly cloaked in brown woolen robes, cowls and hoods pulled low to protect from the cold, casting their features into shadow. Most also wear scarves and woolen gloves or mittens, or thick cloaks. They hold stout sticks or gardening implements.
There is a murmur at Keildrithe’s words, and after a brief moment one heavyset monk steps forward, puts down the wooden pail he was holding and reaches to lower his hood and pull aside his scarf, revealing a ruddy round face with a bulbous nose, thick red eyebrows, reddish stubble staining his cheeks and otherwise bald head.
“Greetings pilgrims,” he says with a bow of his head, casting his eye over you all with evident curiosity. “May the blessings of Arton by upon you. I am Brother Horatio. We will certainly extend the hospitality of our order to you on such a cold day, so long as you come without violence or malice, and agree to respect our customs and faith.”
"Good news for such as ourselves. I am Pharris and there is no malice in my heart."
Brother Horatio looks at Pharris, then blushes and quickly looks down at his feet, wriggling his toes beneath the thick socks he wears under his sandals. One of the monks behind him snorts in apparent amusement, then quickly throws a hand up to his mouth to muffle the sound. Horatio rounds on his fellows, red-faced.
“Back to work brothers,” he says. “Those vegetables will not harvest themselves, and father Arton frowns on idle hands.” The other monks shuffle away, and Horatio turns back to the party. “I apologise for the actions of my brothers,” he says. “We do not often see travellers,” his gaze once again sweeps across the group, a look of mild confusion on his face, “such as yourselves.”
He stands for a moment as if not quite knowing what to do, then seems to shake himself physically out of his indecision. “Please follow me,” he says, gesturing the group to enter through the gates. “The abbot will wish to meet you. Please keep your weapons sheathed and bound, you will not need them here.”
Nicholai manages to stifle his own amusement at Brother Horatio's moment of embarrassment. (He's grateful for the hood of his new winter outfit.)
He follows the monk immediately, grateful for the chance to get out of the cold.
"Of course. Thank you Brother. I assure you, we bring only the desire to get out of the cold. And perchance the chance to sample your famous beer!" The dandy says cheerfully from the depths of his hood.
“Ah,” voices Brother Horatio, looking at Nicolai with a faint smile. “I like to sample it myself.” He pats his ample belly with both hands. “In moderation of course. If you join us for our pre-vespers meal, you will have a chance. Beer is of course good for balancing the humours, it does not thin the blood as water does ...”
As Horatio rattles on about the medicinal value of beer, he leads you through the gates, across the hard, near frozen ground and into the monastery proper.
To your left are a series of garden beds and an orchid, where a number of monks work to clear away snow, turn icy soil and harvest cold weather vegetables such as cabbage and cauliflower. The taller trees in the orchid are bare of fruit or foliage, but shorter trees and bushes bear small orange and green fruit.
To your right, several buildings stand near the outer wall of the monastery, some of them connected by covered stone walkways. Ahead, a number of larger buildings flank three sides of a cloister, one of them an Artonite style church with a tall spire above the bell tower reaching high towards the threatening grey clouds above.
Although the buildings inside are generally in better repair than the outside walls, and the place is kept neat and clean, you can see evidence of un-skilled repairs here and there, with poor mortar work here and there amongst the stonework, sagging walls on some of the out-buildings propped up by makeshift beams and stays, and several windows boarded up rather than having broken glass replaced.
Horatio leads you towards a door in the wall of one of the large buildings surrounding the cloister.
Nicholai pulls back his hood enough for the monk to be able to see his face clearly, and grins.
"I completely agree good father! All things in moderation is an excellent rule to live by! Although I believe some things should be more moderate than others. Water, for example,..." and the dandy engages the friendly friar in conversation about the healthy benefits of beer even as he continues to observe the keeps interior, aided by Wij'kan circling above,...
Keildrithe falls back between Kajetan and Pharris. "If I'm not mistaken," he murmurs, "amongst traditional Artonite monastic orders or in wealthier monasteries, it would be unusual to see actual monks working the fields like this; the monks normally would not move beyond the walls of the cloister except on specific business for the monastery. Lay staff or serfs would normally man the gates and work the fields, leaving the monks to days of prayer or work such as illumination. I wonder about this difference..."
Horatio leads you to a door in the ivy-covered wall of the building, and is about to open it, when he suddenly glances back at all of you and pauses. After a moment he sighs almost inaudibly and opens the door. Stepping inside, he gestures for you to follow.
Although the buildings inside are generally in better repair than the outside walls, and the place is kept neat and clean, you can see evidence of un-skilled repairs here and there, with poor mortar work here and there amongst the stonework, sagging walls on some of the out-buildings propped up by makeshift beams and stays, and several windows boarded up rather than having broken glass replaced.
Laithe hangs towards the back of the group watching their guide and carefully scanning the interior of the building. He is a little uncomfortable within the confines of the Abby, but seeing the monks performing such mundane tasks as tending the garden puts his mind at ease, at least a little.
Keildrithe falls back between Kajetan and Pharris. "If I'm not mistaken," he murmurs, "amongst traditional Artonite monastic orders or in wealthier monasteries, it would be unusual to see actual monks working the fields like this; the monks normally would not move beyond the walls of the cloister except on specific business for the monastery. Lay staff or serfs would normally man the gates and work the fields, leaving the monks to days of prayer or work such as illumination. I wonder about this difference..."
Following up behind Kaj and Pharris, Laithe overheard Keildrithe's comment. He glances over at the gardening monks, having not realised there was anything unusual about it. As he continues to look around he happens to glance up and spots a face in the tower above, quickly disappearing from site.
He looks to Keildrithe to see if he spotted the face and seeing that he did he says quietly to Pharris and Kaj "Looks like we're being watched".
Knowledge (Religion) : +12 (+5 Int, 4 ranks, +3 class skill)
Sense Motive: +1 (+1 Wis)
Perception: +1 (+1 Wis)
Kajetan, not having been inside a monastery before, is lost in thought and awe as he looks around. Oblivious to even the most obvious of signs.