Each of the gnolls is the size of a large man, but their corpses prove easy enough to hide in the gatehouse. The dire boar on the other hand, is easily heavier than the four of them put together. It takes a considerable amount of effort from the entire party to drag it across the dirt and into the ruined structure. It is a tight fit, but there is just enough room to conceal the bodies - for the time being.
The gatehouse itself is filthy, the ground covered in Old Bonegrinder's excrement, as well as evidence of past meals. Small chunks of meat spot the area, in addition to a multitude of crushed bones, some of them human.
As you finish hiding evidence of the battle, a loud, bloodcurdling howl rings through the air. The source of the sound is not apparent, but from its closeness you can tell that it definitely originated from somewhere in the village.
The road beyond the gatehouse continues at a steady incline, toward the upper tier of the village. As you reach the top of the slope, the road reaches a bend. At least a dozen ruined buildings dot the area ahead, their density increasing closer to the battle market. One building however, is strangely more intact than any other before it ().
The elaborate, multi-domed building is plainly a church or temple - from the sun iconography adorning the untarnished parts of its exterior, it is clearly dedicated to the goddess Sarenrae. From what you can tell at a glance, the edifice's western side is what appears to be a graveyard.
"The Dawnflower shines upon us. A sign this is, a sign from Her. How else be it that her edifice would survive so much better than the rest." He pauses, "Still, we needn't rush down like rutting boys to the first rites of Spring. We can be more circumspect about our haste I think."
"Roast chicken is it? And here I thought you were just happy to see me," Thurrios turns from Julius with a smirk.
Anapa shakes his head with a grin. In the heat of battle this banter was common among his allies. Though he needs to keep a cool head. If at all possible. For if he gives in to his blood's desires, things might turn ugly
"Let us continue"
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"Indeed. Where shall we go then?"
Most of the words between the others go over Narkû head, as he only is able to think about one thing as he hears them.
When did we have roast chicken?
He breaks from his thought exercise at the mention of 'Let us continue.' and 'Where shall we go then?', saying "How about there?", as he points to the church.
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Current Effects: Whetstone edge on falchion and scimitar, +1 damage on next successful hit;
Narkû look at Julius and then look in the distance to the top of the build the boar was in...
"And you ask this question after we just covered over 600 feet to get to here? And they say I am scattered..."
He probably doesn't even have any roasted chicken.
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Current Effects: Whetstone edge on falchion and scimitar, +1 damage on next successful hit;
"What harm could going a little further do?"
"An hour i doubt will make a difference, i say we scout out one more building, then go back to our charge"
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"Yeah, we can press on to the church, so long as nobody gets any kinda funny ideas about converting me!" says Sarala, "But right after that, we really need to get our fellow Pathfinder back to the caravan, 'cause he doesn't look like he's in any kind of fighting condition if a gnoll comes and visits."
She pauses a moment and says, "Can I see that whetstone for a second, Narkû?"
Narkû digs out the whetstone and tosses it to Sarala.
"Fine, fine, we can retrieve him and take him back."
Your party approaches the holy edifice, eyes open for any possible gnoll activity. There is none to be had, and you reach the church's doors without incident. The solid wooden doors - remarkably free of rot - are rather heavy, but they pull open easily easily enough. You usher into the building, closing the doors behind you.
Much like the structures before it, the only light comes from the sun, its rays finding their way within through various openings, not all of them caused by structural damage. But there is light enough to see the horrific carnage within the church.
A stark contrast to its exterior, the interior walls appear to have long been demolished and gutted. Ash and fire stain the interior of the building, and signs of violent battle are everywhere. Several skeletons litter the floor of the structure, many of them wielding weapons coated with rust. About a dozen of them are garbed in familiar red chitin armor - the same worn by Almah's bodyguards, with only a few minor deviations in design. The rest appear to have either been clerics of Sarenrae, or even common folk. It is hard to tell, as in addition to their flesh, much of their clothing has been destroyed by fire or decay.
Toward the center of the church is a forlorn stairway, leading down to darkness.
Is it then our belief that the corpses in the red armor are from an order or organization identical/similar to Almah's, but possibly from an earlier time, or slightly different variety?
Narkû moves through the church, poking and proding the skeletons as he goes, sure that they will spring up and try to attack him as soon as he passes them by.
He will gather up anything that looks shinny or sparkly as he goes.
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Current Effects: Whetstone edge on falchion and scimitar, +1 damage on next successful hit;
Narku jostles some of the skeletons, but much to his relief (or disappointment), none of them move in response. From what he can tell, any valuables that were in the church have long been stripped away. The weapons strewn about are about as worthless as they are useless in their current state; the armor of the Pactmaster Guardsmen on the other hand, is in surprisingly prime condition.
Thurrios will scan the area with detect magic. I don't suppose any of the suits are magic?
"Well built armor this, but I'm not, strictly speaking, entitled to wear those colors. I shall claim a suit, and make some modifications that will ensure I am not confused for one of their order."
Anapa frowns a bit but there is nothing for him to object but his own beliefs. At each body he stops and says a short prayer in ancient Osirian
"May your life move on, may your soul be found worthy"
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"Agree with Thurrios, this is good armor and not in the condition of their weapons. But why have the gnolls not come and gathered up this armor? And was this a fight between the Packmaster's guards and these followers of Sarenrae or their combined efforts to defeat an unknown group?"
"Narkû will watch your backs incase something still guards these corpses."
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Current Effects: Whetstone edge on falchion and scimitar, +1 damage on next successful hit;
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"Well, maybe not Undrella's boyfriend," says Sarala, crouching to get a better look at where all the bodies are. "It looks like the armour guys and the village guys got into a fight with each other and it ended with a lot of mutual murder. Any idea why that might have happened, Thurrios? The priests are from your sect after all, right?"
"Sect has such negative connotations, you know? I have no idea what happened here."
"You do rapealize that there are quite a few different "teams" within the overall group of people who worship The Dawnflower, right? In addition to being ever vigilant against the Rough Beast, it is my honor, my duty, and my pleasure to search out those who preach or practice heretically. To those heretics which I find is given the option to amend their ways, and conform to her true teachings."
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"Well... it seems like this team of Sarenrae worshippers got pretty brutally murdered by the armour team," says Sarala, gesturing between the two teams. "I don't know if they're heretics, but it seems to me unfair that the armour guys who were probably well armed ganged up on these relatively helpless villagers and priests who I possibly mistakenly assumed were on your team."
She hops back up to her feet and starts looking around for something to climb so that she can get a better perspective on things, "In terms of theology, just out of curiosity, how bad are heretics compared to, say I dunno, pagans?"
Thurrios furrows his brow, "are we not all pagans? The word pagan, strictly speaking, is simply a word used to describe one that worships or recognizes the existence of more than one god, to include a full pantheon. While I may reserve my primary worship to Sarenrae, would I not be a fool to recognize Pharasma's reign when I strike down my enemies? Would I not be wise to drop a coin to Besmara before undertaking a sea voyage? Should I not praise Shelyn for the wonders presented at the great Opera houses? And must I not recognize the contribution of Asmodeus, the firstborn, in defeating the Rough Beast?"
He thinks for a moment, "So, pagans are everywhere, and clearly do not and cannot concern me, but heretics, now heretics are those who would claim to follow the Dawnflower, but have perverted her teachings, here," he pats his breast, where you can see the outline of a small book, "are the true words of Sarenrae, and the faithful follow them true, and practice only as she requires it."
He looks around the temple, "So, the Pactmasters were fighting the priesthood and the people here you say? Well, we shall put the question to Almah when we return. Is there anything further for us to see here? Other rooms, or a crypt beneath?"
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"Yeah, look at how they're facing and how the bodies fell... unless there was something real skinny and long right between them, they were in combat together." Sarala approaches the fallen to stand next to them and give an example of a combat stance, gesturing to try and help the others imagine what she's talking about.
"And yeah, I guess we are all pagans, but I meant it in a sense I'd have a harder time defining. My people received missionaries sometimes, and they would refer to us as pagans. I think it might be a special case, 'cause of worship of a local deity that my people were all about," says Sarala, going back to search for a climbing spot.
"Hmmm, yes, perhaps they were using a term more like 'infidel' then? There are some who improperly use the word pagan, to be sure. 'Infidel' perhaps is a better word for what you describe, it possibly best describes someone who 'believes in something different than what I believe.' With that definition, one could argue that, say an Asmodean, is an infidel from my perspective, and I to his, and yet, neither of us would deny that the other's deity exists, only that we each choose to follow our own. In fact, even among the people of the East, they revere many of the same gods as in the West, but call them by different names, and what care would Shelyn have, that she be called The Lady of Chrysanthemums by the Minkai? None I'll wager, and so saying I honor Desna."
Having not seen any danager while Sarala and Thurrios banter back and forth, Narkû grows bored and goes to investigate the decending stairway, trusting his darvision to spot any danger.
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Current Effects: Whetstone edge on falchion and scimitar, +1 damage on next successful hit;
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Julius walks into the temple, and his jaw drops in shock. His eyes wide, they dart to and fro, an increasingly alarmed and distraught expression making itself known. His actions begin to mimic his eyes, and he starts to flit back and forth examining with much consternation the circumstances for which the humanoid remains came to lay here.
"No...no, No, NO!" Julius whisper shouts though the last is more like elevated normal speech.
"This is all wrong! This is a temple of Sarenrae! This place should have been a bastion for these people against this so called Carrion King or whatever came before him. I expected to find examples of holy magic to study, to find some remnant of power here! Instead...what do we find?"
Turning to regard Thurrios, Julius says with heat, "You have my sincere condolences, Furious One, that here among your own place of worship what we find is...is...this!" Julius angrily sweeps his hand to indicate the apparent terrible desecration. The twisted and mangled remains of bones and what one can only imagine were once finely decorated walls all covered in layers of soot seem to emphasize the unexpected rage of the scholarly arcanist.
"All of the history...lost! All of the fine magical ingredients that could have been donated instead of throwing away their lives fighting each other! Did you know I once heard a half-orc's heart aids greatly with rage inducing potions?" Julius shakes his head.
"And what about these?? Julius pushes some bones with his foot. "Look at all the bones that could have been used to create charms or skeletal champions. Or even...a bone golem! Why would anyone leave all this behind! Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggghhh!!!"
Julius' outrage continues unabated until Narkû begins his descent. Then with a sudden depressed sigh, Julius approaches his fellow Pathfinder and friend Sarala and gives her an unexpected hug, more like a clinging glomp, and suddenly seems to deflate. "It's horrible, this is all just horrible."
Then he sighs, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He sniffs, wipes the tear away, and then surveys the room with a different perspective. "Well, let's see what we can find here."
His lingering disgust at the whole scene of wasted arcane materials clouds his vision for anything that might be of use or value in the room.
Snapping his fingers and muttering magical words, Julius calls forth four small burning spheres which slowly rotate around his head. He steps to the top of the stairs where Narkû just disappeared, and says, "Let's get on with the search then. If the Pactmasters really did have something to do with all this, I suspect we're going to want to be certain of what their goal was." Apparently he had been paying attention to everyone's discussion after all.
"I imagine if this was their last stand against the crimson armored soldiers, the clerics and townsfolk brought whatever they most wanted protected into the depths of this temple. Perhaps it is still there." His gaze sweeps Thurrios, Sarala, Anapa, and Marossa.
"Shall we go?"
Not being of the same faith he did not interfere. He then nods at the last part
"Either way, these people stood up and fight back. This is what stands out to me. Even in a situation where they should have fled according to normal townsfolk, they resisted. This is very commendable. I hope to make their sacrifice worth it."
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"Indeed, but if the Pactmasters slaughtered these people for their treasures, whatever they may be, we will need to be wary, lest the order our slaughter for the same. I will not deliver into their hands, what these people gave their lives to protect, without fully understanding what happened here."
Narku descends the stairway, his eyes piercing through the thick darkness. The stairs go on for at least hundred steps before abruptly coming to an end, where the half-orc comes across a heavily barred door. A strange metal plate covered with a series of glowing, irregularly etched lines mars the surface of this door, shedding dull red illumination on the lower steps.
"Hold you hands for a moment. I do not trust this..."
He closes his eyes then opens them, black as death now
"Anubis, illuminate that which is unholy" he speaks in Ancient Osirian again
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Julius assumes everyone is in accord then, and he sends the burning orbs of light down the stairs ahead of him following Narkû's path. He examines the passage for signs of damage as seen in the room above.
If nothing unexpected happens, upon reaching Narkû's position, Julius examines the glowing runes and sigils on the door carefully. He extends his magical sense out to see what he can determine of the power in or even behind the door.
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Sarala pats Julius's back sympathetically and says, "There, there, buddy. Maybe we'll find some other well preserved stuff that you can use to make an atrocious skeleton monster of your very own. As for the history lost... yeah, that's a damn shame." She gives another pat to the arcanist's shoulder and then nods, "Yeah, let's head on down."
She takes up the rear, or near to it, after the others.
I'll take some spellcraft on detect magic also. If necessary, I can read magic.
"The entire church seem to have been desecrated. This is an abomonation that should not be left unchecked "
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