"Thank you, Leandro," answers Res. He reaches into his pouch, counts out 240 gp and offers it to Father Grimsby. "Here you go, Father Grimsby. Thank you for your service."
Father Grimsby bows slightly and performs the restoration spell on Res. It restores your drained ability.
"I can ready the other tomorrow. Is there any other services you require?" he asks.
Dr. Savarre looks at you all. "I have known Father Grimsby for some years, and have trusted him to aid me ending all manner of curses and afflictions."
Leandro kicks Tybalt in the ankle.
Tybalt hops awkwardly on one leg, rubbing his ankle in a Jethro Tull pose. "Oh...yeah...well we were discussing lycanthropy earlier. And I happened to fight some wererats a few weeks back. I got a fever and a minor malady....that I quickly overcame. But...."
He pasuses awkwardly; "You know, you can never be too careful."
Res feels the vitality return to his body after Father Grimsby's spell. "Much better, Father Grimsby," Res tells the priest. Turning to Leandro, he continues, "You will be a new man tomorrow, Leandro."
Dr. Savarre looks saddened. "Who were these wererats? Has there been any transformation yet?"
Tybalt pauses; "It was back in Richemulot, there was a full moon before we sailed here. I remember staying in that nice monastery." the bard recalls, but doesn't manage to recall much else of the stay other than the fever the rats gave him.
"Three of us were bitten," Leandro says softly. "Two of us did not change."
Tybalt smiles through clenched teeth; "Thank you Leandro, you are a good friend." There's real emotion to his words and a ssheen to his eyes.
Leandro places his hand on the young man's shoulder. "We will stand by you, Tybalt." Looking to Father Grimsby, he asks, "Can you do aught for him?"
Irikar narrows his eyes, slightly, as he considers what's been said, Well, I think we'll have to keep an eye on that one in times of stress...
"You have changed once already?" Dr. Savarre says with concern. "We must not delay; time is of the essence. The one that bit you - it was in the hospital, or the Gustalarde manor? If so, that bodes well, for in dispatching Madame Gustalarde, you likely have completed the first step already. However, the curse of lycanthropy is powerful; it does not easily release its grip. The ritual to rid a victim of the curse is perilous - indeed, sometimes fatal. It is a trial that taxes the mind, body, and spirit of a person. Father Grimsby, do you have everything we would need to undertake the ritual?"
"I fear not," Father Grimsby says. "The spells I can manage well enough. But we will require holy water - not blessed by man, but from a blessed spring, collected only by moonlight. There was such a spring in the small monastery of St. Clothilde, blessed in ages past by a great prioress, but the monastery has fallen into ruin. It is some ten miles to the South. If you could obtain a vial of the water from the spring in the monastery courtyard - collected by moonlight - and return, we could proceed."
Father Grimsby goes on to add. "Sir Res, there is a spell - perhaps you know it - known to remove curses. It is not always successful, even when I cast it. Sometimes it must be cast multiple times to rid one of a curse. If you could prepare that spell when the time comes, it could supplement my own castings in case they are not enough."
"One more question," Fr. Grimsby adds. "When you were transformed, did you taste the blood of another?"
"I do not believe so....but I cannot remember." Tybalt says in a small voice; "I do have a small pouch of granulated silver if it's required?"
The young bard dares not hope, for this is a land of nightmares, though there's obvious gratitude and a sheen to his eyes at the reverends words.
"Our good companions bound us stoutly in a safe place and watched, so we could harm no-one if we changed," Leandro offers, hand still on Tybalt's shoulder. "Nobody was harmed."
"You did well," Dr. Savarre says. "We should return to Mordentshire. We can see about horses to get you to the Abbey - and for your journey to Lamordia as well."
"Perhaps you could rest in the morning, return here to alleviate Leandro's drain, and then ride on to the Abbey from there, if you wish. You should be prepared for anything in that ruined holy place - especially in Mordent. Restless spirits abound in this place. When wandering this realm, I half expect to find a poltergeist in every outhouse or chicken coop."
Irikar pauses, then sighs, "Had I but known...", he mutters, then sighs again.
Dr. Savarre gives Irikar a rueful look. "Tybalt is fortunate to have access to powerful healing magics and folk knowledgeable about the inner workings of the curse. Most are not so fortunate, and a swift end is the quickest they may hope for."
"It is mercy," Leandro murmurs. "It is what I would have wanted, but it places a terrible burden on the merciful."
He shakes himself out of a brown study. "Dr. Savarre, I fear I will have to walk to the Abbey. I must sell a belonging to compensate Father Grimsby as it is, and I have nothing else unnecessary to part with to buy a horse. How long of a walk is it?"
"Ten miles, I believe. I would happily front the gold if need be," he offers.
Tybalt checks his pouch; "I've 80 gold pieces, they're all yours, Leandro. Walking's good for the soul, if not the soles." He tries to make light of the situation, a mask of humour to hide himself behind.
"It is mercy," Leandro murmurs. "It is what I would have wanted, but it places a terrible burden on the merciful."
Irikar stays silent, but the ancient creature around his neck begins to pat his face once more.
Irikar says, "If it's tomorrow, I could conjure us a few horses, but making enough for eveyrone means they won't last very long."
"Truly?" Leandro looks up at Irikar with a smile, the sparkle of a boy's delight in his eyes. "An hour or two would serve to bear us most of the way there, if you can manage that. Otherwise, I think we should accept Dr. Savarre's offer to lend us gold, so we arrive at the Abbey with as much daylight remaining as possible."
Irikar nods, "Tomorrow, as I've not prepared the magic today, and 6 mounts would last about 2 hours."
Volidrian pulls out some heavy looking bags from his pack, "I have yet to make use of the funds which were divvied up not so long ago. Seeing as how it is through my connection to this group that I have acquired this coinage, I see no reason not to spend them for the common good."
"Thank you, Volidrian," replies Res. Turning to Leandro, he says, "There is no need for you to sell anything, dear Leandro. I can cover your cost of restoration."
Continuing, Res says, "Let's purchase the horses using our funds; we will need them for the trip to the Abbey plus the longer trip to Lamordia. Leandro, we can get you restored in the morning and then head to the Abbey. I will prepare some remove curses for Tybalt's treatment."
Leandro bows to Volidrian and Res. "Many thanks for your aid, good comrades."
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Dr. Savarre accompanies you back to Mordentshire, and the journey is mercifully uneventful. Traveling by day is certainly safer in this realm than being out after dark.
In the morning, he can be of assistance in arranging for the acquisition of horses and other gear you might be acquiring. He suggests that you can venture back to Father Grimsby for a *restoration* on Leandro before traveling to the abbey. He offers to meet you the following day back at Father Grimsby's chapel to aid in the efforts to free Tybalt of his curse.
"Many thanks to you, good Father." Leandro wrings Father Grimsby's hand in an unusual display of appreciation.
"I have counted out the amount of gold pieces that I will believe shall be sufficient for the purchase of the requisite number of horses. It would be wise for another member of our group to effect the actual exchange however, as I myself have not had the pleasure of extensive experience with horses and thus would not have the ability to select good mounts for a reasonable price."
Having equipped yourselves for travel, and then detouring to Father Grimsby, you approach the abbey just after dusk. A waxing moon lends a pale glow to the overgrown road leading to the abbey. The sound of chirping frogs and the hoot of a lonely owl hang in the damp air.
The forgotten road winds through a copse of towering trees before opening to a clearing. A pond choked with algae and reeds occupies much of the clearing, but beside it a once stately abbey crumbles in decay. The structure seems to have been damaged by a great fire, and many sections of the building have collapsed in a heap of burnt timber and fallen masonry. A tall bell tower stands mostly unscathed, towering some 60 feet above the main entrance. Beyond, a portion of wall has collapsed, exposing the interior to a view of the stagnant pond.
Tybalt looks around to see if there was a wooden shack or stable the monks used. Or if there is an old herbal kitchen/vegetable garden that may still have the remnants of a fence to contain the animals.
"Well we'd best get the nags tucked away. If there's nothing apparent, we could stow them in the ruined area, like that burnt bit over there." He points to a small ruined area, away from the tower. "Stagnant water does them no good however."
Looking after the horses, the bard shows a less humourous but kinder side. "I'd expect anyone living, must reside in the tower."
Res surveys the scene. "I know that we came to fetch the water from the pond, but I don't want to be surprised by anyone lurking. Besides, we have to wait until night to collect the water. Let's check the tower first to see if anyone or anything is here."
Irikar nods, "Giving them some measure of shelter is wise. Would hate to have brought them just to be a meal to whatever sniffs them out in the woods."
There is a small shelter with hitching posts, which is a promising spot for the horses.
"Aye, and tying them up is wise so they don't decide to leave us. They won't be happy unable to graze, but that's the price they pay for being horses." The paladin leads his mount to the apparent shelter and looks around a moment before securing his horse's reins to a post.
Irikar shrugs, "Imagine we could leave them a bit of feed if we fear being too long."
Your horses are secured accordingly, and you see no obvious dangers threatening them.
Tybalt after ensuring the horses are happy, as happy as you can be in this land, moves to the door along the path. He quickly checks it for any traps or grubs in the door before trying to open it.
"Hello? Anyone home?" He calls softly as he tries to enter