As Fezzik squeezes in there's a bit of a bustle - some folks get up, murmuring to each other. This is nothing new; Fezzik has had ugly reactions to his arrival in places before. But usually the folk in Hommlet are at least polite. And certainly he's worked hard to earn their trust.
A pair of farmers, two laborers, and the local carpenter all head upstairs in a bit of a hurry.
As Fezzik moves to try to fit into an old, armless chair in one corner of the large main room, the entire group comes back down the stairs, fidgeting and moving slowly - almost comically, as you can at first just see their feet, carefully taking the steps one at a time, moving in synch. They come down from the upstairs landing struggling to fit down the staircase as a group while hefting something large and heavy.
Finally they get down the stairs and now you can all see what they're carrying: a chair. A massive, carefully-crafted, hardwood chair.
The group fumbles its way across the dining room and they lower the chair near the fireplace at one of the old, round tables that's graced by pitted varnish and many knife scars.
The carpenter takes off his hat and says, "Sergeant Fezzik, we wanted to show our appreciation, so the boys helped out and I made you this."
One of the farmers says, "That's right! People may say ugly things behind closed doors, but we wanted to know that you were especially welcome here in Hommlet. You've done right by us and everyone should know it."
A laborer adds, "If Rufus says you're good enough to protect our village, that's good enough for me!"
The other farmer chimes in, "We wanted you to know you'll always have a place here. So we made one for you."
Focused on his meal, Fezzik doesn't notice the men go upstairs nor does he notice that moments later, the room got quieter as everyone else paused what they were doing to see what was coming down the stairs. Not until he raises his mug to wash down his food does he notice everyone in front of him is looking the same way. Without lowering his drink, he slowly turns his head to see what the others are looking at.
He raises an eyebrow when he sees the men carrying the chair across the room and lowers his mug when they all turn towards him. He looks surprised when the carpenter says the chair is for him and completely misses the comment that people talk about him. His cheeks seem to get a little darker as if he were blushing and his eyes get a little watery. He stands and smiles at the men, a chunk of lamb meat still stuck in his teeth, and walks over to them. He shakes their hands and carefully takes a seat in his new chair. Nodding satisfactorily, he again thanks the men and motions for them to sit and join him, the smile never leaving his face.
"Thank you. This one of nicest things someone done for me," he says as he tells the server to bring them all a drink.
Bataleigha grins as the townsfolk finally show some recognition and gratitude toward her half-ogre comrade, one of the rare times the cleric's flashed a full smile. Clapping Fezzik on the shoulder, she takes a moment to also thank the giant for all he's done for the party before making her way over to the bar.
Catching the innkeeper's eye, she quietly tells him that she'll pay for the food and drink for the group of townsfolk who crafted Fezzik's new chair. Then she returns to the table, seemingly relaxing, but actually scanning the room for anyone who seems unhappy or angry at the townsfolks' act of kindness.
A broad smile crosses Avendryl's face as the townsfolk present Fezzik with his new chair. Following the presentation and Fezzik's seemingly heartfelt thank yous, the bard picks a particularly celebratory song for his next number.
Orveiss, who had just stood up from the stool as Fezzik walked in, stands staring at the giant with his eyes as wide as saucers. His smile seems fixed on his face, and he very pointedly does not move when he sees many of the inn's regulars head upstairs in a hurry. His eyes flick around him and note that the others who have entered do not seem troubled. They must be with him, he decides. Then the locals return with the chair for him, and Orveiss's smile broadens in genuine delight. That bodes well, he thinks.
The lanky pale elf sidles closer to Bataleigha, not sneaking up on her but trying to catch her eye. By way of explanation he points at the innkeeper, and explains "Ostler Gundigoot says you're a warrior-priest, and he implied you've been out smiting the wicked. Is that true?" He doesn't speak particularly quietly, and he can easily be overheard by the others in her party. "I'm called Orveiss, a traveling scholar from Celene. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? For, uh, for my book, the book I'm writing?"
Bataleigha smiles politely at the stranger and ostler's description of her. "My parents would be so proud if they knew," she quips. After sizing up the elf (being a bit suspicious of strangers, given the cult's proximity to Hommlet and the spies it planted in the past), Bat nods and invites Orveiss to the table, introducing him to the others.
"So...what's the subject of this book you're writing?" she inquires once introductions are finished.
Orveiss's eyes shine with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's a fascinating topic: The Battle of Emrity Meadows. It took place very near here, just north of this little village, and many of the people here have inherited stories and knowledge that is invaluable-- invaluable!-- to a researcher like me. My particular focus is on Prince Thrommel, the then crown prince of Furyondy. I have been trying to discover what happened to him after the clash, for there are no records of his body or his possessions returning to his country or turning up elsewhere."
He eyes the group excitedly. "You've been exploring the environs, right? Have you found anything unusual? Smiting evil, now that sounds like you've uncovered something dangerous, something that might be worthy of inclusion in my little account. Perhaps you would agree to allow me to accompany you on your next expedition? I have some skill with magic and with a blade, I wouldn't be any trouble for you and I could possibly make myself useful in other ways."
He self-consciously places his hand on the hilt of a slightly-larger-than-normal-size sword that is traced in silver etchings and mystic runes, and has an icy blue stone in the pommel.
The farmers and the carpenter gladly sit down with Fezzik and the team, jostling at the large table, as one of the titular "wenches" of the tavern brings by some of the local famous ale for everyone. Pitches are laid out and beer and ale flow freely in the tankards and mugs.
Talk naturally drifts to matters like local business and weather - the kinds of things that interest farmers - and, perhaps because of all the recent "cult" business, nobody seems to want to pry too deeply into the team's recent forays. A few bits of news do merit a little interest:
"You're a scholar too, eh? That fellow over there said he's a scholar as well. Looking for any signs of old texts or things like that in some of the ruins around these parts. Of course there's just the old moathouse, and that's been reclaimed... not sure he'll find anything useful."
"Gotta say, Sister Bataleigha, that you've got ol' Canon Terjon a bit worked up. He did all this effort to get a church of St. Cuthbert here in town, fightin' with the Old Faith and whatnot, and now a warrior-priestess of Pelor comes in and starts smackin' heads and rightin' wrongs? He's scared he'll lose his fledgling congregation!"
"Mister Silvermoon, you know, we haven't had a proper bard in these parts in... well heck, I can't remember the last time! Y'know someone told me one of the groups of the Gnarley Rangers had a bard in 'em but that sounds silly, a musician out in the woods while they're tryin' to sneak up on giants? But I dunno, maybe you can magic a giant to sleep with a good song! Haw!"
"Gotta say, Sister Bataleigha, that you've got ol' Canon Terjon a bit worked up. He did all this effort to get a church of St. Cuthbert here in town, fightin' with the Old Faith and whatnot, and now a warrior-priestess of Pelor comes in and starts smackin' heads and rightin' wrongs? He's scared he'll lose his fledgling congregation!"
Bat seems amused by those words. "You can tell the canon he has nothing to worry about; I'm afraid I'll be too busy with the 'head-smacking' for the near future to do any serious proselytizing for Pelor. Besides, there might be enough evil lurking in these parts to keep both faiths busy."
"Mister Silvermoon, you know, we haven't had a proper bard in these parts in... well heck, I can't remember the last time! Y'know someone told me one of the groups of the Gnarley Rangers had a bard in 'em but that sounds silly, a musician out in the woods while they're tryin' to sneak up on giants? But I dunno, maybe you can magic a giant to sleep with a good song! Haw!"
Avendryl smiles and says in a self-deprecating manner, "Well, I'm so sure of how proper of a bard I am. That being said, it's not all that uncommon for students of the Fochlucan college to travel the wilds trying to learn about all manner things."
Giants included." he adds with a wink.
|
Looks around at his companions. "We really should quit resting on our laurels. There was evil we left afoot in the temple, and they are probably gathering their forces to invade. if not at least they are setting traps for us, so the longer with dither, the worse off!"
Looks around, "And our trapfinder seems to have flitted off..."
Orveiss raises an eyebrow at Silver Knight. "Temple? Evil? Sounds like you folk have been quite busy. I wouldn't call myself a 'trapfinder' but certainly I would be willing to lend my blade to your cause."
A faux-hurt look crosses Avendryl's face.
"You know, Domeric, the little, winged lizard wasn't the only one capable of spotting and disarming traps. Frankly, I'd be more concerned about the lack of arcane firepower now that Zinnath and Tronar have...taken on other responsibilities." he says, trying to put the pair's leaving diplomatically.
Turning first to the new volunteer, and then his companions he says, "It's not the same as arcane firepower, but another blade wouldn't hurt."
Orveiss smiles contentedly, ignoring his slight discomfort at being a subject of discussion. "Arcane firepower, you say? I don't know what your previous companions could do, but I assure you that I have studied battle-magic extensively-- as every good elf from Celene should!"
A few hours wear on as you have a good, heavy meal, drink a few mugs of ale or beer, and sing a few songs. The mood in Hommlet is definitely upbeat: Either the people here don't know the true threat that the Temple cult presents, or they are very confident in your ability to deal with it.
Orveiss himself has a few stories to tell about his training from Celene and his skills as a battle-wizard in the classical fashion of the elves - the hybrid talents for which they were renowned in history.
After several clinked glasses and a few swapped tales you pack in for a long day, knowing that you will have to return to the Temple soon to try to finish the cult there, and aware that you know far too little about it...
I'd probably go ahead and pay the local weaponsmith a visit, see if he has any masterwork longswords available.
You make your way back to the temple, past Nulb, and down the stairs.
There's no sign of the gnolls that you had left behind.
The door to the area with the warriors that you fought now has a heavy chain across it.
What would you like to do?
This trip is your first actual encounter with the Temple.
The team passes along a road to a small, bubbling village in the swamp, filled with river pirates and assorted scum. From there they follow an unused trace road through part of the wood and, at last, to a clearing with a ruined stone wall around it, complete with partially-fallen towers. The Temple is a massive edifice, looming over the landscape, hewn from blocks and with great, darkened windows. Frescoes and murals in faded, chipped paint depict various blasphemies and perversions.
Even so, it seems to have no guards, no locks... nobody inside.
The team moves readily into the west wing and down a staircase that leads to a twisting set of dungeon passages. It seems that the space beneath the temple is even more expansive than the floor above. Footprints and blood smears show that this place is still inhabited, and occasionally you hear shouts, barks, or clangs in the distance.
"How strange, this grand Temple seems empty on the surface. I wonder where all of these enemies came from, and how they sustain themselves? They must have brought a great many supplies with them." He shakes his head in wonder.
"Is there another way in, or do you want me to try and pick lock on that chain?" Avendryl asks.
Bat whispers replies to some of Orveiss's questions. "We've found some storerooms, both here and in a moathouse not too far off. We also think the temple may have bandit allies who raid merchant caravans for their cargoes."
The cleric nods for Avendryl to proceed. If it comes to breaking the chains, she has no doubt that the mighty Fezzik can eventually shatter them.
Avendryl traces the chains and finds a large padlock, which he quickly opens. There are no signs of traps on the door.
Once the chain is unthreaded, the door opens easily, but there are no (immediate) signs of other people nearby.
While working on the lock Avendryl comments, "Now that I think of it, as big as this place is, there has to be more than one entrance. Moving goods in and out would be relatively easy at night...especially for creatures with darkvision. If I were a betting man, I would imagine they were getting most of the what they need from the river pirates out of Nulb."
After opening the door, Avendryl holds up a finger to his mouth, instructing his companions to keep any noise to a minimum before whispering, "At least three people talking that direction." he says pointing to the north.
Orveiss listens carefully when the door is opened.
Hearing nothing, he ponders what he can deduce about the temple, based on his studies.
He nods to Avendryl, and muses quietly, "In a sense, then, this is the 'back door' to the temple, not the entrance. We might find one of the other entrances more securely protected."
He considers. "After the Battle of Emrity Meadows, I read that the victorious forces sacked the temple, but they didn't tear it down, perhaps because no one controls these lands and could devote the necessary resources. However, I have read accounts that they did weave powerful wards on the temple, imprisoning some mighty enemy within it like a demon lord or demigod-- perhaps something that they could not themselves defeat."
Bataleigha raises an eyebrow, seeming impressed with Orveiss's breadth of knowledge, but she says nothing when Avendryl warns of voices ahead.
The battle-priestess huddles the party and whispers, "I can cast sound burst from a distance; anyone else have any ranged attack? I'm wary about charging in blindly; they've had time to prepare for our return."
Fezzik points to his javelin at Bat's question and nods in agreement to her concern. "They will see light and get ready. Maybe find other way around," he suggests.
"I can throw my sword with some accuracy," he seems to brag, puffing up a little at Bat's question, "and of course I can fire my longbow. But surely they know these tunnels and will expect us to come from either direction? We know where they are now-- why not simply charge them? It is a greater advantage to us than exploring a different route."
Domeric pauses to try to sense evil. The pervasive foreboding of the Temple presses in on his consciousness, and he is able to discern a few flitting mild presences - possibly weak undead or evil acolytes?
Domeric returns to the skeleton-filled hallway. For now, it seems quiescent.
The paladin can spot, in the dim light, that the slanting passage heads to another hallway, not as wide as the bone-filled one, with a passage north on the far west side and darkness beyond to the east.
As they walk back to the hall of skeletons, Fezzik checks to see if the quad crossbow is still where they left it and is disabled. He seems deep in thought (if that's even possible) about a plan of attack.
The crossbow is still dismantled, but the captive gnolls are gone.
Poke poke! You guys need to decide which way to go!
You head back to the ogre chamber and, given plenty of time, shut the door behind you to avoid intrusions and search the room thoroughly.
Orveiss eventually discovers a secret door on the western wall, with the trigger a small stone that can be pressed in to trigger the counterweight and make the door swing open!
In addition, you discover under a barrel a heavy flagstone that Fezzik is able to move. Undeneath it is a cavity festooned with loose silver pieces (870 in total) and a silver bracelet adorned with six azurites.