HUUUGE HUUUG
Moira sees off the kobold, then turns to look into the woods. Her hand strays to the hilt of the blood-crystal dagger, still empty. She scans the area, searching for the path home...
She blinks. She sighs. She says, "Uh... I have no idea where we are or what we're doing."
Túrante is grateful for Liamae's comfort.
"Sorry, I'm still fuzzy-headed from the spores," she says apologetically. "I can't even seem to think straight."
"I think it's this way," Liamae says, uncertain if she's correct or not. She adjusts her spectacles to call upon the mental focus stored within for a brief flash of insight.
Liamae points the way, and the group limps along through the woods. Liamae spots a familiar looking tree, with a knot that kind of looks like a goblin's face. This helps with orientation, and soon enough, the group is able to follow their own footprints back to the game trail leading back to Rogue Creek and Belhaim.
Entering through the north-east side of town, a few townsfolk stop and stare. It may be a strange sight, but the town has its history with adventurers.
As much as I need a drink and we all need a rest, it would be awfully bad form to show up at the tavern with the corpse of the mayor's son...
"Business before pleasure. Let's bring the Devy boy home and warn the Lady that we shouldn't dawdle on the funeral."
If nobody objects, she hikes Iagon's arm back over her shoulder and helps the limping kineticist towards the manor.
Liamae nods in agreement. "Aye, let's do it."
Túrante follows along, too tired from the energy-sapping effects of the spores to speak up after a long walk.
"Once we're done with all of this, I feel like I need some hot tea and a good night's sleep."
Even her ears seem to droop with fatigue.
Moira freezes, remembering something super important but deeply unpleasant, and asks, "Wait a minute... that mushroom thing who took over Arnholde said it'd use us to poison the world or something, right? Should we... should we go to town right now? Should we, like, socially isolate somewhere else for a while and see if we go all shiitake log? Not sure what to do about the boy's body in that case, I'm afraid..."
"The shrooman said something like, 'I am more than just this boy’s mere body. I am in the air, in the soil, and now I have found my way to the surface. What happy happenstance these kobolds brought me this body to possess, to infect their number. I have been groping and grasping for a way to the surface and now I have found it. You may cut me down but I will grow back and infect this land. I have already tasted your flesh, tasted your blood. I am in you as much as you are in me. Come! Have at me, and I shall spread my spores forever more! Ha!'"
"Now that I think about it, I guess we should have killed all the kobolds and then jumped into a lava lake ourselves, or maybe we should have just kept going down into the earth forever or something... heh."
She heaves a sigh. "If the shrooman was telling the truth, it's already unleashed. We might just have to take our chances that it was lying. But I'll recommend a speedy cremation, I think."
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It is going on late afternoon, early evening at the time of your arrival. Having shocked some onlookers, other townsfolk run ahead. Word spreads quickly in these types of places, especially if that word regards the missing heir. Those that overhear Moira’s recital of Fungholde’s last words are left a little uneasy.
Carrying Arnholde’s silk-wrapped body through the streets, the party moves toward the Devy Manor. Moira supports Iagon, and Fenchurch can feel black liquid begin to seep through the silk cocoon and through her fingers. With Moira’s sudden fridge-logic, the group silently ponders the eternal question Am I doing the right thing?
Arriving at the manor, a curious crowd has gathered before the gates, and silently parts ways to let the group through. An armed guard ushers you inside and through the halls to the darkened library where you, most of you, first met with Lady Origena. Stepping into the room, the curtains are drawn, and the room is dark, but a fire burns in the hearth, and candles cast dim light throughout the hall. The Baroness sits in her armchair drawn close to and facing the fire. She is joined by Banker Braldon and another, older female priestess in Abadarian robes, providing her with counsel. At the other end of the room stand three figures, quietly talking. A tall human male, handsome with dark curly hair, and a tattooed female half-orc, both dressed in long rose colored tunics, speak with a venerable gnome with pink a green streaked hair.
As the doors open and you enter, the Baroness cries out with a sob, and the venerable gnome advances toward you, "Oh dear, oh my. You’ve returned!" she gasps seeing the silk-wrapped body, "What’s happened?" her eyes dart from body to Khari, to the Baroness across the room.
Moira leans Iagon on the nearest wall and advances swiftly to the Baroness, speaking softly but clearly, "Your son perished, but we have recovered his remains. We've wrapped him in silk to preserve Arnholde's remains. Madam, we should not delay his funeral. His body is infected by a magic fungus and is quickly deteriorating, and the fungus may pose a threat to others. I recommend a pyre, but a deep grave might suffice."
She is businesslike, but not heartless. Her read on the Baroness is that the Lady is the type to take the bad news straight. "Please let me know, let us know, if there's anything we can do for you, madam. And we will tell you the whole tale whenever you are ready."
The half-orc woman looks surprised at the sudden arrival of the heroes with their cocooned body, a hand trying covering her open mouth but unable to hide her toothy canines. She is a clash of cultures. What look to be tribal tattoos adorn at least her face and arms, and yet she wears a flowing, rose-colored flowing blouse and dress. Her décolletage reveals yet another tattoo of a songbird with rainbow-colored feathers.
Seeing the sorry state of the party, the half-orc approaches Iagon and those who remain with him. "Can't say you look well. Please take the blessings of the Eternal Maiden." Before anyone can get in a word edgewise, Selja intones a brief prayer in what sounds like Orcish. The songbird tattoo suddenly grows bright, and a soft, rose glow washes over the room.
She looks over everyone, hoping to see their wounds closed and their strength returned.
Liamae is impressed by both the half-orc woman's appearance and the soothing healing energy she channels. "Thank you, darling. You are quite striking, you know!" she says with a smile.
Selja glances downward and blushes at the compliment from the ostentatiously dressed elf, unable to hold back a smile. "Thank you," she responds softly, before returning her gaze to Liame. "Not nearly as pretty as you.
Moira doesn't break eye contact with the Baroness.
Oh, Liamae... flirting over a corpse.
The Abadarian priestess moves to guard the Baroness from Moira's approach, but Braldon puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The Baroness meets Moira with tear filled, reddened eyes. The priestess replies, "My Lady wishes her son to be buried in the family plot, next to his father. It will take time to dig the grave, as deep as you say, perhaps through the night. M'Lady, we can keep him in the House of Abadar overnight, perform rights over the body, guide his soul to Aktun..."
Lady Devy raises a hand and cuts the High Priestess off. She rises warily from her armchair, Braldon moving in to support her. "Show me," she says to Moira, "Show me Arnholde, my son."
Selja may notice that her channeling of healing energy does help as a relief to the battered heroes, but, several of them continue to look pale and sickly. Iagon, at least, is able to lift himself off the wall and stand on his own two feet again.
The other priestly figure approaches the rest of the group standing around Arnholde's wrapped body and cooly makes introductions, "It is a pleasure to meet you, I am Nilos, priest of Shelyn, and this is Selja. We can not thank you enough for the service you've shown our town and the Baroness. We are happy to provide whatever medicinal comforts you may need. The Beauty and Grace of Shelyn are yours."
The gnome pipes up, "The name's Bassy. I'm the Chronicler and Historian of this town, and aid to Lady Devy." She looks down at the silk wrappings containing Arnholde, an eyebrow raised in curiousity, "I would like an account of what you experienced out there the past two days... When you're all rested and ready, of course." To herself, she adds, "'Tis a shame, the young lad."
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Túrante tries to thank Selja but is interrupted by a rattling, throaty cough.
Moira, brushing past the Abadarians, reaches to touch the Baroness' free shoulder, saying, "His body is damaged and potentially dangerous. You're his mother and the ruler of this land, so if you deem the risks worth taking, it is your decision to make."
To the clerics, she says, "If the lady wishes to see her son, we may need whatever wards and purifications you can offer against his infection. Khari, I'd like you to come with us. The rest of you may come if you'd like. And someone should send someone to start digging."
Selja curtsies as Nilos introduces her, and takes up a more deferential role, letting the male priest take the lead. Although she felt bad for the coughing elf in particular, she decides it unwise to channel more clerical healing to interrupt the moment that the Baroness was having with the body of her son.
Instead, she studies the fallen Arnholde to understand his current state, trying to gauge the danger his body posed.
To anyone observing her, Fenchurch appears incredibly tense. Typically she would have remained outside while the party concluded their business, but as the one carrying Arnholde's body she reluctantly joined them in entering the manor.
She finds it difficult to not be at least somewhat visibly relieved when Selja's healing energy revitalizes her somewhat, but otherwise does not speak, and responds quickly and efficiently to any requests regarding what to do with or how to handle the body.
Selja's gaze turns to the last in the group, a powerfully built woman with red hair. She immediately recalls the stories of the "guardian" of the Verduran--one who struck fear in those who dared to harvest from the forest. Could this be her?
She leans in and whispers something to Nilos, the priest of Shelyn.
The Abadarian head priestess nods to Moira, then turns to the Baroness, who states "Make it so." The priestess, who introduces herself as Eupaphenia, takes control and asks for Arnholde’s body to be relocated to the House of Abadar. She pauses as she approaches Fenchurch, maybe with a hint of recognition, but given the town is in your debt at the moment, asks the mighty warrior to please help with the body.
Nilo nods to Selja but doesn’t reply in words. He announces “We are at your service M’Lady, whatever you may need.”
Eupaphenia sends Braldon out to fetch Calladastina the undertaker, and asks Bassy to announce the funeral and send the crowd of onlookers away from the manor. As the two leave, Khari clings close to Moira and whispers ”Please don’t s-s-say anything.”
The venerable gnome has an inquisitive look about her as she walks out. She reaches those gathered outside the gate and with a surprising speaking voice addresses the crowd, "Gentlefolk of Belhaim, I, your known and trusted historian, sadly inform you that our Lord and Heir Arnholde Devy, who has been missing, is now confirmed dead." She lets the gasps and murmurs of shock die down before continuing, "At this time, Our Lady the Baroness asks for her privacy as she will hold a personal ceremony and vigil at the House of Abadar. There will be a burial and funeral in the family plot tomorrow, first thing in the morning. You may pay your respects there. Please take your leave for now."
The crowd sticks around, murmuring amongst themselves for a bit before they begin to disperse. Once the crowd has cleared, Bassy waves up to the window to signal the coast is clear.
Túrante mumbles something about needing bed rest to get over this cough.
Fenchurch nods an affirmation at Eupephenia's request, and readjusts the weight of Arnholde's cocooned remains on her shoulders as she prepares to depart towards the House of Abadar.
Her anxiety is beginning to give way to a much more primal and straightforward mental concern: she's actually starting to get tired. But she's determined to see the day's tasks through.
As a flurry of activity resumes once more, Selja feels free to speak again without interrupting. She approaches the group.
"Means a lot to everyone that you found Arnholde. The stick-in-the-muds are gonna obsess about his last rites and tryin' to please the Baroness." Selja nods in the direction of the Abadarians as she says this. "Meanwhile forgettin' about the ones who risked their necks to get 'im back. Especially you--" Selja says, looking at Fenchurch. "They're not too keen on folks takin' the law into their own hands."
"Shelyn's got a diff'rent view. The most beautiful things aren't the most predictable; instead, they're full of surprises." Selja begins a long, sonorous chant. At the very end, she touches Fenchurch. Once again, Selja's songbird glows, and Fenchurch can feel some of her sapped energy return, her fatigue fading.
She then looks apologetically at Turante. "Sorry, wish I'd had more of that to go around, but I wasn't expectin' some terrible disease. Still, I can help all of you with some more traditional medicines tonight." "Truth is, though, I've been wantin' to go to Lambert's Tradin' Post, and I can't imagine a more lovely group of folks to travel with. Think I could join you for a time?" She looks at each of the group hopefully.
Moira keeps a steady arm around Khari, whispering back, "Of course not. But there's no way I'd let them leave you out of this after everything you've done for Arnholde. We're sticking together through this, and we'll be friends when it's over."
She's a little busy with big-big emotions to pay much attention to Selja's shopping plans, but she's got 18 Charisma now, so she smiles and nods over Khari's shoulder, not impolitely.
"It's all right," says the elf woman. "I'm sure after a nap I'll be right as rain."
"First we need to finish seeing to poor Arnholde. Then a snack and then... sleep."
She coughs again twice and says, "Feels like I've been running all day."
"We would be happy to have you with us, Selja," Liamae says to the half-orc, flashing her a radiant smile.
She remains close to Turante, helping the drained princess stay on her feet. "The others can take it from here. Let's get you to bed."
Selja cannot hide a toothy grin. "Thanks so much! I'll find you two later, I promise I can help ease your recovery."
With her travel plans resolved, Selja decides she will follow the baroness to pay her respects to Arnholde, at least for a short time. Perhaps she could offer a mournful tune to give voice to the grief of her community.
Nilos smiles at his acolyte and joins Selja in administering to the group.
"Come by the temple tomorrow if you need anything else, you've earned it as far as Shelyn is concerned," he adds with a wink, "The Abadarians will charge for it."
Iagon weakly smiles and follows the two elves out of the room, "I think I've had enough for today." He glances at Fenchurch carrying Arnholde's body, "If that thing comes back to life, don't hesitate to cut it down." At this, Lady Devy begins sobbing, and Iagon admonishes his own lack of decorum.
Iagon, Túrante, and Liamae return to the Wise Piper for some much needed rest, and everyone else relocates to the House of Abadar. The gold and marble edifice sparkles in the light of a large, basin shaped brazier at the temple entrance. Within, Eupaphania instructs Fenchurch to place Arnholde upon an altar beneath a statue of Abadar, depicted seated on a sturdy throne, holding a balance in one hand and an architect's angle in the other, a plethora of golden keys hanging from his belt.
As Arnholde is so placed, Bassy approaches and pokes at the silk wrappings, "I say, this is some fine work. Looks almost like a cocoon!" She turns to Moira and Khari, "You said something about magic fungus, but how'd he end up wrapped up like this?"
Moira says, with wide, sincere eyes, "Magic. We... uh... used an unusual undertaker's scroll I'd been saving to wrap him up."
Moira quietly asks the clerics if they might have a scroll or casting of Decompose Corpse handy. "If it's bad, we can use it to at least give the Lady a decent clean skeleton to bury. But the fungus might have other plans."
If it's time, Moira tells Devy to brace herself, asks the clerics to ready themselves, reminds everyone that the viewing goes against her professional advice, and begins.
She starts at the arms, hoping to get a sense of how bad things are in there before revealing what might be a very badly damaged face.
[b] "I don't know what we'll see. We can stop at any time."
Khari gulps, and Bassy nods in the way of someone pretending to understand, "Ah, yes, I suppose a modified web spell should do the trick... Ok, I'm ready."
"Before you begin..." Eupaphania summons an acolyte and instructs them to fetch a scroll or three, then casts a spell upon the body. As her eyes cease glowing she states, "We have parishioners from time to time coming in complaining of a belly ache or some other ailment. It's always helpful to have Diagnose Disease prepared." She inhales deeply, "I do detect the presence of fungus and mold, but nothing that would be dangerous unless inhaled or ingested. I might suggest we all hold our breaths."
The acolyte returns with a scroll of Decompose Corpse, Restore Corpse, and Gentle Repose, to be used depending on the situation.
When everyone's got their noses and mouths covered, and standing a safe distance back, Moira begins cutting into the wrapping. Cutting a slit down the side of the silk cocoon, a black watery liquid begins to trickle out and down the side of the white alter. Moira can see the blackened and badly rotting flesh of Arnholde's arm beneath torn and damp noble's clothing. Getting a peek, Selja can tell the body is far more decomposed than one should be at this point, something has definitely accelerated the rate of decomposition.
. Insightful as she may be, Selja finds Moira's explanation entirely reasonable.
"Oh dear," is all Selja manages as Arnholde's body is slowly revealed. She looks toward the Baroness to see how she might be taking the events, and whether she really wanted to continue at this point.
Or at least she tries to look. In truth, the sight of the disgusting black liquid seeping out proves thoroughly nauseating.
The Baroness looks pale, upset, visibly weeping. As Moira cuts into the wrapping, she hides her face. Bassy clutches her hand in support, but the gnome is watching the proceedings with full attention. Khari is staring at her own feet.
Moira, having covered her mouth with her scented funerary scarf, still tries hard not to sigh with relief when the scrolls arrive. She passes the scrolls to Selja in this order, gesturing towards the body: Decompose Corpse, then Restore Corpse, then Gentle Repose.
Should have thought of this beforehand, but this is just in time!
...if we end up with a reasonably intact Arnholde, Moira will push the webbing into the fire (if mostly safe), delegating this task if possible. She will then start scrubbing the body with Prestidigitation and otherwise making it presentable. She works as fast as she can carefully manage.
......
Assuming the crisis subsides, she will then shift gears into more conventional professional mourning, unwrapping her scarf and offering what comfort she can by a steady presence and a willingness to talk, hug, or cry it out.
She keeps an eye on Khari and Devy, knowing that these women share a bond of mutual love for Arnholde that could help them process the tragedy. She's not banking on it, but if Devy can just appreciate Khari's grief, that's a seed planted. She watches with interest even as she tries to comfort the mourners with soft music and calming words.
She sings "I am Weary (Let me Rest)"
She might need a little rest herself, but she musters the energy to sing well enough.
That's very clever! Selja nods in understanding as Moira sorts the scrolls in order. She takes each one and begins to intone the magics.
Decompose Corpse.
Restore Corpse.
Gentle Repose.
She hopes very much that Shelyn will bless her attempt to restore Arnholde.
..........
When Moira begins her song, Selja recognizes it and sings harmonies around the melody.
"You have a beautiful voice, Moira," she says, when the opportunity presents itself. "A real gift for giving peace to mourners."
Beneath the cover of the silk cocoon, Arnholde's rotten body magically deconstructs and reconstructs and becomes preserved. Moira lifts the covers and reveals a cleaned and groomed Arnholde. The Baroness lets out a final wailing cry and rushes towards her son's still form. She caresses his face and looks to Moira with teary eyes, "Thank you... For everything you've done."
Everyone stands back and gives Lady Devy her space. As Moira breaks out in song and Selja joins in accompaniment, all stand in silent appreciation of the funerary tune.
As everyone pays their respects, Lady Devy approaches Khari, who has been standing apart all the while. She embraces the young woman with a hug, "My dear child... I know we haven't been close, but I know Arnholde thought the world of you." She holds Khari's hands in hers, and looks down to see the family heirloom ring around Khari's fingers. "He had plans to marry you... He spoke to me about it. I... I forbade it. But..." she meets Khari's eyes "But now, I've seen you're dedication. You've braved the wilds with these folks and you've recovered my son. I owe you my world. I think it's only fair that I carry out my son's wishes. I would like to extend an offer... To adopt you as my daughter. You will become heir to the Barony, and when I die, the land and title will be yours. It will live on in the Devy name, in Arnholde's name."
Bassy gasps, and Khari stammers, looking to Moira and Fenchurch for guidance.
Túrante becomes notably better once magic is applied. She squeezes Liamae's shoulder and says, "Thank you... I feel like I can see through the end of this. But I could use some cuddles afterward."
"Lucky for you, I have cuddles to spare," Liamae says, pressing herself against Turante as she pulls her into a warm embrace.
Selja gasps in surprise as Khari is named to be the heir. A story of love enduring death, she thinks, as she hopes the girl accepts.
Moira finally starts crying when Selja cones in with the harmonies. She doesn't stop until well after the scene is over and she has had time to hug Khari, French, and the Baroness.
Meanwhile…
Iagon follows behind Liamae and Túrante, coughing and wheezing, as they return to the Wise Piper Inn. The Inn is busy serving dinner. Some patrons recognize you from being in the crowd in front of the Devy Manor. The room grows quiet with conflicting emotions as the three of you enter, but after a moment, a single, older gentleman stands and raise his mug in toast.
Iagon is looking a little pale and wane, cold sweat on his brow. He mumbles "I’m not feeling well, think I oughta sleep this off," and excuses himself to his room upstairs. Even Liamae is starting to feel a bit stuffy in her sinuses, and aches in her joints, and the skin on her arms is starting to itch.
Talia waves the two elven women down and hands them an envelope, "Te blue skinned fella left tis mornin’ with te blonde officer. He said ta give ye tis."
[i]I have consulted the harrow and the cards foretell unsettling troubles ahead. Fallen towers, rising devils, and a darkness eats at the very heart of the forest. Ortego seems to believe the hobgoblins pose a threat to the region, and she also believes Galene’s Mother has her missing crew. I will escort the Captain along with Miro and son back to Arenway to appeal to the Vice Admiral to take action against the Crimson Bow. With fortune on my side, I hope to reunite with you at the Lambert Trading Post when you return from your mission. May the fates be with you, friends.
~Attai
"Shelyn’s Grace, ye look a fright. Take a seat, what can I get ye from te kitchen, loves?"
Moira pulls Khari aside. "What do you think? You'll have to tell her about your unique self before accepting the offer, but I think she'll understand. I don't love the nobility myself, so I wouldn't blame you if you want a simpler life than being the next Baroness of Belhaim. But you could learn to do a good job, and at least you'll have the honor of earning your title instead of having it handed to you by your daddy or mommy..."
She realizes she's babbling a bit, so she reels it in and waits to hear what Khari has to say.
Khari looks even further troubled.
Meanwhile…
Iagon follows behind Liamae and Túrante, coughing and wheezing, as they return to the Wise Piper Inn. The Inn is busy serving dinner. Some patrons recognize you from being in the crowd in front of the Devy Manor. The room grows quiet with conflicting emotions as the three of you enter, but after a moment, a single, older gentleman stands and raise his mug in toast.
Iagon is looking a little pale and wane, cold sweat on his brow. He mumbles "I’m not feeling well, think I oughta sleep this off," and excuses himself to his room upstairs. Even Liamae is starting to feel a bit stuffy in her sinuses, and aches in her joints, and the skin on her arms is starting to itch.
Talia waves the two elven women down and hands them an envelope, "Te blue skinned fella left tis mornin’ with te blonde officer. He said ta give ye tis."
"Shelyn’s Grace, ye look a fright. Take a seat, what can I get ye from te kitchen, loves?"
Túrante says, "I seem to be recuperating just as my friends are coming down with the cough. Do you have any hot soup today? Something simple would be nice. It's been a rough day."
"Liamae, would you care for anything in particular, or do you just want to hurry to bed and rest?"
"Perhaps some bread, cheese, and wine for me," Liamae says.
Moira, seeing Khari's paralysis, realizes that this is too much to put on the kid tonight. She runs interference for the spiderwoman, heading back to the Baroness of Belhaim and saying, "That's the most generous offer I've ever seen extended and Khari is overwhelmed. She's also very young, she's been fighting and on the road for days, and now she's at the funeral of her beloved. You two have much to discuss before concluding such a weighty bargain. I think it will be better if we return in the morning to discuss her assumption of the barony, if you'll grant her that."