Luthael smiles at the question and winces a little at the talking back part. "Most believers don't exactly hear Him. They look for examples and evidence of His blessings, like creating holy light or fire. Only through our faith are we blessed with His divine miracles."
"When I hear Him, they are visions. Repeated, often painful. And I never learned. I've only learned to live with it trying to interpret it. I cannot teach you about that."
"What I can show you is evidence of existence of Khors and divine power over sunlight and fire. And ultimately assurance that following him confirms our position with Him in the afterlife."
"But you can see that many gods exist in Midgard. Khors is not the only one. What you need to decide is where you want to spend the afterlife. Then, follow the god with whom you want to spend eternity."
"For example, Gunnar there wants to spend the afterlife in Valhalla with Thor." The prophet shares his perspective.
Arianna listens, and finds herself wondering if she could ever understand this. She thinks about what Luthael has said and pulls out the holy symbol Elalune had given her.
"Perhaps that is how the people of Midgard do things," she says, "but I am not of Midgard. I come the Fey Realms and the ever-wending paths of the Moonwood. What you may consider a divine sign from your god would be a trick of some mischievous pixie to us. The stars, the road, the moon, those guide us and shepherd us on our journey."
He may think her mad, but he out of anyone in the group would understand.
"Would you believe me if I told you I have met a goddess?"
"Yes." Luthael replies flatly. "We've met Duchess Dawnflower of the Meadowcourt, Cousin to Queen Lelliana Thorntree Endiamon and Foster Sister to Sarastra Imperial Princess at the Court in Thorn. I think she is the older sister of Sarastra, the goddess of night and magic. In fact, we've saved her from eternal slumber. So, anything is possible."
"That is an impressive list of titles," Arianna says with a chuckle. "I have heard a little about Sarastra and nothing of your Duchess Dawnflower. I'll have to get the tale of how you met her from you at some point."
Arianna's expression sobers as the moment of levity passes.
"The goddess I met is named Elalune. She is the goddess of roads, journeys, the moon, and stars. We met on one of the paths through the Fey Realms and traveled together for a while." Arianna holds up the holy symbol she has. Even in the light of day there is a soft glow to it. "She made this from starlight and moonbeams and gave it to me when we parted ways."
"Since that day, I've tried to do as I've seen some mortals do and pray, but I never hear anything. She is my friend, my goddess, and I have missed her. I wonder if I have angered her somehow or if I am doing something wrong. I asked you for help since you seem to be the closest to your god. As you can probably guess, I have little experience dealing with gods and priests. It is why I was unsure if Khors would help me when I do not follow him."
Luthael examines her holy symbol as closely as allowed, "well, gods are not mortals, so don't have the same expectations of them as you would a mortal. If you've met your goddess who gave you a gift of a miracle, you have as much proof as anyone that She exists. After that, it's just faith that you keep with Her, so that you can spend the afterlife with Her."
"I've never met Khors. So, you must be pretty special to Her to warrant a meeting and a gift."
"As for Khors helping you, He demands his followers to bring light to the darkness; to cast down demons, devils, and the dark gods without quarter; and to let no shadow harm the innocent. So, it's our duty to help you and the others remove the demonic parasites." He smiles matter of factly.
When Luthael appears to want a closer look, Arianna lets him handle the holy symbol.
"I don't know if I am all that special," she says as she takes the symbol back.
"You're a kind man, Luthael. Annette has good tastes," she says as the prophet smiles. She puts her symbol back around her neck and grins. "She did seem awfully appreciative of you after you and Father Tavis helped us."
Ingryd tucks in Aterro and then takes her position on the floor sitting with her back on a good sturdy wall and sleeps.
In the morning she eats and drinks and then heads out with Aterro seeking the Prophet's home.
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A tired Tavis looks from Gunnar to Luthael when both dwarf and young prophet as of the ability to repeat the ritual. A bushy eyebrow rises like a curious caterpillar.
"Well, I suppose that depends on how well the boy was paying attention." He says returning to his somewhat cantankerous ways. "We certainly repeated it enough times that even those two busybodies back at the temple would know the words and actions by now. But the real question is whether Khors will answer your call or not."
His gaze locks with Luthael for a moment, and its as if the younger man's heart and soul are nearly laid bare before the ancient priest who has seen many, many souls pass through his temple doors. Soon enough the man gives a satisfied nod and uses his staff to lever himself tiredly onto a bench.
"You've a bright spirit and the god has blessed you aplenty." He says to Luthael. "Stay true to your heart. Follow the tenets you've espoused to the elf maid." His head tilts toward Arianna. "If there is need, Khors will answer the call."
"These folk," He gestures to those rescued from the gnomes, "Are welcome enough to stay." He waves off concerns about the gate guards. "My word will be enough to get them through. And at least one has already expressed a desire to learn more of Khors. If they are willing, the others can stay at the shelter Meryl and Beryl run behind the temple. It isn't much, but its a roof and three meals a day as long as a person can put up with them."
To Luthael's question of other temples and the ability to heal such things, Father Tavis can only shrug and shake his head. Contemplating the current state of Khors faithful across Midgard causes a sadness to fill his wrinkled features.
"I cannot say my son. Most folk have turned to other gods during these darker times. Many of Khors temples sit dark and abandoned. There are a few like myself who's stubbornness and tenacity keep faith and remember the rites." A shrug. "But many of those left are little more than empty headed blowhards...or worse...desperate fanatics whose vision of the god is filled with fire, terror, obedience and punishment rather than kindness, warmth, compassion, and free choice of thought and ethics. So only Khors knows what you may find during your travels."
When Scramsax shows him the devil's head symbol, the priest sucks air through his teeth and tsks with clear consternation. "Blasted gnomes and their infernal bargains. Bring that thing more into the light so I can get a good look." He says to the halfling who decides to oblige the old man. Several moments as he hem and haws over the infernal charm.
"Ia'Affrat" The priest whispers saying the name only once and even then it causes a hot, foul smelling wind to slither through the barn and the orbs of light to momentarily flicker a smokey red. "Once a servant to the Lord of Swarms and Decay, this one ever seeks to rise above his former master in the ever shifting politics of hell. If that one has found allies among the gnomes or the Blood Kingdoms, then more trouble is sure to follow."
He taps the silver head with the tip of his staff, his eyes filled with disgust. "Best to melt that thing down and quench the remnants in holy water, else it'll be a calling card for the creature and any of his vile creations."
A rooster crows outside. The suns rays illuminate the eastern sky. While priests and helpers and healed souls are finally able to think of rest, Ingryd and Aterro come striding into the barn having been directed to their friends by the manor's servants. The two arrive rested, fed, and wide awake smelling of ale, sweet rolls and spiced sausages.
Gazing at the thing with fresh eyes "Laughy-rat? Cleansing taint? Sounds like a hot ticket." shrugging his shoulders. Turning to Invictusol "Got a tool forge on site around here, Mr. Money Bags? Evil needs to be cast out after all...you probably saw that coming."
"I hope you two brought breakfast. If not, I'll be most disappointed," Arianna says when she sees, and smells, the two wayward members of their crew. "I'll also need to know where the two of you have been because that's where I'm going for something to eat. I still have pages in my journal to fill!"
Luthael winces with a slight blush and replies, "Annette's path and my diverge very shortly. She might stay here, but we head south on the carpet which can barely fly all of us. Perhaps in the future Khors might bring us together again."
"How about you? Are you joining our mission from Khors?"
==========================================
Taking Father Tavis aside again, Luthael says, "I don't know if you've heard yet, but we've released the Elder Patriarch from Midgard, and I do not think he joined Khors in the Afterlife. We crashed his airship and discovered his corruption and continuation of the infernal inquisition. Hopefully more good will come from that." The prophet also fills the High Sunpriest on all the details about saints, cursed artifacts, and everything in between
Luthael winces with a slight blush and replies, "Annette's path and my diverge very shortly. She might stay here, but we head south on the carpet which can barely fly all of us. Perhaps in the future Khors might bring us together again."
"I could always see if I can master some magic that makes us smaller," Arianna says with a wicked grin. "I'm also certain that I could talk her into coming, but if you're insisting on the martyred saint thing, I guess I can't stop you."
"How about you? Are you joining our mission from Khors?"[/b]
Arianna gives Luthael a look as if he has grown a second head, and it's that of an ass, before busting out in laughter that sounds like a brook merrily babbling along in a mountain forest.
"Of course I'm coming! An epic quest to destroy an evil sword, I'd have to be a fool to miss my chance to see this tale unfold with my own eyes! You'd have to lock me up just to slow me down."
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"Ummm" Ingryd pulls up the chilled cup and smiles."Mead is a great start of ones day!" The bear woman says with an awkward oops this is all I have for now.
Luthael smiles, "Good. I'm glad you are joining the mission. And, I'm certain Khors would appreciate your participation too, since He might have put you within our path, so you could join us."
"Our path will be dangerous and too dangerous for Annette. Maybe she and I will cross again in the future."
=================================================================
Luthael finds the halfling. "Hey Scramsax! How many coins do you have squirreled away? I want to make a donation to Father Tavis's parish and to replace the implements for that ritual we just performed to expel the demonic parasites. I feel we should be prepared to redo that ritual on the road and want to head south as soon as possible, so avoiding shopping for them in town."
"What do you think?" The prophet asks genuinely.
"What? Oh! I'm sorry." Anette says to Arianna, her features filled with much more color and vibrancy, but still clearly tired from her ordeal. She blushes at the thought of being called a Lady. "No, no. My father was a smith, my mother a seamstress. I've no titles to my name. My family is just common folk." Her gaze flicks quickly to Luthael and then shyly away again. "I've little to offer one who could afford to live in a place like this." She says turning to look out the open barn door toward the sturdy stone Invictusol Manor.
Across the room, Luthael fills in Father Tavis on recent events concerning the resurrected Inquisition of Khors and the potential multiple Eldar Patriarchs. This news is met by a vociferous amount of unpriestly cursing and stamping of Tavis' hardwood staff. A stark contrast to his thoughtful excitement and concern for the safety and teachings of the saintly Katerina.
"I shall send word of the Inquisition's return to the Patriarch in Zobeck." He says finally. "Alastair and I may not always see eye to eye on everything, but I know he's a good, Khors-loving man. He'll need to know."
"As for the young Katerina," He purses his lips in thought, "She's already been on her own for too long a time. She'll be needing spiritual guidance and teaching." He shakes his head looking at the refugees, obviously torn. Finally he puffs out his cheeks and runs a gnarled hand through his wispy strands of hair. "I've too much to do here. Can't be leaving these folk alone, not with all the troubles still brewing. We'll have to trust Khors to take care of her for a bit longer."
When Luthael mentions the possible purchase of his spiritual implements, he doesn't look exactly thrilled by the prospects of parting with them. But eventually he does see the need, and Luthael's generous offer makes replacing them much more feasible, so he finally relents. "Although I ought to make you explain to Beryl how a new set of sunsigns could possibly work just as well as those dedicated to the god over more than fifty years of blood, sweat, and tears."
As the Invictusol explained his plight, and urgent need for Scramsax' wealth, a thin smile curled slowly on the miser's lips...the halfling had always known it was just a matter of time before the priest came begging. "Well, well, well. In the market for some golden bowls? Heh. You must've already known I'd say yes...but tit for tat, priest. Give me a hand convincing Aterro to let me stea*cough* 'borrow' his magic like I do with you and Gunnar. You know, maybe you could plant the suggestion...? Make it seem like a great idea. A hip new thing all the cool kids are doing." Holding out the coin and rubbing them together enticingly "Deal?"
"I wouldn't worry so much," Arianna says through a yawn. "I think what you could do for his family would be the last thing on Luthael's mind. A kind-hearted girl seems more his type than some noble tramp with delusions of grandeur, from what I have seen."
Arianna yawns again and closes her eyes before giving Anette a comforting hug.
"I think you're more than good enough," she mutters before falling to sleep.
"You two are too much alike," Arianna laughs while shaking her head. "She thinks her blood isn't blue enough, and you are too busy listening for Khors' word to notice that she likes you and you like her."
She sighs, her smile fading as she thinks of the road ahead.
"The slavers, the sword, and a long journey. I think you are right about the danger. Which only makes it more important to take the opportunities when you see them."
She pats Luthael on the shoulder as she spots Aterro and Ingryd walking up the path to the manor.
"Life's too short to let it pass you by, Luthael. Why not talk to her and see if there might be another reason for you to make sure you make it back here alive."
She smiles before hopping to her feet and goes to see what is up with the two fighters.
"I think it's a little early to be drinking like that," Arianna says with a pout. "At least tell me where you ate breakfast. I'd like to try it when I have a chance."
Luthael smiles at the small negotiator, "I'll support your request with Aterro but without using magic. Thank you Scramsax. Khors bless you." He agreed, because he felt the halfling needed something in trade.
"You asked earlier about a forge. I think the one the manor has may still be functional. Let's go see." The prophet start heading toward the manor's forge.
Luthael smiles and nods, "Annette is sweet. I would not want to start anything knowing that we are leaving within the day. It would not be fair to her if she misses opportunities of love waiting for me. Love is rare in Midgard and must be cherished. If Khors wills us to find each other again, then so be it." He shrugs with a genuine smile.
Ingryd shrugs and takes a nip of her Mead. " More for me then" She says with a smile.
" No need to write of me dear. I'm no hero. But the Druppy Unicorn.talked to some locals. Got names...also lots of food" She takes another sip and then looks about.
"You think someone in a place like this would be able to cook something?"
For some reason, the simple words 'Khors bless you' made the pitiful scoundrel suddenly remember to clean his pipe, and get back to business on Scram n' Ill's Narg Nasty leaf. Tapping the little quartz briar pipe off the back end of his moccasin, the halfling relaxed a moment. He watched his hands go through the motions of loading it up as an amused observer, and pulled a long tail of cotton clouds. Estate life was peaceful life, he also observed.
The memory of a crashing statue was far removed.
---
Waddling up next to ostensible-Aterro "Say Crackles, if that is your real name, you mentioned the mustache and the new abilities. Care to elaborate? Its...its the mustache which fuels them?"
"You do have an annoying habit of being wise, don't you," Arianna teases. "Fine, you win this round. Just remember to ask me for help when you start writing poetry for whomever it is that you finally fancy."
"Oh my sweet Ingryd. So wise. So matronly. How naive you are to think that you have a say in the matter," Arianna tells the bearkin, an impish grin and mischievous sparkle lighting up the elf's face. "You saved a dozen people from being turned into horrid weapons of war, and I am a bard. There will be songs and stories of Ingryd, Mother of Honey and Mead, Keeper of the Bees, and Bear-oness of the Wylds!"
Arianna twirls and bows with a flourish.
"I am, after all, on my Wandering, and I intend to have tales a-plenty to share with my clan and parents when I return to them."
The manic grin fades into a smile as she continues.
"As for breakfast, it isn't that Luthael's household cannot or will not cook something delicious. You and Aterro just smelled so delicious that a hag may abscond with the two of you if we are not careful."
She looks around wondering when they were planning on leaving. She notices that Gunnar has not joined them.
"Has anyone seen our dwarven Thorsman? I hope he wasn't up too late working on that rug."
Gunner indeed has spent much of the night gently cleaning and mending the rug, though he paused at regular intervals to help with the ritual and once to identify the magical sling stones.
Soon after the last people were cured and he asked his questions about Luthael being able to repeat the ritual as needed to save other towns, the tired dwarf had found an out-of the-way corner and curled up, falling asleep and missing all the morning discussions. Even the smell of wondrous breakfast baked goods has not yet roused him from his deep slumber.
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"Yes, I promise to consult you when I need to create some poetry." Luthael smiles and accepts the tease.
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Ingryd chuckles then shakes her head." DO not use that last one, its Un-Bear-able"
At the utterance of the hag, she stops relaxing and then turns. As she does she reaches up and clutches her necklace. As she does she speaks softly. "Please, don't say that, my...my children were eaten by a hag, and when my husband and I went to fight her, she killed my husband and almost killed me"
Arianna's smile disappears into a look of shock and horror. She hadn't known, but the revelation explains some things to the young elf.
"Ingryd, I-I-I-I'm so sorry," she says as she scurries up to the much taller bearkin and moves to look her in the eyes. "I've had my own troubles with hags, but-- but--"
She wraps Ingryd in a tight embrace as she buries her face into the bearkin's arm and begins apologizing over and over again.
Ingryd Reaches up to pat the Elf kins head and speaks softly. " Its okay, They hear you" She says pulling off her necklace of bear teeth and claws.
" If you want to write something I can have you write of them. Bori did. I have his journal." She says as she pulls out a simple but well worn journal.
" He was a great man and a wonderful father. He honestly was too good for just a simple brewer like me. So kind and so strong. All the other girls wanted him, and he chose me." She said crying a bit. Her hand goes for the cup and takes a swig of Mead.
Arianna calms down as Ingryd comforts her. She can't, however, help but notice how she reaches for the mead to drown her sorrows.
"You know Bori saved me from a death blow of the Hag. One that let me get the opening I needed to strike the blow to kill her." Ingryd gave a soft squeeze of Arianna's shoulder and then smiled.
"Though I buried them all, Took these as a reminder. Later after I looked through the things on my journey of vengeance and mandate to protect the innocent so this can't happen again. Which made me seek out the horrid creatures of the Undead and the dangerous evil fey. So I wandered until I found them." Ingryd says as she looks over to the others and smiles broadly.
[b"They are not my family, but they are almost there."[/b] The blonde-coated bear woman patted Arianna and then leaned down to give the smaller tinier woman a hug.
After he wakes, Gunnar goes to speak with Father Tavis and asks him to check on Silvia’s recovery after the battle with the Patriarch. Leaving his shield with the good priest, he tucks into what breakfast can be found after absentmindedly petting the carpet for a few minutes.
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Waddling up next to ostensible-Aterro "Say Crackles, if that is your real name, you mentioned the mustache and the new abilities. Care to elaborate? Its...its the mustache which fuels them?"
"Crackles?" Aterro repeats, almost as if he were the one asking. He pauses in thought and puts away the whetstone he had been using to sharpen one of DeathMetal's spikes.
"Hm. Yes. You have found the source of my power. I now follow the School of the Sweet 'Tasch," he says, pausing to twirl his glorious mustache into a more perfect representation of the height of fashion.
"But Crackles was never my name. Only you call me that, Scramsax. Although to call a follower of Thor that is, I believe apropos.
But yes, I am, sorry, about what happened last time. I lost faith. Or, rather, Thor lost faith in me. Well both, really."
Aterro pauses to sigh and look into the middle distance.
"I could tell I was disappointing him. And I knew that he knew. I was not...conquering...to the best of my ability. Oh, I kept faith, of course, but I could feel, within me, a yearning to break through the binding of my own mind, of this soft matter that we are constrained in.
It could not wait. And so I followed the pain-filled path of Odin. Know you how he came to be the All-Father? He hung upside on Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and sacrificed an eye to gain the knowledge of all the world's tidings. Thus did I, who shaved clean every morn, unwilling to give up an eye, did sacrifice the convenience and pride of having no soup-catcher to bother with, and I did embrace a newness. Well, I also fasted and self-flagellated for a fortnight. The mustache is more a physical and lasting embodiment made manifest, you understand.
Thor did see my faith and he found it to his liking. In a great stroke I saw before me my path, now arranged in a manner more to his liking, and I found this path--" He gestures in front of him as though outlining a new road only just made, "the Path of Conquest. Long had I derided paladins as some kind of line of fops, of ne'er-do-well nobles that knew not the way of blood and bone. But I was wrong! And thus shown the full breadth of my wrongness I fell to my knees and embraced this new knowledge.
I have not walked this path longly, but I find it to my liking. Where before I was weak, now I am strong. Before I was narrow, now I am broad. Where before I was constrained, now I am...free."
Arianna accepts the hug from Ingryd. There is a lot of pain in her tale, the elf can see. Thankfully Aterro comes to rescue them from their melancholy.
"A Thorsman falling to giants," Arianna says with a chuckle, some of her good humor returning. "Nay, 'tis a great wyrm that shall do you in."
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"And he shall fall into a drunken coma and awake with a mighty hangover three days hence! Ha! Even in death my titanic drinking will reap my ultimate revenge!
Gah, Ingryd, pass the mead! Forsooth even though I find it vile I'll drink a toast to the memory of Bori, and to the hope that today is not the day we usher in Ragnarok!"
Aterro briefly considered if he would need to decimate his prior insectoid partner to at last cleanse this honey phobia he nursed. He decides it would more trouble than its worth.
Ingryd poors some to Aterro and laughs."Thank you My friend"
"Also you'd look better with a beard. More and more hair is always better" She then raises her lemonade cup and readies for Aterro to do the same and then drink to her beloved Bori's sacrifice.
Harvest Tide 16th, 1751
An autumn wind blows, the sky is clear for the moment, but more storm clouds brew in the north. The gray masses ready to roll off the northern seas bringing rain, wind, and cold to the northern plain. The manor, like nearly every other estate, farm, and garden plot in northern Midgard is abuzz with harvest activity. Reapers are busy in the fields and the millers grinding stone churn near constantly. Pickers busily fill baskets with apples, pears, and late season plums. Fires burn in the kitchens where cooks labor over pies, pastries, and preserves while Master Thistlefoot oversees the presses currently engaged in turning apples into juice for midwinter cider.
Several of the refugees, rested well enough and former farmers themselves, are eager to offer helping hands in return for both a roof and warm meal. The help is welcomed by Luthael's parents. Labor is in short supply given recent concerns over potential raiders and ghoulish spies. Fewer folk are willing to make the short trip from town to manor, preferring instead the visual safety of being inside the town walls.
The companions spend the morning hours talking of loss, learning, and looking ahead to what the future may bring. It is a moment of peace and restful relaxation, a rarity in these wild and troubled times. Eventually Luthael meets with his parents. Those who have already met the Invictisol family matriarch and patriarch are greeted warmly and with a bit of surprise at such a quick return following the last visit. Newcomers are introduced and welcomed. Those willing to help with the work even more so.
The day passes. Father Tavis bids his farewell and need to return to his temple. "Else those two old crones will have everything moved about and in a right devil's state." So he claims, although it likely means they'll have tidied his study and might possibly have restocked the larder with something besides the salted sardines and pickled eggs favored by the old priest.
Afternoon comes and goes giving way to early evening and soon enough, with all rested and a new day just a night away, decisions need to be made. Courses set...
Jewelry had always been one of Scram's favorite things to steal. The gemstones themselves were one thing, requiring either a good fence or some careful modifications to make the cut unidentifiable. Even then, one bad cut and the score turned to dust making the take plummet.
Precious metals were much easier to deal with. You could simply melt them back to ingots. Once they lost their form, there was no man alive that could prove the little chunk of gold was such-and-such grandmother's ring.
How different could this demon-infused spell focus be? The thief had just the right size foundry crucible in his jeweler's kit, but was using a much larger forge than the gnomish tabletop versions he preferred. Glancing around the stables inventory "Heh, grab that horseshoe mold for it. Maybe it'll be lucky after all this...We can use that little bowl for the quench, pour some holy water in it."
==19
"F*ck, son of a b*tch!!!" grabbing the red hot tongs the halfling had incorrectly thought were ice cold. The burn marks on his hands forced him to hold the tongs in a different way than he usually did, which turned out to be much closer to the proper way of handling it.
Scram smoked away at the paladin's story, finally deciding that maybe this was the real Aterro after all. The halfling was happy to hear that Thor's main consideration for entering into his rank of paladins was bodacious facial hair, it made sense actually. From a market analysis perspective, growing hair was a better deal than removing an eye. "...and before you were sober, now you are sh*t-faced. So let it be done." sliding the born-again paladin an expensive bottle of bourbon with a grin.
"Yeah, what a guy that Thor. Say, don't paladins always have a trusty steed by their side?" the halfling started to probe for details about Aterro's new magics, casting a glance at Invictusol and giving him 'the cue'.
It was rather obvious Scramsax was up to something, and probably didn't care much about Thor or paladins in truth.
Arianna notices the day is half gone and asks if she can accompany Father Tavis back into town, both so he can vouch for her clean bill of health and so she can make sure he made it back safely, though she is wise enough to know that if he finds out about the second reason she'll get an earful.
After a few minutes on the path back to town, Arianna turns to the priest.
"Thank you again, Father Tavis. I owe you a great debt," she says her voice much stronger than it had been the night before, now that she isn't being eaten from the inside out. "Khors has blessed you with wisdom and strength, so I wonder what I can do to repay you."
Arianna looks for Gunnar after returning from her trip into town. She needs to apologize for leaving the dwarf alone with whatever trials the rug threw his way.
"Gunnar! There you are," she says once she finds him. "I am so sorry about last night. I meant to help, but.." She blushes and looks away. The awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment before she regains enough composure to continue.
"Did you have any luck with the rug?"
Ingryd will go into town and grab some more mead and make sure the group has larders stocked. THough she will need to borrow from others to help in that the big bear maiden will seek out basic camping and larder needs.
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In a rare moment of seeming uncertainty, Gunnar responds, ”Yes, I have had success of a sort. The generative arcana of the flying carpet is the distressed spirit of an abused feline.”
”I know how much we need this item for transport, but imprisoning the soul of this tormented creature is…distasteful to say the least. I fear we cannot free the tortured soul without unraveling the magic of the carpet itself, so we are in a bit of a quandary,” says Gunnar somberly.
”My plan is to try and gain the cat’s trust by kind treatment and gentle repair of her current physical form, then share a bit of my arcane identity with her, hopefully allowing her respite from time to time in spirit form,” he concludes.
"That's-- That's horrific," Arianna says when Gunnar explains the nature of the problem. "How cruel must one be to trap a poor spirit so?"
She kneels next to Gunnar and holds out her hand to the rug like one would to a cat to see if it is willing to be petted.
"Is there a way to know what the poor kitty wants? I can take us by the Fey and Shadow Roads if need be."
It actually takes several moments for Arianna and Gunnar to locate the rug. Finally they discover the elusive carpet rolled up in a dim corner near the warm of the wood stove. Exactly how it got there, no one says. Gunnar certainly didn't put it there and none of the others admit to doing so. Yet there it sits. The damage done during one of the previous fights, while not completely repaired, had been mended and cleaned as much as possible by the wizard. And for the first time since acquiring the rug, it isn't completely fouled with feline waste. However, it does seem to be shedding. Arianna notices an abundance of short white hairs all over the knees of her pants after kneeling down next to the rug.
Scramsax spends much of the day in the manor smithy. A steady stream of profanity burns as hot as the forge fires throughout the day. One can't be certain if it is just because the halfling lacks proper focus, or if it is the nefarious and hellish nature of the substance itself. Regardless, the melting down of the silver devil's head takes twice as long as it usually would and leaves the halfling's hands red as summer tomatoes. But at the end of the day, Scramsax does walk away with quite the silver horseshoe.
Ingryd heads back into town to gather food and supplies for the long journey south.
"Oh, no debt is owed my dear girl." Father Tavis says to Arianna. "T'was the will of Khors to give you healing and aide in your time of need. Such things are why I continue to serve the sun. Seeing you in such a fine state of health and activity is more than enough for these old bones."
Arianna giggles as she notices the hair and casts a spell to brush it off. Then, struck by an idea, she sits on her heels and looks at the rug.
"Hello there. Would you mind if I brushed you," she asks the rug.
"Still, you have my thanks and my gratitude," she says with a small smile. She walks with Father Tavis in silence for a little bit before taking a chance.
"Father Tavis, have you ever heard of a goddess named Elalune, Goddess of the Moon, the Stars, and Journeys," she asks.
Despite rising late in the morning, Gunnar’s day is productive. He converses with Father Tavis about Sylvia, finishes his scrolls up, and alternates with Arianna on caring for the rug.
If he feels the cat spirit is ready and the rug is fully cleaned and mended, Gunnar will plan the ritual for the evening (Find Familiar). If not, he will not rush it, instead preparing her for travel expected early the following morning.
Ingryd returns with a liter full of food and a small barrel filled with mead. As she heads up to the doors she pulls an apple and begins to eat on it.
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Within the confines of the Sun Temple, Father Tavis examines Gunnar's shield and the maiden spirit held within. The priest spends a full turn of the glass praying over the shield, running his weathered hands over the metal surface like a blind man touching a lover. While he works, his two temple keepers come in to observe, each taking a keen interest in the simple steel shield.
"Oh dear." States Meryl softly.
"Poor thing." Chimes Beryl.
"Strong hearted, is that one."
"Yes, but strong enough is the real question."
"Ah there, you are too correct my dear."
"Perhaps a bit of hickory smoke will draw her out?"
"Or maybe the blood of a freshly killed stag? Northerners do love their blood after all."
"Ah, well, indeed I must be muddled to have forgotten about that. Hickory smoke and blood. Have you tried that Father?"
Tavis puffs out his cheeks and runs a hand along his beard in exasperation.
"What the poor thing needs is a moment of peace and quiet." He grumbles, but the words only generate a few tuts and tsks and ponderings as to whether the good father has been getting enough fiber lately. The thought of which does nothing to improve the poor priest's mood or concentration.
Despite the distractions, Tavis eventually returns the shield to Gunnar. His face is thoughtful, but shows little true worry or the concern of one ready to break bad news.
"The spirit is there." He begins. "But she has suffered some serious harm. Something powerful and evil, I would say. She recovers, but being one of Sif's daughters, there is little I can do to help her beyond comforting words and prayers. Keep her safe, let her heal. She will be back with you as she can. If you wish to do more, seek out one of Sif's maidens and they may be able to help."
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Aterro leaves with Ingryd on a supply run, but over time his footsteps lead him to the domain of Master Thistlefoot and the cider-making process.
Aterro amateurish interest in the making of distilled spirits has left him with both a curiosity in how spirits are made, but not really so great a need that it seemed worth time or energy to truly make a study of it.
At the most critical part of crushing the sliced apples into cider Aterro applies his considerable strength to the task, evoking more juice from the fruit than these normal-gifted farmhands had any hope to. Such labors are rewarded by more conversation about the process in the whole, and a large sack of the apple leavings.
Of note, such leavings are often the subject of much thought, as they are of no more value in their process, but of such quantity that they require their own logistical step. Hencewise, most cider makers often have a flock of not very picky chickens, or omnivorous hogs.
For Aterro's part, he values them as the leavings are but one step away from dried fruit, and as such will last longer on the path to...wherever they are going than fresher foodstuffs might.
When Arianna asks Father Tavis about the goddess Elalune, the priest of Khors thinks for several long minutes. His finger rap a quick, repetitive rhythm along the wood of his staff. Finally he shakes his head. "No, I can't say that I have heard of her specifically, but then I've never taken much notice of the elvish pantheon." He says. Gnarled fingers scratch at his whiskers. "Hrmmm...goddess of the moon, stars and journeys. Could be a mask of Horus." He adds thinking of the moon god popular in the warmer southern realms. "Or maybe one of Sarastra's less known disguises. Beware that fickle creature of the shadow realms, she can be quite deadly."
"Sarastra?" The name rolls of Arianna's tongue uneasily, and she shivers when it comes out of her mouth. She knows little of the scathsidhe's goddess, but she knows enough to heed Father Tavis' warning.
"Can you tell anything more from this," she asks as she pulls the holy symbol that Elalune had given her out from under her shirt. It glows softly, even in the light of the temple. "Elalune made it from moonbeams and starlight then gave it to me before we parted ways."