Eldramin, pondering a moment at the wealth of information provided by the reticent madman, asked another question. "Ah, I see, you are quite right. Are there any other things you feel disinclined to tell me? What manner of dark-things' heads shall I deliver to you?"
Dragomir rubs at his head.
Hard to beat thinking like that - we could be anyone... but sayin' theres monsters under the church? Kords Blade! That can't be right!
"What? No, Kord's got nothing to do with it. It's Merikka's temple being despoiled by cultists worshiping who-knows-what out in the Rushmoors."
The voice pauses a moment, as if thinking.
"Why are you still standing on my stoop?"
Very well then, Master Ramne, we will return later with proof of our righteous intent, Kierdan says to the door.
He turns to the others and, with a shrug of his shoulders, nods his head in the direction they came. Shall we?
Eldramin nods, his line of inquiry finished.
Errr... so we head to the temple and kill everybody and everything? I'm not the sharpest knife in the box but that probably isn't a good plan. We seeing the Mayor next?
Walking away from the building, Eldramin answers Dragomir, "We keep our options open. The minute we draw swords, we lose all but one option."
It would seem prudent to call on the mayor first and compare notes before we rush off to assault the town's temple.
Dragomir seems a little relieved by Eldramin's and Kieran's words.
Having finished, for the time being, your strange discussion with the hermit, you turn back east toward the village proper.
Stealth would be impossible in the middle of town, so you abandon any pretense of subterfuge and make your way at a brisk but unhurried pace back across the bridge before turning east toward the mayor's residence.
This time you are sure you see figures peering out from the windows of the Golden Grain Inn, and a man wearing a stiff gray surcoat over brigandine nods at you from the porch of the constabulary. His eyes take in your numbers and weapons, but he says nothing as you pass, following the narrow road east through the closely-packed cottages.
The mayor's home is set back from the road, partially screened by a pair of massive elms. It is by far the most imposing house in the village: The
walls appear to have been recently whitewashed and the roof gleams with new wooden shingles. A wide porch crosses the entire front of the house, and columns -- carved into leafy patterns by a skilled craftsman -- supporting the overhanging roof.
Leading your mule into the carefully manicured yard, you approach the heavy oak door. Like the columns, it has been carved with intricate detail. In the center, farmers pick grapes and make wine, while on the outskirts elves move among the limbs of towering trees.
A worn bronze knocker hangs from the center of the door. You bang sharply three times. A moment later the door opens a hands-breadth, revealing the stubbled face of a human man, gray-haired but still hale. He has the suspicious look of a guardsman as he looks you over, noting your mule.
"And what can I do for you? Hamish at the village store will buy your wares, or sell you some -- his shop is right back there, at the bend, with the three long grains on the sign."
He scowls, impatiently, as if waiting for you to turn around or respond.
"Good Sir, might we come in for a moment and discuss matters of our travel? It was a rough trip here and we have been made to feel rather... uncomfortable in the open of your town. We have information, and questions in return."
May the light of the Sun Father illuminate your path. Are you the mayor, Sir? We have come a long way and would very much appreciate some of your time to discuss the , um, situation here.
Aye - and you have the look of a man who's seen some trouble in your time. We're here to help - I'm a farmer by birth and the sheaves of wheat are nearly bending for want of harvest, yet none working the fields. I don't farm anymore but maybe there is something else I can do.
"Let them in Traver," a voice calls from behind the grizzled man at the door. "Few enough travelers pass through these days, we can at least show some hospitality."
Traver looks less than pleased at the order, but swings the door wide and steps aside anyway, pointing you deeper into the house, which is lit by high windows that appears to be designed to catch the light. Following his gaze, you move down the central hallway to a sitting room that faces the millpond.
Two large doors have been thrown open, allowing the fresh air inside. A middle-aged man stands at a worktable, woodworkers tool spread out before him as he carves a vine-like pattern into the slats of pair of shutters. It is obvious that the work you saw outside was carved by the same hand.
"Welcome - and please, have a seat," the man says, extending a calloused hand in greeting. "I am Zakarias, the mayor here in Orlane. May I offer you something to drink? I have several bottles of recent vintage that are quite good, if you wish to wash the road dust from your throats."
He nods to Travers, who disappears in the direction of what you assume is the cellar.
Zakarias sits down himself, easing into a stuffed leather chair near his worktable. He grimaces as he does so, clutching his hip -- an old war wound, if you had to guess. You notice other scars here and there that hint at past military service.
"Now, what brings you to Orlane? Wine, perhaps? Or grain? We have plenty of both - no caravans have braved the roads for a fortnight, and I fear the last to leave before that never arrived at their destinations. Perhaps you have heard of our troubles?"
"Yes, I'd say we came in search of troubles, and found the results to be a bit more outlandish than we had imagined... There are troubling rumors about the townsfolk behaving strangely. Banditry is a rather straightforward problem to deal with, but these rumors suggest a more insidious foe..."
Aye and we've not been here long and already we have heard of rumours of monsters.
The mayor raises an eyebrow at Eldramin's choice of words.
"Insidious? Yes - an appropriate description. "Causing harm in a way that is gradual or not easily noticed," if I remember my old master's lessons.
He sighs, drumming his fingers on the arms of his stuffed chair.
"You are correct that bandits would be a more straightforward foe. We've had our share, with attacks on the east and west roads and the northern farms. The lack of attacks to the south makes me think the raiders -- or at least one of the bands, if there are more -- has a camp in that direction, and is led by someone with the brains to try to cover their tracks. The Rushmoors are an ideal place for bandits to hide, if they can avoid the lizardfolk. Plenty of old ruins in which to hide."
He clasps his hands together, rubbing at his left wrist as if it pains him.
"But as you say, dealing with bandits is a relatively simple matter. A few trackers and a band of able guardsmen, or soldiers summoned from Hochoch, and we'd clear them out. But the situation here, obviously, is not that simple. So tell me, what have you observed since arriving? And what brought you here? Messages -- and messengers -- have had a way of disappearing as of late."
"Well, there was a note mentioning changelings and doppelgangers. There were mentions of disappearances followed by people reappearing as if nothing had happened. Acting strangely. The people walking around look one of two ways, either as if everyone is out to get them or they look as if nothing happened. That tells me that the paranoid ones are probably right, and gradually being replaced by the seemingly placid ones. But to what end?"
Koralyn's eyes brighten involuntarily at the mention of the wines. She tastes the dust of the road strongly in the back of her throat and the mere mention of wine seems to make her mouth dryer. Yes I'd take a glass of your recent vintage with pleasure, but ask you water it by half for me. A lady must keep her head you know.
AS the discussion turns to more practical things and the note is brought up Koralyn tells of the signs of goblin raiders and then the encounter with the druid led band. Even though their leader tried to flee we brought him down and recovered this note Eldramin mentions. Can you explain its meaning?
"Goblins you say? Well, you've done Orlane a service by eliminating them. But I dare say those are the least of our troubles," Zakarias says, sighing.
"And in some ways I wish it were changelings or doppelgangers at work. But I've seen firsthand that those who have disappeared and returned are still themselves ... physically, at least. Another, ah, concerned traveler had a run-in with a pair of townsfolk who'd gone missing and returned somewhat changed. The encounter proved fatal, but neither of the dead men transformed in any way. Magic almost certainly was involved, but it seems to be a matter of mental control, not physical change."
Traver returns with a tray laden with glasses and two pitchers, one of water and the other a dark, purple wine.
"Ah, thank you Traver. Go ahead and set it there on the table," Zakarias says, before raising his voice. "And seeing as we have enough glasses, I suppose Rolen ought to come out and join us, as well."
A moment later, a shadow falls across the room as a figure steps into the open doorway leading into the garden. An elf - who must have been hiding just outside, listening - ambles into the room.
"This, my new acquaintances, is the concerned traveler I mentioned a moment ago. Rolen is an old friend who arrived in Orlane just yesterday, after learning that his sister is among the missing. It seems, perhaps, that you might have common cause."
Dragomir gives the newcomer a friendly nod.
Well met - sorry to hear about your sister.
Rolen stops after he comes part way into the room full of visitors. He gives a half bow in the general direction of all of them. His gaze rests briefly on each individual before he nods at Dragomir. He speaks in a low, almost raspy voice. His face is somewhat scarred, but his clothes are well kept. A longbow is slung on his back with a full quiver and a sword and dagger rest on his hip.
Well met, and thank you for your concern. I can only hope my dear sister has not yet had her mind warped by whatever is causing the issue at hand.
Standing, Koralyn moves to the newcomer speaking in elven as she moves. خوش آمدید بھائی. میں نے آپ کو آپ کی بہن کی تلاش میں مدد کرنے کے لئے کیا کر سکتا ہوں کروں گا.
Welcome brother. I will do what I can to help you find your sister.
She will kiss him on the cheek in greeting is he allows.
Rolen, blushing noticeably, allows the affectionate greeting.
As they separate, Rolen again bows specifically to Koralyn, but this time, it is deeper bow, giving a knee so to speak. When he stands, he joins the others.
What are your names? I am Rolen Philandril, originally of the Dim Forest, and Hochoch as of late. I plan on finding the source of this problem and my sister, in turn. What brings all of you to Orlane?
... Err... I think we started out with one thing in mind and ended up with something else but now? We're here to help, though a reward at the end of it wouldn't go astray. I'm Dragomir, of Orlane of late but I've been all over the Gran March.
Koralyn stands tall as she begins to introduce herself I am the... but then she pauses and her posture shifts slightly as she finishes. Koralyn, just Koralyn, at least for now.
Kierdan follows the Elvish exchange between Koralyn and the newcomer, Rolen, and the formality of Rolen's second bow, with great interest.
Kierdan turns to Rolen and says, Pelor's light illuminate your path, Rolen. My name is Kierdan, lately of Hochoch. I am very please to meet you. As my friend said, we were on our way to do one thing but, when we became aware of the seriousness of the situation here in Orlane, we came straight away.
Kierdan follows the Elvish exchange between Koralyn and the newcomer, Rolen, and the formality of Rolen's second bow, with great interest.
"I am Eldramin. Mercenary work pays the bills, but arcane research keeps my interest."
Zakarias begins pouring wine as introductions conclude.
"Rolen and I were talking before you arrived, trying to determine our next move. Traver and I have identified several dozen townsfolk as under the control of ... whatever is doing this. And at least a dozen more are possibilities - it's not always obvious whether someone actually disappeared or had simply holed up at home for days due to the strangeness elsewhere in town."
The mayor hands a glass of watered wine to Koralyn before continuing.
"The villagers who are most obviously controlled tend to congregate in a few areas. The constable's office is one -- almost the entire guard is suspect at this point, which has kept us from addressing some of the other problems like those goblins you encountered. The Golden Grain Inn is another and the temple is a third. The priests there stopped conducting services several weeks ago, but I've seen some of the others slipping into the temple in the dead of night."
"Any of those places could be a point to investigate, but please be careful. I know some killing may be unavoidable, but I'd prefer not to set up a direct confrontation that will lead to rampant bloodshed."
Rolen nods his head in agreement with the locations.
Do not forget to keep a man on my sister's abode so that I know if she returns warped like the others while I investigate further, hopefully with the aid of all of you?
We have heard that there is another Inn that might still be safe. I am not sure if we need to go there but if it not yet corrupted perhaps there are people there that can be recruited to our cause, or at least bolstered in the knowing that they are not alone and that we will resist this. Koralyn adds.
As for a first target I believe it would best to investigate and liberate the church first. It seems to me the most likely place for the leaders of this fiendish menace to be housed.
Aye but its bad luck to kill a priest, thats what they all say... lets hope it doesn't come down to blood-shed.
Kierdan chuckles aloud a Dragomir's words.
Yes, my friend, I heartily agree that killing a priest is bad luck. Seriously, though, I agree that the temple would be a good place to start looking around.
"I can not fault your logic -- the temple seems to be a center of activity, and a fine place to continue your investigation," Zakarias says.
He rubs his chin, thinking.
"I can tell you a little about the place, though I admit I have not been the most avid worshipper. It is a sturdy compound, with stone walls 20 feet high surrounding the courtyard. The gates are closed tight after sunset and trained wolves are set loose upon the grounds."
"I know little of what awaits inside, I'm afraid. Past the entry hall is the main chapel, where services are held. Beyond that lie a kitchen and the offices and living quarters of the priests, but I have never visited."
He sips his wine and waits for you to ask questions or discuss your plan.
Sorry, did you say trained wolves? What sort of temple has trained wolves as guardians?
As always when he is puzzled, he rubs at his head.
Errr, attacking the walls and gates seem a bad idea. Maybe we could go to the open gates and mosey in and then just say we're travellers and we seek the blessing of whatever god is worshipped there? I think something like that would work.
Indeed, Dragomir, that may be the best approach. It is possible that we may be able to sneak off to investigate whilst some of us divert attention. Either that, or we take them all by surprise. In any event, we must be careful not to fall under the funk that has contaminated so many.
I concur. Let us appear as we are then, travelers on the road. If we can convince them through act or word that we do not know of anything amiss then perhaps we can ambush the ambushers.
"Sounds good, but let's remember not to get too separated. Divided we fall, and all that."
"The wolves are a recent addition -- perhaps a month ago," Zakarias says in response to Dragomir's question. "They seem to be acclimated to the priests and monks at the temple, but they howl all night and growl if anyone walks near the walls after dark."
The mayor looks out the doors to his garden. The sun is sitting low in the sky. You have perhaps three hours before it sets.
"Will you go now, or would you rather spend the night and head over first thing in the morning? The Slumbering Serpent is the other inn in town and I think it remains safe, or you can bed down here if you don't mind the floor. Or head over now, if you're up for it, and perhaps catching them preparing for the end of the day services."
"Hmm, is there any correlation between strange activities and phases of the moon?"
Rolen walks over, and he stands near the door, checking his arrows and armor.
I am ready now.
Unless we seek allies at the the Slumbering Serpent I can think of no reason to wait. I am ready now. You are welcome go join us mayor.
Dragomir sighs like a farmer looking at a field full of clay, the sound of one looking at a long stretch of labour.
Very well - lets do it before the 'dogs' are put out.
I agree, we should to the temple now. The longer we wait, the more attention we draw to ourselves.
"A sound plan. Let's be on the offensive and investigate this temple."
Kierdan does his best to hide his surprise at Alistair's words. He smiles and says, It must be a sound plan, my friend, for you to agree with it so readily.
"Phases of the moon?" the mayor asks, confused by Eldramin's question. "Oh, you mean the wolves. No, I haven't seen anything to indicate lycanthropy is involved. No one has shown up with bite marks, that I know of, nor have there been the kinds of attacks on animals and people one typically experiences when werewolves are about."
Seeing the group prepared to head out, Zakarias rises from his chair.
"You are welcome to leave your mule here -- we can tie him up near the woodhouse, where he can't get into the garden. And please, do try to avoid bloodshed where possible. These were good folk, once."
After making last minute preparations, you head toward the temple. You feel eyes on your group as you walk along the rutted streets, following the road as it winds to the northeast and the walled temple.
The temple of Merikka is as Zakarias described, a square cathredral of simple lines, its outer walls lined with marble carved with the images of grapes and sheaves of wheat.
Surrounding the church grounds are high walls. The southern gate is open, however, and you can make out a cluster of small wooden buildings along the wall in the northwest corner of the courtyard. At least one of the buildings must house the wolves -- as you approach, you see a man entering hauling the carcass of a freshly butchered deer into the kennel.
Moving on to the temple, you push open the tall wooden doors, which are covered in more delicate carvings of grain and grapes, as well as a woman clad in grapevines.
Inside, a short hallway leads into the central sanctuary, a large room with a tiled floor set in abstract patterns of orange, tan, brown and blue. Tapestries line the walls, depicting scenes of lush farmland and crops in various stages of maturity.
Five huge elm trunks serve as columns in the room, and a statue of Merikka, carved from a solid piece of jade, is mounted on a low dais at the north end of the room.
You see doors on the east and west walls. On the south wall are another two doors, just to the right and left of where you entered. Fonts of water stand on either side of the entrance, within arms reach of where you stand. Above one is a thin chain strung with delicate bells resembling ears of corn.